Elizabeth's Portrait ((Part 1))

October 15th 2000, London England

An old man once told me that you should always take a deep breath and think about your life. He said, "If you let life pass you by, then you've wasted your time." I'm not sure how much of that rings true. But what I am sure of is that you do have to take some time out to think about things. That is what writing does for me, that's why I'm sitting here with a quill pen and my journal, writing out a lifetime of events that if anyone ever figures out how to read it, they won't believe it as anything but pure fiction. But, I'm okay with that, after all even Sherlock is thought of as fiction, just the way he always would have wanted it. As I sit here on top of one of the largest and oldest towers just outside of London I can't help but write things down.

The many colors streamed across the sky as yet another day was ending in a beautiful sunset. Days had begun to feel like seconds and a year just a few months. As the sun vanished from my sight and the lights of London began to glow; I couldn't help but think about how many sunsets I'd seen. Many years ago people used to sit and watch as the sky lit up in brilliance. Then mankind began to make cities larger and building more of them and the sunset became nothing more than a backdrop to be ignored by most. I miss the times when I sat outside, holding the hands of those I loved, watching the spiral of colors fill the air. There are so many things to see in the world and yet the one thing truly worth looking at can be done from your own backyard. It's sad that people just don't care anymore.

I looked over the side of the half broken down tower and couldn't help but smile to myself. It's moments like these that I reflect on my life, every fifty years here in this tower. I've lost a lot in my life including friends and family. Will this life ever end?

It's hard to believe that it has been five hundred years, to this day, that I was born here in London. I was the youngest of twelve children so of course everyone treated me as the cutest little thing in the world. Over time, however, it wasn't just my family telling me how beautiful I was and how pretty I was going to be when I grew up, it was everyone. After years of being told something you can grow to believe it, as I believed I was truly the most beautiful woman in the world. It took that fateful day for me to appreciate what true beauty really is, not what you look like, but what you really are on the inside.

October 15th 1525, London England

The man smiled at me as he put the brush back to the canvas. "Hold still."

"I've been sitting here for two hours."

"And if you want this done right, you're going to have to hold still." Girolamo was considered to be one of the best young artists of the day, and he knew it but I just couldn't help myself in giving him a hard time, considering that he was a year younger than I was.

"If you don't give me a break soon, I can't be held responsible for the mess that it may make."

Girolamo sighed as he nodded his head. "Allright, you may take a break. I am sure I can capture some of your beauty without you."

I can still remember to this day how his smile made my heart jump. I walked out of the room but could feel his eyes following me and I liked it. When I came back he was just sitting quietly looking at the painting. "What's wrong?" I assumed there must have been something wrong with the portraitthe way he was just looking at it and if we had to start over my mother wouldn't be happy at all, since we'd been working on it for a little more than a month already.

"Nothing, I just can't get over it." He continued to stare at the painting not even looking at me at all.

"May I see it?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Well... it's considered bad luck if you look at the picture before it is done."

I sighed and took my pose and watched as his hand quickly went over the painting.

"Okay, it is signed and finished." he turned the painting towards me and I saw the reason he was so entranced by it. It looked as if he captured me and put me on the canvas making me feel as if I was looking into a mirror every last detail was perfect.

"It is..." my mouth began to move, but he finished my sentence for me.

"Perfect. Just like you." His eyes moved from the painting and looked deep into my eyes. "Only you are more perfect."

"Not really." my mind raced for a few seconds as my heart started pumping. "It won't age, where as I will."

"And if I had just one wish, it would be that no harm would ever come to you, and that you would never grow old but my painting would take your place." He walked towards me then took me into his arms and kissed me deeply. First I wanted to fight him, then I started to kiss back.

**********************************************

The shrill of my mother’s voice brought me out of the deep sleep I was in, springing me from my bed. I looked over and there Girolamo was lying next to me; that realization was what awoke me so fast, the thought of my mother catching me like this. I leaped out of bed, slipping into my robe and ran out to the parlor.

"What's wrong mother?"

"Nothing is wrong at all. I am so glad you talked me out of getting Raphael to do the painting. Girolamo is a wonderful painter. It is almost as if he captured your very essence."

I smiled and nodded. "He is finally done mother. Please put the painting where you want it."

"When is he to return?" She asked and I felt my heart jump into my throat.

"Actually, he worked so late last night that I invited him to stay in the guest bedroom." I smiled hoping that she wouldn't tell that I was lying.

"I must thank him immediately." She walked back to the guest bedroom as she walked I couldn't help but pray silently that he wasn't in my room anymore. I shadowed her all the way to the guest room, her small hands softly rapping on the door. As the door began to open I felt my entire body drain of all the anxiousness I was feeling.

"Good morn Mistress Sayer. My deepest apologies for staying over, it had just gotten so very late. Elizabeth was a dear and asked me to stay the night."

"Girolamo da Carpi you are the most wonderful painter in the world. Thank you so much." My mother handed him his pay plus a generous bonus.

"Thank you Mistress." Girolamo bowed and smiled at me.

1:00 AM October 16th 2000

"Excuse me Miss, but this area is off limits." I looked up and saw the constable standing over me. "I need you to leave immediately. It's dangerous to be sitting on this roof. Don't you know it's over five hundred years old?"

"Yes, I know that." I smiled to myself.

"How did you get up here anyway? There are no stairs, and no way up here without a ladder, which there wasn't one."

"A lady never gives away all of her secrets." I smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. "Well, Constable, which way do we go to get down?"

"Well, as far as I know, there is only one way up, or down." He spoke to me as if I knew nothing of the area.

"And what way is that?" I grinned at him as he was still miffed about how I got up.

"A ladder where the stairway used to be, which we only put up to check on things up here."

"But you left out the fact that one could scale the wall."

"Scale the wall Miss?" he scoffed at me. "No one is that crazy! We're at least 70 feet in the air. And the wall could give away at any moment."

"You'd be surprised at what some people can do." I smiled once again and headed over to where the stairs used to be. "What a shame that the beautiful staircase fell in. It was gorgeous in its time."

"I'm sure it was, but it fell in about a hundred years ago, to this day if I remember correctly."

"Yes, you do remember correctly." my voice was softened as I remembered the day it collapsed on me.

"So, you're a historian then?"

I giggled at the thought. "I suppose you could say that, in a way."

"Well, we really need to get off of here." He pointed out the ladder to me, and I looked down at the cleaned floor, and I could almost see what the staircase looked like.

"Of course constable, my apologies for causing you any inconvenience at all." I took ahold of the ladder and slid down it, firmly stomping the landing, I then waved at the constable and took the rest of the stairs down to the exit. I strolled through the streets of London just pondering on the past as I eventually made my way to the airport.

5pm Central time, October 17th 2000

The long flight left me plenty of time to think, and to watch the world pass below me. I've lived for 500 years and yet I still haven't seen everything that the world had to offer. Many times I had wished I spent more time traveling and less time with relationships that I knew could not last. Even if I told them my secret, told them that I would never grow old, I still could not stay with them for much longer than twenty or so years.

The thousands of relationships that I've been in and the hundred or so children I've seen grow old and die breaks my heart when I think about it. I have seen many things, learned more than any man, woman or child would ever think about learning, yet I have still not learned how to deal with the loss of those I have loved.

"Thank you for flying with with us today, we appreciate your business. The plane will be landing in approximately ten minutes. We hope you enjoy your stay in Chicago. Please take your seats at this time, no walking about the cabin and fasten your belts. Once again, thank you for flying with us today."

I put on my belt, and waited as the plane went down thinking about the flight I took just a few years back and having it crash into the ocean just off of New York. The thoughts should have made me fearful. However I knew that if it happened again I could use it as a chance to make a new identity, even with making false identities getting harder, with all of the precautions that the U.S. was instituting, it could still be done with the right amount of money.

The plane landed without any problems and I stood from my seat and walked out along with the others. I took a deep breath of the city air then found my way into the airport. I chose one of the car rental companies and found a room to stay in for now, at least till I decided if I wanted to stay here or find somewhere more quiet to go.

6am Central Time, October 20th 2008

I had settled down in Chicago, under a new yet old alias, Irene Adler. The name was one that was very familiar to many in the early 1900's but today it seemed that most of the common people had never even heard of her.

I learned of a new Sherlock Holmes movie which was going to star Sherlock, Watson, and Irene Adler as the hero's of the film. My mind went back to the day I met Sherlock Holmes and he actually fooled me. I was quite surprised at the young man's intuition, as well as his ways with the work which he was engaged in. Even though it was a brief time with him, it was enough to leave an impression forever.

The man who became known as Sherlock Holmes had nearly found me three times in his lifetime and I couldn't help but find him before he died. I remember the day I found him lying in his bed.

6pm GMT, 6th of November 1915. London England.

"Ah... Miss. Adler?" Were his first words to me as I walked into the room.

"Mr. Holmes. I'm flattered you remember me." I replied without flinching at the fact that he recognized me even though I still looked the same way I did in the picture he had kept all those years, now hanging over his bed.

"Hard to forget the only woman whom has bested one as great as I."

"Your humility is a wondering thing Mr. Holmes." I pulled up a seat beside him and smiled.

"You are the most baffling woman I have ever met, Miss. Adler."

"Please, call me..." he interrupted me.

"Would you prefer Elisabeth de Vaudey? Or perhaps ..."

"I should have given you more credit Mr. Holmes. Would you like to know my whole story?"

"Actually my dear, I believe I have much of your life figured out. But if you are willing to tell me the rest; perhaps you could fill in some of the things that are missing."

I smiled at the now old man, yet still younger than I and began my story from my birth. He seemed to just shake his head with his eyes closed and sitting back in a quite curious position with his fingers interlaced. When I finished he opened his eyes and smiled at me.

"It is all quite elementary my dear. And yet, I'm still not one to believe in such things as wishes, and dreams. Yet it would seem that you have had both in your life and I wish you well."

"Actually I was wondering if you could help me with something Mr. Holmes."

"Really?" I think Holmes eyes lit up with a fiery brilliance that I had never seen before, nor since. "What is it that I may do for you, my dear woman?"

"I'm in search of a portrait of me. In your research I had hoped that perhaps you had seen it?"

"I have seen many portraits of you throughout time. Which one do you refer to?"

"I am afraid that this painting would look nothing like me. I assume it would look more like a nightmare at this point."
After a long pause I watched him sit back with his eyes shut, and his hands back in their position. His eyes popped back open with my answer.

"I can't say that I've ran across it. Do you have any information on its possible whereabouts?"

"Well, a secret society had it once, or said they did. However, I am not sure where it would be now. But I am also afraid that if anyone gets a hold of it, they may have some power over me."

Holmes sat back and once again closed his eyes then in a surge of power and adrenaline got out of the bed and dressed.

"My dear woman, I must say that your troubles have sparked much interest in me, I shall find your painting, and return it to you."

January 10th 2009, 6pm central time.

I've been living in Chicago for the past nine years. There really isn't much of anything interesting here, but after five hundred years on this earth I'm not sure if there is anything left to perk my interest. Everyone here thinks that I'm hiding from something. I hear the whispers of my neighbors and the looks I get from everyone around. The law office I'm working for is probably the most corrupt one I've ever seen and honestly they don't pay me nearly as well as they should. If I could only tell them how much experience I really have. If they would believe that I'm as old as I am. The thought of them even believing a word of it still makes me laugh.

The time I spent in Salem is probably the worst time I had spent anywhere, despite the fact that I had actually found a nice quiet place to live. Little did I know that they would end up accusing so many people of witchcraft, including myself.

I did everything I could to help out those that were hung that day; I thought I proved my case quite well to the Magistrate. However upon the town accusing me of witchcraft, all of my reasonable statements were thrown out, then they hung them all.

September 22nd 1692, Salem Town

I stood before the court, being tried as a witch. No one would even allow for us to have a defense. If we couldn't prove we weren't one then we would be hung. I looked over at the others who were standing there with me. I couldn't believe that I would have to change my name again and once again probably dig myself out of a grave just because of frightened people. Those looking for any reason at all to hang those they didn't like. Those who were thought to be different.

"Look at her. She looks the same age as when she moved here! She must be a witch." My eyes looked directly into the eyes of the one accusing me of being a witch. Then it hit me, I had only been here for seven years but it was long enough to get the attention of at least one of the women in the city. It seemed that in times like these I would have to move from place to place even more often than before. I watched as the court continued to accuse every last one of us of some sort of witchery or another and yet I couldn't seem to get the smile off of my face. The thoughts that were going through my head were so many that I could hardly contain myself anymore. I had to speak.

"Magistrate, I plead with you, not for my life, but for that of all the others concerned. You have a pregnant woman here. If for no other reason, you must let her go. You have several citizens that you've lived with most of your life up here. You know as well as I do, that they are not witches. If your honor wishes to hang someone for witchery, then please, make it me. Please don't let them take a punishment for showing me kindness when I moved into this town. They were only doing what is natural for them, to show a young woman kindness and to help her out of her depression. I apologize for anything I have ever done to anyone here that may have made them think I am a witch. If you must hang someone, please make it me and me alone."

My speech struck at least one heart string of the magistrate, out of the eleven of us convicted of witchcraft, only eight of us were hung. And only one of us lived through it.

They took us out and one by one they hung us all. I went up first; I couldn't bear the thought of watching another hanging. I walked up, they placed the rope around my neck and I dropped. I heard a snap then nothing but black. Must have been several hours later before I opened my eyes in absolute darkness. I took a deep breath, knowing there wouldn't be much oxygen left, and started to pry at the wooden box that they had put me in.

After I finally dug myself out then returned the dirt to the hole, I looked around at all the graves that had been dug that day. All of them unmarked and in a place of disgrace. I shook my head and began a long walk across the country side looking for a new place to start over yet again.

6pm GMT, 29th of February 1916. London England.

I received a telegram from my favorite detective of all time. I entered the house at 221B Baker Street and made my way to his study. It was odd that he asked to meet me here; however it seemed kind of a return to an old home. I walked in and noticed smoke coming up from the easy chair.

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"I’m afraid not, Miss. Adler." The voice was cold and chilling to the bone.

"Who are you?" I asked in hesitation, not expecting to be taken off hand by anyone.

"You may say that I'm a friend of Mr. Holmes." He paused for a moment and then turned around and looked directly into my eyes. "Well, maybe not a friend, but an acquaintance, he stumbled upon me and my associates." The man was dressed in the casual dress of an Englishman but did not quite have the accent down.

"Is Mr. Holmes all right?" Sherlock’s safety was the only thing on my mind.

"He is as well as an old man can be, Miss. Adler." My mind was turning trying to figure out who this man was.

"Well then, what may I do for you?"

"Ah... But that's not the question you should be asking. The question you should be asking is. What can you do for us?"

At that moment two men heavily armed walked into the room with a large frame, with a cover over it.

"You were looking for something, and Mr. Holmes did exactly as he said he would, he found it. That discovery led him to us, you see Miss. Adler we have been watching you and will continue to watch you. If we ever need something from you, you will provide us with your help. Is that understood?"

My eyes widened and my heart sunk as the men stripped the cover off of the painting.

"You see Miss. Adler, we have something that you value very high. I believe it is your life that we hold in our hands. So, when we call on you we expect you to be there for us. Is that understood?"

I couldn't take my eyes off of the picture. It not only looked like a thousand deaths had taken me over, it looked more like a few million deaths had overcome me.

"I believe I understand." The words finally came out of my mouth as I started to walk towards him.

"That is far enough, Miss. Adler." Suddenly it struck me, like a huge pit dropping into my stomach. My thoughts started racing as I realized where this man was from.

"So, what is it that you wish me to do for you?"

"That is to be seen Miss. Adler."

"Oh, please call me Elizabeth, no reason to use an old alias with you. But surely you'd allow a woman like me to ask you, a member of the German Army, what exactly it is he want's from her, wouldn't you?" I slowly made my way away from him and towards the couch. "After all, I can't help you at all if I don't know what you want." My legs touched the couch as I looked around the room. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Not at all, Miss. Adler." He stopped even trying to hide his German accent. My eyes caught the sight of a few things in the house.

"So,” I began my sentence as I lowered myself toward the couch. "What is it, that a woman like me, can do for a man like you?" Just before I got seated I formed the plan in my head. I ran directly toward him, ignoring the fact that the soldiers behind him started shooting me.

"Not her you idiots, the painting, the painting!" his voice raised high as my hand reached up grabbing a sword from the mantle and putting it to his throat.

"Drop your weapons and step away from the painting." I ordered as the sword began to dip into his neck.

"Do as she says!" He was a smart man; he knew I had it in me. Perhaps he had indeed been watching me as he claimed. The men dropped the painting and moved away from it.

"Now, where is Sherlock Holmes?"

"He is in the bedroom, a bit tied up. I must say." He started to laugh as I dug the sword slightly deeper into his throat.

"You will leave here, now!"

The man waved the guards out of the room and I released sword from his neck, watching a drop of blood running down. He put his hand up and touched it. "I've had worse shaving." The man put the pipe down and picked up his hat. "We will still be watching you, with great interest."

He turned his back toward me as he started to leave. I looked down over my clothing, realizing that the soldiers had ruined them.

"You will need to watch your own back sir." My hand was on its own as it sliced through his coat and shirt, not even touching the skin. "Maybe you should concentrate on it, rather than me." As he reached the door, I gave him a swift kick and slammed the door behind him, listening to his steps as he descended the stairway and left the building.

With a sigh, I turned and dropped the sword onto the floor and headed into the bedroom to find Mr. Holmes lying on the bed, his eyes lit up as I entered the room. I untied his gag and threw it to the floor.

"Beautiful and dangerous, I just love your fire." His words came out excitingly as if he was in his 20's again.

"My apologies Mr. Holmes, I didn't realize what kind of trouble that finding my portrait would bring you."

"Quite all right, I think in my old age I'm getting slightly slower for the wear. But I wouldn't have missed this case for all the gold in London." He stood and rubbed his wrists. "And unless I miss my guess, I believe that the London's finest are going to be knocking on the door in a few moments."

True to his words a detective and several of London's finest were ascending the stairs. As I exited the room they busted down the door and ran in.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I looked at the detective who was in charge as I asked. Not thinking about what I looked like.

"Well..." He started to stutter as he looked me over. "We heard gun shots and thought that someone was in trouble."

"Did you see the men who left here?"

"When we pulled up Ma'am there was three men getting into a cabby and one of them was taking off a shredded coat. Would that be them?"

"Yes it would. They are German soldiers; you may want to make sure they don't cause any trouble. They brought the guns and left them."

"Ma'am I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to come with us for a full statement."

My head sunk as he said it. I would never do anything against London law but if they took me down to the station then I'd be afraid of what might happen to my portrait. Just before I started to speak again I heard Mr. Holmes walking up behind me.

"It's okay men, she is with me."

"And you are?" The Detective took a few steps closer to him. Sherlock smiled and pulled out a cap out of his back pocket and put it on.

"I am Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock smiled as the inspector's mouth hung open. "I trust you've heard of me."

"Yes sir, we all have. We have been told your stories most of our lives. Our apologies Mr. Holmes, we will leave you now."

"Thank you, and thank you for your brilliant investigating, Detective." His sarcasm ever so subtle, yet perfect for him. As the detective and his company left, I turned to him.

"So, what are you going to do with your portrait Ms. Adler?"

"Please, call me Elizabeth Mr. Holmes." I smiled and walked over to it, pulling the cover down over it. "Mr. Holmes, I'd be honoured if you would safe guard it for me as long as you are able, and when you are no longer able, do what you can with it to safeguard it. Please?"

"As you wish Elizabeth, I will do whatever I can to make sure it never falls into the hands of someone like that again."