Disclaimer: I do not own Mary Russell or Sherlock Holmes. They are the property of Laurie R. King and Conan Doyle.
It was at the end of a very hectic week when I awoke with the sudden urge to clear my head. Between the closing of the Margery Childe case and my engagement to Sherlock Holmes, I was feeling overwhelmed and the stress of everything that had happened during the case and all that was to follow its conclusion was coming down on me all at once. I dressed very quickly, opting for more female attire than what I would usually wear, grabbed my long coat, hat and gloves, and stepped out in the cool, morning, air. London was never very busy during this time, despite it being a major city there seemed to be certain times during the day where activity was at a minimum. Therefore, I preferred to take my walks early in the morning. I had no idea where I was going to go at first but I turned south and walked aimlessly for several miles before coming across a small park.
I recognized this park. It was tiny, nameless, and absolutely familiar. It had been almost eleven years since I was last here. My mother had brought me here when I was ten, but I struggled to remember why I had been brought here. I made my way up the path that lead through this patch of green in the middle of the city. I came to an old, seemingly timeless oak that stood tall next to a bench. I went and made to sit down, but before I could, my eye was drawn to markings carved into the backside of the trunk. Being the naturally curious person that I am, I went to examine the strange scores. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the initials, CR and JK, inscribed into a heart. All at once I remembered why I came here with my mother on that warm April day once a long time ago. I sat down on the grass, by back leaning against the oak for support.
I had been avoiding thinking about my parents in light of my engagement. Was it not apart of every girl's fantasy to have a father to walk her down the aisle? To have a mother that would help her prepare for her special day? Alas, I was not to have that. I am normally not a sentimental creature but just thinking about those prospects caused not a few tears to fall down my face.
In the middle of my momentary breakdown I heard someone come sit with me and I felt a lean arm come around my shoulders. I did not need to look up to see it was Holmes and I knew that even he would not question my display of sentiment, as he would have observed the initials in the tree. Finally, after I had dried the last of my tears I turned to him.
"Have you taken to following me everywhere Holmes," I began, "or was it just a matter of circumstance that you happened to be in the same park that I was?"
"Something of the first," he replied, as though following me was a completely normal activity. "I had come early to see if you were up yet and I saw you leave your flat, I chose to follow." He glanced up at the inscription on the tree. "Did your parents know this place," he asked carefully, as if he feared my reaction.
"This is where they meet for the first time," I said. I allowed my eyes to close, relishing the light morning breeze as I remembered the story fondly. "Mother was walking one of her dogs when it got away from her and she literally ran into my father during the chase. Sound familiar?" I was rewarded with a chuckle from my companion, as I smiled remembering our first meeting on the Downs six years before. "She brought me here when I was about ten, after I asked her how she knew father was the one she would marry." I dared to look at him, trying to gage his reaction to this statement. His look said that he was curious and he made an encouraging gesture for me to continue.
"She told me the whole story; how they meet, why they fell in love, her family's reaction, their choice to marry regardless. She told me that it 'was not perfect, but rather just right.' She went on to tell me what 'just right' meant. 'Just right,' to her at least, meant that she could see herself living the rest of her life with that one person and no one else. 'Just right' did not mean that there would not be any hard times, but rather they would stick with each other when hard times came. She read 1 Corinthians 13 to me that day and told me that when I found someone that would help me become that ideal of love then I would have found 'just right.'"
I paused for a moment and again looked at Holmes. His face was thoughtful but attentive. I was pleased to see that my narrative did not bore him.
"Was that all she told you," he asked, somehow sensing in his own way that I was not yet finished.
"No," I replied slowly. "She also said 'There is no Prince Charming or knight in shining armor. There will never be the perfect man because humans are not perfect. However, there is someone who is just right, and one day Mary Russell, you will find him.'"
We were silent for a few moments, each of us in our own way contemplating the words that I had just spoken. My fiancée cleared his throat and broke the silence first.
"So, tell me then Russ, have you found the man who is just right for you?" I glanced over at him and for the briefest moment I saw something in his face that I never thought I would see. Vulnerability, fear, and love all mixed behind his piercing grey eyes. I smiled, leaned in and gave him a gentle but eager kiss, which he surprisingly returned. After we parted I looked straight at him, never wavering from his glance. "I have," I said, "and I know that they would have approved." With that Holmes rose off the ground, smiled and offered me a hand up and we walked back to my flat and into the start of our lives together.
"Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a
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Blessings- Hope'sFace
Additional Authors Note: Russell's mother was Jewish and while 1 Corinthians is not included in the Jewish Scriptures, Russell's mother was also a great reader and Russell also got her passion for theology from her mother. Therefore, it makes sense that Russell's mother would value other scriptures. Russell's father was a nominal Anglican, he didn't firmly practice his faith, and his children would have been exposed to elements from that. Russell also values the importance of different Scriptures besides her own, so this memory is not totally impossible.