NOT SO FEARLESS

None of the characters belong to me, et al. Enjoy!...

'Quick, Watson, we have little time left!' Sherlock Holmes cried, racing up the old stone steps. I followed suit, and we careered further and further upwards. Step after step after step. My leg ached and my lungs were bursting, but adrenaline from the dire situation kept me going.

After an age Holmes stopped so abruptly I almost ran straight into him. For some time neither of us had the breath to utter a word, and we leant against the wall, panting like dogs.

Finally, my companion gasped 'The time, Watson – w-what is – is the time?'

I glanced at my watch, but my reply was drowned out by a tremendous cacophony that rattled through the whole tall building. Immediately both of us placed our hands over our ears, though it barely made a difference. The thunderous giant of a bell boomed one…two…three…four…five times.

For a long time all I could hear was an immense ringing that rattled in my ears and left me deafened. I saw Holmes saying something, but all I caught was '…too late!'

'Too late, Holmes?'

'What was that?'

'What?'

'What?'

The ringing cleared. I asked 'What were you saying?'

'We are not too late! Who knew that bells could be so loud?' The detective shook his head with disapproval.

'We are inside the Big Ben Clock Tower,' I reasoned. He shot me a withering look.

'Are you just here to make things difficult, or shall you help and shall we continue? We have wasted more than enough time.' Without waiting for an answer, he continued up the seemingly endless steps.

However, this time we had barely gone anywhere at all before we pushed through a big wooden door and spilled out onto the other side expectantly. And then proceeded to stop with confusion.

The detective and I had found ourselves face-to-face with a rather ominous-looking and enormous grey bell. It hung imposingly in front of us, looking as if it thought it ruled the world. If this goes in the Strand Holmes will undoubtedly mock that last remark, but it felt like that to me.

To gain some space we edged around the cold metal of the huge bell. Then, to my surprise, I heard Holmes give a strangled yell of shock and he knelt down next to a pillar.

Now being able to see I observed with some astonishment a brilliant view of London, showing all the buildings for some miles.

'What happened?' I asked with bemusement. There was a long silence. 'Holmes?' I prompted.

The reply sounded as if it were forced out, quite unlike my partner's normally cool manner of speech. 'We are in Belfry 2, Watson. We… appear to have gone up one flight too far.'

Looking down at my kneeling companion, I saw his face was turned away and he was clinging to the pillar as if his life depended on it.

'Are you all right, old chap?'

His voice was slightly higher than normal and hard to hear. 'Did you know that Big Ben is 320 feet high?'

A cold draught blew in, making me shiver, but I was too preoccupied to care. Slowly and carefully I leant down so I was the same height as my friend. From this distance I could see he was clearly shaking, and I had the nagging feeling it wasn't due to the chill.

Worried, I put a hand on Holmes' shoulder, and widened my eyes when he jumped, still looking the other way. There was another silence as I considered what to say, when he took an alarmingly ragged breath and continued 'The clock was designed by Edward Beckett Denison. Each hour hand is 2.7 meters long and each minute hand is 4.2 meters long. The clock mechanism weighs 5 tons.'

I got the distinct feeling he was no longer talking to me and I felt a rising sense of concern as I listened to him recite facts about the building we had found ourselves in. What was wrong with my friend?

Looking around at the panoramic view of London, and down at the vertical drop hundreds of feet to the ground, and observing Holmes shaking and clinging to the pillar, I suddenly made the connection.

'How dense I am!' I cried out, 'Holmes, you're afraid of heights, aren't you?'

A bird squawked indignantly and rose as the minute hand of the clock moved. There was a long, stretched, lingering silence before the detective admitted, with his eyes closed and looking down, that he was.

'Well, then, come on away from the edge, you fool!' I exclaimed with abruptness. He looked at me with surprise. Then his eyes went cold again. 'I…I don't think I can.'

'Of course you can. First, stop looking that way, or no wonder you're scared. Yes, that's right, no, this way, towards me, that's right. Now, take my hand.'

'Watson, I can't! I really can't!'

'Yes you can.'

'No, I can't! What if I fall, what if I lose my balance, what if –'

'Stop blabbering nonsense and be a good fellow and take my hand.'

'Watson, I did it! I didn't fall!'

'How you became a detective..'

Sherlock Holmes, now far away the edge and his hidden fear, smiled one of his genuine smiles, and laughed. The minute hand below us juddered forward again and he set off as if nothing had happened.

'Quick, Watson, we have little time left!' Sherlock Holmes cried, racing through the door and down the steps.

It seems the world's first consulting detective wasn't as fearless as he appeared.

Not good, I know, but I was writing fast because I'm meant to be doing homework for one of my last classes of Year 8! Nearly holidays! Yay!