N/A: This was the very first fic I ever wrote. It's short, horrible and poorly written. However, I feel as though I should show it.
In my long association with Sherlock Holmes, I have beheld an adventure to the public, in which I chronicle in The Strand magazine. I apologize. The reason, however, is a good one, mainly because it was not an adventure at all. It was the year 1946. Long after Holmes's early retirement. And I had not seen him in a bit over 5 years. He never called on me , and I never called on him. Because I thought he was dead by now. Until a note came in one day . It read as follows:
My dear Watson, If you are not to busy, please come down to Sussex to have one last talk.
yours truly,
Sherlock Holmes
I was ever so delighted to go and see him. But I was also stricken with sadness. When he wrote " one last talk." I knew he was going to die soon, and so did he. I wanted to get there as soon as possible. So I got on a train as soon as I could. When I got there Holmes was looking out a window. I was surprised to see that he had not changed, other than the fact that some of his hair was gone. (And I believe he shrunk some inches.)
He saw me come in, and he was observing me, like he did so many clients in our old quarters in Baker Street. "Hello Watson," Said the well remembered voice. "Well sit down, and you can answer a question of mine"
"What question?" I asked. "When did you stop your medical practice"
"Well just a- how did you know?" I was horrified at this . Had he been spying on me? In all our association together, I still had not found out just how he could do this. "As ever, it's elementary my dear Watson,
elementary." Said Sherlock Holmes. "I have noticed that doctors always see fit to dress business-like, and you my dear Watson, are the same. But you are dressed different now. Not to mention, quite a dozen other facts which are essential. But enough of all that, come Watson sit."
He pointed to a chair out on his terrace. Much different from our old rooms in Baker Street. He now lived in a nice cottage on a hill which is surrounded by bees and flowers. We then sat down for one last talk, however at first it was not a talk at all. We must have sat in perfect silence for ten minutes. I, trying to find out what was taking place. Holmes was thinking obviously of how to word something. "Well good god Holmes speak up." I said trying not to lose my patience. "I apologize Watson," Said Holmes. "It's just... well you have known me long enough, and I wanted to tell you before I die. Watson remember all those times when I told you that women are a complete mystery?" I nodded . "Well you see, my dear Watson. I know that for a fact, because... I have had a woman in my life."
In all our association this was the biggest surprise of all. 'Yes Watson , I hope you remember her.
Her name was Irene Adler!" Just when I thought Holmes couldn't surprise me anymore, he did. He was looking for me to talk back, I didn't, so he continued. "We were to get married, I showed up, but she didn't. That's why I distrust women." I was shocked. And remained so when the day ended. After he had told his shocking confession, we just talked about things of the past. When my hired car came to pick me up I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave, and have to say good-bye to my best friend.
We bid goodbye to each other one last time. And it could have just been my imagination, but I think Sherlock Holmes was crying. In fact he was! Then he handed me a box. "What's in it Holmes ?" I asked. "Just some old stuff. My magnifying glass, pipe, deerstalker, and some of your old things as well"
I put the special box in the car. His last word to me was "elementary." I heard he died three days later.
God rest his soul.
A/N: I'm so sorry for making you sit through that! Please r&r nonetheless!