OK, am I the only one who is in completely in love with SH2? I went to see it the day after it came out and it was glorious. I'm planning on seeing it again. =). In the mean time I'm writing this story to wet my appetite for SH3. Which there has to be!
"Holmes!", cried a voice coming up the stairs of the apartment complex on Baker Street. It came once again, "Holmes!" The man had reached a certain door and flung it up with quite a bit of force. "I know you're in there!"
John Watson's eyes were met at once with the familiar apartment of Sherlock Holmes. Everything appeared the way at it so long ago. Not a thing had been changed, even with Holmes' aparent death. Watson had argued that they shouldn't hurry with dispersing out his friends objects and thus continued to pay rent for it. "Holmes!"
A figure darted out from a curtained room, Watson's old one. Rather unsteadily it should be added and much smaller than remembered. Brown eyes met blue, "It's sure good to see you, old boy."
Despite being furious just seconds later Watson had bounded to his friend and embraced him in a hug. Just as quickly as his mood had changed, it went back. In a flash he had pushed his friend away, Holmes grasped his sides which went unnoticed.
"I got THIS in the mail," Watson whipped out the oxygen device that he had received in the mail the day before.
"Ah, so you did get it. I was hoping you would. The mail's been off lately I've noticed."
"So you decided to deliver it yourself. Of course it was you! I-I thought you were dead!"
"Completely understandable considering the circumstances. I thought I was dead for a minute there, too. But luckily, because of that ingenious device I'm not."
"Don't you understand? This whole time everyone thought you were dead, were mourning you. And all the while you were simply lurking about...yes, I've noticed the question mark!"
"If you will allow me to explain-"
"I wish you would."
Holmes swallowed remembering those brown curls. " Surprisingly after taking a fall like that I received a few broken bones and extreme bruising. Thankfully I was able to find a local village, and apparently a wet waistcoat is worth quite a bit of money."
"My waistcoat."
"Which I will reimburse you on in the near future..."
Watson rolled his eyes.
"...Anyways, with the money I was able to secure the medical attention I needed and took a train and a boat back to London with simple hopings on and off and sneaking onto the boat. Of course seeing you and Mary where top on my list, then obviously Mycroft. But first I had unfinished business. I was in the search for a missing person and I was quite engulfed in it. Now obviously I was dressed in disguise for people thought me dead and staying at several seedy lodgings during my search. When I overheard of a funeral being held for Sherlock Holmes. I immediately realized how much time had passed and how I left you all in the dark. And you know the rest..."
"Oh, yes I do," Watson walked over to one of the armchairs and lifted up the suit Holmes had used to disguise himself on Watsons chair.
"Another fine example of my urban camouflage. It will be big someday, you wait."
"That's not the point, look at it! It's exactly the pattern of the armchair in my study. Where I was writing my eulogy for you. Obviously you were in my house for quite a while and you didn't seem in a hurry to make it known."
"I thought I was doing you a favor. I didn't just appear dramaticly like some ghost."
"You love dramatics."
"I do not. Not like that. So thus I sent you that device knowing you would know what it meant and I was just making sure that you would. Besides, that was a fine piece of writing, you should archive it for when the day does come." Holmes lit his pipe and started puffing at it nervously.
"I wrote when I thought you were dead, you shouldn't have seen it. And then you run off! You could have made yourself known then, that would have been the perfect time."
"Unfortunately I had a prior engagement that had to be kept. So I cut through the woods and hopped into one of those engined carriages."
"Driven by whom..."
Holmes glanced around nervously then folded, "Alright so I went and I saw Mycroft first. He understands these things, he's quite brilliant, lazy, but brilliant. Granted when he first saw me he punched in jaw, but after that he took it quite well."
"I just can't believe this. Tell me, what could have been so important than to abandon your friends and family? The Yard could've taken care of it."
"You know that they couldn't have."
"Why not..." Watson now noticed that Holmes had a strong grip around his torso, and was paler then pale,"...are you feeling alright."
"I'm alive, if that's what you mean," spat Holmes.
"I am happy you're alive, you do know I am. Despite my present anger I'm still here for you. As a partner and a friend."
"Let's not get sentimental now, Watson," though he still walked over and grasped his shoulder then quickly walked toward the window.
Watson stared at the back of his friends form, how skinny he had become, he felt it when he hugged him. But then again, this happened on nearly every case. "So tell me, why couldn't the Yard handle this one."
Without turning around Holmes responded, "I don't believe they know about it."
"What do you mean?"
The detective turned around and looked into his companions eyes, and Watson was surprised to see rage in them.
A distant memory of the month before flashed through Watson's mind. He remembered staring at the blood stained handkerchief embroidered I.A. Holmes' eyes meeting his, him getting up, smelling the item deeply and then tossing it into the sea.
How could he have forgotten.
First chapter done! My first chapter of my first ever Sherlock Holmes story. I believe this is an important moment in history for me. (gets emotional). Oh and could this have been longer? I'm planning on making them longer but please tell me if the length was a problem.
