One Year

DISCLAIMER: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson are the creations of the remarkable Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

KS: Just a little thing to celebrate the twenty-first of July, which marks my being a Sherlockian for one year. (It was one year ago to-day that I purchased my first SH book and began to read, if I did my counting properly. I immediately fell in love with the stories!)

Hopefully it will be entertaining; I wrote it a bit later at night than I am accustomed to writing anything (which is why it is posted to-day, and not on the 21st. XD). It really took a life of its own, so it's a little odd, but... Enjoy!

It had been one year since I first moved into the rooms at 221B Baker Street with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It was amazing how time had past so quickly after that first adventure…just as amazing as it was that he had asked me along on that first adventure at all, as solitary as he was at the time. I still didn't understand him fully, but I think that even after only a year I knew him better than any other man possibly could.

It was very early in the morning—one of those times that I got up at an ungodly hour—and I sat in my chair before the fireplace, wrapt in my dressing-gown and reading over the notes I had taken on the Jefferson Hope case all those months ago. I heard a door open and close behind me the and light, long steps that followed told me that my friend had entered the room. I heard him push back the catches on his violin-case and open it and then heard him remove the bow. A moment later I heard him take up the instrument, and he made his way over to his chair across from me.

His grey eyes were thoughtful as he settled the violin under his strong chin, and they stared into the small fire. We knew each other well enough at this point that no obtrusive pleasantries needed to be exchanged on a night like this; they would only serve to interrupt our thoughts.

Holmes played for quite some time, and I continued to read my rough write up of the adventure, smiling all the while. Finally the music ceased and the violin was lowered; I saw that his eyes were much clearer than before. He caught me looking at him with a smile, and his thick brows drew together in question.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing, Holmes," I replied. "It's just that I was thinking…to-day marks the one-year anniversary since we moved in together."

"Oh, is that all?" Holmes said, setting his violin down beside his chair. "I see you are reading one of your accounts of our cases…The Jefferson Hope affair, no doubt."

"Yes; I can't believe I was such a busybody as to make a list about your limits!" I laughed.

"And some of them wrong, at that," Holmes said as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, drawing his legs up to his chest. "Well, are you finding anything educational in your reading?"

"Only that I have gotten better since I wrote it," I replied, thumbing absently through the pages. "Perhaps I wasn't as well as I thought back then."

A short laugh came from Holmes.

It was quiet for a moment in the room; the crackling and popping of the fire was the only sound.

"Perhaps I should publish it," I said.

"I thought you said you didn't like it," said Holmes.

"It was one of the greatest thrills in my life to accompany you on that first case. All it needs is a little rewriting, and it should be fine."

Holmes thought about this for a moment. "What would you title it?" he asked.

I too thought for a moment, and then my eyes fell upon a line in the text. "How does 'A Study in Scarlet' sound?"

Holmes snorted a laugh. "A little art jargon, eh?" he said. "Why not use it?"

Another period of quiet.

"Why did you ask me along on that first case, Holmes?" I asked, looking at him.

Holmes's brow furrowed deeply as he thought. "I'm not entirely certain, Watson," he said earnestly. "Perhaps I thought it would be fun to dazzle you more than I already had that morning…but I cannot quite remember."

I leaned back in my own chair, placing my bad leg upon a stool I always had nearby. "I'm very glad you asked me along," said I.

Holmes raised an eyebrow.

"If you hadn't," I continued, "who knows what might have happened? We might not be where we are to-day."

"And where is that?" my friend asked.

"Why, here, together. As comrades, colleagues, and friends. We might have even gone our separate ways by now if we had not shared that first adventure."

There was another snort from Holmes. "Oh, do cut the poetry, Watson," he said, though a smile had touched his hard face and a flush tinged his cheeks as he stared into the fire.

KS: Thanks for reading; don't forget to review! This is just something that I let come out…not entirely sure what it is, but….here it is. XD A little something...probably could be better, but I've been busy.