My first Multi-Chapter fic.
FULL SUMMARY:
London is crime-free. Watson drags a bored Holmes to the country side, and who else was to show up but The Woman? Experience has left Holmes perpetually suspicious of Irene Adler, more so when seemingly unrelated murders surface as her wedding date to a rich lord looms nearer. He wagers he is right, Watson bets otherwise. But is the bride-to-be truly the perpetrator, or is there some other evil at hand? How far will he go to prove her guilty?
Set 6 years after AGOS. Prequel still pending. :)
Deck the Halls
Baker Street was laden with a bountiful layer of snow. It was quite a lovely sight one might compare to that of a ginger-bread village. Anyone who would happen to pass by would think they had been imprisoned inside a pretty snow globe. Christmas cheer was creeping around the corner and everyone reveled in it, but not Sherlock Holmes.
Thick curtains were drawn over windows, a roaring flame in the hearth, pipe lit and stuffed to the brim with tobacco, an array of bottles of brandy, rum, embalming fluid and tea with ear medication on the coffee table, complete with about an inch of dust over everything else including himself; all these were factors to help the great detective strive to keep warm. That and preventing his brain from total shut down.
Winter had just fallen over bleak and dreary London; everything was a sight of white, grey and black. It was more than a week away but the entire city had been prepared already for Christmas as if it hadn't been around for so long.
Holmes sat unaffected by the idea, cheer and celebration wasn't always an option for his normally erratic, unpredictable and remarkable mind, he had more pressing problems; there were no cases to handle. It's either crime had become more complex that even he could not sniff it out or that everyone in London had been awarded a spot in Father Christmas' Nice list.
The latter was laughable; the former was a very interesting thought.
He was sitting behind what had been his desk before it was engulfed in what looked like London Post's mail stash for a month, rummaging through his correspondences for a good seven hours since this morning. The pile of unopened mail usually held into place by a jack knife above the wooden mantelpiece lay in front of him, finally opened and read through, all two hundred nineteen unopened uninteresting pleas for his services.
He had re-read them for the third time, just incase he had missed things such as a hidden message, highly-unlikely, but it was something to do rather than join Watson and his young family out in caroling.
"'Dear Mr. Holmes' … 'my daughter is missing' … 'heiress' … hmm, the young lady has eloped with the stable boy, how romantic." The letter from a distressed mother read.
He threw it to the fire and picked another.
"'Dear Mr. Holmes' … uh-huh," he took a long drag on his pipe, "'mysterious restaurant poisoning' … 'multiple victims'. Hmmm, spoilt milk, a clumsy sous chef and contaminated water pipe line."
"'Dear Sherlock Holmes' … from a Lord Campton? Interesting… This could be a ca- oh wait, case solved."
He scooped up the pile in his arms and tossed them into the fire. "These people! Such petty problems, can they not move their backsides and do something for themselves?" went his monologue, "what will the greater of London do without me?"
"Probably burst into flames and sink to the ground," chided a voice by the door. Dr John Watson lounged on an armchair, hat and coat hung by the coat stand, a rather surprised smile on his face.
Holmes blinked.
"The Lord Campton case, do tell me about it after you explain to me how you had not noticed my presence here. How long has it been old boy, seems like you've lost a bit of touch over the weeks? I've quite missed you."
Holmes blinked again; Watson gave a small laugh and walked over to his colleague. He looked at the letters over Holmes' shoulder.
"Scouring for cases I see," Watson commented, "it's funny you should throw them, you don't usually do, even with the most petty ones."
"Singing carols despite suffering the limp, Watson? Not just you I believe, young Miss Watson gave you quite a time," he eyed Watson's coat by the door, a sour smell coming from it. "Upset stomach, had too little for lunch I presume, I smell a hint of your dear wife's lemon meringue pie, and outon such a cold day, caroling! Have you not thought that through? You are a doctor after all."
Holmes smirked. Watson's ears turned pink.
"Alright! Alright, I take back what I said about you losing touch, and yes uhm… the chill must've caught on to Lizzie."
"I assume they're here with you then, young Lizzie and… your wife."
"Holmes."
"Sweet Mother Mary."
"Not funny."
"Mary..." Holmes croaked.
"Better. They're downstairs with Mrs. Hudson getting Lizzie into new clothes, and Mary too."
Another smirk pulled itself on Holmes lips.
"Let's change the subject shall we?" he continued to clear his desk, throwing letters to the fire and putting away files and dossiers. "Watson,"
"I'm all ears old chap," he sat in an armchair by the window.
"I am in a terrible predicament!" Holmes took a long drag from his pipe.
"Ran out of embalming fluid?"
"Do be serious Watson! This could easily mark the end of my career!" Watson gave him his full attention.
"How so? Oh please don't tell me… Is he back?" Watson looked very worried; his colleague does look shaken up.
"Somewhat. Yes and No."
"What?"
"Somewhat yes, for the anxiety my situation gives me lately is somehowreminiscent of what he's put me through, do keep up Watson," Watson's face dropped to a scowl, "and No. He's dead is he not, if not do tell me? Although I so much miss the mental stimulation he bestowed upon me." Holmes sighed, "Good times, good times."
"Yes and the fish hooks in the shoulder." Watson was slowly loosing interest.
"This is terriblefor me!" Holmes went on, ignoring Watson, "London is actually stripped of crime!" The doctor rolled his eyes. "Not just London, the greater of European crime scene seems to be busy hanging out holiday rubbish also! I am actuallyjobless! JOBLESS WATSON! How am I to pay for rent?"
"Really Holmes, it's Christmas season, everybody deserves a break. That should be good news, and besides, I'm sure after the holidays, criminals will be happy enough to fulfill your needs." He said sardonically.
"Not for the likes of me who live on the pleasure of solving other people's woes, not to mention the wages they offer-"
"Oh don't say that Holmes. Do you really think I'd believe you were actually worried about the money?" Watson laughed scathingly, "I'd say you are bored almost beyond repair! Right now you have been in between jobs for quite the longest time in your career. I'd even say that cocaine intake of yours has dulled your mind or heightened your imagination that you see things in places and people that isn't even there! Imagine! Accusing poor old Mrs. Hudson of murder and poisoning your food!"
"She does,"
"No. She. Does. Not. Holmes." He said each word slowly like speaking to a stubborn child.
"He's tired John, just let him be." Mary's soft voice floated from the door way, "you've dealt with him like this before after all, and he ends up just fine." She smiled at Holmes, trailing behind her and clutching her skirts was four year old Elizabeth Watson wrapped snuggly in her velvet winter coat, a tea towel peaked from under her collar.
Holmes felt unnerved rather than comforted by the smile.
"Mrs. Watson," he said coldly but Mary retained her sweet smile, to Holmes it was a smirk. "Thank you for taking my side even for just a while in this matter, but I assure you that I am well, not tired, nor irreparably bored." He glared at Watson, who offered his seat to his wife. Mary then turned to Watson.
"Oh John, have you told him yet?"
"Tell me what precisely?" Holmes butted in; they have been leaving him out in a lot of matters lately.
Watson opened and closed his mouth a few times searching for words, much like a fish.
"Uhm, your brother Mycroft, he invited us over in his estate for the Christmas Hol-"
"No, sorry, invitation declined! I am much far too busy to be gallivanting around in the country when there is much to be done for London." He emphasized the word busy without looking up from his desk; he had taken to rereading his files again.
"Well you weren't exactly invited Holmes," said person stopped midway in tossing a letter to the fire, Watson heaved a sigh, "us meant Mary, Lizzie and I…" he trailed off.
"I, not invited to my own brother's estate?" Holmes said incredulously, his expression remained unchanged though: bland.
"But of course you can come if you wish too; it is still your home after all. Mycroft was simply considering your schedule, might you be busy with… work." he knew this wasn't the case.
"Yes, how considerate of him." Holmes felt chagrined. "But I don't think I would, I wouldn't want to get in between you and your young family for the holidays."
Watson knew he didn't mean that, even if he said no he'd likely follow them anyways, that or immerse himself in tobacco smoke and cocaine for the next two weeks until they come back home. Watson was to say otherwise but Mary got ahead of him.
"Please come along Mr. Holmes, it has been a while that you've spent time with all of us. Poor Lizzie quite misses your company." As if on cue Elizabeth ran towards him and sat on his lap. She gave him a sweet smile reminiscent of her mother but she had her father's eyes.
"Well I suppose I canthink it over…" he patted Lizzie's head gently and she scooted off to the coffee table, golden ringlets bouncing, to play with the china set.
After a moment of silence where Holmes appears to be pondering, Watson decided to speak.
"It will be merrier if you do, old chap, just like old days. You still have time to weigh it out; we won't be leaving till next week." Holmes relaxed a bit and smiled at the happy couple before him. "But in the mean time, do try to engage yourself in something Holmes; it's for your own good."
Holmes smiled, Watson smiled back hoping this was going somewhere.
"Watson, you do understand I value our friendship very much and that I'd go to great lengths to have you by my side and your favor in many endeavors yet to come." Holmes suddenly sounded sentimental, a shock for Watson.
"Well- Of course Holmes, why you are after all my best man and Lizzie's god father and if chances are that you should go the same way, although I hardly expect it," he said with a laugh, "I will be there for you too."
Watson exchanged smiles with his wife, he didn't know where this conversation was going but if Holmes was to sound light-hearted then he'll play along.
"That is such a relief to know Watson, I expect you to keep your word." Holmes smiled again, "by the way, I think you should leave now, Elizabeth had just ingested my ear medication beverage."
"Holmes!"
A/N: So there goes my first chapter. not much detail there yet but keep reading! Oh and Please please please with puppy dog eyes and ice cream pies. please review! ^_^ whether my grammar sucks or suggestions they will be appreciated. ^_^ They're like a bottle of rum each! XD
-Jacques Sparreaux