Disclaimer: I do not own any characters created by the fabulous Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle. Everything else is mine.
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I used to think nothing could surprise me. I mean, I live in Toronto, the Canadian equivalent of New York City, and if you live in either city, you've pretty much seen it all. Boy, was I wrong. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for the experience I recently had.
It all started on a Monday in August. Maybe that should have been my first clue. I mean, if things are going to go wrong, you can bet they'll pick a Monday to do it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce myself first. My name is Margaret Peterson.call me Meg. I'm an actor and a costume designer by trade. That is to say, I go to a lot of auditions, get a few jobs, and pay my rent by working in a costume store and designing for the occasional show. There's not a lot of money to it, but I'm doing exactly what I've always wanted to do, and I wouldn't live my life any other way.
Where was I? Right. Beautiful day in August. Anyway, I was walking home from work, and it was so nice out, I had decided to take a shortcut through High Park; I live just on the other side of it. I was strolling along through a particularly thick part of the woods, drinking in the sunshine, and not paying attention to where I was going, when I tripped over an exposed tree root. Taken by surprise I couldn't catch myself, and I fell, striking my head on a small rock. I saw stars.
It seemed as if I lay dazed on the ground for hours, but really I know it was only a few seconds before I heard voices coming towards me. Two men, British accents, and they were arguing.
"Watson, as God is my witness, I shall never take one of your shortcuts again!"
"Now Holmes, be reasonable. We are not lost. In fact, I know precisely where we are." There was a pause. "I just don't know where Baker Street is."
The two voices, came closer, still arguing, then I heard one of them gasp. Seconds later I felt my head being lifted gently off the ground, and an acrid scent wafted up my nostrils. THAT brought me back to reality in a hurry, let me tell you. I jerked into a sitting position. That is, I tried to jerk into a sitting position. In actuality, the first attempt at motion caused an explosion of pain in my head, which quickly made me reconsider the whole idea. Sitting, I decided, was over-rated.
"I should lie quietly or a moment if I were you, miss," a kindly, but firm voice admonished me. "You appear to have taken a rather nasty blow to the head."
I nodded silently and slowly opened my eyes to see who had come to my rescue.
Kneeling beside me was a man of about thirty, concern clearly etched on his face. He had a handsome, square-jawed face, with a mustache and kind eyes. I was certain he was a doctor of some sort.he had an aura about him of someone used to putting others at ease, no matter what the situation.
Standing nearby was a tall, thin man, approximately the same age, with a narrow face and a strong Roman nose. I've never liked Roman noses. He hadn't said a word yet, and stood rather aloofly, as if bored with the whole proceedings, yet I noticed that his eyes looked at me with curiosity, and a bit of suspicion.
Both men were impeccably dressed, one in a dark brown suit, the other in light gray. They looked like two young businessmen, yet I had the impression that something about their clothes was odd. Being a costume designer I notice a lot about clothes, but my head was hurting too much to think hard at the moment.
I decided to try sitting up again, slowly this time. The kneeling man carefully guided me up. I smiled weakly.
"Thank you so much for your help," I said.
"Think nothing of it, miss," the gentleman replied. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. John Watson, and this is my friend and colleague, Sherlock Homes."
Holmes and Watson, Holmes and Watson.a little bell was ringing in my head. A very painful little bell. I told it to shut up.
"Meg Peterson," I said, "and again, thanks. I think I'm okay now, and I should be getting home. My cat is going to be wondering what happened to me."
"Please allow us to escort you home, Miss Peterson," said Dr. Watson as he helped me to my feet. "I'd like to be able to assure your guardians that you're all right."
I blinked. Guardians? I know I look younger than my age (twenty-five), but I haven't even been ID'd at the bars in at least a year. I said as much to the doctor (in a polite way, of course) and was rewarded with a puzzled look. I saw his lips repeating what I'd just said, as if he didn't understand the words, and his look of concern heightened. His companion also looked momentarily confused, but recovered quickly and spoke for the first time.
"Please do not be offended miss," he said smoothly. "I believe my friend merely meant whomever you are staying with."
"Well, I still don't know what you mean," I said. "I live alone."
The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to kick myself. First rule of thumb in any big city is never let them know you're a female living alone. I don't even list my full name in the phone book, only my initials. But it was too late now.
"My apologies Miss Peterson," he said. "I didn't think you had been in the country that long."
"What on earth made you think that?"
"Well, your accent.I believe you're from Canada? And your rather singular outfit."
My head was really pounding now. Who were these guys? Did he really think it remarkable that he could tell me I was from the country we were in? As for the clothes, well, I'm used to remarks about my.less than conventional mode of dress, but I was wearing a fairly ordinary skirt and top today. Right now, I just wanted to get home to an aspirin. I took a step away, and my legs started to buckle. I grabbed hold of Dr. Watson. Guess I was still a bit dizzy. I made a quick decision. After all, if they were going to rob or do anything else to me, they'd already had plenty of opportunity.
"Listen, don't worry about it, no offense taken," I said quickly. "If you come with me as far as the park entrance, I can make it from there." I had no intention of telling them I lived across the road from the park.
I could see Dr. Watson about to object, but then he changed his mind and offered his arm for support, which I gratefully took, trying to hide the fact that I was grateful. We progressed towards the entrance in silence. I wasn't in the mood for conversation, and neither man attempted to start any.
As we walked out of the trees, I attempted to thank them again and make my escape as quickly as possible, but the words died on my lips as I stared in disbelief at what was in front of me.
"Those jerks gave me a parking ticket! I can't believe this, I have a permit to park on the street!" As I ranted, I heard a strangled gasp behind me and turned. to see Holmes and Watson, staring at my car, white with shock.
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Author's Note: I bet you all thought that chapter was going to end a different way! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please let me know what you think.
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I used to think nothing could surprise me. I mean, I live in Toronto, the Canadian equivalent of New York City, and if you live in either city, you've pretty much seen it all. Boy, was I wrong. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for the experience I recently had.
It all started on a Monday in August. Maybe that should have been my first clue. I mean, if things are going to go wrong, you can bet they'll pick a Monday to do it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce myself first. My name is Margaret Peterson.call me Meg. I'm an actor and a costume designer by trade. That is to say, I go to a lot of auditions, get a few jobs, and pay my rent by working in a costume store and designing for the occasional show. There's not a lot of money to it, but I'm doing exactly what I've always wanted to do, and I wouldn't live my life any other way.
Where was I? Right. Beautiful day in August. Anyway, I was walking home from work, and it was so nice out, I had decided to take a shortcut through High Park; I live just on the other side of it. I was strolling along through a particularly thick part of the woods, drinking in the sunshine, and not paying attention to where I was going, when I tripped over an exposed tree root. Taken by surprise I couldn't catch myself, and I fell, striking my head on a small rock. I saw stars.
It seemed as if I lay dazed on the ground for hours, but really I know it was only a few seconds before I heard voices coming towards me. Two men, British accents, and they were arguing.
"Watson, as God is my witness, I shall never take one of your shortcuts again!"
"Now Holmes, be reasonable. We are not lost. In fact, I know precisely where we are." There was a pause. "I just don't know where Baker Street is."
The two voices, came closer, still arguing, then I heard one of them gasp. Seconds later I felt my head being lifted gently off the ground, and an acrid scent wafted up my nostrils. THAT brought me back to reality in a hurry, let me tell you. I jerked into a sitting position. That is, I tried to jerk into a sitting position. In actuality, the first attempt at motion caused an explosion of pain in my head, which quickly made me reconsider the whole idea. Sitting, I decided, was over-rated.
"I should lie quietly or a moment if I were you, miss," a kindly, but firm voice admonished me. "You appear to have taken a rather nasty blow to the head."
I nodded silently and slowly opened my eyes to see who had come to my rescue.
Kneeling beside me was a man of about thirty, concern clearly etched on his face. He had a handsome, square-jawed face, with a mustache and kind eyes. I was certain he was a doctor of some sort.he had an aura about him of someone used to putting others at ease, no matter what the situation.
Standing nearby was a tall, thin man, approximately the same age, with a narrow face and a strong Roman nose. I've never liked Roman noses. He hadn't said a word yet, and stood rather aloofly, as if bored with the whole proceedings, yet I noticed that his eyes looked at me with curiosity, and a bit of suspicion.
Both men were impeccably dressed, one in a dark brown suit, the other in light gray. They looked like two young businessmen, yet I had the impression that something about their clothes was odd. Being a costume designer I notice a lot about clothes, but my head was hurting too much to think hard at the moment.
I decided to try sitting up again, slowly this time. The kneeling man carefully guided me up. I smiled weakly.
"Thank you so much for your help," I said.
"Think nothing of it, miss," the gentleman replied. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. John Watson, and this is my friend and colleague, Sherlock Homes."
Holmes and Watson, Holmes and Watson.a little bell was ringing in my head. A very painful little bell. I told it to shut up.
"Meg Peterson," I said, "and again, thanks. I think I'm okay now, and I should be getting home. My cat is going to be wondering what happened to me."
"Please allow us to escort you home, Miss Peterson," said Dr. Watson as he helped me to my feet. "I'd like to be able to assure your guardians that you're all right."
I blinked. Guardians? I know I look younger than my age (twenty-five), but I haven't even been ID'd at the bars in at least a year. I said as much to the doctor (in a polite way, of course) and was rewarded with a puzzled look. I saw his lips repeating what I'd just said, as if he didn't understand the words, and his look of concern heightened. His companion also looked momentarily confused, but recovered quickly and spoke for the first time.
"Please do not be offended miss," he said smoothly. "I believe my friend merely meant whomever you are staying with."
"Well, I still don't know what you mean," I said. "I live alone."
The moment the words were out of my mouth I wanted to kick myself. First rule of thumb in any big city is never let them know you're a female living alone. I don't even list my full name in the phone book, only my initials. But it was too late now.
"My apologies Miss Peterson," he said. "I didn't think you had been in the country that long."
"What on earth made you think that?"
"Well, your accent.I believe you're from Canada? And your rather singular outfit."
My head was really pounding now. Who were these guys? Did he really think it remarkable that he could tell me I was from the country we were in? As for the clothes, well, I'm used to remarks about my.less than conventional mode of dress, but I was wearing a fairly ordinary skirt and top today. Right now, I just wanted to get home to an aspirin. I took a step away, and my legs started to buckle. I grabbed hold of Dr. Watson. Guess I was still a bit dizzy. I made a quick decision. After all, if they were going to rob or do anything else to me, they'd already had plenty of opportunity.
"Listen, don't worry about it, no offense taken," I said quickly. "If you come with me as far as the park entrance, I can make it from there." I had no intention of telling them I lived across the road from the park.
I could see Dr. Watson about to object, but then he changed his mind and offered his arm for support, which I gratefully took, trying to hide the fact that I was grateful. We progressed towards the entrance in silence. I wasn't in the mood for conversation, and neither man attempted to start any.
As we walked out of the trees, I attempted to thank them again and make my escape as quickly as possible, but the words died on my lips as I stared in disbelief at what was in front of me.
"Those jerks gave me a parking ticket! I can't believe this, I have a permit to park on the street!" As I ranted, I heard a strangled gasp behind me and turned. to see Holmes and Watson, staring at my car, white with shock.
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Author's Note: I bet you all thought that chapter was going to end a different way! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please let me know what you think.