Creating stories, original fiction and fanfiction, always suffer from birth pangs. For this one, the pains were a lot, spanning a few months. Basically, it was the pain of indecision: whether to present a story idea in a way I only know how, or not to write at all.
As the cliché goes: bite the bullet.
Disclaimers: Most characters, with the exception of the two sisters (and future antagonists) belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. But then again, they belong to the public domain now. The story does not in any way follow the Canon timeline, an AU of sorts.
Truthseekers
by mierin-lanfear
Chapter One
She was soaked to her skin. Her clothes smelled of river water, a wholly unpleasant smell.
But she did not remember diving into the river. Certainly not this river. She had jumped off a bridge--an old mossy brick affair which fit the sleepy college town--but not this bridge. A jagged disconnect in reality.
The rain had stopped a few moments ago. Almost as soon as she opened her eyes to the foggy yellow light of the streetlamps. She pushed herself up against the stone parapet, clutching at her wet nylon knapsack close to her. Shivers ran down her spine as a sharp cough caught her throat.
The air was cold. Damp and cold as the fog.
She was shaking violently. Her clothes were wet, clinging to her like cold glass. I'll catch my death in cold... she thought.
Then her pale lips broke into a smile. She laughed hysterically, until another sharp cough silenced her.
She had wanted to die. But she never expected this.
Precariously, she balanced herself on the bridge's parapet, despite the slippery overgrown moss on the bricks. Her body slightly wobbled as she fought against the storm winds pushing her back to the road. Stretching out her arms, her center of gravity shifted to a more proper location.
Rowan was horrified. "What the shit are you doin'?!" she screamed. "Are you out of your friggin' mind?" She tugged at the hem of her sister's dress. "It ain't down, please?"
The girl on the parapet remained deaf to her sister's plea. Her ears listened only to the thousand mad whisperings of the gales. ...just a small step...one step...tiny away...away...end it...to end it all...
"To end it all..." Vera whispered, looking down at Rowan with her glassy green eyes. She shifted her focus on the roaring brown river below the bridge. End it away...with us...seek...look up... A ghostly pearl-gray feather serenely drifted down, defying the wild winds.
Her green eyes fixed on the apparition, she jumped from the bridge, vainly reaching out to the feather. The mad hiss of the gales drowned out Rowan's screams from Vera's ears as she fell into the bridge's darkness.
A few wobbly steps led her away from the parapet, into the patched yellow gloom. Her eyes barely made out the shape of the lamps and the street. But from what she could divine from her jumbled senses, she was surprised. Surprise, then wonder, then fear.
The bridge was indeed different. The street was also different. So were the lamp posts.
Quaint lamp posts. Quaint gas lamp posts.
Cobblestoned street. A wide bridge, worlds apart from the small stone footbridge near the university.
Clop clop clop...
Horse hoof against cobblestone. She turned her head in the direction of the sound.
She wasn't sharp nor quick enough to avoid the horse-drawn carriage.She was too numb and confused by the frigid air and the surroundings.
Rowan scanned the river's surface for any sign of Vera. Her tears came streaming down her face.
"Dammit, Vera! Where are you?!" she screamed at the swollen river. Not when I need you...and Mamu needs you, you selfish bitch... She ran her hand through her short red hair in frustration.
A few minutes later, she hunted for the nearest phone booth in the town to call 911.
For her, Vera had just committed suicide.
Two weeks ago, she was leaning against the cold ceramic tiles of the bathroom, her blood trickling down from her slashed arms. The blade slid painlessly against her pale skin, but Vera winced as soon as the blood began to flow.
No more numbness. Freedom.
Before lapsing into catatonia, Rowan had found her slumped against the wall. As with all her previous attempts, the matter was hushed up between the two sisters. Especially when Rowan had read her mother's letter. In there, Mamu wrote that she was divorcing Daddy.
Daddy had a mistress. And she was Vera's collegue in the University.
Vera had a vague recollection of agitated male voices, of sturdy arms carrying her aloft into a warm space. Her lips moved soundlessly as something thick and warm was securely wrapped around her.
These sensations faded away as she finally lost consciousness.
