A/N: I can hardly believe it's my fifth time participating in this challenge! Big thanks to HadesLordoftheDead for making this possible year after year. :)
December 1: "Future" (from Winter Winks 221)
Watson and I were seated by the fire one chilly December evening, each of us reading and when the fancy struck one of us, talking. It was after my retirement, and I was glad to have company besides my bees and distant neighbors.
"Holmes," said Watson at length.
I gestured for him to continue.
"Have you ever wondered how the world will change in the future? You know, after we are long gone." My Boswell was frowning, the combination of that and the firelight deepening the new wrinkles in his face and aging him more than I was comfortable seeing.
I frowned as well, pondering his question as I gazed into the crackling flames. I had thought of it often lately; the combination of the recent Great War and my own age was likely what had led me to the thought. "I suppose all sorts of machines will be made to run quicker and more efficiently, and the human race will certainly develop more advanced techniques for detective work and medicine over time." I glanced at my friend with a smile. "Soon we and our methods will be quite archaic."
Watson laughed, which was the reaction I was hoping for. "We are already well on our way to that, I'm afraid. Although," he added, a peculiar glint in his eye, "somehow I can't imagine your methods of observation and deduction will ever be obsolete."
I should hope not! What a terrible fate for detection that would be. But Watson had meant it as a compliment as much as anything, so I smiled and took it as such. "I suppose if my methods are to live on, it is only right that your stories do also," I said.
Watson waved an airy hand and shook his head. "I can't imagine they will. There are too many writers in the world with far more talent than I shall ever have."
I thought my friend was selling himself rather short, and said as much.
My Boswell's face lit up with a grin. "Quite a change, from your initial opinion of my 'romantic drivel'."
I smiled and gave an easy shrug. Anything I could say in response to that, my Boswell already knew.
"Just how many of my stories have you read?" Watson asked.
I hesitated for a moment, more for the sake of his amusement than any indecision on my part. "All of them."
"Ha!" Watson laughed. "I should have known."
Curiosity had gotten the better of me many years ago. After sharing another grin with my biographer, we returned to what we had been reading before.
I could not have asked for a more pleasant evening.