Don't own anything except original characters. All material (c) to respective owners. I write these for fun and make no profit. They're just random plot bunnies that live within my strange mind
A/N:I don't honestly know how well this turned out. I went with my instinct and the characters took over from there. It isn't my usual fandom to write for and I'm trying it on for size. I though am an avid fan of Sherlock Holmes and plan to dabble in this area a little more if my imagination allows it. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.
Chapter 1: The Introductory Splash-down
I lost track of time and had little energy to go seeking out a paper. I had arrived here and stayed well hidden knowing my knowledge would get me little where else in the 1800's. I didn't relish the idea of going to an asylum of the time. Being well verse in history implied that I knew better- in fact I did and chose to remain as I was. Where it is? I could only guess. It was cold and I had survived by going into town on occasion and finding ways to barter for food. I built my shelter out of rags and hid well inside a cave near a cascading splash of water falls. It had been familiar and I eventually found out why. I had landed in a world I only knew from movies.
In the famed Sherlock Holmes world, of course anyone would be excited. Every fan girl dreams of this exciting adventure and unfortunately when it's real-the appeal is lost. I guessed by the part above me where an elegant building made for the rich idealist of this time meant something important is happening, however I found the thrill of investigating unwelcome. It was far easier to pretend that I wasn't lost in the 1800's living in a cave and verging on eccentric homeless lady living someplace in-well I wasn't exactly sure where. I knew it was cold, the mountains hid small villages and they spoke a language I didn't know.
I would have guessed somewhere near Switzerland but then again I wasn't the best in geography of the 1800's. Sighing I go out of the bitter cold in my small cave. I warm myself by the fire I fight to keep going and sit among the piles of old skins and blankets I had collected over time. It never ceased to amaze me how much you could find in a time that threw things out with out any sort of care.
Dozing near the fire I jerk alertly. Something louder than the steady splash of the falls gaining my attention, slowly I sit up listening but hear nothing more. Alright I admit I was a curious sort and didn't often pass up things like that, but I had learned to be careful what I go seeking. I try to return to sleep but can't shake the feeling I need to investigate. I knew roughly where I was, when I was but it didn't mean that I knew everything. If I did I wouldn't have been stuck in the 1800's trying to survive like some old homeless nut job in the mountains.
Snorting I stand pulling the warmth of the wool blanket tighter around myself and step to the cave edge. I stare out at countless hills and listen to the waterfall but nothing is out of place. Slowly I look up but nothing seems amiss above and the lights from the party seem to still be brighter than ever. Chewing my lip I contemplate going back into my make shift home, I think though my feet have other ideas. I begin to walk out into the cold; the wind is picking up and the sound of the water much stronger to my left.
I walk a few feet from my safe haven and again find nothing uncommon to the area. My breath curls in icy puffs from my mouth and I shiver, being cold far too common living here. I start to turn back to the cave before hearing something, if I hadn't known better I would have said someone was in the water. Only an idiot would swim in this weather, is my first of many sarcastic thoughts.
I begin to go back to the cave before thinking back to my own time. "Wasn't there something involving falls?" I blink ignoring the sting of the cold air on my face. I wasn't an idiot by normal standards-at least I hoped not. Now though I felt silly thinking that this was at all close to the movies that had been made in my world. That would be an ill-advised thought, it would mean that either I find Sherlock Holmes washed up from an icy ending and lucky to survive or-I didn't want to think of Moriarty. That man I couldn't even fathom finding. He was as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes but a clear psychotic. Freud would have a field day analyzing that nut.
Turning I change my direction against my own judgment and walk slowly along the edge of the water. If anyone in fact did survive this water they would be lucky to make it much farther then the edge of the bank. Any farther and I would be astounded beyond words-which took a lot to do in most cases.
"Hello?" Feeling unbelievable dumb I walk along the freshly covered snowy ground making an uninterrupted trail along the river bank before covering my eyes against the snow blowing up around me. "Is there someone out there?"
Thump
I fall unexpectedly near the waters edge and just barely miss falling into it myself. I look at the source of my fall and swallow a shriek seeing a cold pale hand latched around my ankle. I have every horror movie and novel I've ever been introduced to going through my mind. Sitting up I reflexively turn grabbing onto the hand and reach blindly down finding another pulling the figure up onto the snow covered ground.
Flopping backwards at the effort I hear coughing before looking down to a soaked man lying among the snow and watch something fall loosely from his hand. Reaching out I pick up the odd object and twist it in the gloom not being able to really make it out. Putting it inside my heavy assortment of jackets I take off the blanket around my shoulders and wrap it around him quickly before he freezes to death. Struggling to get him to his feet I feel him lean heavily into me and start to guide him back to my cave, it wasn't like I could just leave the guy out here to die, I had a conscience for the most part.
Inside the cave I managed to get him situated by the fire before pilling more blankets on him and watch him closely. I didn't get a good look at him; the fear that I let a mad man into my sanctuary bothers me. The idea of said man dying out in the snow bothers me more. I reach inside my many layers and find the object twisting it in the light from the fire and with a dazed feeling I believe I know who I found.
"Unlikely." I say aloud before going to the task of trying to get the recued one dry.
I strip the blankets momentarily before at the most taking off the heavy sodden jacket and vest refusing to go any farther and easing more blankets around him getting him as dry as possible. I look around gathering some wool blankets and put them on him while I watch the figure sleep. I stare into the nothingness of black cave walls for a long time before he shifts in troubled slumber and is hit clearly with the fire light.
I blink astonished when I realize who it is. I can't believe that of all the bad luck I have had as of late I manage to find even more. Don't get me wrong, helping those in trouble wasn't a bad thing but helping him may have gotten me unwilling dragged into a world that I had only been privy to in books and movies. Shaking my head I groan glancing skyward and mutter unpleasantly "Why me?" before directing my attention to the figure I had currently in my home.
A mop of unruly wavy dark hair coves his face and a clear need for a good shave are evident. That had been the case in the movies, he looked so remarkably as the actor that portrayed him I would have thought I was in a movie if I hadn't known better. His lips had a blue tinge that thankfully was fading. I wasn't a doctor but I at least saved him from the idea of freezing to death. I sat up with a start-he fell from way up top, he would surely have more injuries than just the cold. Blushing I realize I will have to examine him further whether I like it or not, it wouldn't do well for the famous detective to die from internal injuries while in my care. How would the movie end then?
Sighing I crawl over next to him and slowly lower the blankets trying my best to ease his shirt off of him and take note that he's well built, physical sound despite the clear injury to his shoulder which appears to have been spared during the fall despite heavy bruising marring his ribs and his good arm. I remember vaguely that Moriarty had put a hook through him and in doing so Holmes had succeeded in part of the undoing of his nemesis. I gently examine the bruises, from what I can guess there doesn't look to be any indication of blood. I wasn't a doctor but had volunteered in hospitals and animal clinics for the sheer enjoyment of being around kids and animals.
"I'm no expert but I think you will be fine." I whisper rummaging among my collection and tearing up some old rags making some bandages to hopefully dull the pain he was obviously in. "Rest easy, you're safe for now." Not like he would take comfort in that, but at least Moriarty wasn't trying to kill everything he cared about.
I keep him covered most of the night and despite examining him for more injuries I leave his trousers intact. Instead I feel through the fabric finding for the most part nothing amiss, one of his ankles is heavily swollen but that I can guess is a sprain. I see no bones or feell anything so gently wrap that as well. I'm still amazed he survive, but then again I had to consider who this was. A man that defined the odds by doing things others would deem impossible or insane.
I fell asleep watching over him, I didn't know how long I slept before I awoke to murmurs and groans of discomfort. Looking up I see he's coming around and hear him call out 'Watson' a couple of times. I believe he is mistaking my care meaning that Watson had found him after his daring lunge to a possible death. I remain still barely breathing waiting for him to realize that isn't the case. I see him slowly shift among the pile of blankets surrounding him and watch him slowly sit up. He hisses painfully before laying back down and reaching down finding his ribs.
Feeling down his side he finds he is lacking his clothing and feels heavy fabric around his ribs. He deduces painfully that he was retrieved from the falls and with a little luck, survived the plunge. He thanks his quick thinking and his brothers oddities collection before attempting to sit up and finding it much to painful to do so. Taking a breath he is also aware that its cold, much too cold for him to be safely in Watson's care and clearly whomever did find him was close by. If they had intended to let him die they would have left him to freeze to death. What caught him off guard was the assortment of odors in the immediate area.
Hints of floral swept around him with the air being cool coming from something that flapped behind him. He guessed he was in a cave, the other scents being cooked food and blankets that were musty despite being cared for. He had heard a female voice before he blacked out which led him to guess where the floral scents had come from, other scents such as dried fruits and meets also greeted his nose.
Not knowing what to do I heard him groan in pain again and winced guessing he was far worse off than I knew. I only could do guess work not being properly trained in medical care. I knew basics, I had learned survival skills and now was present with the possibility he would either see me as an enemy or a puzzle to solve.
Sherlock slowly opened his eyes seeing like he had surmise cave walls and hints of ice that had been melting due to the warmth of the cave. "I don't know the precise details to my landing or how I got here, but I would like to know who you are. Obviously you are not John Watson and gathering by what I see you've been here for a while." I flinch at his soft tone, I could hear the pain in his voice and knew that talking was a chore if I had guessed right on how many ribs he had broken.
"I found you on the river edge," I hesitate knowing he would not hear an accent to my voice and wonder where I was from. "You grabbed me in an attempt to get out of the water. I brought you here and did what I could for your injuries. I'm not a doctor but am familiar with some things." I didn't answer his question much to his annoyance, though he could detect no threat in my voice.
Sincerity in a woman made him worry, actually most everything on women troubled him. He managed to at most turn his head blinded by the firelight and only finding a shadowed form tucked into the corner of the cave.
"You answered everything but who you are."
"I don't plan to say." My voice sounded strained much to his surprise, usually simple greetings were common. "How are you feeling?" I changed tact deciding I couldn't hide forever but for the moment I would play ignorant on some things.
"What I expected when I awoke, pain." She smiled his sarcasm and wit were still intact. "I would rather know who you are, I don't relish fighting in the condition I am because you are secretly waiting to finish my unwilling attempt to harm myself." I snort at this, it was pretty clear I had no intention of finishing what Moriarty and he had begun above.
"I don't plan to finish you off, I tried to help you and clearly you don't appreciate it." I crawl slowly to the fire putting more sticks and wood on it before catching dark eyes staring at mine. "Can you sit up on your own or would you like help?" I ask deciding that he's as insufferable as he is made out in the movies.
He doesn't answer considering how he feels. His whole side and back feel like he hit ever rock on his way to the water below. He however knew that hitting the water did equal damage to that ideal and had also had a clear fall to the falls below. He ignored the throbbing pain and tried to sit up finding that much to his displeasure it wasn't an easy nor manageable task. He winced giving into to remaining as he was staring up once again at the cavern walls and listening to the falls outside. They were still near to where he had taken Moriarty out and saved his dearest friends in the process.
"Can I help you?" I ask disregarding the look of contempt I receive and try not to smile. "Glare all you like, you can't lay there forever. You need food and water." I see him scowl but instead of refusing my help he allows me to ease him upright against a pile of blankets agains the cave wall and stares at me trying to figure out why I'm helping him.
I lower my eyes from his well aware of the fact that he would deduce more than what I wish for him to know and go back to the fire gathering some meats and water to put into a stew pot. In the meantime I manage to warm some tea for us both and am thankful that I managed to learn some things for trade. It had been easy to befriend the small towns widow and I had learned quickly to mend and do other womanly chores, though I found them boring compared to the thrill of running around the world when I had been working for historical museums and other crafts in that area.
Sherlock's POV
He had been surprised when she had come to aid him. In his experience it was easier to chase people away and do things on one's own, though she didn't seem to believe that. Not that he cared to feel like he needed to be coddled he had however managed to look into light colored eyes before they dropped from his. He had been watching her shadowed form and only caught sparing details, it seemed to be a game of her own making now that he observed the way she remained in the shadows.
What little he did make out from her was she was on the small side, loaded inside of several layers of clothing. She seemed tall but again he wasn't sure due to the fact he was now sitting up against a wall full of linnens and such propping him up. What he did catch was hints of golden strands of hair that seemed to line her face, small strands curly into her eyes making her often reach up pushing them aside. She appeared to have long hair that was on the wavy side and if he gathered correctly due to the firelight it was either red or blond.
She didn't seem out of place, she seemed at ease in the cave and surviving on her own without the care of a man to keep her safe. From what he had seen she seemed to live on her own terms, what he didn't understand was why it appeared she had only been in the cave for a short time and that she seemed out of place. Things about her didn't add up and that did not satisfy his mind or thirst for knowledge and the unsolved case or two to keep him going.
Original POV
I stir the stew realizing that he's studying me. I wasn't a total idiot and knew very well that I wouldn't be able to fool the neurotic genius. I could already guess I had little time before he began firing questions or found something not fitting in my way of life. I blink realizing that some of the effects I had with me from my own time were safely tucked away in a small bag someplace in the cave. I also felt like smacking myself because if I didn't know exactly where it was, he could very well find it. Though it wasn't incriminating to a point of technology, it was more the simplistic geek inside me. I had thrown in a few books and some art supplies before I found myself winding up in this time.
"Miss, how long have I been here?" Looking up I could see he was still observing me with the intensity of someone trying to solve a mystery.
"A full day and tonight," I answer daring to ask. "How did you end up diving into the water at such an obvious height?" he looked at me and then I saw that gleam like he had figured something out.
Sherlock liked the idea she had implied from a height, she knew more to his landing than she was implying. "I provided the only escape for a friend and ended a very intriguing man's idealisms with my own aspect of dragging the enemy down with me if I had to." I knew what he meant and returned my attention to preparing food and situating some hot tea in a cup for my current guest. "How did you know it was from a great height?"
I refuse to let him get to me and slowly crawl over handing him the cup of tea. I keep my gaze set of the fire before answering. In reality I'm trying to think of an answer that won't imply more than it should-not my finest point-, he's looking at me waiting patiently for the answer that I don't want to share.
"I heard a splash and assumed it was you…It was very loud." How do I keep up a charade when even I don't believe myself? "Sip slowly, it's hot."
Sherlock's POV
"I can tell by the steam and the hot feel of the cup in my hands." He sees her frown at his amused tone, clearly she isn't keen on his sense of humor which is mostly consistent of sarcasm and a bluntness that only seems effective on Watson who knows him well.
"He's just as bad in person, though I guess it would be hard to deal with your best friend thinking you're dead." She didn't voice the thought aloud, the last thing she wanted to do was to make this more complicated. That would only make him ask more questions and seek answers she wasn't going to share on a bet.
He remained watching her seeing her purposely focus on other things. She seemed to be thinking, considering answers carefully and it only made him more curious. Things began to catch his attention around the cave. He could see clothing that had been mended put neatly aside, he saw an assortment of herbal mixes and other things that were set aside for trade. She may not have been there long but she had made a way to survive, she had a fire of her own rules and self. He could tell that society wouldn't deal well with whatever drove her. An idependance like that in any modern female would have men he knew cringing in distaste. That may have been what amused him most, that and the undeniable lack of information she was willing to give him.
Original POV
"What are you staring at?" Calmly I reach over stirring the food before grasping for the bowls at my side and handing him his first. "I don't feel that I'm all that interesting." I had almost said 'Mr. Holmes' luckily I caught myself.
"Contrary to your belief you are very thought-provoking miss." Rolling my eyes I half turn he's looking at the stew somewhat bewildered before I take a bite of my own implying I wasn't trying to poison him.
"You didn't seem half as worried over the tea." I noted seeing his eyes flicker to the liquid he had been sipping before his lips turn down into a scowl. "You are a very bewildering person." I said shaking my head surprise when he seems interested in something other than me for once.
I shrug attending to my own food before glancing at the tent flap and seeing that I should start my trip into town for supplies. I would need to trade for more food and I could guess maybe some healing medicines in case Sherlock was hurt more than I thought. I could also offer to deliver a message for him to let his friends know he was safe. It had been quite a while since I indulged in the movies and I was still missing pieces.
"I have to go into town. I'm going to get supplies, can I do anything for you while I leave you to rest?" I make it clear that 'rest' means exactly as implied, he is in no shape to go running off.
"I don't need to rest." He snaps sounding childish and it in turn makes me smile.
"You do, your ribs are broken and in case you failed to notice your ankle is sprained." He looked down forgetting that bit before giving her a dark look. "I don't plan on keeping you hostage, if you are fool enough to go out there be my guest. No one is stopping you." I remark coldly before going over and packing my things in a sack to go into town.
I don't know why I was angry, but the idea that someone so brilliant would expect to be able to do such things with his injuries annoyed me. I had heard of stubborn but he was just a miserable mulish man. He had survive a fall that no one usually would and now seemed content to further hurt himself. I had done my part, he could be obstinate and do whatever he pleased. My life was in enough disorder as it was, I didn't need to add Sherlock Holmes and his assortment of problems to mine.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes," I turn slowly seeing him offer his hand.
A change of tactic but nothing I could refuse, maybe that was the reason I liked him. He was undeniably persistent and irrational beyond measure with bad habits. He though was still a real person and even if I didn't fit in this strange world, he was the first person I had any sort of lengthy contact with since the widow. I much to my chagrin had begun to feel lonely out here in the middle of nowhere and now had little choice but to get used to someone around again.
"Isabella Gracen." So he had succeeded in learning my name, he would be in for a shock or two before I gave him more than that.