"Holmes?" The man never ceased to amaze me, not even after 25 years of being around the man. My mother always said to watch yourself around him – he could come from anywhere at anytime.
He had this problem where he liked to frighten his guests. Mostly because his only guest was, well, me. Occasionally my mother would drop by for a moment, but that hadn't happened in years.
I'd found him hiding in the fireplace once. That had to be the oddest place I had ever seen his head stick out of. Wasn't fire bad for his kind, I asked. He proceeded to go into a long drabble about trying to find a solution to that, except he was mostly nude because his clothes had burned off.
"Holmes, I have dinner and letters." I knew if I baited him he would show himself. It was hard enough in his dark Victorian-style flat to see. I knew he could see perfectly well, but I could only see what was bathed in the firelight.
"What if…your beloved automobiles could travel upside down…on the ceilings of tunnels."
…He was on the ceiling. Probably half dazed. I rarely noticed the spiked tobacco smell anymore. I was always curious where he bought it, since he only went outside at night. Made me wonder if the spiked tobacco was really pot, but I never had the balls to ask. I just always expected that it was sweet tobacco with a small amount of cocaine in it – his persona drug. Quite a different way to administer it, but once again, I didn't know for sure.
"Come down, Holmes, please?" I set the large bag I was carrying on his table, fishing out a smaller box and a rubber-band-wrapped stack of envelopes. The man still received letters from people wanting him to do their cases – they all thought he was a man who changed his name to Holmes and was a bit crazy for it, but nonetheless – and government entities wishing of his services. In my life, I would never forget the time I saw him being escorted back to his home by two large men in suits out of a black SUV. When asked, he said it was nothing. Must have been more government work.
It took nanoseconds for him to be sitting in his beloved leather chair next to me. It startled me quite a bit, and I fell back into what I guessed would have once been Watson's chair and letters scattered all over me.
"You are a bit clumsy, aren't you, nanny."
"Thank you for that…astute observation, Mr. Holmes." I grumbled. Why did I stay here for college? Oh yeah, to take care of a man that makes fun of me on a regular basis.
He moved towards the small box I had brought out, but I snatched it as quickly as I could. I knew he could take it from me with ease, but he knew the rules. That only meant that there were more things I couldn't see in the light. I was always frightened of what I would see some days – one of those days was today.
"Not yet. I'll set that up before I leave…" He only mumbled and reached to his pipe on the table to fiddle with it in his hands. I tucked the box behind my back in the seat. I knew my back was going to kill me in a few minutes for it, but it was for his own good.
"Is that something you received from your father's family? Your mother was one of grace and-"
"Infernal nagging, yes Holmes, I know what you're going to say. And yes, my father is clumsy." I was trying to resort the letters I had scattered over myself quickly before he got bored and started to dig through my things. Not that he wouldn't anyway, he had this thing about him where he had to be nosy into my personal life. Probably because I was his only true friend anymore.
"That was not what I was going to say, nanny."
"What then?"
But he kept quiet. And I wanted to wring his neck, but I knew better than to think that was possible to happen. So, I went blithely on.
"The Grady's thank you for helping them find their daughter's body…and there's a check. Huh."
He made some sort of affirmative noise and chewed on the end of his pipe, surely looking for his stash of tobacco or thinking about it. I hated the smell of it when he had it puffing, but I knew better than to comment. Then he would be smoking every week when I came.
"Alright…the FBI wants to know-"
"Not interested."
"I haven't even finished Holmes-"
"I don't plan on working with that group of buffoons again. Worse than Scotland Yard, really…"
"Uh…huh. Well then. I'll just leave those to you to dig through at your leisure. I'll deposit the check…"
"Could you order some more tea leaves, nanny." He was staring off into the fire again. I knew better than to look at him in the light. His eyes at night always did frighten me. Even knowing this man so long, I still held an apprehension to be around him at certain times.
"Surely, I'll have them sent by Friday-"
"How fresh is it?" He cut me off quickly. I wondered why for a moment, trying to decipher his words, but then I remembered and realized.
"Yesterday morning."
"Mmh. Your wound didn't heal correctly."
I forgot how acute he was to small changes in me. After years of keeping him alive, he knew the smallest changes in my body and when I wasn't just right. Or maybe it was just his significant sense of smell.
"Alright, I'll look into it."
"It could become diseased."
"Yes, Holmes, I'll go home and clean it."
He made no sound towards me and I moved to get up and collect my bag. Only then when I got up was I willing to hand over the box I had hidden behind my back. His hand when it touched mine was inordinately cold as usual. But the skin felt worse for wear than normal. I knew I had waited too long to come see him.
As I walked towards the door, he mumbled something over his pipe as his hands pried at the box.
"Give my regards to your mother, Miss Hudson."
I said nothing more, and walked out of the New York flat with nothing more than the click of my feet on the wooden floor. I locked the door tightly behind me, and resumed my otherwise daily regimen.
Only it involved delivering blood to a century old vampire.