Hello once again! I finally finished this first part of book two in the "Little Details" saga. Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is simply a figment of my imagination fiddling around in the Sherlock Holmes sandbox. Hopefully the next part will be posted within a month or so. Enjoy.
Logicality: Sequel to "Little Details"
Rolling over, I looked at the face of a man I had wished so hard I could wake up next to. I couldn't help but smile as I made eye contact with him. His calm face seemed devoid of drowsiness, like he'd been up watching me for hours. A new shadow of a beard covered his chin. His smile was slow and gradual, but it built up to a great climax.
"Good morning, sleepy."
"Good morning to you." I let my eyes wander down his bare chest. I swear the man was thicker than a seven hour door. He pulled in closer to me.
"I love you." He whispered as he played with my loose curls. With a serious look on my face I look him in the eye.
"I know," I mustered up the best throaty deep voice I could. We both cracked up, trying to stay quiet even though I don't know why. Suddenly he was on top of me, leaning over my neck and moving in to kiss me. It was just as how I'd pictured it. In fact, it was much better.
He disappeared. Instead of making contact with my lips he was gone. I opened my real eyes and found myself staring at the overhead canopy covering my bed. I let out a disheartened sigh as I closed my eyes slowly again. Cold tears lingered on my cheeks as I reached up to rub my eyes. Memories of reality came flooding back. At least, this was my reality now. I don't know what happened or how, but so far I think I am stuck here.
Four weeks. That was how long it had been. Four long weeks since Holmes had left me here. I sat up in bed as I brooded over the fact that today was the one month anniversary of his abandonment. In those four weeks I have been bored out of my mind. It has been a version of hell for me. Another version would be strapping me to a seat, holding my eyes open with toothpicks and forcing me to watch every bad movie ever made and thank goodness no bad movies have been made yet. Although, one good thing has come of my imprisonment: I have become very well acquainted with the library. During the first week I got bored of my mother's incessant talking and gossip, and my father wasn't home much. It was the pre race season, Mum said. Did I just call her Mum? Oh boy.
The library was full of dusty old books that I doubt anyone has touched in years. I discovered many books on horse breeding, horse racing, horse weaning, and everything else a horse can do. I think I can now call myself an amateur expert on the subject of horses. But even those got boring so I moved on down the line. I think the reading kept me sane because I couldn't even go outside. The weather had decided it wanted to be as dreary as it could just to annoy me. I used to love the rain, and then I started to hate the rain, now I am simply indifferent to it.
In bed I felt the warmth of the down comforter on my legs and didn't want to move, but then again I did. I needed to move, to do something. I stood up and stretched, feeling the creaks and aches of my body aligning them selves. My robe hung from a peg near my bed. Snatching it, I pulled it over my nightgown. With a gentle hum, I walked over and opened up the curtains to my room. The sky outside was a nasty shade of purple. I saw the lightning before I heard the resounding thunder clap follow closely behind. I haven't seen a storm this big yet so we'll have to see what it does. A steady rain pelted my window. The swirling clouds matched my mood very well.
A few hours later I found myself raiding the library once again. I came across a first edition copy of David Copperfield. Even though it was published a couple of decades before what I believed to be the time I was in, this book was fresh and new. Probably one of the first compilations of the monthly serial it was first published as. I opened up the leather bound book and heard it crack as the binding popped open. Never been opened? Come on, this is David Copperfield. I thought everyone read these things. When Harry Potter first came out it was difficult to find a never before opened copy, except for maybe at the bookstore after a new shipment. Today, I chose to sit by the window so I could watch the progress of the approaching storm. I had grabbed an apple at breakfast and now pulled it out as I cuddled up to the window to read.
The window I sat at was peculiar in shape. It was perfectly round, with round glass, round trimmings, and even rounded panes. It reminded me of a hobbit hole from the Lord of the Rings movies. But it made a very comfortable seat for me. I leaned back on my head and closed my eyes for a minute as I took in a whiff of the fresh, rainy, scent. A pillow of barely kempt curls surrounded my head. I had gotten sick the first day trying to replicate the hairstyle I had first awakened in, but to no avail. Giving up, I found I was very good and using the oriental hair sticks that were on display in my room. Nobody would notice and I figured I'd put them to use. What I wouldn't give for a rubber hair tie. Anyways, I had loosely braided my hair, but the layers made it impossible for me to get it all in. So I had many stray curls invading my face. I didn't care though. Opening my eyes, I opened up the book and began to read.
Mother and Father had left yesterday for a holiday in… did I just say holiday? I mean a vacation in Paris where Father wanted to meet with some old colleagues of his. So I pretty much had this gloomy place to myself, well, except for the servants. I decided I'd do some more exploring of the estate, but later. Maybe while I ate lunch. For now, I was content.
I don't remember what time it was. I'd heard the clock strike somewhere off in the distance but didn't count. I got to a stopping point in the story and looked about. The clock on the fireplace mantle read 1:30. Holy crap, how is it I can waste so much time and not think of it. Stretching my arms and legs I looked out the window again and saw the rain had stopped. I also noticed the approach of a hansom cab, the horse drawn kind. Unconsciously, I began pressing my nose up against the cold glass, trying to get a closer look at the visitor. The window had a terrible view of the front door, since the door seemed like two miles away from this side of the house. Squinting, I watched as the cab pulled up to the door and discharge its patron. Fear ripped through my heart as I saw a black clad figure stride purposefully up to the door. Quickly, I turned away from the window, feeling my breath speed up and nearly pant. I closed the book, hurried to the door and dashed back to my room.
Oh dear Lord above they're here to kill me. They're going to snap my neck or even worse have some fun before killing me. I hurried into my closet and shut the door. In the pitch black I began to form a plan. Escapes? Ha ha, no I just sealed myself into a corner. I swore under my breath. Weapons? Do these hair sticks count? Who am I kidding? Well, I guess there are some high heeled shoes somewhere in the closet. I held my hands out and began feeling around the ground for the shoe rack I knew was somewhere around there. Aha! Success! I grasped the shoe tightly, quietly cackling to myself.
Suddenly, there were footsteps, in my room. The refined click-clack of polished shoes seemed to echo in my ears. I stood up, pressing my back against the closet wall as I tried to assimilate it. For some reason, that didn't work. In the small sliver of light pooling beneath the door I saw two shadows cross it, then stop in front of it. The old brass door handle jiggled as it turned. Taking a deep breath I poised the heel to strike. I didn't think of what to do after I hit the person, I just knew that I needed to cause injury in some way. The door opened up slowly. Like a banshee, I yelled and began to attack. My swinging arm was blocked expertly, held in place just above the man's nose. I couldn't help but gasp.
"It's good to see you again, too, Miss Olivia." He spoke evenly, thoughtfully, and didn't even flinch. Holmes stood there, towering above me and smiling. I let out a huge sigh of relief and relaxed.
"It's just you." I couldn't tell him how relieved I was. "Goodness, you gave me a fright." Holmes lowered my arm, giving control back to me.
"So were hoping to incapacitate me with a shoe?" He asked, looking at my improvised weapon. I looked at it myself, realizing my foolishness.
"It was worth a try." I tried to excuse myself. Holmes just chuckled. I looked up into his warm eyes, the sparkling mirth and wonderment alive and well just as when I last saw him. I could honestly say I was glad to see him.
"You are well, no?" I asked. Where did that kind of grammar come from?
"Ah yes, yes, and you?" He asked cordially.
"Fine, thank you. Would you mind telling me why you're here now then?" I asked. Holmes offered me and arm, which I took, and pulled me out of the darkened closet.
"Let us take a turn about the grounds, shall we?" I inwardly shrugged, whatever dude. Its pouring rain, there is actual lightning (which I was beginning to believe didn't exist in this place), and there's a chance someone is out to kill me, sure let's go for a walk.
We walked down the stairs, through the ballroom and past the sitting room to get to the back doors. I could see the rain drizzling down, not hard any more but still noticeable. As we walked I was approached by a maid who seemed surprised to see me.
"Oh, Miss Castillo, you have a visitor. I thought you were out at the stables so I sent him there. I am terribly sorry." The maid hung her head.
"Its quite all right. Thank you." I nodded to her to tell her she could go. Turning to Holmes I saw a look of contemplation.
"Should we go?" I asked.
"The situation is precarious." He replied cryptically. I suddenly noticed how warm he felt, was there a window open somewhere?
"He could be someone dangerous." I supplied.
"Let's go," Holmes started out. Walking along I thought of the oddity of Mr. Holmes reasoning.
"It could be a trap." I added.
"All the more reason to go." He looked at me mischievously. I shook my head. Was I meant to be tethered to this man for the rest of this unnatural life?
Walking through the rain was actually enjoyable. Holmes inquired as to my stay and how I was faring back in my parents' home. I then asked about what he was up to. He'd been working on the case feverishly actually. And here I thought he'd just forgotten about me. He had actually learned a great deal about the Maria Conspiracy and how it was an uncanny fit to my life apparently. Of course, through this all he couldn't explain to me what the Conspiracy was. No, that would be too simple.
Arriving at the stables, I hesitated by the door. Holmes came up behind me.
"Is everything all right?"
"Oh… I-I just, well I'm a little frightened if I may say." Holmes just chuckled. Taking my hand he put it on the doorknob. His touch was firm and tight, but still gentle.
"You never know anything until you open your eyes, or in this case the door." He turned the handle and the door opened up. Walking in, it was the normal cacophony of horses and their vocalizations. Pacing back and forth down the stalls was a tall man. I almost laughed out loud in relief.
"Why Mr. Watson, what are you doing?" I called to him. He spun around quickly, startled I'm sure. A look of relief coursed over his features. He looked a bit careworn, slightly more tired than usual but, hey he's a doctor. What doctor is ever well rested? I approached him with open arms. We embraced and I did the usual European greeting by kissing each cheek. Holmes gave him the traditional handshake.
"It's a pleasure to see you again. Why on Earth did you not come sooner?" I asked. All of a sudden Watson's face lit up, he was filled with some sort of ethereal light I can't really explain in English, maybe if I knew Sanskrit or something like that possibly. I could tell he was bursting to tell us something, and I had an inkling I knew what it was.
"I'm glad you're both here because I have some wonderful news."
"Really? Pray tell." I pressed.
"I am, I mean we are… Mary is having a child." He exclaimed. I saw Holmes start to say something.
"Yes, we-," I suddenly kicked him in the leg to shut him up.
"Really? This is wonderful news Mr. Watson, I am so happy for you. How far along is she?" I asked.
"About four or five months. I can't believe I didn't catch it sooner. I felt a bit of a fool actually." I laughed.
"We should celebrate at once. What do you say to dinner tonight? For both you and Mary?" Watson smiled genuinely.
"We would like that very much, thank you." Watson accepted gratefully. Holmes piped up.
"Might I be invited too? I do like a good wine if we should be so lucky as to open a bottle." I turned to him, looking up into his eyes.
"Well, I do not know. I mean one can't be too careful in planning dinner parties. Not to mention your unprecedented stubbornness and refusal to uphold the usual standards of social conduct or otherwise personal conduct. It could be a liability to my family name." I said teasingly.
"So I will take that as an approval?" He asked.
"Yes, you may come. But only on the condition that you behave yourself."
"Oh, but misbehaving brings out natural behavior in all that are in contact with it."
"I can still retract that invitation, I will have you know." I taunted.
"Oh all right, I shall consent to keeping myself orderly for your sake." I couldn't help but smile at Holmes intellect and reasoning. I looked back over to Watson who seemed to think that this was amusing. The suppressed smile suggested more than just pure amusement though. I felt my eyes narrow slightly, but quickly shook off the feeling.
"Well there must be something else you're here to tell, am I correct?" I asked, changing the subject a bit.
"Actually, I did have some information for you about the autopsy of your husband." I felt a knot suddenly harden in my stomach. It seemed over to past four weeks I had fallen in love with my husband. Too bad he was already dead.
"Really? Let us go inside where we can talk more." Watson looked confused at my invitation.
"But I need to inform my wife of your gracious dinner invitation? It takes a little while to get here from my home you know." I thought about this. Too bad I didn't have anyone to go and run a ride over. Wait a second, I'm a Baroness. I have whatever I want!
"Here's what I'll do. I shall send a carriage back to your home with a note from you to your wife explaining. The driver will bring her back here, ready for dinner. Meanwhile, we will have a chance to speak of our interests undisturbed for some time. My father and mother have gone and the servants leave well enough alone. We should be all right in the library." Watson's face filled with relief and ease.
"Thank you very much, Your Grace, but I really am not dressed for such an occasion."
"Neither I, Baroness," Holmes added. I felt my lips purse. They did have a point. Not that I cared about what he wore to dinner, heck if I could I'd wear my night gown to dinner if not for propriety. But for the sake of keeping proper I had to think of something. An idea popped into my head, a rather ingenious one if I do say so. I began to walk around Watson, eyeing his height, girth, and width. Yes, it could work. Looking at Holmes it was a little more complicated but it could work as well, he was slightly shorter, but none the less manageable.
"What's she doing?" I heard Watson whisper to Holmes.
"Judging by the practiced eye and calm intake of breath, I'd say she is inspecting."
"I can hear you, you know." I tell them both.
"Well then… er, could you let us know what you are up to?" Watson asked uncomfortably. I suddenly realized what this looked like. I laughed out loud at myself then walked around to face Watson.
"Have no fear, my dearest Watson, your wife may still have you. You on the other hand," I turned to Holmes and jabbed a finger at him. "you… well I just don't believe you could keep one woman in your life long enough to know the meaning of affection."
"Are you implying I do not know love?" Holmes defended himself casually. I took a step toward him.
"I am implying that you simply would not know what to do when such an emotion encountered you. With your observations, your keen inferences, you could mistake such affection as something scientific. Which it in no way is." He stepped closer to me, as if to drive his next point home. I stood my ground, which he seemed only slightly surprised at.
"Why, Baroness, it would appear that you yourself after being bitten and mutilated by love are still a hopeless romantic, waiting for your white knight to come and sweep you off your feet," he made a sweeping motion now with his hands, "and carry you up the stairs to the highest room in the tallest tower of your castle." His words began to have some bite. Ooh the nerve he had. "Tell me you don't find it hard to love after having your own heart torn out and castrated with the loss." He was now inches from my face.
"Whoever said I didn't heal?" I spat back. He was taken aback at my boldness. Serves him right. No one insults me like that. Not after what happened with me and J.T. nor the Baron for that matter. The silence grew as we both stared at each other for a bit, daring the other to speak and insult the other. The heated spell was broken when Watson cleared his throat.
"So… what of the coach?"
We headed out to the door to find it pouring rain again. Perfect, just brilliant. Thank you Rain Gods, really appreciate getting all wet before a dinner party.
"Well, I guess we'll make a run for it." I conceded to the weather. Watson took a look. With a consenting grunt, he looked to Holmes only to watch him flash by as he dashed between the two of them out into the rain. With a mad yippee he crashed down the path and stood in the rain, taking it all in. I looked at Watson, puzzled.
"Is this-,"
"Yes, its not unlikely." He offered me his arm. I looked at it dubiously.
"Are you sure Mary would approve? I would hate to begin a quarrel."
"She would have my hide if I didn't escort you through this dreadful downpour." I shrugged and took his arm anyway. Might as well capitalize on the chivalry, not like I'm going to get it back home.
Home.
Ow, that really stung. A painful thought hit me, it had been recurring for a while now. I don't know how to get home. The sinking despair began to worm its way into my mind. No, I had to tell myself, I will figure out how to get home and I will stick with it. We walked to Holmes. Even though the rain was icy cold, it did have an invigorating sensation. I suddenly had the strangest urge to join Holmes in his rain dance.
"Holmes, come along." Watson called over the rain. He wasn't listening of course. In fact, he started to run around a bit more. I think Watson should realize the inverse relationship he had with Holmes and use it to his advantage. Tell him something and he will do the opposite. Well, he could be obedient in some form. We leveled with Holmes and the jerk, the lowest absolute cad, stuck out his foot. All too soon my cleverly booted foot was caught and someone might as well have yelled "Timber!"
Splash! I soon found myself with a mouthful of mud. Turning over I saw Watson's stunned expression. Holmes on the other hand was failing at concealing his mirth. I stared daggers into him. Ooh, I really hate that guy! He turned away for a moment to hide his laughter and I capitalized on it. I scooped up the biggest hunk of mud I could get my grubby little hands on and when he turned back I hucked it at his face. With a satisfying splat I heard my projectile hit its mark. It was Holmes' turn to look stunned and Watson's turn to laugh. He quickly bent down, scooped up some particularly nasty muck and hurled it with accuracy at Watson's finely trimmed suit. Was that a look of vengeance I saw? Let the games begin!
"Take that!" I yelled as I rolled into Holmes' legs, pushing him backside first into the mud. On top of that Watson was screaming profanities at Holmes for dirtying his suit, while pelting him with a number of mud balls. I threw my head back and laughed, letting the rain cleanse my face. For a good fifteen minutes each of us were tossing, ducking, blocking, and chasing each other. If anyone had seen us they'd have thought we were five years old. Hey, I'll take that as a compliment.
"I… give up." I panted as I finally collapsed on the already collapsed Holmes. Watson came out on top, holding two particularly large balls of more than mud over our heads.
"Surrender," Holmes wheezed out as he coughed up rain that had fallen down his throat. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The rhythmic timing of his hastened breathing was calming. Watson threw the two mud balls back at the pasture and looked at us laughing. He sat down next to us.
"Well, that was refreshing. I don't think you could provide a bath for us though, could you?" He asked.
"Is the Pope Catholic?" I asked sarcastically. Both men looked at me funny. Ah, I did it again. I meant to say yes but my twenty first century colloquial tongue got the better of me.
"What I mean is yes, I will have a bath drawn for the three of us." Watson suddenly had another uncomfortable look. "I-I mean three separate baths for us. Not all together. I…," I'm going to shut up now, that's what. Holmes was quite amused.
Twenty minutes and a whole bunch of BS explanations later found the three of us in the washroom where the visitors usually use. There were six tubs in all. I had insisted on bathing in the same room as the men so we could speak, but again I had propriety to look for so I had the servants draw a curtain around my tub. I had to get in first. It felt really good to peel off that dress I'd been wearing which was now crusted with mud and grasses. Using a towel I tried to get off as much mud as I could before getting in. My ladies maid made sure I was settled before sending for the men. I tried to plug my ears and not think about the two exceedingly attractive men undressing on the other side of a flimsy yet lavish curtain. Once they'd settled in as well I asked the ladies maid to leave us and shut the door.
"Now then, Watson, what is this about the autopsy?" I asked.
"It seemed to be a run of the mill suicide; note left in the victim's writing, gun held in right hand up to head-," Something caught in my mind. Over these last few weeks I'd started to have these flickers of memory come back to me. Many about the Baron. One of the memories was our wedding night. Wow, that was an amazing sight. Oh- I-I well anyways, and in all of them, I knew he was left handed.
"That can't be right, are you sure it said the gun was in his right hand?" I asked.
"What? No, it specifically said it was in the right hand." Oh, I'd seen enough Castle to know this one. The old murder-made-to-look-like-suicide ploy, yet it seems they always messed up. You'd think murderers would learn to kill properly.
"No, the Baron was left handed."
"Why didn't you come forward with this before?" Holmes asked. I had to think about that a moment and then remembered.
"I was not home when they found him and when I did get home they had already cleared the body as well as the evidence and took them to the police." I heard an audible "Ah" come from Holmes but nothing more.
"What else? Anything peculiar?" I asked, subconsciously popping all the bubbles in the tub.
"Well yes, this is the reason I came. I inspected the photographs of the bruising on his side and back and though the coroner described them as being results of him falling after he pulled… he died. But when I looked at them I did not think it quite matched up with his surroundings."
"Go on," I pleaded, hanging on his every word.
"The bruises were typical of a collision with an arm of a chair or gilded edge of a table, but I did find a peculiar round shape near one of the three bruises."
"Do you have the photographs?" I asked, desperate for evidence.
"If they weren't ruined by the mud, yes." I could almost hear Watson shooting a dirty look at Holmes who would be playing in his bath water casually. A splashing of water indicated Watson getting out and getting something. Through the curtain came Holmes' hand, bearing a large envelope. I opened it up and looked inside, almost afraid of what I would see. Careful not to get water on them, I pulled each one out slowly. I finally got to the pictures of the bruises. Yep, from first glance they did look like contusions made from a collision, but as I looked at the photograph I noticed the strange bruising pattern in oblong ovals with one perfectly circular red area.
"A fist!" I breathed out.
"What was that?" Holmes asked.
"The bruises are from a fist. I've seen hundreds of these, used to get a couple of them myself back in my days in the Navy."
"You what?" Watson asked, flabbergasted. Crap! Uh... shoot, how do I get out of this one?
"Only kidding about. I have seen these before. There's no mistaking it. So if there was physical abuse then this was a homicide."
"Not necessarily." Watson cautioned. It took his gentle prod to bring me back to the reality of things. Procedures, I hate them.
"There could be the argument that the bruises were caused before the death and not because of it." Holmes added. Why can't anyone stay on my side for two minutes? Pulling the curtain around me I poked my head out.
"Are you suggesting, Mr. Holmes, that my husband did indeed kill himself?"
"Not at all, Madame." Holmes countered. "It's called Devil's Advocate." I shrugged then retreated back into my curtain.
"So if this were pre-mortem, then this ring here could be the identifying factor in our case."
"Whoa, whoa, wait a moment. 'Our' case? Since when have you become a part of the investigation team?" Holmes asked. Men.
"Since I married the victim. And if you want to try to get rid of me, go ahead, but I warn you I am trained in ways you couldn't possibly imagine." There. That should leave a bit of a sting.
"You might as well, Holmes. She'll only get in the way otherwise." Watson reasoned.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, do listen to dear Watson." I pleaded.
"Well it would seem I am outnumbered in every sense of the word. But you must do exactly as I say when I say it. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir." I stated. How is it that my stubbornness always turns out to benefit me at times like these?
"Thank you, Anna. You may go." I told my maid as she finished pinning up my hair. After a good half hour me getting ready, I was now decent and ready for dinner. I had gotten out earlier than the men. My guess is they wanted to discuss a few things behind my back. Fine, let them have their secrets. I smoothed my powder blue skirt out as I admired myself in the mirror. I was incredibly surprised at how small my waist could get when properly encouraged. Although, the corset is not my favorite part of the whole experience. The dark blue ribbons adorned my sleeves and the hem of my skirt. I liked this dress. A lot.
Now, to see how the men were fitting into their new weeds. I began to walk off in their general direction. The click-click of my softened high heels was a relief to the silence that usually enveloped the hallways when Father was away. I must say, I had grown to appreciate Papa Beckett in these past few weeks. I had grown attached to certain parts of this new life. But I couldn't shake the attachments to my old life either. I flashed back to my dream this morning of J.T., his golden skin and tousled dark hair, I felt that old familiar pain work its way into the pit of my stomach and twist slowly. No matter what I did I couldn't shake the homesickness.
Subconsciously, my feet carried me to the door to the room which I had lent to Holmes and Watson as they prepared for dinner. Upon approaching I began to hear snippets of their conversation through the thin walls. I slowed my steps and couldn't help but creep up and listen in.
"Why did you take her side on the matter?" Holmes was accusing.
"Why do I take sides in any matter? Because it's logical. Why are you so against her being a part of this case?" Watson replied.
"For one thing, she is a woman."
"Oh for the love of the holy land, don't start that. Not again. This whole business about the unscrupulous motives of a woman has got to end. Look at Mary. Does she seem like she has unscrupulous motives?" There was a slight pause. "Never mind, don't answer that."
"She has had her way with you. And now she is carrying your child, so this can only mean-,"
"Holmes, would you please stop reading into things that are purely nature? So the Baroness is a woman. Does that impede her knowledge of the victim as well as insight into the murder?"
"She's emotional." Holmes countered. Oh! I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from giving an indignant curse.
"She's headstrong, not emotional. There's a difference. Emotional is Mary right now." That made me kind of giggle. Ah, hormones.
"She too attached to the case." Holmes stated.
"Holmes, her attachment is the key to the entire case. Without her, we know nothing about the background. We need all the information we can get. It always was you who said data is everything." There was another slight pause. I was about to knock when Watson spoke up again. I hunkered down to pay attention.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Watson asked.
"Not really." Holmes said. I heard some carpeted footsteps inside but nothing more.
"I think that you are somehow attracted to her and don't want her to be there by your side all the time."
"Thank you, Watson, for your kind insight," Holmes said sarcastically, "but I think that's enough therapy for today." Watson gasped.
"You do like her! Ha! You have so much as admitted it!" Watson said triumphantly.
"What on Earth are you babbling on about?"
"Oh come now, Holmes, Adler is a girl of the past. Someday, you're going to have to come back out of that grotesque cave you've moved into and find out there's more to life." Holmes tried to interject but Watson continued. "I think you've caught your first glimpse of the outside world again."
"Watson, I really don't believe this. You are actually implying that I am falling for what you would refer to as the fairer sex? I pledged never to let a woman interfere with my life again. I am afraid I am a man of my word."
"Since when?" Watson cut in.
"Since I decided to be."
"Well then I shall be on the look out for when you do."
"Watson, do you take pleasure in insulting me?"
"Do you take pleasure in knowing you disrupted Mary and me at two in the morning when you discovered musical theory works on arachnids as well as insects?" Holmes was silent for a moment. They both were actually.
"Well, she is quite a sight for sore eyes such as your own. She's beautiful."
"This coming from a married man. I am telling Mary tonight." Holmes quickly accused. He was acting like a seven year old.
"I meant she is a good person. Don't you agree that she's quite pleasant to look at?"
"Bearable, I guess." What? Excuse me? I never thought myself incredibly beautiful, but at least decent! Oh he has wounded my pride, this means war. "Nothing in her appearance is of great interest to me. How you found Mary attractive is quite beyond me."
"Why I oughtta-," I heard heavy footsteps now.
"She has become more beautiful through time though." Holmes amended. "You are a lucky man, Watson."
"Thank you." Watson said a bit awkwardly. I chose this time to knock.
"Come in," Watson called. Opening the door I stepped in and took a look at the two men. Watson was dressed fabulously with his suit fitting well except for around the shoulders. The Baron had had nice and sturdy shoulders to hold and carry me… where was I? Holmes on the other hand, needed a little help in getting dressed.
"Good evening, gentlemen." I curtsied with a smile. Watson returned it with ease, but I noticed Holmes was a bit moodier.
"How are the suits fitting?" I asked.
"I must say I have never worn something so expensively comfortable before." Watson replied. Holmes was quiet as he tried to tie the middle bit of the suit (don't know what they called them back then) but he was failing miserably.
"Here, let me help you." I walked over, stood Holmes up straight, put his coat on the chair and began to tie and secure the ribbon ties. My fingers brushed his back, even through the crisply starched shirt I felt how warm his skin was. I was reminded of J.T. again. Why did this always happen at the most inopportune moments?
"There," I finished tying it up, and moved to face Holmes. He still looked brooding and not terribly happy. I noticed he'd shaved, even combed his hair. He looked completely normal now, not like the insane madman he was. I may even venture an opinion to say he looked stunning. But wait, he insulted me on my looks. I retract that comment then. Holmes' bow tie was hanging limply, poorly tied and begging to be fixed.
"Well then," I said as I reached up and began retying the tie, "you seem to clean up quite nicely, Mr. Holmes. It always amazes me what a hot bath and some suds can do for a man."
"Yes, when this man cares for grooming he can change his very demeanor from raving mad man to badly behaved gentleman." Watson said as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. I got the strange impression he was pleased by something. He seemed to be easily amused.
"Well, I might have to ask you to put on an air of a well behaved gentleman. We will be in the company of two fine ladies this evening."
"That's right, one of them being my wife and I would like to show her that you actually can be a good person." Watson added.
"It would seem that, yet again, fate is against me and my motives. When I finish, we shall meet you in the drawing room, as per etiquette." Holmes conceded.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes, it really does make me happy to think that you are a decent man underneath your careless airs." I reached up on my tippy toes and kissed his now smooth cheek. Suddenly, realizing what I'd done, I froze. So did the other two. Make a run for it! I had to be sneaky but I passed of my little moment of frozen fright as a nod to Watson then exited the room.
Rounding the nearest corner, I pressed up against the wall. What just happened? I hadn't even thought about the urge, I just acted upon it. What was happening to me? Well, I guess I've never really thought about any of my actions before doing them, but I still gave them consideration. My brain is starting to crack. That must be it. I'm going insane. Well there's nothing I can do about that, so let's get on with the show.
Entering the drawing room I felt the lovely warmth from the fireplace. The two men were already there. Both stood up upon my entrance. I actually felt myself blush. It was kind of awkward at first but soon I fell into conversation with Watson about how his business was going. Holmes was walking around, poking and touching the antiques that were laid out around the room. He would add additional commentary every so often.
Soon my butler, Jones, entered and bowed to me. He was the old kindly butler of all those old stories and fairy tales, but I have to say he was much cooler. One night in the kitchen I caught him and a few other servants playing cards. It's nice to know my servants have a night life too.
"Baroness, a Mrs. Watson is here for the dinner."
"Mary," Watson said happily.
"Thank you, Jones. We shall be out to see her at once. Please let her in." I led Watson and Holmes out to the main hallway. Coming up from the front door was Mary Watson. Wow, for being five months along, she was looking pretty good. You know how people say that when a woman is pregnant she looks different, more healthy? Well, this much was true. There was a bright pinky tint to her skin and she seemed to almost… glow? Is that the right word? Well that's as best as I could get. Her olive green dress was a little roomy but other than that she looked about the same.
"Mary!" Watson descended the small flight of stairs that led to the front entry way. Holmes and I stayed at the top. You'd think from Watson's greeting they hadn't seen each other in ages. Quickly, he kissed her. I noticed that when he kissed her his hand rested, not on her waist, but on her middle. It was a sweet gesture that made me think. He really loves her. There is genuine love and affection between the two of them. And again came the twisting pain of want in my stomach. I had been deprived that privilege. I felt myself audibly sigh.
"Are you alright, Madame?" Holmes asked from beside me.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine, it's just… they are so adorably in love its hard to mistake." I explained; staring as Watson helped his wife up the stairs.
"I knew it. You are a hopeless romantic masquerading as a stubborn pain in the-,"
"Mary!" I said cheerfully as I greeted her with a hug and the normal kisses on each cheek.
"How are you?" She asked me.
"How am I? That is trivial in comparison to you. How are you? I heard the wonderful news. You have never looked more stunning, I might add." Mary blushed.
"Thank you, Baroness-,"
"How many times must I ask you to call me Olivia?" I asked. This woman seemed the closest thing I had to a girlfriend, so by golly I was going to treat her as such.
"Thank you, Olivia. You really are quite a generous host. When I read the letter, hearing of that unfortunate accident with the horse and the mud I was grateful you found something decent for my John to wear." Mary leaned up against Watson, who put his arm around her protectively. Excuse me while I put on my whiny teenager voice. Ahem. Why can't I have that? I am sick and tired of being the smart alec chic who doesn't follow the order and just goes along with everything. I want a guy to hold me in his arms, tell me he loves me and kiss me. Jamison! I could kill you right now. Ahem. End of rant.
"Yes, Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes both cleaned up nicely don't you think?" I asked.
"Indeed!" Mary agreed.
"Ahem, Baroness? Dinner is served in the dining room." Jones announced.
Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The first two courses were lovely and the conversation along with it. Then we had the third course. After receiving the food, a small lapse in conversation occurred. I decided to strike up a new conversation.
"So, Mary, how did you and Watson meet?" I asked.
"Well, its actually a dizzyingly complicated story."
"Then, by all means, do tell." Holmes encouraged, swigging his fourth full glass of wine.
"Why don't you tell? You're much better at this than I." Mary asked Watson.
"Alright then. Well, about three years ago I was at a clinic when in walks one of the nurses with a young boy in her arms accompanied by none other than Mary. The young boy had snuffed a bead up his nose. I quickly operated and got the bead out and let the put the child to sleep for a bit. While he was sleeping I asked Mary is she was her son and she said no, it was her charge. She was only a governess. I was thrilled to find her unmarried. When I asked her about her relationships I found she had recently been through a broken engagement. From that day forward I knew that I must win her heart in order to be happy in life. It still took her a year to warm up to me, but finally she agreed to be my wife." He took her hand and kissed it as he stared into her eyes. She smiled and blushed.
"It was quite an ordeal, but it turned out for the best for both of us." She said.
"I really am not worthy to even be wed to this creature." Watson added.
"Look at you two. The false modesty, the ingratiating banter, is there any truth to anything either of you have said?" Holmes asked. My jaw dropped.
"Holmes!"
"I beg your pardon?" Mary asked. Watson was quiet, his eyes staring daggers into Holmes.
"Well, all this poetry and word of mouth in the name of love. I believe it to be the death of love."
"Expressive word is always regarded as the foundation of love. Without communicating the emotions, what have we?" I asked. Holmes turned on me. Oh, he was so drunk.
"I am simply saying that those expressions are empty words, promises that are not intended to be kept. To me, a love should be shown physically." Easy, tiger. Don't go too far. "Actions are needed to back up those words of affection."
"Are you saying love should be proved?" I asked.
"In a manner yes. A man should show with the holding of hands or occasional kiss, the physical touch of skin on skin is one of the greatest gifts. Men are given the privilege to bestow such actions on a beautiful woman."
"Even if the woman is bearable and not of great interest?" I asked. Everyone went quiet suddenly. Holmes looked positively stunned.
Mary began to sniffle and suddenly there were real tears coming down her face. She got up and left the table. Great. Way to go, Holmes.
"She's been doing this a lot lately. Ever since she told me about it she's been easily upset. I'd better go help her. Mary…" Watson got up and put his napkin back on his chair. That left Holmes and I alone. After that burn, I didn't know quite how to follow it up. Apparently he didn't either. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for bringing it up, but he had totally deserved it.
"So… how much did you hear?" He finally asked. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"Enough." Another small silence began to strangle us. I couldn't take it anymore.
"I apologi-," He said the exact same thing at the exact same time. Again, silence. I couldn't quite get past the awkwardness of the situation.
"So, who is Adler? Someone who you are pursuing?" I asked.
"Was," Holmes said simply.
"What happened?" I asked. When he finally looked up I saw a new emotion in his eyes: regret. "Forgive me," I amended, "I'm just curious." We were quiet for another little bit.
"Irene, her name was Irene. We'd been enemies for sometime." That's confusing, but ok. "She'd gotten involved in something I told her not to." Holmes stood up and just stood there, motionless. "I tried to stop her but, she went through with it. There was an unfortunate explosion. When I got there, I found her but she was nearly dead. She died in my arms. I… I was going to propose the next day." Holmes stood resolutely. Oh my word, the man had been burned, bitten, stung, and ripped by love. I couldn't think of any comforting words, nothing of this magnitude. Slowly I got up and approached him. Wrapping my arms around him I gave him the most comforting embrace I could muster. He soon wrapped his own arms about me. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed slowly. I could tell he needed to get that off his chest but didn't know how.
A moment passed between us. It wasn't anything romantic or villainous. I just felt like we had come to an understanding. I think it was safe to say that we could officially be friends.
We sat back down to our dinner to finish up and call for dessert. Suddenly, we were thick as thieves, talking and conversing as if we'd been in each other's confidences for years. Watson walked back in with Mary at his side. She seemed to have recovered nicely.
"Do forgive me. Being and expectant mother has its disadvantages." Mary excused herself.
"It's perfectly understandable. I have scolded Mr. Holmes here and he has promised to be a good boy from now on, won't you?" I asked condescendingly.
"Yes, please forgive me, Mary. I think I have had a little too much wine. For tonight at least." Watson just looked at me, then to Holmes, then back at me. A look crossed his face, a look of sheer confusion and puzzlement. Watson mouthed something to me.
"What did you do?" He said silently. I shrugged innocently and put on an ignorant I-don't-know-what-you-are-talking-about look. I could tell he was truly shocked. It was true; Holmes had made a complete turn-around from his earlier self. I had to admit I was pretty surprised as well. What shocked me was that he was amiable the rest of the dinner. Dessert came around and we dug into the chocolate pie with something else in it that I don't really know how to say.
"The Baron had family, I presume?" Holmes asked. Ha, luckily in the past week I had begun to Flicker (that's what I'm going to call it when the memories resurface) on the Baron's extended family.
"Yes, they all live in Spain. His father and youngest brother still live in the same place I believe. Why do you ask?"
"Well, after looking at the case photographs I would like some psychological analysis as well. His family would be a good start."
"Well, it would be hard to correspond, they speak Spanish and are reluctant to translate to English. It would mean physically going to Spain where we can talk to them face to face."
"Then we're going to Spain," Holmes announced jovially.
"Not we," Watson corrected.
"I beg your pardon?" Holmes stopped.
"I am not going to go gallivanting off any more." Watson said sternly. Tenderly, he drew closer to Mary, put one arm around her and put the other hand on her middle. "I have decided that I am going to stay with Mary and help raise our child together. No more horse play. Its time I settled down and really got down to brass tacks in this marriage." Mary glowed with appreciation for her husband. Holmes just lifted his glass to his lips.
"It's obvious you've already done that." He muttered into his wine. I kicked him under the table. I won't have him insulting my friend that way.
"What was that?" Watson asked.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Holmes was just muttering that he wouldn't have his old partner with him to see him through." Watson bought this and nodded. "But, I already have a solution for this." Here goes nothing. I took a deep breath.
"Holmes, you won't be going alone." I began, his head lifted up to look at me. "Say hello to your newest partner." Holmes was quiet for a moment. Then he started to snicker. Along with Watson. I looked to Mary and we just exchanged confused glances.
"Forgive me, but I did not mean to be humorous." I said with a touch of venom. Holmes stopped laughing.
"You're not being serious?" He asked.
"Why ever would I not be? I can be just as good as Watson, not to mention I have contacts in Spain and am fluent in Spanish." I'd discovered this little tidbit in the middle of week three when I had accidentally started asking for things in Spanish.
"But-," Holmes tried to object.
"No buts about this. Baron Antonio, Alejandro's brother, will only speak English around me. Without me you'd have to bring an interpreter along anyway. If you still say know I will be there anyway. You can not escape this. I am coming, with or without you." Watson had stopped snickering and was now nodding in agreement.
"Well-," Holmes started to reject again.
"Holmes, you're beat, admit it. Just take the girl along with you." Watson prodded.
"Fine then. We shall go to Spain." I smiled, satisfied.
"Perfect, there will be a social gathering there sometime next week. I wasn't planning on attending but I suppose we could make do." Holmes conceded and just nodded to me. It appears that in order to get anywhere with Holmes you have to be a pain in the…
I filled my glass with the rich red wine. Funnily enough, the song Red, Red, Wine by Bob Marley suddenly popped in my head and I couldn't get it out. I held my glass high for a toast.
"To Spain." I said fiercely. Everyone else raised their glasses and chorused,
"To Spain."