I'm doing Hades Lord of the Dead's December prompts this year too! Here's the first one - A Long, Tedious Journey, submitted by KnightFury


"I must say, this is getting tedious," I remarked to Holmes, as we sat among our things in yet another train station, the third in about five days. This particular station was somewhere in Germany, and we still had several days journey in front of us before we reached our destination of Moscow.

Sherlock Holmes never took his eyes off our fellow travelers, his gaze unfocused as he undoubtedly deduced their life stories within seconds. Still, he scoffed and said, "Getting tedious, Watson? This journey has been little else since it began."

"Well, you were the one who decided to take a case in St. Petersburg," I said reasonably.

"The criminal classes in London were positively overwhelming in how disappointing they have been this winter," Holmes answered airily.

"So you were bored already," I said flatly. "I didn't think there was any other reason why a man would choose to journey into the heart of Russia in February. Even Napoleon had more sense than that."

Holmes surprised me by laughing aloud - in his more difficult moods, his reactions could be unpredictable at best, and I folded up the newspaper I had been attempting to read. "What is this case, again? You told me very little about it."

Holmes shrugged his shoulders, "I know very little myself. Only that a member of the Russian aristocracy heard of me through my service to the German crown and wished my help recovering some lost family papers that were, I believe, connected with the reign of Catherine the Great. Aside from that, you know it is a mistake to theorize before having all the facts in hand," he sighed in disappointment and leaned back against the station building. "I only hope the Russian criminals are more enterprising than our English ones."

"You had better hope this trip remains dull," I said darkly. "With Russia's unstable politics, it could become dangerous very quickly."
"Could it really?" Holmes asked, interest lighting up his austere features. I assumed he was teasing me, until I remembered that politics did not fall under his purview as a subject he considered important, and he probably was unaware of Russia's political situation. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; Holmes was the foremost genius in his field, but the gaps in his knowledge were, at times, a trial.

"Yes, Holmes, for heaven's sake, all Europe has been discussing the plight of the Russian peasants. They are little more than serfs, you know," I said. Seeing his eyes glaze over with disinterest, I hastily changed the subject. "I saw a small souvenir shop on the other end of the station, perhaps we should see what it has to offer?"

Holmes got up wordlessly, with the air of it being a great inconvenience to him, but followed me to the small shop, where I searched in vain for a novel to read for the rest of the journey. "They're all in German," I said sadly.

"What did you expect to find in Germany?" Holmes asked waspishly.

"Well, I finished the one I brought with me two days ago," I said. Indeed, I had done little else for the first three days of the journey, I was so engrossed in the story.

"You read altogether too quickly," Holmes said, scanning the German newspapers for reports of any sensational crime. I debated for a few moments asking Holmes to translate one of the German novels aloud for me, knowing his German was far superior to mine, but the memory of the few times he had read any kind of fiction was enough to put that idea to rest. Holmes had an insatiable need to point out every plot hole and nonsensical idea, and while this was occasionally entertaining, in a small train carriage for five days straight, it might get old.

"Watson, come, our train is here," Holmes said, looking out the window.

"Yes, yes, I'll be there," I said, picking out a small, travel-sized chess set and paying for it. "Something to do on the train," I answered Holmes's unspoken question.

"You hate chess," he remarked finally, when we had taken our seats in the train compartment.

"I hate losing at chess," I corrected. "Which is what always happens, at least when I play against you." Holmes smiled smugly - in our nearly ten years of friendship, I had not managed to last more than fifteen moves against him, and I continued. "But you are not the only one who gets bored, Holmes. This train journey is about three times longer than it needs to be."

"I'll play without my queen, if it will make it easier," Holmes offered, setting up the game eagerly.

I need hardly say that it did not; I still lost in twelve moves, and after the third game, we mutually decided that perhaps it was best if Holmes and I never played chess again. I took out my notes on the last case we had solved together, trying to decide if it would make a suitable story, while Holmes stared out the window, apparently fascinated by the countryside.

After about an hour, I looked up. This story would be devilishly difficult to write up, what with promises of secrecy given to the participants, and I was on the verge of giving it up. "Are we still in Germany?" I asked, more harshly than I intended.

"No, I believe we crossed into Poland about twenty minutes ago," Holmes answered mildly. "I did not think that case would be easy writing as a story."

"You knew I was writing up the case of Lord P-'s diamond?" I asked, my eyes widening. It struck me that I probably should not be so surprised anymore by Holmes's tendency to read my thoughts, but it always took me by surprise. I believe he enjoyed the reaction.

He shrugged in return, "It was an easy enough deduction. You have been involved in few of my cases since your marriage; Lord P-'s diamond was the only one unusual enough to merit recording."

I sat back, saying peevishly, "Well, perhaps this Russian case will provide more features of interest." The countryside flying past our window was flat and covered in snow, and was likely to stay that way until we reached St. Petersburg in three days time. I sighed; it was truthfully very easy to see why Holmes was so bored.

"I certainly hope so," Holmes said, brightening considerably. "I must say, Watson, you seem almost as bored as I am."

"Well, look at it," I said, gesturing outside. "We're going to be looking at that for the next three days. This is the first case I have taken with you in several months time, and it's already turning out as boring as-" I broke off, but Holmes caught my eye, giving me a shrewd look.

"Is your medical practice not satisfactory, Watson? When I said you were bored, I did mean for longer than just this journey."

I sighed, knowing that now he was on this thought process, I wouldn't be able to get out without giving him an answer. "No, it is going very well. It is a decent living, and it gives me a great sense of meaning. It just is not as...exciting, as perhaps I would - not wish, since when medicine is exciting it usually comes with a high death toll, but - oh, I don't know," I finished irritably. I had always wanted to be a doctor, from my earliest childhood, but the absence of Holmes and his cases had thrown into sharp relief how utterly routine my life was these days. I found myself thinking longingly of the days when an all-night vigil at a kidnapper's lair meant little to me, whereas now, I was ordinarily unable to take more than one case every few months. I smirked, "I expect that is why Mary encouraged me to go with you. I doubt I have been very good company these last few weeks."

Holmes smiled, and had he been another man, might have said something about how he was grateful I had, but emotional displays were Holmes's weakest point, and in any case, it did not matter. "I expect Mrs. Hudson was glad to be rid of you for a time as well," I continued slyly.

Holmes burst out laughing, "Yes, you are probably right. She has been looking remarkably angry these last few days, and I can only assume it has something to do with my reorganizing of my criminal relics. She seems to object to finding knives under the carpets and poison sachets in the breadbox."

However bored I was at the moment, I still breathed a silent sigh of relief that I was not at Baker Street for this. I was not yet so desperate that I wanted to be on the lookout for hidden knives in my own home, although from the look on Holmes's face, the concept of a knife-free home was completely alien to him.

"Shall we head to the dining car?" Holmes asked, after several minutes silence. "It will help to pass the time, and no doubt our new traveling companions will offer some entertaining deductions."

I smiled in spite of myself. Holmes was rather famous, among the two of us, at least, for his entertaining deductions of ordinary people; an example of his sarcastic sense of humor that I kept out of my public records of our cases. I was, at least, assured an entertaining meal, and resolved to thank Mary for insisting I accompany him. A dull case was nothing compared to a dull winter at home, and as we laughed quietly together over our fellow passengers, I believe he felt the same.