A cold breeze blew down the deserted street. No, not quite deserted; A head peeked over the dusty fence of a deserted cottage.

"Its okay, all clear!"

The lithe body of a girl hoisted herself over, helped down by stronger muscled hands.

"Is this fine, you think?" The boy sounded uncharacteristically nervous. He glanced around. "I don't think we're supposed to be here."

"Relax, Cecil, I've been here before." The girl smiled at him, awkwardly reaching out. "Though I don't know my way to the house that well…"

Cecil took the blind girl's hand and let her up the worn steps to the cottage. "But you said you had been here before…"

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad have always been there with me, and they never allow me to touch anything." The door opened at the slightest push, without a single creak. "They preserve the place like a museum…"

Cecil peeked inside. "Woah, all the stuff's still here. It is like a museum. How old do you reckon it is?"

The girl stepped inside, setting her feet carefully on the dusty floor. "I dunno, but old Jeremy in the village, he says that its been there since he was a kid, and that was during the Great War."

"All the way back to 1914? Wow!"

"Yeah, and he says its probably older."

"Does he remember who lived here?" Cecil stopped to examine a dusty mantelpiece, where there was an old pipe, stained with dust and time. "Hey, look! It's a pipe! Like in those Victorian movies!"

"Don't touch anything." The girl said. "Jeremy doesn't remember anyone. He said the last owner died before he was really all that old so Jeremy never got to know him." Her voice suddenly dropped to a soft whisper. "But I know who they were…"

"Well they must have been seriously weird people." Cecil laughed. "They've got papers stuck on the wall with a jackknife!" His eyes widened. "Wow, ancient writing!"

"Don't touch Cecil!" The girl said sharply, and Cecil's hand fell away. "That's old stuff and if my parents find out, they'll kill me."

"Okay, sorry." Cecil backed away and took a good look around the room. "The stuff here looks really ancient. 1900 furniture and all. Your parents could make a lot of money out of this. Why don't they sell this stuff?"

The girl looked at him quietly, and Cecil felt himself shrink a little. There was something reproachful, accusing about that look. "What?" he said defensively.

The girl turned away, and to his surprise, tugged at the arm. "There's a door here, which leads to a garden. Can you take me to it?"

A little surprised at the request, Cecil obliged and led her to the little door and pushed it open. Light flooded the room.

"What's in the garden?"

"Ummm…." Cecil looked around. "Nothing much really. A couple of trees, fruit ones I think, some empty hives, wow these people had bees? And umm…"

"Is there a clump of bushes?"

"Uhhh, yeah. There at the corner. Next to a big tree."

"Take me to it."

A few steps later, they stood next to the bushes. The tree cast a shadow on them, waving of most of the sun's intense rays. Cecil looked up. "Wow, its really hot today."

The girl took no notice. She let go of his hand and bent down, with one hand parted the bushes. "Here."

Cecil bent down too. "What?" He peered into the bushes. "Wait, that's a …..grave."

"Two graves." The girl parted another bush with her hand. The stony exterior could be seen.

"Wicked!" Cecil sounded delighted. "This is better than a treasure hunt! Who are these people anyway?"

"The names, you dolt. Read the names."

"The names are written? Oh, they are." Cecil leaned forward, squinting. "Sher…lock." His eyes widened. "Holy…"

The girl was leaning back, a very satisfied smile on her face. "Got you there, didn't I?"

Cecil looked at her with eyes in which shock, astonishment and disbelief were nicely blended. "Sherlock Holmes?! What kind of a joke is this?"

The smile disappeared of the girl's lips. "What makes you think that I'm joking?"

"Of course you're joking! Holmes is a fictional character!"

"This doesn't show that." She indicated the graves.

He was still looking at her in disbelief. She shook her head impatiently. "Cecil you've read the Sherlock Holmes stories right?"

"Yeah."

"What happens at the end?"

"The end?"

"You know," She made an impatient gesture; "After Holmes retires. What happens?"

"Ah." Cecil thought. "Well, Holmes moves to Sussex, starts looking after bees, but then does that two year job for the British Government…."

"And Watson?"

"I think he re enlists for the war."

"That's right." The girl stood and looked down at the graves, then at the boy's face. "What if I told you," she said slowly, "this is the very house he lived in?"

"Then you would be crazy. He's a fictional character! He doesn't exist at all!"

"The evidence is before your eyes." The girl smirked a little.

"You think he was real?" Cecil put his hands on his hips. He looked a little angry. "C'mon, the joke's gone long enough."

"Look at the second grave."

"Look here…"

"Look. At. It."

Cecil bent down again and frowned. "Dr. Watson." He read out. "Well, that's a big coincidence."

"Why are you sarcastic!" The girl clenched her fists. "Why can't you accept that this could be true! That Holmes and Watson really existed! That those stories were real! That they're friendship was true! Why can't you?!"

Cecil stood at a loss for words, under the tumult of the emotion she was shaking with. Tears filled her unseeing eyes and she threw her hand out.

"Look! You can see, can't you! The house! The furniture! The hives! The graves, for God's sake! You've always believed in the evidence of your eyes! Then why not this!" She broke down again.

"Hey…" He put a hand on her shoulder trying to figure out what to say. "I didn't mean to…umm…what I meant was-" He was cut off by voices.

"…the old abandoned cottage, right around the corner…"

The girl's head jerked up. "Mom!" She whispered. "She must be bringing somebody over!" She took Cecil's arm. "C'mon! We got to leave!" Cecil hurriedly got to his feet, and after shutting the door, made their way to the other side of the fence quietly. The voices came closer. "…..unbelievably old, right from the 1900's…"

The girl put a finger to her lips. "Its ok." She whispered. "She's doing her old speech thing. This way." They snuck down the street till they couldn't see the house anymore. The girl sighed and straightened.

"Well." She said. "At least you saw it."

Cecil looked down at her. "Have your parents ever told anyone?"

She smiled up at him. "About what?"

"The Sherlock Holmes thing."

"No. Well, they did tell one guy, but he made it out to be this really great joke, and you know…" The girl shrugged. "They haven't told anyone since. But that's why they keep it. Just the way it was." She looked down the road. "Its history. "

"You know, its kind of hard to…believe. That Holmes was a real character, and that you've got his house."

She shrugged again. "Think whatever you want." Her eyes grew sad. "Though I was hoping to convince you…"

"Well, its pretty convincing, I'll give you that. But there was this one mistake." The girl looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"The papers attached with a jackknife to the wall? That was in Baker Street. Not in Sussex."

"Oh you simpleton," she shook her head smiling. "Jackknives aren't a permanent engraving on the wall or something. They can be moved."

"Ok whatever you say. "He looked at her curiously. "What was in those papers anyway?"

"Those?" She smiled a soft sad smile. "Letters. From Dr. Watson, during the war."

"Oh. You reckon he died first?"

"Probably. The dates aren't clear on the graves so I can't tell but from the letters….it looks like that."

"Oh." He looked up at the sky. "Wow, its really hot."

"Yeah." The girl linked her arms through his. "Its time to get going."

As they walked down the streets, a soft breeze blew down from the ancient house.

Do you think she convinced him?

I highly doubt that, Watson.

But the arguments were convincing. I don't know how much more evidence she can add. She practically showed him everything.

My dear fellow, in people's minds we've been fictional characters for more than a century. I hardly think that going to change in a hurry.

Doyle did too good a job.

I told you he would take all the credit.

No he didn't. This happened after he died.

Fine I won't argue with you. Lets go and see which new guest came this time.

And the streets were empty again. As they were before.

A/N: Ok this is a really wired fic and it probably makes no sense to anyone, I know but I had this dream a couple of days before which in turn resulted in this fic. I never got to know the girl's name, in my dream she had no name, so she will remain nameless….

Ok, piece of news. This is my last fic till the 29th of March. My exams are coming u, so I have to temporarily disappear. I'll be back soon, if anyone remembers…

So friends, farewell! I hope I shall be welcomed back when I return(In about amonth!) For now, I take my leave.

(Wow, that came better than I thought!)

Bye!