I love reading all the stories here in Sherlock Holmes but why, in all the stories does he never meet someone a little more like the people of this time? Oh well. I don't own the characters, not even Fat Cat, only the girl, who is me. No flames about this being a Mary Sue, I'm painfully aware of that.
~*~
How had he done this to me? He was a guy who had he even been real was from over a hundred years ago. How? That question echos through my mind every time I think of steel gray eyes and a soft touch. How had a man who believed only in science bewitched me so? Me, the girl who made cracks about Surecock Holmes and Squatson. I hated him so much, ever since I was a kid. I idolized the man who I was sure could have stumped him, Jack the Ripper. So what the fuck is wrong with me now? Why now? Why do I feel like I know why he hated women so, why do I feel like even though I got stumped by the easiest riddles do I think myself worthy of being his equal. Could I do what he did? Hell no. So why do I want to try?
I guess it started with a joke, the joke of if I was lucky enough to get to go on an adventure, I'd get sent to his world. How awful for me...
Then I started a story where I did get sent to his world, a 16 year old helping a 30 year old she hated.
Then...I don't know when it happened, I guess when I read Hound of the Baskervilles...I saw a side of him...Watson complained that he didn't trust anyone. And I started feeling like I knew Holmes, REALLY knew him.
How did you do this to me? I would love to know. I believe heavily in magick and arcane things like that and would love to know what spell you used that was so powerful. Is it that I am related to Her, the one woman you loved? Could that be it? Not with my luck...Or maybe her reincarnation, but now I'm getting onto the Inuyasha plot...Or maybe I'm just hopeful.
My first mistake was hating him enough to learn more about him so I could mock him easier. Then I made the mistake of commiserating with him. My problems progressed from there to my current and largest problem.
I am in love with Sherlock Holmes. Head over heals, madly, hoplessly in love with him, all the cliché ways you can think to say someone loves someone else, that's me. I love him so much it hurts. It hurts to know I won't ever meet him, and if I did and I could get to talk to him he would never even care. I'm not smart. I'm a C student at the best of times and my grammar is atrocious, just look at this narration., I'm sure I've made a million mistakes that the grammar check won't check.
I don't even know why I'm trying to write this. I guess I just needed to get these thoughts, these feelings out into the world...
-Close?-
--Yes
-Save?-
--Yes
File Save As: Sherlock Thing
The young girl sighed, and dragged her fingers through her long brown hair. Her eyes were so dark brown they looked almost all black, and currently, they were watering with exhaustion.
The red numbers on the digital clock showed it was 2:30 am. She pulled her bra off through one sleeve being her large shirt was loose enough. It had a cartoon monkey's head on it and read, "I fling poo." She pulled off her black bondage pants off and pulled on some sweat pants. Her silver pentacle, the symbol of the five elements and all Magick, was tucked into her shirt and she crawled into her bed. Her room didn't look like the room of an adult living on her own. It looked like a teenager's room. That was her problem. She was a teenager, trying to function alone and as an adult.
Little did she know, that this was the last night she would spend alone in her small home. She was just drifting off to sleep as a heavy weight slammed into her chest. She groaned and managed a pained laugh.
"I love you too Fat Cat." She said to the large gray cat who was currently curling up to sleep on her face. She'd named the cat because he looked like the cat of the same name on Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers. She was almost 20 and that was still her favorite cartoon.
"Meow." Was all the cat said and that was the end of the conversation, mostly because with an ample cat stretched across her face she could barely breathe, let alone talk.
It was 3:55 am when she finally fell asleep. Eight hours and five minutes until her whole life changed.
It was 8:55 in the morning and the day was turning into a dreary and dismal England day. The sky was a dull gray, not even steel gray, dove gray or dark gray, just a boring dull gray gray.
A light rain was trickling over all of London. Sherlock didn't know this, he was running through the halls of an old dilapidated warehouse in the commercial district. About 5 yards ahead of him was none other than Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime. Sherlock pulled out his gun and aimed as he kept running.
"Meow."
"Meow..."
She rolled over and grunted something that had it not been muffled by what looked to Fat Cat like a stuffed armadillo would have been inappropriate enough to constitute him clawing at her arm. It was just dangling off the bed so near and tempting, but they had a deal...Only if she deserved it...
"Meow!" He was more insistent now. She sneezed, at least, it sounded like a sneeze to him.
"Meow!" He nuzzled her hand and made sure to press his cold nose against her palm.
She rolled over, taking her hand with her.
"MEEEEOOOW!" He bellowed, furious. She sat up, difficult since she was laying on her stomach, and looked around wondering where the man-eating evil spleen was. She was still lost in her dream.
The time was 11 in the morning. One hour to go.
"What?" She asked looking at the cat, her dark hair matted and ruffled.
"Meow." He said falling to the floor and rolling on his back with his legs in the air. He looked at her upside-down.
"What? You'll have to be more clear than that." She said climbing out of bed.
"Meooooow...mrow?" He replied.
She walked barefoot out of her room and to the kitchen where she found an empty cat food dish.
"Shit." She grumbled.
"Mrow?" Fat Cat inquired.
"I'm going to have to go out and find you some food. Can you wait?" She asked Fat Cat turned away, and flicked his tail into the air. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Fifteen minutes later she was in the garage once more thanking god she had sent that short story into a publishing company, even though at the time it was a joke.
That done she climbed into her perfectly kept Lapis Blue Porsche Boxster convertible with gray interior. It was the car of her dreams. She opened the garage door and backed out. Sure it was a car easily able to pull ninety without breaking a sweat but she was terrified of wreaking it since she'd had to work overtime and nights and weekends for two years just to be able to afford the down payment. Trying to pay to get it repaired? She'd have to eat ketchup packets for 20 years instead of actual meals.
30 minutes later she was pulling into the lot of the nearest Pet Store type place that had the type of cat food she and Fat Cat agreed on, it was cheap and he didn't vomit it back up in her bed.
She wondered about what had driven her to type up that document last night as she walked into the store.
A blue and green bird that was squawking far to loud for something the size of a computer mouse attacked the girl, she screamed and fell to the floor hard. Once everything was cleared up and she was leaving the store it was 15 minutes until her life was turned upside-down.
Sherlock raced up the stairs of the warehouse and across the walkway after his nemesis who had already reached the other side. When the great detective reached the center the walkway gave out beneath him and Holmes started plummeting to the ground far below.
She drove under the bridge as she had a million times before, but this time something scared her, a human fell from that very bridge and into her lap, his legs over her side of the car and his head cracked against the passenger door painfully but not enough to crack it. She screamed and hit the breaks. Jerking the steering wheel and sending the car into a spin, she screamed again.
When the car stopped spinning and the other people on the rode were staring at her she flashed her cell and they warily drove away. She got out and walked to the side where man's head was. She screamed a third time and didn't stop. She fell into a sitting position and screamed until the man groaned, sat up, looked at her and climbed out of the car, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"Now, could you please explain to me what is going on here? Wasn't I inside a moment ago?" He turned and froze and turned back at her.
"Now, there is a lot for both of us to explain so quid pro quo. First, let's exchange phone numbers so I can call back and get your insurance info if there's something wrong with my car." She said going over to her car and pulling a pen out of the glove compartment.
"What is that?! Where am I? Who are you! And where is that horrible sound coming from?" He asked standing and grabbing her by the shoulders. The hat she'd pulled on since she didn't feel like brushing her hair or touching up it's green streaks fell off when he shook her and her hair tumbled free. He yelled and jumped backwards.
"Jesus...one at a time I said...anyway, that would be a Porsche dumbass, dur. You are just off of I-95 in Virginia, I am the girl you scared the shit out of, Amalphia Terrence. And yes he's creepy but David Bowie isn't that bad." She announced.
"What's wrong with your hair!? What is that necklace, isn't that..." He trailed off.
"God I know the dye job was streaky but my hair isn't that bad, and it's a pentacle." She explained holding it out for him to see. "And do I ever get to know who you are or why you wanted to jump off a bridge?" She asked looking more than a little peeved.
"Dye job? Pentacle? You're a devil worshipper aren't you. I knew Moriarty was low but to use the zealousness of devil worshippers...." He trailed off as she approached him, furious.
"Look you stupid-head, just because you don't get it don't make assumptions. I'm Wiccan! That means, firstly that I don't believe in the devil, so how can I worship him? He's a Christian icon. Second, as to what I do worship? It's a loving god and goddess and nature. Now, that doesn't mean I make sacrifices, or have mass orgies either! I'm a goddamn vegetarian!
"So if you're going to make assumptions than I'll just go back to my car and go home and you can stay here." She said turning, her brown hair showing it's green streaks in the full light of the sun.
"Please madam, I meant no offense, I merely was uninformed. Please," He said, his gray eyes pleading with her.
"Alright, let's get out of here, I'll give you a ride to the nearest Wendy's and we can discuss our meeting over a meal." She said motioning him to follow. She hoped in and realized he hadn't moved.
"What's wrong?" She asked looking at him.
"I do not understand where I now find myself, these things, these Porsches, how do they run without horses? Why will this Wendy give us a meal?" He asked.
"One, only the cars that look like this are Porsches, they cost more than most people's houses so only a few people have them and I was really stupid to try and afford one with my lifestyle. Second they run with engines, you know? Now get in. I'm hungry." She said.
He didn't move.
"Join the 21st century. Come on!" She insisted again.
"21st century?" He asked, squeaking a little.
"Yeah, you know, the year 2003 and all that stuff." She announced. That was when he collapsed.
~*~
How had he done this to me? He was a guy who had he even been real was from over a hundred years ago. How? That question echos through my mind every time I think of steel gray eyes and a soft touch. How had a man who believed only in science bewitched me so? Me, the girl who made cracks about Surecock Holmes and Squatson. I hated him so much, ever since I was a kid. I idolized the man who I was sure could have stumped him, Jack the Ripper. So what the fuck is wrong with me now? Why now? Why do I feel like I know why he hated women so, why do I feel like even though I got stumped by the easiest riddles do I think myself worthy of being his equal. Could I do what he did? Hell no. So why do I want to try?
I guess it started with a joke, the joke of if I was lucky enough to get to go on an adventure, I'd get sent to his world. How awful for me...
Then I started a story where I did get sent to his world, a 16 year old helping a 30 year old she hated.
Then...I don't know when it happened, I guess when I read Hound of the Baskervilles...I saw a side of him...Watson complained that he didn't trust anyone. And I started feeling like I knew Holmes, REALLY knew him.
How did you do this to me? I would love to know. I believe heavily in magick and arcane things like that and would love to know what spell you used that was so powerful. Is it that I am related to Her, the one woman you loved? Could that be it? Not with my luck...Or maybe her reincarnation, but now I'm getting onto the Inuyasha plot...Or maybe I'm just hopeful.
My first mistake was hating him enough to learn more about him so I could mock him easier. Then I made the mistake of commiserating with him. My problems progressed from there to my current and largest problem.
I am in love with Sherlock Holmes. Head over heals, madly, hoplessly in love with him, all the cliché ways you can think to say someone loves someone else, that's me. I love him so much it hurts. It hurts to know I won't ever meet him, and if I did and I could get to talk to him he would never even care. I'm not smart. I'm a C student at the best of times and my grammar is atrocious, just look at this narration., I'm sure I've made a million mistakes that the grammar check won't check.
I don't even know why I'm trying to write this. I guess I just needed to get these thoughts, these feelings out into the world...
-Close?-
--Yes
-Save?-
--Yes
File Save As: Sherlock Thing
The young girl sighed, and dragged her fingers through her long brown hair. Her eyes were so dark brown they looked almost all black, and currently, they were watering with exhaustion.
The red numbers on the digital clock showed it was 2:30 am. She pulled her bra off through one sleeve being her large shirt was loose enough. It had a cartoon monkey's head on it and read, "I fling poo." She pulled off her black bondage pants off and pulled on some sweat pants. Her silver pentacle, the symbol of the five elements and all Magick, was tucked into her shirt and she crawled into her bed. Her room didn't look like the room of an adult living on her own. It looked like a teenager's room. That was her problem. She was a teenager, trying to function alone and as an adult.
Little did she know, that this was the last night she would spend alone in her small home. She was just drifting off to sleep as a heavy weight slammed into her chest. She groaned and managed a pained laugh.
"I love you too Fat Cat." She said to the large gray cat who was currently curling up to sleep on her face. She'd named the cat because he looked like the cat of the same name on Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers. She was almost 20 and that was still her favorite cartoon.
"Meow." Was all the cat said and that was the end of the conversation, mostly because with an ample cat stretched across her face she could barely breathe, let alone talk.
It was 3:55 am when she finally fell asleep. Eight hours and five minutes until her whole life changed.
It was 8:55 in the morning and the day was turning into a dreary and dismal England day. The sky was a dull gray, not even steel gray, dove gray or dark gray, just a boring dull gray gray.
A light rain was trickling over all of London. Sherlock didn't know this, he was running through the halls of an old dilapidated warehouse in the commercial district. About 5 yards ahead of him was none other than Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime. Sherlock pulled out his gun and aimed as he kept running.
"Meow."
"Meow..."
She rolled over and grunted something that had it not been muffled by what looked to Fat Cat like a stuffed armadillo would have been inappropriate enough to constitute him clawing at her arm. It was just dangling off the bed so near and tempting, but they had a deal...Only if she deserved it...
"Meow!" He was more insistent now. She sneezed, at least, it sounded like a sneeze to him.
"Meow!" He nuzzled her hand and made sure to press his cold nose against her palm.
She rolled over, taking her hand with her.
"MEEEEOOOW!" He bellowed, furious. She sat up, difficult since she was laying on her stomach, and looked around wondering where the man-eating evil spleen was. She was still lost in her dream.
The time was 11 in the morning. One hour to go.
"What?" She asked looking at the cat, her dark hair matted and ruffled.
"Meow." He said falling to the floor and rolling on his back with his legs in the air. He looked at her upside-down.
"What? You'll have to be more clear than that." She said climbing out of bed.
"Meooooow...mrow?" He replied.
She walked barefoot out of her room and to the kitchen where she found an empty cat food dish.
"Shit." She grumbled.
"Mrow?" Fat Cat inquired.
"I'm going to have to go out and find you some food. Can you wait?" She asked Fat Cat turned away, and flicked his tail into the air. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Fifteen minutes later she was in the garage once more thanking god she had sent that short story into a publishing company, even though at the time it was a joke.
That done she climbed into her perfectly kept Lapis Blue Porsche Boxster convertible with gray interior. It was the car of her dreams. She opened the garage door and backed out. Sure it was a car easily able to pull ninety without breaking a sweat but she was terrified of wreaking it since she'd had to work overtime and nights and weekends for two years just to be able to afford the down payment. Trying to pay to get it repaired? She'd have to eat ketchup packets for 20 years instead of actual meals.
30 minutes later she was pulling into the lot of the nearest Pet Store type place that had the type of cat food she and Fat Cat agreed on, it was cheap and he didn't vomit it back up in her bed.
She wondered about what had driven her to type up that document last night as she walked into the store.
A blue and green bird that was squawking far to loud for something the size of a computer mouse attacked the girl, she screamed and fell to the floor hard. Once everything was cleared up and she was leaving the store it was 15 minutes until her life was turned upside-down.
Sherlock raced up the stairs of the warehouse and across the walkway after his nemesis who had already reached the other side. When the great detective reached the center the walkway gave out beneath him and Holmes started plummeting to the ground far below.
She drove under the bridge as she had a million times before, but this time something scared her, a human fell from that very bridge and into her lap, his legs over her side of the car and his head cracked against the passenger door painfully but not enough to crack it. She screamed and hit the breaks. Jerking the steering wheel and sending the car into a spin, she screamed again.
When the car stopped spinning and the other people on the rode were staring at her she flashed her cell and they warily drove away. She got out and walked to the side where man's head was. She screamed a third time and didn't stop. She fell into a sitting position and screamed until the man groaned, sat up, looked at her and climbed out of the car, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"Now, could you please explain to me what is going on here? Wasn't I inside a moment ago?" He turned and froze and turned back at her.
"Now, there is a lot for both of us to explain so quid pro quo. First, let's exchange phone numbers so I can call back and get your insurance info if there's something wrong with my car." She said going over to her car and pulling a pen out of the glove compartment.
"What is that?! Where am I? Who are you! And where is that horrible sound coming from?" He asked standing and grabbing her by the shoulders. The hat she'd pulled on since she didn't feel like brushing her hair or touching up it's green streaks fell off when he shook her and her hair tumbled free. He yelled and jumped backwards.
"Jesus...one at a time I said...anyway, that would be a Porsche dumbass, dur. You are just off of I-95 in Virginia, I am the girl you scared the shit out of, Amalphia Terrence. And yes he's creepy but David Bowie isn't that bad." She announced.
"What's wrong with your hair!? What is that necklace, isn't that..." He trailed off.
"God I know the dye job was streaky but my hair isn't that bad, and it's a pentacle." She explained holding it out for him to see. "And do I ever get to know who you are or why you wanted to jump off a bridge?" She asked looking more than a little peeved.
"Dye job? Pentacle? You're a devil worshipper aren't you. I knew Moriarty was low but to use the zealousness of devil worshippers...." He trailed off as she approached him, furious.
"Look you stupid-head, just because you don't get it don't make assumptions. I'm Wiccan! That means, firstly that I don't believe in the devil, so how can I worship him? He's a Christian icon. Second, as to what I do worship? It's a loving god and goddess and nature. Now, that doesn't mean I make sacrifices, or have mass orgies either! I'm a goddamn vegetarian!
"So if you're going to make assumptions than I'll just go back to my car and go home and you can stay here." She said turning, her brown hair showing it's green streaks in the full light of the sun.
"Please madam, I meant no offense, I merely was uninformed. Please," He said, his gray eyes pleading with her.
"Alright, let's get out of here, I'll give you a ride to the nearest Wendy's and we can discuss our meeting over a meal." She said motioning him to follow. She hoped in and realized he hadn't moved.
"What's wrong?" She asked looking at him.
"I do not understand where I now find myself, these things, these Porsches, how do they run without horses? Why will this Wendy give us a meal?" He asked.
"One, only the cars that look like this are Porsches, they cost more than most people's houses so only a few people have them and I was really stupid to try and afford one with my lifestyle. Second they run with engines, you know? Now get in. I'm hungry." She said.
He didn't move.
"Join the 21st century. Come on!" She insisted again.
"21st century?" He asked, squeaking a little.
"Yeah, you know, the year 2003 and all that stuff." She announced. That was when he collapsed.