A crisp fall wind blew bright orange leaves around Brianna's feet as she traipsed up the street to Mary and John Watson's home. She pulled up the warm neck of her short brown leather jacket against the wind and straightened her red knit hat on her head. Shoving her hands deep into her pockets Brianna couldn't help but think longingly of the cup of hot tea waiting for her inside. Turning up the steps to the house Brianna was greeted by a friendly face. In the window of the Watson residence Dodge, the couple's brown and white English Spaniel was standing watching her excitedly. She waived to the dog and watched as he disappeared from sight. Through the large window she could see John standing in front of a bookshelf running his hands over a series of books. Even through the window he looked upset.
She knocked on the front door.
Mary, followed immediately by Dodge, greeted her at the door. Mary ushered Brianna into the front hall out of the chilly Autumn air. The house was warm; a small fire was crackling away in the drawing room, and smelled of gingerbread. Brianna thought it was a bit early for gingerbread cookies, the trees still had some leaves on them.
"Come in, come in!" Mary worried over her guest. "You look frozen. The tea is ready and I just finished making a tray of ginger cookies. They're cooling in the kitchen."
"Don't fuss. I'm really not very cold." Brianna assured her as she passed over her jacket and hat to be put away. She glanced quickly at her reflection in the mirror. She looked cold. Her short white blonde hair was tousled from being in a hat, and her cheeks and nose were a nice bright pink. She sighed, "Well,I don't feel that cold."
"That's because you're numb." John teased from the kitchen. Brianna laughed and bent down to say an enthusiastic "Hello" to Dodge who was waiting patiently beside Mary, then followed the hostess into the drawing room. With its fireplace, wallpapered walls adorned with photos of John, Mary and Dodge, shelves packed full of books and couches covered in knit afghans, the drawing room was Brianna's favourite room in the Watson house. She took her usual seat in the long couch facing the doorway and started to pour the tea while Mary popped into the kitchen to fetch the cookies.
"Brianna, have you heard any word from Sherlock?" Mary called from the kitchen.
"Yes, this morning he said he'd be here by half past three." Brianna called back.
John appeared in the doorway looking up at the clock on the wall. "It's already four o'clock."
Brianna nodded, "It is." She tilted the tea pot toward John's cup; a plain white cup with a blue band around the lip. A gift; Brianna couldn't remember if it was from Mary or from his sister Harry, but it was precious to John and he used it every day. He nodded his head and took a seat on the couch opposite her. Dodge returned to his post at the window, a silent lookout for their remaining visitor.
"He's not due for a while Dodge, relax." John called. The dog's short tail wagged happily but he did not turn from the window.
Mary came in carrying a plate of cookies in one hand and a plate of assorted muffins and jams in the other. Brianna and John jumped to their feet exclaiming that they should have come to help her carry the plates. Mary shook her head and begged them to take their seats again.
They ate mostly in silence, perfectly happy just to be around each other. Halfway through her tea Mary prattled on about a fellow at work who had brought in a litter of stray kittens. By the noises she made while telling the story she was quite taken with them. She kept bringing up a cat named Dexter; a tiny brown tabby, and by the look on John's face he'd heard quite enough about this cat. John preferred the company of dogs; he doesn't have the patience for the fickle mindedness of cats.
Trying to distance herself from the conversation before Mary tried to send her and Sherlock home with a cat, Brianna set her sights around the room once more. The newest additions to the room were sitting on the mantle; a framed picture of Brianna and Sherlock, and the framed charcoal drawing of John and Mary that Brianna had given them on the first day they met. She felt honoured that her silly little sketch was such a prized possession of theirs, and the picture was one of her favourites; Sherlock was dressed in a tight black tux, looking down at Brianna laughing as she; dressed in a short white gown, realized there was a drawing pencil behind her ear.
She turned away from the happy memory; she winced slightly as her head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. Not again, she thought and forced her eyes to focus. John noticed, but remained silent. Her gaze landed on the bookshelf she had seen John staring at through the front window. The bookcase and the books upon it had been in that room since before Brianna had met the Watsons, but she had never bothered to look at them.
"What's that collection of books?" She asked.
"Where?"
"Second shelf." Brianna nodded toward the only books that didn't have lettering on the spine. They were leather bound and warn. Mary sipped at her tea silently looking to her husband.
"Nothing really. Old notes, bits of writing, I should have tossed them ages ago."
"Don't you dare!" Mary sounded hurt. "Give yourself more credit… Bits of writing…" she mumbled,
"John, that's some of your best work." Mary continued. Brianna stood and walked over to the bookcase.
"Brianna, please don't." John begged. She turned respectfully.
"What did you write about?"
John remained silent.
"Sherlock." Mary chimed in.
"Like your blogs?" She asked excitedly. Brianna loved John's writing.
"He turned them into full novels years ago." As Mary bragged Brianna's eye got wider with delight.
"Really?"
"Both of you stop it. They're just old journals, nothing special. Leave them alone."
Brianna moved over to John's chair and put a hand on his shoulder. "I won't read anything without your permission, but I want you to know that I would love to read some more of your work." A tremor ran up her arm and made the tea cup rattle in the saucer she held.
"You alright?" John asked. This was not the first tremor or spasm he had witnessed from her lately. She smiled at him and nodded as usual. "Want to lie down?"
"No, no. I'm quite alright thanks." She waved off his offer, but was passed out on the couch an hour later.
