A very long night indeed
"Wait what!" I gawked at my handsome stranger, and possible fictional character, as he strolled into my apartment with his hands rested behind his back.
"My name dear. You have mentioned my name, yet I had failed to give it to you." He stopped at my bookshelf admiring my collection of well loved books, running his hands up and down some of the spines.
"Your name is not Sherlock Holmes." I watched as his hand stopped on my ancient copy of The Sign of the Four. I had found a pirated copy of the book at a yard sale, and after having it looked at by a local antiquarian book dealer I learned it was from the late 1800's. "Don't touch! That book is very old, and very dear to me."
"My name most certainly is Sherlock Holmes, but what interests me more is where you would procure a book about the sign of four."
"You are not Sherlock Holmes because he is in fact a character in a book…THAT BOOK!" I said gesturing to the slightly out of place book on my shelf "As well as the many others you'll probably find scattered on that shelf." I ran my hands through my curly red hair and pinched the bridge of my nose. This man was clearly insane. I was beginning to think I made a mistake by taking him in. He came close to me and leaned in inches from my face, keeping his hands respectively behind his back.
"Do I look like a fictional character to you madam?" He growled
"As a matter of fact you do Mr. Holmes."
"I am of flesh and blood no?"
I poked his shoulder, earning a smirk from the arguably fictional detective.
"Obviously….but I still say you are in no way Sherlock Holmes."
He stepped back allowing me to have back my personal space. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. What was he doing, his dark eyes were penetrating my space, even if his body no longer was. I just stood there as they moved slowly up and down my body. A one-sided smile slowly spread across his face.
"There is a cane leaned against the corner of your bookshelf, a visitor would assume it belonged to a beloved family member, but your slight limp and awkwardness while climbing the stairs suggest otherwise. The dust upon the handle would suggest that you don't take use of it often, you are much too young and proud to let yourself be dependent on it. The chain that leads beneath your top holds something that is of great importance to you, even with various attempts of cleaning its age is clearly seen, a family heirloom perhaps, given to you by the one who raised you. Your mother…..no your grandmother, who took you in while you were rather young, feeding your love for things that hold age. Like the musky smell of an old book for example."
A silent tear crept down my cheek at the mention of my grandmother.
"Satisfied madam?"
I fingered the pendant that rested below my shirt.
"She gave it to me before she died." I pulled the simple carved amber cameo flower set in sterling silver and ran my thumb across its smooth surface. "I miss her so much." I slumped down into my oversized recliner and sobbed softly into the dark fabric. I felt his warm hand land on my shoulder.
"There there dear, I didn't mean to upset you, I was only trying to prove to you my existence."
I wiped the tears from my face and looked into his warm eyes. They held an honesty in them, perhaps he was telling the truth, and if he was he would need someone to rely on in this strange new world.
"So…..Sherlock?…I need a drink." I rummaged in the kitchen pantry until I found my private stock stash. Tugging out the cork I took a long swig from the bottle.
"You believe me then?" Following me into the kitchen, eyeing the bottle on my lips.
"I suppose." I replied, taking another drink from the bottle, before offering it to him.
"Not my drug of choice."
"I know…..and there will be none of that while you are here!"
"How do you?…"He asked me with wide eyes.
"Books. Remember. If you are in fact Sherlock Holmes, you reside in 221B Baker Street, with your colleague and friend Dr. John Watson until he marries, and who doesn't exactly approve of your cocaine and morphine usage."
"Fascinating…..I never would have thought my life would be put into the pages stories to entertain others and so far into the future no less."
"And I never thought Sherlock Holmes would be standing in my kitchen."
"Yet here I am." He grinned taking the bottle from my hand.
"Here you are indeed."
OK ok, I know Watson gets married in 1887 in the books, but the movie is set in 1890 and they still haven't married yet so for fan fiction's sake I created my own dates. I think I like where this is going, and I do hope Samantha is likeable, I sure like her :D
Do what you do best, read and review, make me swoon!
-Shelly
P.S while I don't own an old copy of The Sign of Four I do have a first edition of The Return of Sherlock Holmes. Pretty cool huh?
