I wished for the fall, for the long days that meant it was still light even when evening had set in hours ago. I wished for the warmth that would seep into your skin and the trees changing colors providing the perfect scenery. Anything would be better than winter, where the sky was constantly gray and dreary; the weather rotated between rain, sleet and snow of anecdotal degrees; the wind ripped the air from your lungs with the merest of breaths and the chill constantly bit into bare flesh so that your cheeks were sore by the end of the day.
My melancholy levels were reaching epidemic proportions.
Quietly pulling the coat tighter around my shoulders, I swore softly as the cane in my hand was not helping my hands from warming. It had become almost frozen from weather. There were children scattering around the park, their noses a bright pink from the cold and I found myself smiling despite my mood. The memory of me as a four year old came to mind, for even I was a child who could be tempted by the rich snow. It seems as if a thousand years had passed since then.
One of the boys grabbed a fistful of snow, his feet moving delicately across the snow before flinging it with all his might. I could not tell if his cheeks turned pink from the cold or the blush of missing his friend—no, brother. They looked very much alike. Taking a moment to let the scene sink in, I continued my walk towards the center of the park and my fingers tightened against the thin, silver cane. I had the comical situation in my head that if I stayed in the same position for long, I'd stay frozen like that.
It had been exactly five days since I had performed the autopsy or had spoken to the Inspector and the Detective. By the end of the third day, I realized with a bitter depression that was the last I'd ever hear from them. The inspector had most likely decided to let me do the job to begin with for his personal vendetta against Mr. Holmes—from the little time I spent with those two they reminded me of a calm cat and the growling dog.
I had taken the liberty of keeping an eye for the newspapers though, constantly keeping an eye out for news on the young girl's murder; there was none. But I was not one to spend my days moping when there were things to be done, so naturally I set off to where I had begun. I had visited a clinic on the far side of town, still hoping for a chance of career—I was rejected almost instantly. The walk back alone had left me utterly exhausted, cold, and miserable. Nevertheless, I kept my chin up in hopes of a promising event. It paid off. The next morning I finally spoke to my neighbor, Miss Amadora Cammeresi. She was an early age of thirty, her rosy cheeks shining healthfully in the morning light. She was a very average woman but the kindness seemed to radiate from her very skin, making her appearance sweet.
She had offered me dinner whenever I asked, knowing without me saying, of my tight budget. With no job, barely a stable home and without a single friend of all of London—I must have been a sad sight. We spoke idly, very polite and hesitant to reveal anything about ourselves. Amadora was an Italian woman, her last name giving her away but those wide teal eyes would startle anyone. With the olive colored skin, I had assumed she was not from London right from the start. She was an aspiring actress , she told me.
I felt the color rush to my cheeks when she had told me so. An actress was suicide among the decent woman—almost half as terrible as my own deeds. The male society looked down upon them, finding them rebellious and good for only a night. I, for one, respected (adored) the life of opera and dramas. Amadora must have noticed this, for she had smiled and patted my hand gently. I departed with a warm smile not long afterward, and the next day we did speak, even going out to lunch. My first friend. That was two days ago.
So here I am now, wandering the park with children that did not even belong to me. 'Day Five: Miserable single woman bravely facing the London's treacherous weather. If only you could see me now brother…' I sighed lightly, tapping my cane with more enthusiasm against the icy pavement. One of the boys from earlier suddenly burst from the mound of snow in front of me, a loud gasp escaping his lips as his body smacked into the gravel with a thundering smack. The other child, the eldest brother, I presumed, came rushing over but I bent down beside the little boy first.
"Are you alright?" I asked, carefully placing my hand on the child's shoulder and frowning in concern. My eyes scanned his body for a sign of cuts or a sprained ankle, wrist, etc. He was staring at me with wide blue eyes, his blond hair falling gently in his face. There were unshed tears growing in his eyes from the pain and his lower lip had begun to tremble.
"'M fine, Miss…Just a bruisin'." His voice was superbly polite, even with his strong city dialect. I saw his hands trying to hide from view and I smiled, pulling his wrist lightly, making him sit on the closest bench.
"C'mon now. Let me just see if you will live."
His eyes widened at the sentence, looking alarmed. "Live, Miss?"
"Well it could possibly get infected…." I slowly started, trying to hide my clear amusement. The little boy barely contained his gasp and withdrew his hands from his pocket, practically throwing them in my face. His older brother finally caught up to us, clasping his hands over his knees to catch his breath.
"Charlie! What were you thinking!" He stopped as his eyes locked unto mine and removed his hat in a jiffy, shuffling a bit. "Oh. Good morning madam. I apologize…"
I waved him off and laughed smoothly for his pride's sakes. "It's fine. Just be more careful boys. Your mother won't be happy if you two come home battered."
The little child, who his brother had called him Charlie, was still waiting my inspection anxiously. I quietly grasped his hands in mine, using my fingertips to lightly prod at the red, scraped skin. Nothing was broken nor sprained—but his hands had been burned a tad bit from the cold ice. Luckily for him, I had my medical bag with me.
My limbs were aching from being bent down so much but I pointedly ignored it as I searched for the bottle of lotion and gauze. The older brother was eyeing Charlie nervously and I began to speak calmly. "I don't believe I know your name."
"Michael, ma'am." He replied instantly.
"Michael and Charlie…Handsome names." From the corner of my eye, I saw both of them blush mildly. Charily opening the cap to the lotion, I placed a small amount on Charlie's red hands and he let out a large breath before a weak smile grew on his lips. The ointment clearly helped soothe the burning skin. Michael also seemed relieved and was beginning to fiddle with his hat as I untwined the gauze and began to wrap his small hands. Ah, the innocence of children. The younger one could be no older than five—the older one most likely seven from his height.
"Why do you have a cane, miss?" Charlie suddenly blurted out and I saw his brother blanch.
"Charlie," He hissed through clenched teeth, before turning to me, apologizing profusely. "Do forgive 'im miss, he don't know how to hold 'is tongue." I raised a brow—the boy had a dialect just as strong when he was nervous.
"It's fine. No harms done." I nodded and then rose, barely containing my wince at the sudden pain shot up my thigh. "There! All done."
"Thank you." Both boys muttered and they scurried off without another word, back into the mounds of snow. But even as they left, I heard Michael say to his brother: "She was a kind nurse."
I sighed, my eyes growing soft. I wondered if the day would ever come that I would be referred to a "doctor". As I picked up my things, heading back in the direction of the hotel another thought came to mind.
Would I ever have the heart to accept such a title after all I had done?
It was six in the evening when I returned to the hotel, my limbs burning from the exercise and I went to sit on the lumpy chair. I did not have the energy to remove my dress, nor did I have the strength to care. My eyes had just begun to flutter when a sudden knock on the door made me jerk upright. 'Who…?' Quietly gathering myself and pushing my limbs to work, I made my way to the door.
"Hello?" I called, beckoning for a name.
"Miss Watson!" A happy voice chided from the other side, sounding quite flushed. "Oh Joanna, I do hope I'm not troubling you at such an hour!"
A large smile spread on my lips, and I quickly smoothed by hair and skirts before opening the door. Amadora, the neighbor I had mentioned earlier, was standing on her toes from excitement and she opened her arms as if to model. I felt my cheeks burn as I saw what she was wearing. Man's clothing. I would have gasped if she did not make her way into my room, wiggling her brows in a most unmannerly fashion. Strangely—it reminded me of myself.
She was wearing man's trousers, even the chocking necktie with a small black bow hanging from it. Her brown boots, ones I supposed one would wear for horse racing, went to her knees and she had a messenger boy's hat tilted gently upon her black curls. "How do I look?" She asked with such enthusiasm, all I could do was nod dumbly.
I was going to become exiled from the public for such a scandal of being associated with this woman.
I honestly could care less.
"Amadora! What—where did you manage to get such clothing?" I ushered her in, looking around before closing the door. We were speaking as if we had just been caught flirting! My excitement was boiling, the pain in my limbs all forgotten.
She twirled slightly before throwing her head back and letting out a melodious laugh. "Now, now. I knew you had some fun in you!" She leaned very close and I could smell cologne heavily. "An actress has no problems getting clothes, you know."
I noted the bag she was holding in her hand and I raised a brow. "Oh? But what is the occasion?"
"Well my dear Joanna, since you ask…I was thinking of taking a stroll downtown. Arena grounds."
"The arena grounds?" I exclaimed, my golden hazel eyes locking unto her incredulously. "Is that even allowed…?"
Amadora scowled, looking as if she wanted to roll her eyes. "Of course not! The only women who go there…" She shuddered. No one with a scrap of mind would flaunt their feminist body with those savage men. To do so was to invite robbery—or worse. "Never mind. Why do you think I'm dressed as a man?"
"Oh." I replied simply. Then I looked up at her once more. "Did you come to bid me farewell for the night then?"
She threw her head back and laughed again, eyes filling with mirth. "Do tell me you don't plan to stay here for the night! No, no. You are coming with me my dearest girl!" She opened the bag in her hands, and I watched as more male clothes dropped to the ground.
"You must be joking."
"An actress never jokes. She only acts." Amadora shrugged.
The more tactical part of me told me to deny the invitation, thinking of my public image if I were to be caught—the utter humiliation! The more overtaking side of me was saying otherwise.
In minutes, I had removed my gown with much difficulty. I had gathered the clothes, hiding behind the weak screen to change—the trousers were black, the collared shirt hiding my bosom well with the tight collar. I slipped the black coat on, feeling quite naked and embarrassed but put on the worn-out black boots. When I stepped out of the screen, Amadora's eyes widened.
"My dearest Mr. Watson. I do believe you look quite handsome as a male. Nearly as beautiful when you are a woman." She smiled warmly at my blush, continuing. "But you're hair….We must hide it from view."
She pulled another hat from her bag, tying my hair up tightly so that only my bangs fell into my face. Satisfied, she put the hat on and let me look at my reflection. I must say—the transformation was impressive.
Amadora gave me a wide, wool scarf and stepped back to inspect her work. "At least you're hair is wavy at the ends—tying it up makes the tips coming out look natural." She said finally. I nodded slowly, grabbing my cane and she grabbed my hand and we departed out into the London night.
I was dreadfully cold by the time we reached the tents, the men bustling wildly with their drinks sloshing heavily. I grimaced at the odor but kept a sharp eye on Amadora's back. I would have held her hand, but if they were to catch two "men" holding each other—it would be disastrous.
One of the men was shoved roughly into my shoulder and I cringed in pain, the shock making me stagger back a bit.
"Blast it! Watch where you're goin'!" Amadora suddenly barked at the man, her voice coming out rough and I had to blink to realize it was her. An actress such as this would never cease to surprise me. The man growled in reply but his merry way through the crowd.
"Sorry." I mouthed to her but she kept walking and there was a loud uproar of voices from the red tent. I was beginning to lean more on my cane as the fresh pain was beginning to crawl into my senses but I was still curious to see what the commotion was about.
"Boxing tent." Amadora whispered lowly, her eyes sparkling with new found vigor. "Keep your head low. Don't look anyone in the eye."
I listened, bowing my head so that the hat hid my face, swallowing as we ventured further into the mass. The cries got louder and there was a doorman by the entrance.
""Ere now gents! Entrance fee!" The old man squawked and Amadora fished the money from her pockets. It jingled in the can as she let it drop and we both entered, a rush of temperature hitting me in the face. The mass of bodies were producing enormous amounts of body heat, the smell of sweat making me choke slightly. The sound of a bell made the crowd roar and I winced slightly.
Amadora waved a young teenage boy over, keeping her voice hoarse. "Mind telling me what going on 'ere boy?"
The boy nodded vigorously. Apparently the fighters were from different weight classes all together. The giant one, known as Aarons, from what I could see from afar, had a prestigious reputation for his bloodthirsty pounding. I could not see their faces well but I found myself staring at the opponent's bodies. We pushed our way steadily to the front and once more, I was roughly shoved. The man turned to face me, his face bright red, and his large puffy cheeks seeming boiled
"First match, eh lad? Careful." He guffawed.
To my relief, he turned away. I had been mistaken for a young boy—better than nothing I suppose. Amadora beckoned me forward with her wrist and as another thundering crack sounded through the air, a wave of cheering tore through the cold winter air.
Both of the fighters were stripped from the waist, the larger man looking quite murderous. His opponent had his back to me, but I could see the sweat glistening on his skin. Aarons was the larger one judging from the men screaming his name in the crowd in a drunken stupor. His nose was obviously broke, blood pouring down his face and I shuddered as he suddenly began to smile.
He must have lost a tooth without realizing it.
I placed my hand to my mouth as that meaty fist of his crashed into the fit, smaller man. He staggered back but recovered quickly and threw a punch of his own—it hit Aarons square in the gut and the giant spat a wad of blood unto the floor.
"Who's the other fighter?" I whispered to Amadora, who was heavily absorbed with the men beside her—gambling no doubt. She shrugged.
"Don't know. Poor thing. He's muscular but that Aarons is enormous."
But head snapped back to the arena as half the men booed—the agile man was moving his head quickly, avoiding blows like he had been predicting them. He suddenly took a step back and Aarons took this to his opportunity to lunge: The man maneuvered his heel to get out of the way, delivering a deadly blow to Aaron's jaw and the crowd went in an uproar at the sound of the sickening bones breaking.
Broken jaw. No doubt.
Aarons crashed to the floor and the bell shattered with an ear defining ring.
"Well look at that…." Amadora breathed as her eyes widened in shock. "The man won!"
The man turned to face us now, and as I looked up at him I felt two different types of shocks….First, he seemed to be unscratched except for a bruise on his cheek. Second….
"Good Lord," I said to no one in particular. "Mr. Holmes has a nasty right hook."
A/n: Sorry for the wait! I really do apologize! Well this chapter was fun to write, and I had to write it several times till I got it right. Please tell me if I'm going too fast. Amadora was added to the story just because I needed a woman to help Watson throughout. If you guys don't like her, just say so, and I'll add her only when I must. Please review! I read all of them and I do listen to your advice and thoughts eagerly. Till next time!