It was November in Southern California, and even though the change of season wasn't as dramatic as back home in London, there were changes none the less. The air was crisper, the nights shorter, and every evening there was a slight breeze that blew through the streets and it made the last brittle leaves of summer disengage from spindly, brown tree branches and swirl into eddies around one's feet. John sat by himself on the curb and watched fall's little drama unfold. "I miss blogging," John thought, "It always made him feel less lonely and more connected to the events transpiring around him." John had expressed a similar thought to Cuddles and Toots just the other day and so the girls had gone with their pocket money to the local drug store and bought John a pink diary with a lock and key. Since, Sherlock, Cuddles, Toots, and Mycroft were all at Choir practice, this seemed the perfect time for John to write in the little diary.
Diary Entry: November 4th: Cuddles' birthday is tomorrow and so we are going to have dinner at her house tomorrow, which will consist of black eyed peas, collard greens with salt pork, corn bread and Angel Cake for dessert. It actually sounds quite dreadful, but who am I to comment on food, after all I'm from England and we have some strange dishes there as well.
John sighed, "It felt awkward to write in the little pink book," he thought as he put the diary down next to him.
It was perfect timing for coming towards him laughing, were Sherlock, Toots, Cuddles, and Mycroft, all bouncing along as the wind blew leaves around their legs and whipped at their pony tails. The scarf around Sherlock's pony tail slipped away, which made his long curly black, brown hair fall around his face, making him look like an innocent cherub. John chuckled at the unlike image as Sherlock cursed and ran after his run away scarf. Just as Sherlock would reach down to grab it; the scarf would elude his grasp. Finally, Sherlock gave up and joined the group. For some reason it bothered John, so he took off, running through the wind, keeping his eye on the scarf as it slithered away like a snake.
"Run, Run, Jean, get that scarf," Toots shouted.
John was determined to get that scarf, no matter what, so he plunged ahead. However: his saddle oxfords were no match for the gravel strewn road and as John bent down to pick up the scarf he slipped breaking his fall with the palms of his hands.
Sherlock was the first to reach John, "Jean, are you okay?" Sherlock asked as he examined John's bloody palms.
John looked up at Sherlock and silently nodded, as he handed over the pink, battered scarf to Sherlock. "Thank you, John," Sherlock whispered softy, so that no one else could overhear.
Toots grimaced at John's bloody palms, "Come on, let's go to Cuddles' house her Mom's a nurse." Toots said as she helped John up.
After Cuddles' Mom cleaned and washed John's palms, she reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small, brown bottle.
"What is that?" John asked skeptically as he tried to free his hand from Cuddles' Mom's grasp.
"Oh, it won't hurt a bit, I call it monkey blood," Cuddles' Mom said as she poured a small amount over John's hand.
"Jesus, that hurts," John yelped.
"Jean, I will wash your mouth out with soap, if I ever hear you speak like that again," Cuddles' Mom scolded as she blew on John's palms. "It helps with the pain," she said.
"What, I have never heard of such a thing. What is that stuff anyway?" John questioned as he snatched up the bottle. "Mercurochrome, my Go..goodness, this has mercury in it. What are you trying to do, give me lead poisoning?" John asked incredulously.
Cuddles' Mom was about to reply, when Cuddles took John's arm and gently motioned for the other girls to follow her to her room. They were almost home free when Cuddles little eleven year old brother ran through the living room stark naked.
"Oh, no," Cuddles gasped in horror. "I'm so sorry." She said tearfully.
Sherlock shrugged, "Don't worry, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he replied nonchalantly.
"What?" Cuddles and Toots asked in unison.
John as usual came to Sherlock's rescue," Um Sheryl is just trying to make light of the situation," John said firmly as he pursed his lips and nodded. "I assure you he is as shocked as the rest of us. Isn't that, right?" John asked Sherlock pointedly.
Sherlock looked confused and then nodded, "Of course, Jean is correct, I have never seen a penis …in the 1950's"
Toots and Cuddles' faces were red from embarrassment as the girls ran giggling to Cuddles' room. The girls spent the rest of the afternoon chatting about, clothes, boys, lipstick and the upcoming Fall Choral Concert. Sherlock watched them all pensively and then slipped out side to where Cuddles' Dad was sitting on the front porch smoking a pipe. Sherlock took a deep breath as the smell of tobacco filled his lungs; it was a wonderful comforting scent that smelled like cherries and wood burning in a fireplace. "I am going to try a pipe, as soon as we get home," Sherlock thought, as he took another deep breath. For a few moments Sherlock and Cuddles' Dad sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts; the only sound was the wind as it whispered through the Pepper Trees and Cuddles' Dad's pipe puffing. Sherlock thought that the puffing was a comforting sound that reminded him of a percolating tea kettle.
Cuddles' Dad was supposed to be half Cherokee Indian and as Sherlock looked into the mysterious depths of his silver, blue eyes, Sherlock didn't doubt that this was so. When the Dad spoke, Sherlock about jumped out of his skin. "You seem troubled," was the only thing he said.
Sherlock nodded and gazed at the silvery, wispy tendrils of the Pepper Tree as they swayed in the breeze; they reminded him of ocean waves. "I am troubled and I am far from home," Sherlock said; surprised that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.
Cuddles' Dad took a few more puffs and then answered. "I don't doubt it."
Sherlock searched his face for any sign of sarcasm; not finding any he rushed on. "I'm from the 21st Century, 2014 to be exact, and I am not a girl, I'm not even a woman, I'm a man, a detective-a genius."
Cuddles' Dad stared intently at Sherlock for a moment and then asked the question, "So, how are you going to get home?"
"I don't know," Sherlock answered softly. "I don't suppose you have a pair of red slippers lying around." Sherlock said and sighed.
"No, I'm afraid not," Cuddles' Dad said as he chuckled.
Sherlock eyes grew round as he asked his next question, "Wait a minute, aren't you a Mason? It is rumored that the Masons know all about time travel."
Cuddles' Dad laughed openly; it was a gurgley, happy sound like his pipe. "No, I'm afraid I couldn't reveal any Masonic Secrets, so for the time being you are stuck here."
Sherlock leaned back on his elbows and took a deep whiff of the smoke from the pipe and the musty smell of the Geraniums that surrounded the porch. "I guess it's not too bad; being here I mean. After all it's not as if I'm alone, I have Mycroft and John, Margaret and Jean to you." Sherlock said as he grinned back at Cuddles' Dad.
Cuddles' Dad returned Sherlock's smile and said, "So, Jean is a man too?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Surely, Mycroft is a woman, right?" Cuddles' Dad asked.
Sherlock laughed until he got the hiccups. "No, Margaret is Mycroft, my older brother and well he is sort of a man."
"You three have been brought here for a reason." Cuddles' Dad said softly.
Sherlock stopped laughing, as the old familiar anxiety and boredom clawed at his throat; making it hard for him to breathe. "Why?" He asked as he looked into the sad silver, blue eyes of Cuddles' Dad.
He shook his head and began to fill his pipe up with more tobacco. Sherlock watched the packing process in fascination. When he was through Cuddles' Dad lit the pipe and then answered Sherlock. "Maybe you are just here to appreciate each other; for the world must come at one in a faster pace in the future."
Sherlock nodded and looked down to keep the tears from showing in his eyes.
Cuddles' Dad was silent for a moment and then he got up and looked back at Sherlock and said, "Bonanza, is coming on in a few minutes. Sometimes a little Television can clear up tunnel vision, so why don't you join me?"
Sherlock scrambled off the porch and followed Cuddles' Dad into the T.V.-Smoking Room and as the familiar Bonanza theme blared through the room, Sherlock thought that even though this moment appeared to be nothing more than watching T.V. with an old soul, perhaps, it was much more, and so Sherlock concentrated so that he would always remember this feeling of peace and serenity, for as far as Sherlock, John and Mycroft were concerned these two attributes were sadly lacking in the 21st Century. Sherlock, yawned as he began to drift off to sleep; the last thing he remembered was Cuddles' Dad asking him a question about Little Joe and Hoss, and try as he might Sherlock could never remember the question then or in the future.