Sorry for the delay. Unfortunately, this is more of a segue than a chapter, but I still have to put the finishing touches on chapter eleven.
Thank you to everyone for their kind reviews!
It was dusk by the time he finished. A pale red light suffused everything in the graveyard, giving me the uneasy feeling that the blood of generations was covering the graves around us. The wind had begun to pick up, making the trees sway back and forth almost like ghosts released from their sepulchers. I wrapped my coat tighter about me.
Holmes, on the other hand, seemed entirely unperturbed, instead staring at the rose he still held in his hand in silent contemplation.
In the waning light, I could almost see Holmes as a little boy of eight, holding the same flower he did now in a much smaller hand and looking at it with the same soft contemplative air. In my mind's eye his father was there too, dressed in mourning and not quite sure what to do, much as he had been in the parlor. Mycroft stood a little to the side, a young man not yet grown into his height or his weight, viewing the scene with the tact and diplomacy that would later gain him an honored position with the British government.
"Well," said Holmes, shaking me from my reverie. He pulled out his watch and gave it a brief glance. "That is as much as you shall hear for the time being. It is getting late and we have a train to catch."
With that, he began striding out of the graveyard, much as he had done the first time.
"A train?" said I, thoroughly confused. I hurried after him, taking two steps for each of his long strides. "What do you mean?"
"Our business is done here, Watson," said he as he opened the gate to the graveyard. "I have introduced you to both mother and father and now it would be best to depart," He got into the trap and took the reins in his hands. "I believe if we go by High Wycombe rather than by Banbury we should be back at Baker Street before morning."
"But Holmes, my luggage…!"
"Leave it, Watson," said he as he maneuvered the trap closer to me. "I shall have Mycroft ship our luggage to us in London. I expect he already has the postage ready. He knows my methods."
"Holmes, you can't just leave your family like this. What will your father think?"
At this, he arched an eyebrow. "He will think," said he with a sneer. "What he has always thought. That I was scarcely worth the trouble of raising." He inched the trap closer to me before adding, "Now let us depart before we miss our train."
Oh dear, Holmes. That's no way to treat Watson, not to mention your family.
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