11th Dec: From Madam'zelleG - Holmes finds himself accidentally locked into a church overnight.
I told Watson, upon his request, a great deal of what I experienced during my extended period travelling the continent whilst pursued by Moriarty's henchmen. There is one instance, however, that I did not reveal to him.
I have never been an especially religious man. Our parents made both Mycroft and I attend church with them regularly as children, but after their deaths there was no one to reinforce the practice. I was far more interested in music, science and my other studies and spent little time philosophising on what greater meaning might lie beyond these. In the years since then, I had thought deeper on the issue and come to the conclusion that there was some greater Providence at work in our universe. Nevertheless, I still do not attend church.
It was in Switzerland, three weeks after my supposed 'death', that I ducked into a small provincial church to hide from some of Moriarty's men. They had already lost my trail and it was only bad luck that we found ourselves in the same village. I prayed (ironic, I realise) that they would not stumble upon me where I hid under the guise of a late night worshipper. Something, be it luck, God or otherwise, smiled upon me, for they moved on none the wiser the next day. Less fortunately, the priest turned out to be a rather old, doddery and half-deaf gentleman who had not noticed there was someone inside the church when he locked up for the night. I had stayed in worse places, and would stay in many more over the next few years. At least it was safe.
I lay there in the dark and draughty building, considering what lay behind and ahead of me. Behind: London, my life, and Watson. Ahead: who knew? More of the same, certainly. Living day to day under different pseudonyms, constantly alert and always fearful. It was not appealing and the thought of it drove me quite to anxiety. My panicked breaths echoed in the church hall and I forced myself up from my makeshift bed in an effort to calm myself. To assist in the effort, I noted my surroundings.
It was not what I was used to from my childhood, but there were certainly similarities. I could see some stray petals in one corner; there had been a wedding yesterday. A discarded handkerchief beneath one of the pews; a funeral today? It was a leap, but there was no reason there shouldn't have been. It was a church after all. I found myself wondering if I would have a funeral and a grave and a eulogy and all the rest. The thought, once I delved far enough into the it, left me laughing at how very ridiculous things could be. I slept, eventually, and the next day I continued.
There is neither excitement nor drama to the tale. Watson, I am sure, would not even be interested. No, I think I shall keep this to myself.
