Today's Prompt (from sirensbane): Horses
It was a beautiful day; the sky was a clear, bright blue and the snow sparkled in the sun.
"Perfect for a stroll," Watson declared as he and Holmes sat at breakfast at the inn.
"So much so that I was thinking we might perhaps enjoy something a little further afield," Holmes suggested with a wave of his fork. "If we wished to explore the magnificent landscape, today would be the day to chance it."
Watson examined Holmes, unable to glean all that Holmes himself would have deduced from a glance, but still capable of drawing some conclusions of his own. Holmes was perhaps not so thin and wan as when they had arrived, his cheeks rosier from the time they had spent in the brisk mountain air, his eyes alight with the prospect of another adventure.
Still, Watson cautioned, "Holmes, you are certain you are up to the hike?"
"We need not put the burden solely on our own legs. In such a village, I would be most surprised if we could not find a steed or two for hire to aid in our travels over the treacherous terrain."
The prospect of exploring the landscape was not without its appeal and Watson gave his assent with a smile.
After breakfast, Holmes spoke to the innkeeper.
When Holmes had put their problem to her, the innkeeper replied, "M. Laval has a mule that he hires out in the summer, but I cannot think of any other. She is in high demand the rest of the year, but now I am sure he would be pleased to have some work for her. He is a good man, in his way."
"Thank you, Mme. Beauregard," Holmes said. "I believe that will do nicely."
Holmes and Watson layered on their coats and ventured out into the already waning morning. They strolled through the town, as though on one of their usual promenades, but they did not stop when they reached the end of the lane. Instead, they continued up a winding way, past a cluster of cottages, to a small hut on the outskirts of the village.
The man who answered the door exclaimed at the sight of them, "You are the detectives?"
"I see that my reputation precedes me," Holmes said. "Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my companion, the esteemed Dr. Watson. We were hoping to hire your mule for the day for a short excursion into the mountains."
M. Laval seemed surprised. "Is that all? In that case, certainly, you may have Beatrice. Only, do not go beyond the ridge, and if she refuses to go anywhere, you will not be able to force her - and she is always right. She has saved my own life more times than I can count."
"Thank you, M. Laval, it is very kind of you to loan her to us."
"Thank you, gentlemen. Winter is a lean season for us all here."
Holmes took Beatrice's reins and she led them up the mountainside. They took a narrow winding path, away from the village, into a loose copse of evergreens - the only trees that could grow even there, in the thin air, where their tops brushed the clouds. That day, however, the sky was clear. As they passed out of sight of the village, they may have been the only men in the world. All was still and silent aside from the rushing of the wind and the occasional snatch of birdsong.
A shiver ran down Watson's spine, and not on account of the cold. He could not see the rocky cliffs, but he knew that they were there, just over the snowbank. And it was all too easy to slip on the snow covered ground.
Holmes and Beatrice slowed ahead of him - he had not even noticed his own pace faltering.
Quietly, as to not upset the precariously balanced snow, Holmes called back to him, "Watson?" He left Beatrice and quickly descended to Watson's side. "Are you quite alright?"
Watson gave his head a shake. "It is nothing."
Holmes took Watson's hands in his own, though there were layers of gloves and mittens between them. His lips quirked upward. "My recent illness has not entirely relieved me of my senses."
That earned an answering twitch of a smile from Watson, but it did not last long. "Fortunately so."
Holmes looked out upon the snowy slope. "I did not remain through the winter, but these mountains are unmistakable in any season." Meeting Watson's eyes once more, he continued, "I am certain we could find somewhere else similarly removed from the bustle of London life. The seashore perhaps?"
"No, that is not necessary," Watson protested. "Ansruther was right, there is nowhere so quiet for you to recuperate."
"And yet, it is curious… But now is neither the time nor the place. Shall we return to town for tea by the fire?" Holmes made to offer Watson his arm.
Watson took a deep breath of the sharp mountain air and accepted it, but answered, "No, I will be all right, so long as the cold is not too much for your health. I should not live in fear of a mountain. We could go up to the overlook, at least."
"Very good," Holmes declared.
Arm in arm, they rejoined Beatrice and they all lumbered up the slope, until the trees gave way to plain white snow, and when they had ascended the snowbank, they could see for miles around. Rocky mountains resembled islands breaking a white sea, the blankets of snow like a layer of clouds beneath a blue sky. Below them, they could see the town, all toy cottages clustered on the mountainside - most, but hardly all with white smoke billowing up from the chimneys. And just on the other side of the little ridge was an old castle built into the rock.
Holmes and Watson held each other tightly as they surveyed the sweeping landscape below, their breath swept from their lungs. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance of wonder.
Beatrice summed it all up with an emphatic bray.