When we finally reached out destination, my feet had fallen asleep and I felt like I wanted to throw up. I staggered out of the cab. Looking up, I saw one of the largest homes I had ever seen in my entire life.
"Come on, Olivia." My 'brother' called. We were in public, I had to act like a sister.
"Coming, John." I went to grab my luggage, but Holmes grabbed my arm.
"What?" I hissed.
"You're a Victorian woman. They're have delicate strength."
"Oh," I let go of the trunk. "Right."
We headed inside, and Holmes quickly told me, in Spanish, that he already told Watson. Stuntson had invited them to stay at his country home, which was more of a mansion. They could stay as long as they needed.
"Gotcha. So basically you want us to thank him on our hands and knees?"
"As a figure of speech, yes."
We went inside, said our greetings, and where shown our rooms. This house was *huge*.
Holmes knocked on my door later, and told me that we were going to tell Stuntson a little bit more about why we were there.
"Mr. Stuntson, may we talk to you?" I called into his study, he looked up, and nodded. We entered the room. Slowly yet surely, we explained our predicament.
"I see. Well, you can stay here as long as you need, although-" he paused, "I *am* having a party in two days."
I slumped in my chair, and Watson did a little bit also. "How many?" Holmes asked, I knew that he didn't want to hear it. With the size of that house, and being an aristocrat . . .
"Over forty."
"If Moriarty figured out that we were here-" I started.
"-he could easily send someone, I know." Holmes finished.
"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I am retiring for the night." Watson left the room.
We all went to sleep, but I couldn't. It wasn't being in a new environment, it was that dream. I sighed and slipped out of bed, heading for the library I found it empty.
I started glancing through titles, searching through them looking for what I wanted, and I found it. It was a book on dreams and meanings.
I was immersed in it when I heard someone down the hallway, walking slowly, trying not to attract attention. Well, whoever it was did a lousy job, I thought. The gu . . . . .revolver, was ready and safety off without much thinking.
"Who's there? I warn you I'm armed!" I said boldly.
"Oh, Watson, come off of it." Holmes hissed.
"What are *you* doing awake?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither. I was just looking something up."
"Let's see it then."
"Alright", I sat on a sofa infront of a fire. " Well, rushing through someplace stands for missing something while rushing in life. A hallway means trying to connect with someone or something. An empty bottle; misfortune. Aligator-"
" 'Aligator'?"
"Yes, aligator; caution, a bad sign to anyone connected with it. Coffin, containing the end, well that makes sense. Doorways; happiness and long life. Deer, long lasting friendship with whom ever connected to."
"Who would that be?"
"I don't know they're always blurry. That's all it says. Yes, this book helps alot," I sighed and stated with sarcasm.
"You know that this entire thing is very laughable," Holmes said after a while.
"What and why?"
"I do think you read this, it was in your room when I went up there the other day, and it had my name in it, so I picked it up. Obvisusly, it's Watsons. That horrid penmenship."
I reddened. "Yes, I did. Where *does* he come up with that stuff?"
"I don't know, but, as I always say, things aren't always what they seem."
"As in what, Mr. Plato?"
"Well, you're a good example."
"Me?"
"Yes, at first glance, you look like any other beautiful, young, flirt of a thing, the stereotype heightened by your usual demenoer. But in further inspection, which would mean quite a while in your case, you're a top-notch fighter, and you have quite a head for deduction."
"Why, Holmes, I do declare." I put on a Southern drawl. "I think I'm in ya likin."
He laughed, never answering. "Well, sweet dreams." He took my hand and kissed it slowly, then stood up and left.
I stared at the door. "Sweet dreams." I murmered.