Second chapter! Joy and rapture. I think that I'll bring the mystery into the next chapter, however. I want Holmes to get used to Michigan for this chapter. And since I know how different Michigan is from London, I'm going to have lots of fun. Ok, officially I've never been to London, so people from England, bear with me. Let the Holmes torture commence!
Chapter Two: Adjusting
Watson's POV:
Holmes still wasn't used to Michigan. It was rather amusing to see him refer to the trunk of a car as a boot, and such things as that. During our first week there, we took him to a McDonalds. They had them in London, but he had never eaten their before. He was amazed at the rapidness of the service, but dismayed when he saw the outcome of the food. But our second week there was the most fun.
It became obvious Holmes needed new clothes. All he had from London was sweaters, and long sleeved shirts. And pants, of course. But when it reached a ninety degree day, he was out of luck when it came to clothes.
My father noticed, as did my aunt. Aunt Sophia was all for taking him to the mall.
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"Dearie, let's take you to the mall!" Aunt Sophia announced at breakfast. Holmes dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter.
"What?!" he asked, astounded. Aunt Sophia giggled childishly.
"Turtlenecks and slacks don't bear well on a ninety degree day such as this, Sherlock. Sophia and Jenny can take you to the mall. You can buy whatever clothes you wish," my father responded. Holmes sputtered and finally raised his voice.
"Turtlenecks and slacks have always suited me!" he protested. I gently placed an arm on his shoulder.
"Oh, Holmes. Get over it. You'll die of sweat if you don't," I told him. Holmes lowered his eyes in resignation. Aunt Sophia squealed.
"Oh goodie! A few nice pink shirts, some lime green jeans..."
Holmes groaned.
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The mall was crowded today. The people pressed against us at all sides.
Aunt Sophia had driven me and Holmes to the Lakeland mall in Detroit. Holmes had insisted that she not stay, and practically shoved her back into the car, telling her to pick us up in an hour or two. As he started walking towards the mall, I told her five hours would be enough.
I looked at Holmes, who looked terrified. I couldn't help but grin evilly as I saw a store that would be perfect.
"Holmes, come over here. This is a store that I want you to go into," I tugged at his sleeve. He looked at the store name and immediately backed away.
"I refuse, Watson. This place makes poor quality clothes," he insisted. I rolled my eyes.
"Abercrombie isn't that bad. And besides, I didn't give you much of a choice, now did I?"
Holmes followed me into the large store and looked contemptuously at the clothes. After about five minutes of looking around, I pulled off some clothes for him to try on.
"Holmes, what about these?" I asked. He fingered the material unhappily.
It wasn't bad, my selection. It was a simple black shirt and jean shorts. I decided to go easy on him... for now. Holmes finally removed the hangers from my arm.
"It isn't that bad. Hideous, but not the worst," he verified. I grinned.
"Try them on." Holmes glared at me.
"I will not. I hate stores. I didn't want to go shopping, and so I won't buy anything," he said righteously. I rolled my eyes again.
"It's either you try them on, or you give me your size."
Holmes took the clothes into the nearest dressing room.
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"Ok Holmes, we have two black shirts, and three pairs of jean shorts. I've been nice, but now it's time to go wild. I'm picking out your next ensemble," I declared. Holmes nearly dropped his bag.
"Are you insane???" he nearly shrieked. I felt his eyes scanning what I wore, which was rather skimpy.
"Nope. Here's the next store!" I announced. Holmes paled and we walked through the doorway.
"First of all, Holmes, you have to promise me something," I said. Holmes sighed and looked at me.
"What?"
"You have to try on anything I tell you to. No matter what," I replied. Holmes bit his lip and looked at me.
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this, but all right," answered Holmes. I grinned.
The store we had entered was one of those stores that sold the shirts that had words on the front, such as Angel and Pretty for girls. Holmes gagged as we walked past, and did more than gag when I tossed him the first shirt.
"Watson... did you even look at what this says on the back?" he whispered furiously. I grinned evilly.
"Of course my dear Holmes. I think it is fine," I innocently said. He held the shirt up with one finger.
" 'Trailer Park Treasure', with a whore on the back. I refuse." Holmes dropped the shirt to the ground.
"Fine. Here, try this outfit on."
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After about five minutes Holmes came out of the dressing room. He wore a leather jacket with chains hanging across it, a black shirt with a skull and cross bones, lime green shorts, and Doc Martins. He stared at himself.
"Watson...."
I couldn't help it. I giggled. I cracked up. I felt tears leak out of my eyes as I surveyed his outfit. Holmes stormed back into the dressing room, to put on my next selection of clothes.
He came back out, looking very angry, and equally ridiculous. This time he wore huge jean shorts that came down past his ankles, a muscle shirt that said 'bad boy' and a pair of Nikes. I cracked up again.
He came out again wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and cowboy boots.
Then a dress.
After about five more outfits, he blew up.
"I AM NOT A MODEL! I DO NOT TRY ON CLOTHES FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT!" he screamed. I giggled, and tossed him the last outfit I had picked out. He looked at it and stared at me.
"Fine. I'm not trying anything else on after this," he hissed. I nodded, and waited for his reaction to what I had picked out. He came back out looking pleased.
"Not bad, Watson. Your first good pick all day," stated Holmes. I smiled at the outfit. It was gray and black. Gray shirt, black shorts, black and gray shoes. Nothing bad, just good. Holmes changed back into his original clothes, bought the clothes, and we left the store.
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In the end, we bought eight outfits, all consisting of gray, black, or blue clothes, with the occasional white. Holmes was less than pleased, but not angry.
We spent the rest of the week either bike riding or swimming.
The swimming came across interestingly enough. It has 101 degrees out, and I was dying. Aunt Sophia came up to me as I sat in front of the air conditioner.
"Love, would you and that dear boy of yours like to go swimming?" she asked me. I turned my gaze toward her.
"Anything-to-get-out-of-this-blasted-heat!" I croaked. Aunt Sophia giggled (a very annoying habit) and called Holmes down.
He looked worse than I felt. At least I had once been used to the heat of summer. London summer's were mild, however, and he looked as though he was going to pass out. He sat down next to me and stared at the air conditioner.
"What is it Sophia?" he asked tiredly. Aunt Sophia batted her eyelashes.
"Dearie, we're going to go swimming!" she exclaimed. Holmes started and looked up at her.
"Really?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course luv! I wouldn't lie to such a yummy thing like you," Aunt Sophia bubbled. Holmes grimaced at her choice of words and stood.
"Well then, I supposed we should go change, now shouldn't we? And don't call me luv. Or yummy," Holmes threw back at her as he went up the stairs.
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The pool was lovely. I dove into it from the diving board and swum a lap. Holmes hadn't come into the water yet. We had already been there an hour. I swam up to the edge of the pool and looked at him.
"Holmes, do you know how to swim?" I asked. Holmes glared at me.
"Of course."
"Then why don't you swim with me?" I asked. Holmes smiled.
"I didn't want to make you feel bad for not being able to keep up with me," he casually said. I opened my mouth with indignation.
"Excuse me? Who are you talking to, bub? I'll have you know that I was state champion, for three years straight!" I informed him. Holmes shrugged.
"If you insist on getting badly beaten, I'll consent. However, if you wish to keep your pride intact, I suggest you leave me be," Holmes replied. I shook a fist at him.
"My pride will be increased after I whip your butt!" I said. Holmes grinned, stood, and dove in.
I had to admit that he swam quite well. But I wasn't scared or anything. He mostly swam with grace, not speed. I paddled over to him and looked him in the eye.
"Race?" I asked. He smiled.
"Race." Holmes confirmed. Next thing I knew, we were in the deep end of the pool, preparing to take off. Aunt Sophia sat on the edge.
"All right, darlings. On your mark... get set.... go!"
I kicked off from the wall and began my crawl stroke. I swam quickly, taking a breath every couple of seconds. The water flowed down my body and increased my speed. I looked up and saw the edge of the wall was another twenty feet away. I kicked harder and propelled myself. Finally, I felt the wall on my fingertips. I opened my eyes and looked over to see Holmes leaning on it gracefully. I couldn't help it, my mouth fell open. Aunt Sophia waddled over and looked at me.
"Oh baby. I'm sorry, but Mr. Holmes won. He was ahead of you right in the beginning, by about fifteen feet. I'm sorry," Aunt Sophia repeated. I stared at Holmes, and he smiled at me.
"I told you not to race me."
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Holmes POV:
I scrambled through my suitcase. Watson's birthday was today, and I couldn't find the present I had bought for her.
I can't believe I nearly forgot! I should have remembered... June 28th is her birthday. Always has been, always will be. Now where is that present!
Finally, I went to my bed stand and pulled open the drawer. I felt myself sigh in relief as I pulled out the simple white box.
"Hey Holmes! Are you coming or what?" Watson called up at me. We were going out to a formal restaurant, and we were already behind schedule. I adjusted my suit, feeling very self conscious, and stepped out of my room and went downstairs.
Watson stood there, and she nearly knocked me out. Her dress was... very different. Floor length, purple, glittery, with a slit up the side of her leg. The neckline was also dangerously low. I was shocked to see that she wore the necklace I had given her when I had first met her. Watson's hair was piled on her head, and she looked quite lovely. I told her so, and she laughed.
"Thank you Holmes. I believe I've heard you say that before, and when you did we ended up getting shot at. I don't think you should do that again. It might be bad luck," she replied.
"It was one time! Give me some credit!" I remarked. She grinned again, and we walked out the door.
Sophia and Greg were already in the limousine they had hired. I helped Watson in, then climbed in myself. It was large, the limousine, and a bit to... wealthy for my tastes. I was used to my rather humble (yeah, right) way of life, and wasn't fond of rich things.
The restaurant was just as bad. It was French. I spoke the language fine and ended up ordering for the entire family, but once again, it was to expensive for my tastes.
The dinner was superb, and finally Watson burst out.
"Ok, present time! Come on, I held it in for over an hour! I want my birthday gifts!" she announced. Her father went first, handing her a small, yet elegantly wrapped present. Watson removed the wrapping paper carefully and gasped.
"Daddy, it's beautiful!" Watson gasped. Indeed, it was. It was a pair of silver combs that are meant to be kept in ones hair. They had butterflies carved into the handle, and was obviously Japanese in origin. Sophia then tossed her a large package. Watson stared at it for a moment, assessing it's weight. Finally she yanked the paper off and squealed, a habit she picked up from her aunt. This time the present was a chemistry set.
"Aunt Sophia! How long did you know that I wanted one?" she asked. Sophia giggled.
"For a long time, darling. Aunt Sophia knows all!" Sophia chortled. Watson set the present down by her feet and looked at me.
"Well Holmes? What do you have for me?" she asked. I looked at the two extravagant gifts and felt rather nervous as I handed her the extremely small box. Watson eyed it, and removed the top. She dropped the box in her surprise. It was either that, or her disgust. After a minute of staying nervous she picked it up and removed the tiny gift.
"Holmes... twice in our meeting you've given me jewelry. Whose was this?" she whispered. I thought a moment.
"Irene Adler wasn't an opera singer for nothing. She acquired a great amount of jewels during her lifetime. This was but one of hers," I told her. Watson placed the ring upon her finger. The rubies sparkled in the light. After a minute her father cleared his throat.
"Well Sherlock. If you so desperately wanted to marry my daughter, don't you think you should of talked about it with her old man first?" Greg teased. There was a pause, then Sophia started to giggle. Watson snorted back her laughter, then let it go full force, and even I could not help but chuckle along.
What we didn't know was that the good times were going to end, and fast.
Second chapter is done. Third chapter will introduce the mystery, ok? I'm sorry if this chapter seemed a little pointless, but I just wanted to illustrate Michigan, and how Holmes is getting used to it. And who knows, the ring might come in handy later...
