Last chapter! Well, you've changed my mind. I will be writing here for a while longer. Longer than I had planned, anyway. Thanks for the comments, I really appreciate them. I have a question, though, for Miss MeibouMiyako. Are you on FF.Net at all times? Jeez, everytime I upload a new chapter, I get a review from you almost immediately! Ah, and now my recommendation's for stories. I put this in with every story. Here goes!
If you like my stories, read: Anything by Someday Sara, five stars. The Valentine Affair by Meryl Lynn, four stars, because she hasn't updated for a while. Untitled, by Rainbow, four stars.
If you like stories with time travel, read: Crash by Cyber Dustbunny, five stars. The Evil One, by Shannon, four stars. Reunion Through the Centuries, by Cyber Dustbunny. Sequel to Crash. Only four stars so far. The Writings of Watson and Gerome, four stars. Love, Lies, and Murder, four stars.
If you like stories with reincarnation, read: All the Diamonds in Moscow, by Michelle Smith, five stars.
If you like stories with the original Holmes and Watson, read: Daughter of the Detective by Queen Hotaru, five stars. The Faulty Firework by Sherlock 2K, four stars. Sophia by Hannah Holmes, four stars.
If your story wasn't on here, it means I either haven't read it, or couldn't remember it. Sorry, I was working off the top of my head. If your story got less than five stars, it is either because you haven't finished it, and I can't rate properly when it isn't finished, or their was something in it that I didn't like. Remember, these are my ratings, and you may feel completely different about the subject. Anyway, eleventh chapter.
Chapter Eleven: Departure
Holmes's POV:
"I hate planes, I hate planes, I hate planes, I hate planes..." Watson mumbled incoherently. I smiled at her and rolled my eyes.
We were inside a cab that was taking us to the airport. Greg and Sophia had decided to stay home and tend to his wounds. Watson promptly snorted at that, saying that he wasn't hurt in the least, why should he get to stay home.
Kline and Christine had planned to meet us there, but Kline was having minor problems with her wheelchair, so they couldn't come with us. Needless to say, whenever Kline crashed into a wall, Christine cracked up. Which resulted into her being chased by Kline.
The taxi pulled up on the edge of the sidewalk, and the driver turned around.
"That'll be twenty nine dollars," the driver snarled. I glared at him and pulled the crumbled money from my pockets. The man snatched it from my hands and counted it with grimy fingers. Then he smiled at me, and we were on our way.
I looked forward to seeing London again, and expressed my thoughts to Watson. She grinned at me.
"Ah, but don't you just love Michigan, Holmes? With all the murder and deceit?" she teased. I rolled my eyes.
"My darling Watson, as much as I love an intriguing problem to fill my time, I detest landing in the hospital every single time. Couldn't we have a case where the nurses didn't have to restrain one of us from going into another's room?" I asked. Watson shrugged.
"Now what would be the fun in that? I know you like that one nurse in London. Cindy? She helped out with the Marie case? I believe that when you finally woke up you were quite taken with her?" Watson questioned. I felt my face redden a bit.
"No, that was after we had kissed. You know I could never love another woman," I teased. Watson grinned.
"I don't know... you seem quite taken with Kline and Christine..." Watson hinted. I smiled at her.
"I don't think so. Just what I would need in my life. A girl who rushes into everything, and a girl who's so clouded in mystery it's a miracle you even know her name," I laughed. Watson laughed too. And then we heard a patronizing voice from behind us.
"Am I to assume you're talking about me?" she asked coolly. We turned to face an amused Christine. She was wearing her common all black outfit, but she had dressed up a bit more for the occasion. Watson gaped at her.
"Christine? Do I see... make up on your face?" she asked in an awed tone. Christine laughed.
"Kline insisted. You like?" she asked, twirling. Watson just laughed.
"The lip junk is all right, and so is everything else. I never thought I'd see you wear makeup though. I remember the one time that I wore it, you gave me a lecture that sent tears to my eyes, it was so boring," Watson joked. Christine laughed as well.
"It's lip gloss, first of all. I smacked Kline when she approached me with bright red lipstick. And the lecture was well earned. Do you know what that stuff will do to your pores? Egad, I should know. Theater makeup is so mundane," drawled Christine. I even laughed at this. I knew only to well.
"Where is Kline?" I asked. Christine shrugged.
"She told me to step off, said she could navigate with a wheelchair just fine without me pushing her. I tried to tell her I couldn't push her if my life depended on it, but nooooo, she thought I wanted to," Christine complained. She poked her arm in disdain.
"Kline has to wear all her casts for nine months, so that should be fun. I look forward to being able to poke fun at her, and then being able to escape," Christine said suddenly. Then she fell forward, catching herself on my shoulder. Kline grinned up at us and then rolled the wheelchair forward as best as she could.
"Serves you right. Don't ever talk about me behind my back!" she exclaimed. Christine kicked at her as she dragged herself up right. Then she sneered at her friend.
"Only if you promise to do the same for me, Miss Benedict Arnold!" Christine snapped. Kline rolled her eyes.
"It happened one time! Once! Jeez, ever heard of forgive and forget?" Kline snapped back. Christine turned her back toward her and smiled at us.
"So, when does your plane leave?" she said gently. We could still hear Kline's protests over the noise of the terminal.
"In about ten minutes, I should say," Watson responded. Christine nodded.
"Well then, I guess- Kline, will you shut up already?- we'll just have to give you your presents now," Christine said calmly. I raised an eyebrow.
"What presents?" I asked suspiciously. Christine smiled, and moved aside as Kline rolled forward.
"Well, everyone deserves a reward for a job well done. Besides, you really don't think we spent half a day on my makeup, did you?" Christine asked gravely. I stepped back a bit.
"Well... not the whole time, maybe?" I said carefully. Christine glared at me. Kline shoved her aside.
"Puh-leese. We got these five minutes ago. Her mom had to hold her still while I put makeup on her," Kline atoned cheerfully. Christine growled.
"I'm not the bad when it comes to makeup. Drop it, will you? Anyway, we have presents for both of you. I hope you like them. Since it was MY money we spent," Christine told us, glaring at Kline. Kline shrugged and balanced multiple parcels on her casts.
"Merry Christmas!" announced Kline. Christine groaned and slapped her hand to her face. I smiled at her and looked at Kline.
"Christmas is a while off, don't you think?" I asked. Kline smiled happily.
"So?" Christine came next to me and whispered into my ear.
"She was given many dosages of morphine. Just ignore her," she whispered. I grinned and looked over at Kline, who did indeed look very drugged. Suddenly, an annoying voice came over the intercom.
"Flight 266 will now be leaving for London. Flight 266," heralded the voice. Watson's head shot up and she grabbed the bags and dashed towards Kline, giving her a brief hug, and then she gave one to Christine.
"See you guys later!" she sobbed, and then raced for the gate. I turned to Kline and knelt down beside her.
"Shall we see you again?" I asked. Kline grinned stupidly at me.
"Hey, sure, why not? I'll miss you, Sherlock," she said suddenly, quite sober for a minute. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. I tensed a bit, but relaxed after a second or two. She let go, and I was shocked to see some tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away as best as she could with her arms, and then leaned back in the wheelchair. I turned to Christine.
"It's been a pleasure to work with you," I said. She raised an eyebrow.
"It's been a pleasure getting tortured? It's been a pleasure having to deal with my eccentric ways? It's been a pleasure dealing with Kline here?" she asked sarcastically. I smiled at her.
"My, aren't we the cynical one today?" I mocked. She laughed.
"Nah, this is just how I deal with sadness. Look, it's been great... somehow. It's cool, you know? Working with Sherlock Holmes?" she asked. I smirked.
"I really wouldn't know. I work with myself all the time," I commented.
"That could SO be taken the wrong way," Christine taunted. I rolled my eyes.
"You can be very much like a girl sometimes, you know that don't you?" I asked. Christine sighed.
"It's a curse."
"Flight 266, last call. Flight 266," the voice screeched. Christine frowned.
"You gotta go. Look-um, don't tell Jenny," she said. I frowned. She stood on her toes, and kissed me on the cheek. I stepped back.
"If Watson saw you, she'd kill you," I said simply. Christine shrugged.
"Hugs just don't seem to say it all. Get going now, and open your gifts on the plane. Get!" demanded Christine. With a final wave towards the pair, I picked up my bag and headed for the gate.
*************************************************************************************************
Watson breathed into a bag as we flew over the Atlantic Ocean. I sighed.
"It can't be that bad," I remarked. Watson coughed.
"You have no idea," she gagged. She continued to breath heavily into her bag, her chest rising and falling with each slight tremor in the plane.
I turned my head to look out the window. The Atlantic Ocean glimmered in the sunlight, a painful reminder of what we were leaving behind in the United States. I doubted I would ever allow myself to return to Michigan, it was a horrible place that, but Kline and Christine were so kind. I could see why Watson was friends with them in the first place. Speaking of which...
"Watson, do you desire to open your present?" I asked. She leaned over and picked up the two poorly wrapped packages. She rattled them, and them stared at them suspiciously.
"What?" I asked. Watson sighed.
"I don't even want to imagine what Kline got me. Jeez, the couldn't even take the time to wrap them nicely?" Watson glowered. I leaned back in the uncomfortable seat.
"You heard what Kline said. It took them forever just to throw on some makeup on Christine..." I trailed off and touched my cheek where Christine had kissed me, praying it hadn't left a mark. Thankfully, it hadn't. Watson grinned at me.
"She kissed you, didn't she?" she asked. I jolted in my seat, causing some disturbance from behind me. After a moment, I turned to Watson.
"How'd you know?" I asked. Watson grinned again.
"I may not be a great detective, but even I could see that. You were oddly quiet when you got on the plane, and when you touched your cheek after the mention of makeup, it was obvious. Don't worry, I'm not jealous," Watson reassured me. I frowned.
"You don't think-"
"That she has a crush on you? No way. She's never hugged her guy friends. Always kisses them on the cheek. See, Kline doesn't do that because she has her boyfriends to spare kisses on. Christine doesn't even bother with boyfriends. See, Kline told me earlier last night that she would kiss you on the cheek, but she doesn't feel right about it. She has Jason-right now anyway, she'll have a new guy in another week- and she thinks hugs are enough. Now, Christine, she comes from the theater, where hugs and kisses are always passed around with ease," Watson explained. She saw my look, and took it for being upset.
"Oh, did I ruin your fantasy that another girl liked you?" she asked sadly. I laughed.
"No, I was just thinking about something. What do you mean that Kline will have another boyfriend in another week?" I asked. Watson giggled.
"Kline has a hit list. Except it's not for killing people, it's for dating them. Jason is a player, he'll get bored of her. How, I don't know, but I'm not sure he approves of the whole detective thing. Now, let's open these presents!" cried Watson. She tore happily at the paper of hers, the one from Kline, and pulled out a box.
"Let me see what's inside..." Watson mumbled to herself. She peered into the box, and laughed. She pulled out what the American's call 'barf bags'. I smiled.
"She knows you well, yes?" I asked. Watson chuckled.
"Yeah, I should say so. Kline always gets us gag gifts. What's yours?" she asked. I closed my eyes.
"I'm afraid to look."
"Sissy. Give it here."
I tossed the box to Watson, and she pulled off the wrapping paper carefully. There was a book underneath the paper, and she laughed at what she saw. I frowned.
"What?" I asked. Watson leaned forward in her seat, and tossed me the book, she was laughing to hard to tell me anything. I looked at the cover of the book and groaned.
"How appropriate. More books about Sherlock Holmes," I said, looking at the titles. Sherlock Holmes and the Red Demon, Sherlock Holmes and the Ice Palace Murders, Sherlock Holmes and the Rune Stone Mystery, and finally, The Monster of St. Marylebone. Watson was wheezing now, and clutching at her side. I glared at her.
"Remind me to hurt Miss Kline should we ever meet again," I mumbled. Watson straightened and eyed Christine's gift.
"Christine always gives nice gifts. Sweet, anyway. This time, though, she might be a bit mischievous," Watson warned me. She began unwrapping her present carefully, and when she pulled back the last of the paper, she frowned.
There were two boxes. It was quickly explained, however, by the note card on top of one. In Christine's sloppy cursive, it said how Kline had forgotten this present. Watson sighed and unwrapped Christine's first. It was a set of floppy disks, pencils, paper, and... a laptop?
Watson gasped in surprise. "A laptop? How in the world did she afford this? And what is with the writing things?" Watson muttered. I shrugged.
"Is their a note to explain?" I asked. Watson pulled back the cover of the laptop. There, in neater cursive, lay a note.
Jenny,
You're right, I can't afford a laptop. I don't even have a job! My parent's bought this for me a year ago, and I never used it. Me and technology, we don't go well together. Besides, with my parents getting a divorce, I don't want it. So, it's best for you. And the writing materials? Easily explained. Dr. John H. Watson always wrote of his tales about Sherlock Holmes. Why not you? You were always a good fiction writer in school, and I don't see why you can't write on your best friend.
Maybe we'll see each other in the future, but it doesn't look like it. Kline and I were offered a case early this morning by a widow, and we'll be getting to work soon enough. Should be interesting, me without use of my arm, and Kline in a wheelchair. I'll e-mail you the results. My e-mail address is spygurl_ashling@aol.com.
Forever a friend,
Christine Penninger
"Well, that certainly explains it," Watson announced. I nodded. I was a bit amused by the writing thing, as I would love to see Watson's tales about me. Hopefully, they wouldn't receive the same amount of praise my greatx3 grandfather gave the original Watson. Meaning none. Watson nudged me.
"I'm going to open my second gift, care to watch?" she asked. I nodded. Kline's gifts were always worth seeing. She shredded the paper and opened the box inside. Immediately, she groaned.
"What?"
Watson pulled out a black ladies underclothing, and a magnifying glass. (A/N: Bra and magnifying glass, for those who don't understand that). She groaned again.
"Why me, Lord?" she asked prayerfully. I stared at her.
"Is their a story to go behind that?" I asked. Watson closed her eyes.
"You don't want to know. It has to deal with Christine on the night of the fight," she mumbled into her hands. I smiled and poked a finger at the undergarment.
"Well, at least you have an extra," I said helpfully.
"Holmes!"
"What?!"
"Just open yours. Betcha your letter is sealed with a kiss!"
"Shut up, will you."
I inspected Christine's gift thoughtfully. I wondered what it could be. I peeled back the black wrapping paper (A/N: What, were expecting another color?) and opened the small box inside.
A simple ring lay in the box, and Watson gave off a gasp of surprise.
"Does this mean something to you?" I asked. "Besides marriage?" Watson nodded frantically.
"This is the ring that was given to her by a good friend. He was killed a long time ago, and she said she wouldn't give it to anyone unless they were a true friend. And a guy," she added as an afterthought. I glanced at the edges of the ring, and saw small letters engraved there. Friends 4ever, it said. Watson grinned.
"Well, at least this destroys your idea of her having a crush on you," she proclaimed.
"I don't know. It seems to confirm it to me."
"Gosh, could you be anymore like a guy. If Christine says you're a friend, that's all you are. Read the note," demanded Watson. Indeed, on the bottom of the box lay a note.
"Do you mind if I read it silently first?" I asked. Watson shrugged.
"Don't care."
The letter read as followed:
Sherlock,
Well, Jenny has probably told you the whole history of my gift by now. Not surprising, she bugged me to give it to seventy other guys. But it seemed better for you. Don't ask me why, my mind is weird.
Now, Jen has probably told you I have a crush on you (or you think that), but let me make this clear: I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU! You're a friend, and that is all. Ok, I might have had a mild crush on you for a few days, but that faded quickly, and my feelings toward you became friendly, not lovey-dovey. Hey, even Kline had a crush on you for a few days. Not like she'll admit that. Anyway...
It was great working with you, and I'm going to miss you a lot. You and Jen (and Kline, although she can be pretty annoying) are the best friends I've ever had. Rachel and Kelsey are great, but they're kind of blonde. The case was hard, both mentally, and for me physically. You know me, weak and scrawny. I'm sure you had a fun time with it though. Fun meaning terrifying, heart wrenching, and mentally boggling. So, inform me of any other cases that come up, k? I'd kill to hear about them.
Gotta go, the car is pulling up to the airport!
Always,
Christine Penninger
I tore my eyes away from the paper and looked at numerous pictures that had been included in the note, along with some of Watson in her younger years. The pictures were of Christine and Kline, in various situations. My favorite's, however, were the individual ones.
The individual one of Kline was quite nice, actually. She was standing up, and leaning against a wall. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders, and her blue eyes were sparkling. She was wearing a rather low cut dress, and the skirt part was long. She smiled happily at the camera.
Their were two individuals of Christine, one with her having brown hair (presumably her original color), and one with red. The brown haired one was of her reading a book, sitting in a blue, dirty chair. Her glasses were non-existent in this photo, meaning they probably didn't appear until later in her life. The one of her with red hair was very nice. She was sitting on a stairway, but not quite. Not on the stairs, but on the ledge. Her legs were folded up beneath her, and her hair was actually smooth, not frizzy. She was wearing a black dress, and she didn't smile. I looked on the back for an explanation, but received none. I showed them to Watson and asked her my questions.
"Why isn't she smiling? Oh, Christine is camera shy. She hates camera's, and it's a miracle if you can get her in front of one. Hey, what is that picture? Oh-no. They didn't!" she cried. I pulled out the picture in question, and began laughing.
There was Watson, her head caught in between two rails of a stairway railing, a sucker stuck in her hair, and her butt in the air.
"KLINE! I'LL KILL YOU!"
*************************************************************************************************
Well, that is the end folks! Look for the next one, 'Splendor of the Stars', coming out after I turn in five years worth of homework. But I have a lot of research to do, and I would appreciate it if someone could answer the following questions.
1)What is an airport in London like?
2)What are some major theater's in London? Or outside of London?
3)What did you think of this story? Best yet? Worst yet? Second best?
4)Kline and Christine? What about them? I tried to keep them neutral characters, but look at where that led.
5)Any improvements I should/could make?
6)What do you, the reader, think of my stories?
That is all, look for my next story, and REVIEW THIS ONE!
