Thank you from your generous reviews!!!!!!!!
The mystery is coming in, soon.
About the fencing lesson. umm, I supposed to put a break in between, but I
think the computer lost it when I uploaded (haha). Well, the fact is: he
took half of lesson and "ditched."
About the transition from mansion to bar . I don't know. I should be more
descriptive, but who would want to read about SH walking through mud? (Just
a joke.)
And a lot of things hear are Holmes' thoughts, but for some reason the
italics won't go through. (Worthless Word!!!) I'll underline them or put ()
around them next time. But bear with them this time, sorry, ahem, again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's really none of my business, he thought. Well, at first, then his mischievous nature got better of him. Like Mycroft said, he had a streak of devil in him that surfaces once in awhile. Holmes came out of the bar. Good thing he was fast, she wasn't more than twenty paces off. What did they call her? Oh, yeah, "Billy! Billy!" he called.
Little Miss Aline stopped and faced him, with gnawing teeth. "What do you want, Holmes?"
"I don't think little girls like you should go about town without a chaperone while dressed like a street Arab," he grinned and said quietly when he got closer.
"I can say the same for you. Why are YOU here? Shouldn't you be heading home?"
"Touché, mademoiselle," his grin grew wider, "but I doubt your uncle would be happy about you going out at such a late hour." Maybe she was not so common and boring like all the other little girls.
"If you are thinking about blackmailing me, forget it." She started walking again, and Holmes came up to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "I can do the same thing for you, Mister Holmes. I believe your father is not the most loving parent one can have."
He felt as if he was struck by lighting. Who was he trying to fool? He had fooled no one but himself these past years, and what he got out of it? Nothing, nothing, but pain. That was rather uncalled for, he thought vehemently, but his upper class training kicked him hard in the ribs to keep him from calling her a female dog. "Well, I believe we have reached a truce here. I'll keep quiet and so will you?"
"Whatever."
@~^~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Keep your arms straight! And tighten those muscles!" Lord Wilkins hit him hard in the stomach, almost knocked the wind out of him. "And keep your eyes peeled at your opponent! Don't slack!" One thing Holmes had discovered in the very short month he had been here was that Lord Wilkins was not the most amiable person when it came to fencing, although he may be a lamb under other circumstances. "Alright, I think we can take a break now. How are you feeling, Sherlock? Tired? Thirsty? John, bring us some lemonade."
"No, I'm alright, just need to catch my breath." Lord Wilkins was staring at him, smiling oddly. "Is there something wrong, sir?"
He wiped his forehead with a towel, "no, no, not at all," he put the wet thing aside, "you know, Sherlock, all these years I have had hundreds of pupils, but a few could master the skill as well as you did."
He didn't really have anything clever to repeat with, so Holmes just said, "I guess all those years of violin lesson have some effect."
"Ahh, you are a student of music?"
"No, just a hobby, a skill even, but I'm not learning to be a musician."
"I see," he nodded, "then what exactly are you going to be?"
He was going to go to university next year and he hadn't the slightest idea of his future. His father wanted him to become either an engineer or a doctor, but he thought these careers were too uninteresting. His oldest brother, Sherridan, was going to be the lord of the manor. His second older brother, Mycroft, was studying politics and economics. Sherlock wouldn't be surprised if his much smarter brother became the next PM or something in the government. That left him, the youngest, with nothing. Last born, last place, at last.
"If I may be honest with you, I really don't know." If he knew his father, which he did, this friend of his would ramble on about a man's responsibility in life and Sherlock's foolishness of not acting like a man. Oh, boy.
He was half expecting the said lecture, when Lord Wilkins sighed with a smile, "ahh, those wonder years! It is never easy to not have something mapped out for you, being the youngest. But I judge you do have something in mind? Something scientific perhaps?" So, he was not blind to the fact that Holmes was reading all the scientific periodicals and books in his library.
"Maybe, sir." He was feeling uncomfortable. Lord Wilkins seemed to be taking a keen interest in him.
"Well, that is a start, but I am not your father. I am here to teach you fencing, so we will proceed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's really none of my business, he thought. Well, at first, then his mischievous nature got better of him. Like Mycroft said, he had a streak of devil in him that surfaces once in awhile. Holmes came out of the bar. Good thing he was fast, she wasn't more than twenty paces off. What did they call her? Oh, yeah, "Billy! Billy!" he called.
Little Miss Aline stopped and faced him, with gnawing teeth. "What do you want, Holmes?"
"I don't think little girls like you should go about town without a chaperone while dressed like a street Arab," he grinned and said quietly when he got closer.
"I can say the same for you. Why are YOU here? Shouldn't you be heading home?"
"Touché, mademoiselle," his grin grew wider, "but I doubt your uncle would be happy about you going out at such a late hour." Maybe she was not so common and boring like all the other little girls.
"If you are thinking about blackmailing me, forget it." She started walking again, and Holmes came up to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "I can do the same thing for you, Mister Holmes. I believe your father is not the most loving parent one can have."
He felt as if he was struck by lighting. Who was he trying to fool? He had fooled no one but himself these past years, and what he got out of it? Nothing, nothing, but pain. That was rather uncalled for, he thought vehemently, but his upper class training kicked him hard in the ribs to keep him from calling her a female dog. "Well, I believe we have reached a truce here. I'll keep quiet and so will you?"
"Whatever."
@~^~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Keep your arms straight! And tighten those muscles!" Lord Wilkins hit him hard in the stomach, almost knocked the wind out of him. "And keep your eyes peeled at your opponent! Don't slack!" One thing Holmes had discovered in the very short month he had been here was that Lord Wilkins was not the most amiable person when it came to fencing, although he may be a lamb under other circumstances. "Alright, I think we can take a break now. How are you feeling, Sherlock? Tired? Thirsty? John, bring us some lemonade."
"No, I'm alright, just need to catch my breath." Lord Wilkins was staring at him, smiling oddly. "Is there something wrong, sir?"
He wiped his forehead with a towel, "no, no, not at all," he put the wet thing aside, "you know, Sherlock, all these years I have had hundreds of pupils, but a few could master the skill as well as you did."
He didn't really have anything clever to repeat with, so Holmes just said, "I guess all those years of violin lesson have some effect."
"Ahh, you are a student of music?"
"No, just a hobby, a skill even, but I'm not learning to be a musician."
"I see," he nodded, "then what exactly are you going to be?"
He was going to go to university next year and he hadn't the slightest idea of his future. His father wanted him to become either an engineer or a doctor, but he thought these careers were too uninteresting. His oldest brother, Sherridan, was going to be the lord of the manor. His second older brother, Mycroft, was studying politics and economics. Sherlock wouldn't be surprised if his much smarter brother became the next PM or something in the government. That left him, the youngest, with nothing. Last born, last place, at last.
"If I may be honest with you, I really don't know." If he knew his father, which he did, this friend of his would ramble on about a man's responsibility in life and Sherlock's foolishness of not acting like a man. Oh, boy.
He was half expecting the said lecture, when Lord Wilkins sighed with a smile, "ahh, those wonder years! It is never easy to not have something mapped out for you, being the youngest. But I judge you do have something in mind? Something scientific perhaps?" So, he was not blind to the fact that Holmes was reading all the scientific periodicals and books in his library.
"Maybe, sir." He was feeling uncomfortable. Lord Wilkins seemed to be taking a keen interest in him.
"Well, that is a start, but I am not your father. I am here to teach you fencing, so we will proceed."