Okay, people (mainly you, yeah, you, moonrose. Nice name though) this is my
third part. I had been pretty busy lately, so please excuse me. About my
americanism. I try to avoid them but they keep coming back to haunt me.
*whimper* Although just last week I saw the "Forsyte Saga" on PBS, in it, a
person said "are you screwed?" I nearly jumped out of my seat. My point
was, in case you can't make through my confusing logic: it's hard to know
about the accurate usage of words in these days. But I try.
In case you think my story is going to slowly, yeah, I notice that too.
However, I need to build it up, so be patient. the day will come
*evil laugh*
Please Review (
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"I judged the lesson went well?" Lady Aline found him already changed back into his street clothes.
"Could be worse," he took his coat off the back of a chair.
"Sherlock, I'm afraid that you have been infested with Aline's pertness." Lord Wilkins laughed.
"Am I coming here next week, sir?"
"Oh, we are having a dinner party here next week," Miss Aline said.
Yes! Yes! Finally a day off to catch up with his chemistry experiments.
"I've already invited your whole family to come."
He bid them goodbye and couldn't stop moaning inside. A social gathering was much much worse.
~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~ "Uncle, what do you make of him?" Aline sat back in a cushioned armchair.
"Intelligent, persistent, and physically fit. He's perfect."
"But- "
"But what, my dear Ali?"
"Don't call me that," she smirked at her white-haired uncle. He was her mother's only brother and only sibling, but they weren't close despite the fact he brought her up. She was never close with anyone, because he had made sure of that. "What I meant to say was that he has too much emotion. One can't see it, but one can feel it burning beneath his cold façade."
"I can say the same for you."
Now she was annoyed, "but he isn't aware of it, while I AM. That makes all the difference." She got up and walk away, nose in the air.
Yes, you are aware of it, but can you control it? He thought bemusedly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The same lot you see at every typical dinner party.
The lot, whose sons were either named after themselves or their brothers. The lot, whose sisters marry either their roommate from college or a second cousin. The lot, whose greatest gift in life was that pile of money left by good old da.
Sickening.
Sherlock wrestled the tie on his neck, trying to loosen it a bit, but in vain. He spotted his eldest brother standing with their father and with a couple of other fashionable British aristocrats. His older brother was engaged with some peerage in a discussion on recent political issues. He, himself, was wandering with a wineglass in hand, like a fly without a head. Holmes was so lost in these thoughts when he bumped into a bulk young man. Thank goodness there was nothing left in his glass.
"Soree, soree," this blonde young man spoke with a heavy French accent. "I deed not see dere yoo," he paused, then corrected himself, "see yoo dere."
Holmes assessed him in a matter of seconds. His family was very well to do, although he apparently had bad taste in clothes. Either that or a Paris salesperson had ripped him off. He was a good horseman and fond of eating. Judging by his green eyes and facial resemblance, he was at least a cousin to Miss Aline.
"It is alright," he said coolly, "my name is Sherlock Holmes."
"Ohh, 'Olms, 'Olmes," he nodded, "my uncle, Lord Wilkins had spoke highly of yoo. He told me tha yoo are his best pupil in years. I am William Blackcastle."
That's odd, he thought as he shook his hand, his name is definitely British. He is also definitely foreign.
"William, there you are," a familiar voice called, "I see you've met Mr. Holmes already." Miss Aline was wearing a light green silk gown that made her eyes glow supernaturally. Her hair was piled spirally on top of her head and dim sparkling jewels glittered throughout. She took instant possession of Mr. Blackcastle's arm, "I told you to follow me, but you just had to go off on your own," she whined, "come on, I'll introduce you to some interesting people." She pulled him away.
Holmes inhaled a deep breath. She was crossing the boundary of being rude and insolent. However, before long, William Blackcastle reappeared by his side. "Oh God, my sister waz introdocing to me som ov her lady friends," he shook his head. He did not need to finish it.
"She's your sister?" that was a shock. Knowing someone for a month without hearing her bragging about her brother was a sure shock.
"Yes, yoo did not knew?" now it was William's shock. "Weel, Alinere iz som whad of an odd." he waved his hands to plead for help.
"Person?"
"Yes, person," he pursed his mouth, "She's velly odd indeed, even I can't figured her out som times." He scratched his head uncomely, yet very boyishly.
Join the club, he thought. Even today, he still hadn't figure out what she was doing in that bar that night and she refused to give insights. He went back a few times, only to find that "Billy" was as more obscure to these townspeople than "Aline."
The subject of their conversation laughed outright, "Mr. Mycroft, I believe you have got the charms in you family." Holmes stiffened.
"No, I believe my younger brother just doesn't know a pretty young lady when he sees one." She laughed again and he stiffened again.
"Sherlock," his mother padded him on the back, "where is your father?"
Last time he saw him, he was following a parlour maid toward the section of the hall where the broom closets were. "No, Mother, I haven't seen him."
Her eyes grew sad, but her voice was still sweet for her favorite son, "oh, I see. I'll just go find my friend Mrs. Hopkins."
This is intolerable! This is intolerable! He screamed inside of his head. "Excuse me," he muttered to William Blackcastle then walked away quickly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I judged the lesson went well?" Lady Aline found him already changed back into his street clothes.
"Could be worse," he took his coat off the back of a chair.
"Sherlock, I'm afraid that you have been infested with Aline's pertness." Lord Wilkins laughed.
"Am I coming here next week, sir?"
"Oh, we are having a dinner party here next week," Miss Aline said.
Yes! Yes! Finally a day off to catch up with his chemistry experiments.
"I've already invited your whole family to come."
He bid them goodbye and couldn't stop moaning inside. A social gathering was much much worse.
~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~ "Uncle, what do you make of him?" Aline sat back in a cushioned armchair.
"Intelligent, persistent, and physically fit. He's perfect."
"But- "
"But what, my dear Ali?"
"Don't call me that," she smirked at her white-haired uncle. He was her mother's only brother and only sibling, but they weren't close despite the fact he brought her up. She was never close with anyone, because he had made sure of that. "What I meant to say was that he has too much emotion. One can't see it, but one can feel it burning beneath his cold façade."
"I can say the same for you."
Now she was annoyed, "but he isn't aware of it, while I AM. That makes all the difference." She got up and walk away, nose in the air.
Yes, you are aware of it, but can you control it? He thought bemusedly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The same lot you see at every typical dinner party.
The lot, whose sons were either named after themselves or their brothers. The lot, whose sisters marry either their roommate from college or a second cousin. The lot, whose greatest gift in life was that pile of money left by good old da.
Sickening.
Sherlock wrestled the tie on his neck, trying to loosen it a bit, but in vain. He spotted his eldest brother standing with their father and with a couple of other fashionable British aristocrats. His older brother was engaged with some peerage in a discussion on recent political issues. He, himself, was wandering with a wineglass in hand, like a fly without a head. Holmes was so lost in these thoughts when he bumped into a bulk young man. Thank goodness there was nothing left in his glass.
"Soree, soree," this blonde young man spoke with a heavy French accent. "I deed not see dere yoo," he paused, then corrected himself, "see yoo dere."
Holmes assessed him in a matter of seconds. His family was very well to do, although he apparently had bad taste in clothes. Either that or a Paris salesperson had ripped him off. He was a good horseman and fond of eating. Judging by his green eyes and facial resemblance, he was at least a cousin to Miss Aline.
"It is alright," he said coolly, "my name is Sherlock Holmes."
"Ohh, 'Olms, 'Olmes," he nodded, "my uncle, Lord Wilkins had spoke highly of yoo. He told me tha yoo are his best pupil in years. I am William Blackcastle."
That's odd, he thought as he shook his hand, his name is definitely British. He is also definitely foreign.
"William, there you are," a familiar voice called, "I see you've met Mr. Holmes already." Miss Aline was wearing a light green silk gown that made her eyes glow supernaturally. Her hair was piled spirally on top of her head and dim sparkling jewels glittered throughout. She took instant possession of Mr. Blackcastle's arm, "I told you to follow me, but you just had to go off on your own," she whined, "come on, I'll introduce you to some interesting people." She pulled him away.
Holmes inhaled a deep breath. She was crossing the boundary of being rude and insolent. However, before long, William Blackcastle reappeared by his side. "Oh God, my sister waz introdocing to me som ov her lady friends," he shook his head. He did not need to finish it.
"She's your sister?" that was a shock. Knowing someone for a month without hearing her bragging about her brother was a sure shock.
"Yes, yoo did not knew?" now it was William's shock. "Weel, Alinere iz som whad of an odd." he waved his hands to plead for help.
"Person?"
"Yes, person," he pursed his mouth, "She's velly odd indeed, even I can't figured her out som times." He scratched his head uncomely, yet very boyishly.
Join the club, he thought. Even today, he still hadn't figure out what she was doing in that bar that night and she refused to give insights. He went back a few times, only to find that "Billy" was as more obscure to these townspeople than "Aline."
The subject of their conversation laughed outright, "Mr. Mycroft, I believe you have got the charms in you family." Holmes stiffened.
"No, I believe my younger brother just doesn't know a pretty young lady when he sees one." She laughed again and he stiffened again.
"Sherlock," his mother padded him on the back, "where is your father?"
Last time he saw him, he was following a parlour maid toward the section of the hall where the broom closets were. "No, Mother, I haven't seen him."
Her eyes grew sad, but her voice was still sweet for her favorite son, "oh, I see. I'll just go find my friend Mrs. Hopkins."
This is intolerable! This is intolerable! He screamed inside of his head. "Excuse me," he muttered to William Blackcastle then walked away quickly.