Black Rose---yeah I talked to you already…
March Hare---wow I talked to you. See this is what I get for responding in emails because I chose to babble on longer than those who left reviews.
Not that I don't love long reviews! They're just as fun if not funner (that is now a word according to me)
Tessa---Well I will try but you have to be patient otherwise this will be like all the other fics out there. And I hope that each chapter I add gets better and better. ^_^
Jo Halcyon---okay so it's not my computer that's screwing up…that's good.
Okay now I am sorry this chapter is short but my computer is being evil. I had 25 pages to the Seducing Sherlock thing and it randomly deleted it and Dell tech support kept me on hold for 3 hours before telling me to email them my problem because all the lines were busy. So firstly I am sorry about still no update on that endeavor and I wanted to get this posted before it shared the same fate. That said here you all go! And with the problems I BETA'd this myself since my im and email both are choosing to either not work or work long enough for me to get hope. It's a government consperiacy!!! AHH!!!!
*hides in a dark corner*
Someone who is good with satanic computers please come to my house and rid the demons from my computer!!!
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I stood at the door for a long while just staring at the two before me. My hair was rumpled and I had a blanket from my bed pulled around my shoulders for a lack of time to find something better. My eyes burned in the soft light of the early morning.
"What the---What are you doing?" I asked in a whinny, rough voice that could not be my own. Unless I was channeling Katharine Hepburn again…but that was unlikely to happen. "It's too early to be awake." I told them firmly. God! I knew I would regret drinking that much last night, I just didn't think it would be this soon. Watson was looking at his feet and Holmes was sniffing the air lightly.
"Are you drunk madam?" He asked surprised. I closed my eyes tightly and pressed a cool hand against my throbbing forehead. I felt like a train had hit me, several times. This is what I get for trying to cure that flip flopping stomachache the Russian way. For those who don't know my roommate in college was Russian and she held the firm belief---along with her family, which I met at Christmas---that anything could be cured with enough alcohol.
"No, I'm completely cognizant, I just have a headache strong enough to kill several horses." I told him simply, figuring that saying I was hung over would be less than appropriate in this time.
"We're leaving for the town soon, are you going to come or not?" He asked. I squinted at him and resisted the urge to kill him right there. I nodded, and groaned, regretting the movement. He nodded and said something I missed though it sounded like "If you're not there in---we'll leave without you." But it could have been my imagination.
"I'll bring you some medicine for that headache." Watson said with a kind smile thrown my way as he left after the detective. I closed the door and as regally as I could I walked a little unsteadily to the small bathroom where I knelt and violently emptied every last thing out of my stomach the hard way. Feeling better already I washed my face and threw what little I had into a suitcase and then pulled on the last outfit in my closet fit for the time. Within fifteen minutes I was ready, my head hurt even more now, but I was ready to go. I exited and kicked at the door of the flat next to mine angry that I had hurried and even in my hung over state had beaten the two.
I was allowed in to the residence and found Holmes was sitting patiently in his chair sipping tea. I glared at him until Watson offered me medication. "Now it's got a vile taste---" I cut him off by downing the whole cup in a single gulp. Take that college drinking bets. Tears sprung to my eyes and I started hacking. Had my throat not been so tight I would have blown my cover right there with the profanities I would have uttered. At least this was better that those butterflies I kept getting in my stomach, it was like I cared or something.
Within an hour we were in a carriage and heading towards the village while listening to Lestrade ramble about the history…
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The small village had been founded by six rich families and a Rabbi plus his wife, they wanted to create a Utopia all their own. Then if it worked, they would make it larger. It hadn't, the temple had burnt down and the Rabbi and his wife perished inside. Without their religious leader the village merely became a group of six families living farther from town than they would in a normal village. It was called Roanoke, pause a moment while I relive that particular American ghost story. Yes, Roanoke was an island in the New World, and there's a scary ghost story that goes with it, I hated it as a kid to let you know, only because it always got me shivering. It's long so I won't go into detail here but you can look it up if you like. Sorry I lost my train of thought.
Anyway, the town was called Roanoke and it was situated in the valley at the base of a mountain. The ride up there had been absolute hell---and my headache was gone so it was just the ride that was bad---I will not lie, Holmes and Watson and Lestrade and I were all cramped in there and I wished that if the carriages didn't have shock absorbers that the dress I was wearing did. My wish was not granted. I had managed to procure a seat near the window so I got to see the scenery, let me tell you, if you have never seen an English forest in the middle of fall you really need to some time. It's a riot of color against a dove gray sky and the sweet and spicy smell of the leaves fills your lungs and your nose and everything all around you. The sharp cold was not my favorite but it made even the palest of cheeks turn a soft red color and Holmes looked a lot less pale for it so I didn't wish it away.
We reached the top of the mountain, the trees having long since given away to rocks and the driver reigned in the horses. "Sorry ta' be disturbin' ya sirs—and ma'am—but from up 'ere you can see all of the village. Makes you feel like a right ol' king it does." He said. I don't like sitting still and I had been trapped in a small box for the better part of eight hours, I fairly flew out of that cab and stopped, mid stride at what I saw. Against my will I gasped as the driver smiled from his perch and muttered something I know could not have been "I told you so."
The three men came to my side and I would have spoken but Holmes took the words from my mouth. "It's a Star of David." He said and his cold voice did not betray the awe I knew had to be there. Before us lay the village of Roanoke. The roads were thick enough that from this height—where everything looked like toys—you could see them clearly. The roads all connected to form one large Star of David. In each point was one large mansion and in the very center, with smaller, thinner roads radiating from it was the rubble of the old temple, though strangely enough it did not look like rubble, it looked a little old but not rubble.
I could tell Watson was writing the scene in his head as he surveyed it, I knew because I was probably sharing the look. It was so unbelievable that it was almost surreal. The homes and village were all surrounded by trees, trees that were on fire with the colors of fall. I was freezing and wrapped my small arms around myself for warmth, not wanting to leave before I had committed the sight to memory. Finally though we were ushered back into the small cab and continued the slightly smoother journey down into the village itself. That was a lot less bumpy, or maybe by then my rear had already gone numb. Either way within the hour we had reached the small village and ignoring the fact I had gotten squished in the center I leaned over Holmes to peer out the window at the home we were driving past. All the windows weren't normal windows, they were stained glass, all different patters and so beautiful it was like a faerie tale mansion. Before Holmes pushed me back into my seat I saw that on a big blank wall was a Star of David but with the lower left triangle missing, so instead of six points there were five and one flat side. I stored that away for a later date and around five minutes later when we started passing a second house I was glad I had. This house had a huge and prominent weathervane on the highest tower. This one also had a pseudo-star of David, but with the upper left triangle missing. I sighed and sat back while we headed into the drive and stopped. I supposed that it was here we would be staying but I don't think it took any real intelligence to figure that out.
The man who came out to greet us was tall, not as tall as Holmes but defiantly tall. He had well kept blond hair and blue eyes and high cheekbones. The look was a little ruined with the huge Italian handlebar mustache thing he had going. Holmes got out first and then I followed, the blond grabbed my hand and helped me down, which as much as I am for the feminist movement was nice since I doubted I could have after so long a time sitting coupled with the dress.
Watson and Lestrade filed out next in that order and the man bowed, introducing himself. "I am Gustav Windom, and welcome to my home." He took my hand and kissed the knuckles gently. I wanted to scrub it off on my dress but decided that would be more than a little rude so held back. He led us inside while some of his servants attended to our baggage. "Miranda here will show you to your rooms." He said as an older woman approached us. "But be warned, do not wonder the house alone, I cannot say what may happen to you." And with that melodramatic little speech he disappeared to prepare for what Miranda said was a dinner party for us all to meet the others of the town.
She went on to say that we had a good five hours to get ready so if we wanted Mr. Windom had invited us to his study, which she would show us if we wanted. She showed us our rooms then. Watson, Lestrade and Holmes were all along one side, their rooms all right next to each other. Lucky. Mine was around a corner and down at the end of the hall. I sat in the room looking at my one bag for a moment and then shook my head. I stood and headed out to go exploring. I stayed close to the wall; going for the theory that if you keep your hand on the wall and follow it that eventually you'll return to where you started.
Looking back I sort of wish I had never learned that little tidbit. For as I turned the corner I slammed into someone coming from the other side and fell backwards. Luckily Holmes caught my hand and pulled me up before I hit the ground or that could have been really embarrassing. "Jesus you scared me." I gasped. He raised one eyebrow at my language, opps, and then let it go.
"What are you doing?" He asked. I shrugged and explained I was bored so I was off to investigate the rest of the house we were staying in. "We were told not to go off on our own." He pointed out.
"He said if we did he didn't know what would happen to us, I don't care about the consequences so I'm off to explore." I said trying to get past him. I tripped over a fold in the carpet and went flying into the wall, which for some reason flew away from me and sent me careening into darkness I landed against something soft and groaned.
"Winters? Are you alright?" I heard Holmes as light from the hall filtered down. I sat up and I stretched muttering a yes of course as I looked around to see where I had landed. The first thing I saw what looked to be a mummified corpse, and after a moment of frozen terror in which I inspected it, it turned out to be a headless mummy. Now yes I deal in death, but I am not okay with corpses that are two inches from my face. That really kind of creeps me out. So I screamed and tried to scramble backwards up the stairs. Thank god it was more of a shout that a scream, if it had been a real official scream I would have still been screaming when I reached the top of the stairs. "What's wrong?" Holmes asked almost sounding worried as he grabbed my shoulders to keep me from bolting down the hall, which to this day I swear I did not realize I was ready to do.
Unable to resist a sarcastic remark—I think it's my American upbringing—I said, "I've heard of skeletons in the closet but mummies in the basement is new to me." He looked at me with a look of mixed disbelief, disgust and I think I saw a little amusement in there but that could have been the alcohol still muddling my senses. I pointed down into the darkness with a 'you don't believe me, go look yourself' look in response.
After he inspected it and determined that it was a real mummy, I still think I had a close enough look to know if it was real or not, he and I had to ban together like good little boy scouts to shut the hulking door and stood in the hall just looking at each other for a long while.
"Albeit I didn't have the best look at it, the body looked a good hundred years old. At least." I finally said, looking more to break the suddenly very awkward silence that had fallen between us, though where that came from I do not know.
"I would think that even a woman who grew up in circumstances like yours would be more than a little disturbed by finding herself face to face with a corpse. What are you not telling me?" He asked. I looked at him and told him the truth for the first time we were together, and I hoped it would be the last too. I hated telling the truth, it was so uncreative.
"To tell the absolute truth, I was so surprised to see it I couldn't believe it was real. I could not think that was a real human, I thought of it more like I was seeing rotting food or something. Now that I'm not looking at it I can believe it but be okay with it. I guess that probably makes no sense at all but…" I let it trail off and he looked behind me at where the door was.
"I can understand that." He said in way of response, I watched him for another moment of silence and then spoke up once more repeating what I had said about the body before his interruption. "I don't know…if you look at the body there is evidence of death by fire. When a body is cooked…perhaps I should not speak of this." He said looking at me with that, 'you are a woman,' look I had gotten used to after being here for as long as I had been, and that amount of time had seemed too long.
"I think that being a centimeter away from the chest of a headless mummy is far more frightening than speaking of how it died." I didn't want to add that I was dying (excuse the pun) to go down and perform as good an autopsy as I could with a lack of equipment. I may have told him I was from America but that would not explain that odd of behavior. "Besides, if you're focusing on the fact that I am a woman think of it that I am a nosy busy body and I want to know why there is a headless mummy in the basement." It was the first and best excuse that came through my mind.
He looked at me very carefully with those eyes; I always thought that they were gray, which I assumed was like Basil Rathbone's eyes. They weren't, they were the color of the ocean before a storm which yes I realize I got from a book but that was all I could think of to describe them. Anyway he just stood there staring at me for a long while, and I just stared back, fascinated by those eyes and then he turned and started walking away. I gaped for a moment and then with an awkward hoping skip I took off after him.
"Where are you going?" I asked catching up to him; I had to do a cross between a jog and a trot to keep up with his long-legged stride. He turned and looked at me, which was funny since I barely reached his shoulder. He kept walking even though he was no longer looking ahead and sighed,
"I am going to find Watson to have him come an inspect the body with a medical eye." He said simply. I shrugged and followed him at his side, chancing glances at him every once in a while.
Who was he?
Well, sure he was Sherlock Holmes that was fine and dandy if you will pardon the expression of my midwestern roots. But, what I mean is who was Sherlock Holmes, why could he see these things that no one else could? Why did he seem to hate women so much only to help them when they had done wrong.
Images of Irene Adler and the woman whose name eluded me at the time from "The Second Stain," filled my head, which I promptly shook fiercely. My short hair swished about my shoulders reminding me of the present. What was it about this man? He infuriated me without even doing anything and whenever I was around him I had a strong urge to prove that I was better. I didn't care, that wasn't me, it didn't bother me if people thought themselves superior to me because I knew I was better. What was so special about this guy?
'It doesn't matter.' I told myself as I tripped over my own feet trying to keep up with him. 'Soon enough you'll kill him and then he'll know who is better.' I assured myself over and over, so much so it was becoming a sort of mantra to me. Though when he slowed imperceptibly to allow me to keep up easier my mind went blank and I lost my train of thought and it took me a few moments to regain my demeanor of not caring about anyone except me.
It didn't matter how many times I said that I didn't care though, because that small annoying part of me kept insisting that it did matter for some reason, and because it simply niggled at the back of my mind I ignored it and hoped it would die rather than get larger.
I was walking along, planning to help, at least until the maid, Miranda came up and drew me away to prepare. "Prepare? For what?" I asked and to this day I believe I had every right to.
"For the party of course, a lady must take every care to appear her best." She told me reverently. I looked to Holmes for help and he merely nodded.
"Yes, they must, now, Miss Lewis," When did he learn her last name? "don't let Miss Winter's sharp tongue scare you off, I am sure she would love to look her best." That BASTARD! Forget everything I ever thought was at all nice about him! He wanted me out of the way and boy did he know how to push my buttons while he did it! So he sent me to the wolves---proverbially of course Miss Lewis was in no way a wolf---while he got to go investigate the fact that there was a decapitated course about 20 feet from where I was expected to sleep. People didn't keep the corpses of people who died naturally in their basement with no heads so obviously this was a murder mystery, another one! I get to solve to murder mysteries. Wow. I still get shivers of excitement about thinking about catching the person who killed. I mean that meant I was better than them since I could see their mistakes so yes. I was doing this to prove that not only was I the best of my time, but of this time as well. Yay! I love enlarging my ego, it's so rewarding.