Thanks to March hare & Scarlett Red Rose, who reviewed! Wakizashi, whose
fics I love, Nako- chan who is back and better than ever, QueenofSpain
whose fics inspire me, and everyone who reviewed. You are all special, and
Silvawen the elf crumpet, without her randomness, the world would be a lot
more boring! Now, a pause for a rant:
* takes deep breath * WhyisnoonereviewingisitthatbadtellmenowsoIcanworkoutwhatI'mdoingwrong! *breathes normally * thank you for putting up with that! Anyway, you aren't here for me, so on with the show!
Chapter Four: And all that's in between.
Evelyn and Watson talked late into the already deep night. He took his leave of her when the lamps had been lit for about three hours. She sat in silence for long after he had left, Duke's attention seeking whining, unheeded.
Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes had tested, checked, ascertained and finalized the name of the mystery solution. Completely ignoring the clouds of grey mist that hung to his clothes like a damp mist, he flung himself in his armchair, reached for the Persian slipper and began to Think.
Watson entered the front door and walked up the fourteen steps that led to the shared sitting room. His face grim, he pushed open the door. To be forced to back away, waving his hands in front of his face in a belabored attempt to inhale clean air.
"Holmes!"
Sure his friend was either unconscious from the fumes or engrossed in some mysterious artifact that had so consumed his attention that he would not have noticed if their rooms were on fire, he plunged in to see Holmes at the window, opening it to its full capacity.
After the smoke had cleared, and Mrs Hudson had been assured that there was indeed smoke without fire, the two sat down, and Holmes began to cross- examine Watson as to his conversation with Evelyn Demarcier.
"Holmes, she. I don't know if I ought to tell you, old fellow. It was told to me in the strictest confidence."
Holmes face was a picture of injured fury, so Watson hurried on to say what he felt he could.
"She has had a troubled childhood; from day one she had no one she could trust or turn to. She grew up in a household full of men, educated scholarly men, who had little time for a small precocious female. So she sat, listened, and learned. By George, did she learn. Her mind is complex in ways I cannot imagine, although it certainly bears no comparison to yours or your brothers, Holmes."
He watched, relieved, as the great detective leaned back on his chair and allowed his annoyance to fade a touch.
" Yes, my dear Doctor, but pray tell me of her thoughts. Of her.reasons. What does she talk of most?" "Well, Holmes, she has a dog. A spaniel named Duke, of which she speaks fondly and often."
Holmes face was a picture of indecent irritation, luckily Watson was staring into the fire moodily. Holmes looked intently at his friend who was in such an unusual humor.
"I think she is hiding something, Holmes, something large. More than where she comes from, who she is and all the rest. She seemed unhappy."
Holmes stroked his chin thoughtfully, and encased his thin frame in the armchair once more, never realising he had been standing. He put his pipe back in his mouth, and Watson lit a cigarette. This woman troubled both more than either would let on.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next morning, Watson woke and found himself covered in a blanket. Holmes was nowhere to be seen, so he proceeded to get up and eat breakfast, in a normal fashion. Holmes was incredibly erratic when he was on a case, and could be anywhere and would only reappear when he felt it very necessary. So, the doctor reasoned, it was best to proceed as normal and attempt to lessen the chance of being dragged away during a meal or working hours. Just as he was about to leave for work, Holmes flew in like a miniature whirlwind, dressed as a doctor, and dragged him back upstairs.
"I have it all, Watson, old friend. I know everything." "Everything?" "Everything. The whole lot."
Holmes dragged Watson to the sofa, relieved him of his umbrella and bag, and began to explain with uncharacteristic speed.
"At precisely six thirty this morning, I proceeded once more to the library. If you ever write this case up, Watson, some mention of the importance of books might be agreeable- perhaps name it 'The Booked Dilemma'? I digress. It was a false clue, Watson! 'Beekeeping for pleasure and interest' was not the book being read by the girl at the table- as I have discovered the identity of the young lady, and she claims she was actually reading Darwin's controversial 'The Origins of the Species'. Miss Demarcier was mistaken. Also, Miss Demarcier made another error, in the fact that when the young woman was leaving, the victims starters were just arriving, so she could, in no way, have poisoned them. Miss Demarcier has been mistaken once too many times; I come to the conclusion that she has lied to us."
Watson felt as if he'd just been kicked in the head. The sweet woman he had spent the better part of four and a half-hours with last night had lied, during an investigation, no less! She had cared for their wounds, made herself out to be a friend. He recognised the cold wash of betrayal that washed over him. Holmes noticed the impact his news had on his best friend.
"My dear chap, I am sorry I broke it to you so jubilantly, my mind was merely preoccupied by the solution. It was in fact, the man I suspected all along. We now have just to trace him."
That's chapter four done! I am getting really, really downhearted about this fic, please review! Should I bother to continue? 2 reviews for 3 chapters- discouraging much! If you are reading this, please, please make me happy, and tell me what you think (bad or good) and give me advice! Thanks so much to those who have reviewed, they are Good people! ~Estriel~
* takes deep breath * WhyisnoonereviewingisitthatbadtellmenowsoIcanworkoutwhatI'mdoingwrong! *breathes normally * thank you for putting up with that! Anyway, you aren't here for me, so on with the show!
Chapter Four: And all that's in between.
Evelyn and Watson talked late into the already deep night. He took his leave of her when the lamps had been lit for about three hours. She sat in silence for long after he had left, Duke's attention seeking whining, unheeded.
Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes had tested, checked, ascertained and finalized the name of the mystery solution. Completely ignoring the clouds of grey mist that hung to his clothes like a damp mist, he flung himself in his armchair, reached for the Persian slipper and began to Think.
Watson entered the front door and walked up the fourteen steps that led to the shared sitting room. His face grim, he pushed open the door. To be forced to back away, waving his hands in front of his face in a belabored attempt to inhale clean air.
"Holmes!"
Sure his friend was either unconscious from the fumes or engrossed in some mysterious artifact that had so consumed his attention that he would not have noticed if their rooms were on fire, he plunged in to see Holmes at the window, opening it to its full capacity.
After the smoke had cleared, and Mrs Hudson had been assured that there was indeed smoke without fire, the two sat down, and Holmes began to cross- examine Watson as to his conversation with Evelyn Demarcier.
"Holmes, she. I don't know if I ought to tell you, old fellow. It was told to me in the strictest confidence."
Holmes face was a picture of injured fury, so Watson hurried on to say what he felt he could.
"She has had a troubled childhood; from day one she had no one she could trust or turn to. She grew up in a household full of men, educated scholarly men, who had little time for a small precocious female. So she sat, listened, and learned. By George, did she learn. Her mind is complex in ways I cannot imagine, although it certainly bears no comparison to yours or your brothers, Holmes."
He watched, relieved, as the great detective leaned back on his chair and allowed his annoyance to fade a touch.
" Yes, my dear Doctor, but pray tell me of her thoughts. Of her.reasons. What does she talk of most?" "Well, Holmes, she has a dog. A spaniel named Duke, of which she speaks fondly and often."
Holmes face was a picture of indecent irritation, luckily Watson was staring into the fire moodily. Holmes looked intently at his friend who was in such an unusual humor.
"I think she is hiding something, Holmes, something large. More than where she comes from, who she is and all the rest. She seemed unhappy."
Holmes stroked his chin thoughtfully, and encased his thin frame in the armchair once more, never realising he had been standing. He put his pipe back in his mouth, and Watson lit a cigarette. This woman troubled both more than either would let on.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next morning, Watson woke and found himself covered in a blanket. Holmes was nowhere to be seen, so he proceeded to get up and eat breakfast, in a normal fashion. Holmes was incredibly erratic when he was on a case, and could be anywhere and would only reappear when he felt it very necessary. So, the doctor reasoned, it was best to proceed as normal and attempt to lessen the chance of being dragged away during a meal or working hours. Just as he was about to leave for work, Holmes flew in like a miniature whirlwind, dressed as a doctor, and dragged him back upstairs.
"I have it all, Watson, old friend. I know everything." "Everything?" "Everything. The whole lot."
Holmes dragged Watson to the sofa, relieved him of his umbrella and bag, and began to explain with uncharacteristic speed.
"At precisely six thirty this morning, I proceeded once more to the library. If you ever write this case up, Watson, some mention of the importance of books might be agreeable- perhaps name it 'The Booked Dilemma'? I digress. It was a false clue, Watson! 'Beekeeping for pleasure and interest' was not the book being read by the girl at the table- as I have discovered the identity of the young lady, and she claims she was actually reading Darwin's controversial 'The Origins of the Species'. Miss Demarcier was mistaken. Also, Miss Demarcier made another error, in the fact that when the young woman was leaving, the victims starters were just arriving, so she could, in no way, have poisoned them. Miss Demarcier has been mistaken once too many times; I come to the conclusion that she has lied to us."
Watson felt as if he'd just been kicked in the head. The sweet woman he had spent the better part of four and a half-hours with last night had lied, during an investigation, no less! She had cared for their wounds, made herself out to be a friend. He recognised the cold wash of betrayal that washed over him. Holmes noticed the impact his news had on his best friend.
"My dear chap, I am sorry I broke it to you so jubilantly, my mind was merely preoccupied by the solution. It was in fact, the man I suspected all along. We now have just to trace him."
That's chapter four done! I am getting really, really downhearted about this fic, please review! Should I bother to continue? 2 reviews for 3 chapters- discouraging much! If you are reading this, please, please make me happy, and tell me what you think (bad or good) and give me advice! Thanks so much to those who have reviewed, they are Good people! ~Estriel~