HOLY S#!@T I'M ACTUALLY
UPDATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Did u miss me?
I am SO sorry this took so long (it's been like a year huh?) I've been EXTREMELY BUSY I'll try to go faster! Am I like a sucky author so far or what?!
I want to thank everyone who reviewed! AND I want to thank March Hare and Nooka for writing such wonderful stories and helping me on this one! This is dedicated to you! I LOVE U GUYS!
Well.......here's Ch. 2: The Mask
It was a cold, damp, foggy London morning. A perfect addition to Dr. Watson's already troubling day. Business had gone bad for weeks and he feared he wouldn't be able to sustain his marriage with his beloved Mary if it kept going the way it was. On top of it all was a strange sense of.....loneliness? How long had it been since he had last seen Holmes? He was probably wrapped up in some case knowing him. To see Holmes would definitely bring a little light into an already gloomy day. He wondered, had Holmes missed him too?
Sherlock Holmes filled the now familiar needle to the correct dosage. As he held the needle above his arm he hesitated. Why am I doing this? It was a weakness. A weakness he could no longer tolerate. He knew he had to stop, but it was too late. He winced at the sting of the needle as he injected its contents.
Watson quietly entered the all to familiar rooms of 221B Baker Street. Upon the sound of the door opening his friend rose from his seat. His face had a downcast look to it, a look of pain? His features immediately brightened at the sight of Watson.
"Watson! How are you old boy?"
If Holmes had any feelings of pain, they were now forgotten. His face was full of light and energy as he ushered Watson into the room and sat him in a chair adjacent to his own. In a way Holmes' cheery disposition annoyed Watson. He had noticed it before, whenever Holmes would trick him with those disguises of his. His cheerful expression was like a disguise, a mask to hide his true feelings. But what in the world would make him feel that way? Watson had always thought of Holmes as a man with "nerves of steel". He shook the thought from his mind, for who could harm the great detective himself?
They cheerfully reminisced about old times and talked about the happenings of the day. Holmes still kept up his sunny disposition, but Watson noticed he acted uneasy. He kept looking around the room as if to find something and he kept jumping even at the slightest noise. Watson continually wanted to ask what was wrong but decided against it. After all, this was the man who used his wall for target practice and also kept his tobacco in a Persian slipper. Holmes kept up the conversation as if he didn't want Watson to leave. Finally, after they had talked about everything from the latest crime to the weather, Holmes asked Watson if he would accompany him to dinner. Watson didn't think this a bad idea, since he did want to stay with Holmes, and find out what was bothering him so. Holmes seemed delighted with the answer and got up to get his coat.
The moment he got up he froze and stared straight at the open door. Watson looked from the detective to the door and back to the detective. What on earth was he looking at? Holmes was as still as a statue and never took his gaze from the door. Watson started to feel uncomfortable.
"Holmes, what is the matter?"
Holmes shook his head as if coming out of a trance. He looked towards Watson then back to the door.
"Nothing Watson. Nothing"
There was another one. Holmes couldn't take it anymore. He was on the verge of getting a gun the next time he saw one of those bloody things. Thinking about that Holmes wondered if a gun would work on them. He didn't know who that man was or where he came from, but he did know one thing.
He knew he never wanted to see that again.
"Nothing Watson. Nothing."
Nothing? Then what in bloody hell were you staring at?
Holmes grabbed his coat and walked through the door. Watson knew of his friends' brilliant observation skills, but he could see absolutely nothing wrong with the door. It looked as it had always been, without a scratch on it. Watson shrugged, turning around to shut the door. He suddenly stopped. He looked at the open door.
Didn't I shut it when I came in?
Dinner was eventful. Not only was the food not exactly the best, but Holmes also acted as curious as ever. He kept looking at the people at the adjoining tables as if they were inhuman. But that was nothing compared to when we left. As Holmes and I were walking out he seemed to jump slightly to the left. He turned around and promptly said excuse me to the person he ran into.
He was apologizing to nothing but air.
I looked at him puzzled.
"Holmes, who are you talking to?"
At first he seemed confused but after a quick glance back he made a look like something of fear and embarrassment.
"Nobody Watson"
When we arrived at Baker Street Holmes offered me a pot of tea before I went for the long, cold journey back to my quarters. I gladly accepted and followed him inside. As soon as I was ready to go Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room.
"There's a lady to see you Mister Holmes. A Mrs. Knox. I told her it was a bit late but she insists on seeing you."
Holmes smiled. "Go ahead and let her in Mrs. Hudson."
After a few minutes a woman walked in with a little girl behind her. The little girl looked a bit frightened and the lady very worried. The girl looked at everything in the room then decided upon fixing her gaze on Holmes. She was a small girl, about ten years of age. She had long, curly blond hair and rosy cheeks. She could have passed for a china doll had she not looked so frightened. The woman on the other hand, which I took to be the girl's mother, was the exact opposite of her daughter. She had short, flat sandy blonde hair with a very pale face and dark eyes. The woman announced herself as Lauren Knox and her daughter was Amanda.
Holmes smiled and invited them in.
"I hope you had a nice journey from America Mrs. Knox, considering you don't like to go out much. These London trains can be quite crowded, I hope you easily found your way here."
The woman looked surprised.
"I am sure you deduced I was American from the accent, but how did you know the others?"
Holmes smiled. "It is my business to know what others do not. Judging by your pale complexion I deduced you don't see the sun much so you must not go outside very often and as for the train ride the ticket is sticking out of your pocket."
The lady was overjoyed. "Oh Mr. Holmes you're as wonderful as the people say you are! You must help me, I have no one left to turn to!"
Holmes sat down in his chair. "Please, tell us what is troubling you so."
The lady shook her head. "I don't know if you will believe this Mr. Holmes, but my daughters seeing ghosts!"
DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!! Cliffie!
Who is this mysterious woman and is what she's saying true? I'll try to hurry but I would like reviews please! I also tried to make this one longer. Did I do okay? REVIEW!!!!!
I am SO sorry this took so long (it's been like a year huh?) I've been EXTREMELY BUSY I'll try to go faster! Am I like a sucky author so far or what?!
I want to thank everyone who reviewed! AND I want to thank March Hare and Nooka for writing such wonderful stories and helping me on this one! This is dedicated to you! I LOVE U GUYS!
Well.......here's Ch. 2: The Mask
It was a cold, damp, foggy London morning. A perfect addition to Dr. Watson's already troubling day. Business had gone bad for weeks and he feared he wouldn't be able to sustain his marriage with his beloved Mary if it kept going the way it was. On top of it all was a strange sense of.....loneliness? How long had it been since he had last seen Holmes? He was probably wrapped up in some case knowing him. To see Holmes would definitely bring a little light into an already gloomy day. He wondered, had Holmes missed him too?
Sherlock Holmes filled the now familiar needle to the correct dosage. As he held the needle above his arm he hesitated. Why am I doing this? It was a weakness. A weakness he could no longer tolerate. He knew he had to stop, but it was too late. He winced at the sting of the needle as he injected its contents.
Watson quietly entered the all to familiar rooms of 221B Baker Street. Upon the sound of the door opening his friend rose from his seat. His face had a downcast look to it, a look of pain? His features immediately brightened at the sight of Watson.
"Watson! How are you old boy?"
If Holmes had any feelings of pain, they were now forgotten. His face was full of light and energy as he ushered Watson into the room and sat him in a chair adjacent to his own. In a way Holmes' cheery disposition annoyed Watson. He had noticed it before, whenever Holmes would trick him with those disguises of his. His cheerful expression was like a disguise, a mask to hide his true feelings. But what in the world would make him feel that way? Watson had always thought of Holmes as a man with "nerves of steel". He shook the thought from his mind, for who could harm the great detective himself?
They cheerfully reminisced about old times and talked about the happenings of the day. Holmes still kept up his sunny disposition, but Watson noticed he acted uneasy. He kept looking around the room as if to find something and he kept jumping even at the slightest noise. Watson continually wanted to ask what was wrong but decided against it. After all, this was the man who used his wall for target practice and also kept his tobacco in a Persian slipper. Holmes kept up the conversation as if he didn't want Watson to leave. Finally, after they had talked about everything from the latest crime to the weather, Holmes asked Watson if he would accompany him to dinner. Watson didn't think this a bad idea, since he did want to stay with Holmes, and find out what was bothering him so. Holmes seemed delighted with the answer and got up to get his coat.
The moment he got up he froze and stared straight at the open door. Watson looked from the detective to the door and back to the detective. What on earth was he looking at? Holmes was as still as a statue and never took his gaze from the door. Watson started to feel uncomfortable.
"Holmes, what is the matter?"
Holmes shook his head as if coming out of a trance. He looked towards Watson then back to the door.
"Nothing Watson. Nothing"
There was another one. Holmes couldn't take it anymore. He was on the verge of getting a gun the next time he saw one of those bloody things. Thinking about that Holmes wondered if a gun would work on them. He didn't know who that man was or where he came from, but he did know one thing.
He knew he never wanted to see that again.
"Nothing Watson. Nothing."
Nothing? Then what in bloody hell were you staring at?
Holmes grabbed his coat and walked through the door. Watson knew of his friends' brilliant observation skills, but he could see absolutely nothing wrong with the door. It looked as it had always been, without a scratch on it. Watson shrugged, turning around to shut the door. He suddenly stopped. He looked at the open door.
Didn't I shut it when I came in?
Dinner was eventful. Not only was the food not exactly the best, but Holmes also acted as curious as ever. He kept looking at the people at the adjoining tables as if they were inhuman. But that was nothing compared to when we left. As Holmes and I were walking out he seemed to jump slightly to the left. He turned around and promptly said excuse me to the person he ran into.
He was apologizing to nothing but air.
I looked at him puzzled.
"Holmes, who are you talking to?"
At first he seemed confused but after a quick glance back he made a look like something of fear and embarrassment.
"Nobody Watson"
When we arrived at Baker Street Holmes offered me a pot of tea before I went for the long, cold journey back to my quarters. I gladly accepted and followed him inside. As soon as I was ready to go Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room.
"There's a lady to see you Mister Holmes. A Mrs. Knox. I told her it was a bit late but she insists on seeing you."
Holmes smiled. "Go ahead and let her in Mrs. Hudson."
After a few minutes a woman walked in with a little girl behind her. The little girl looked a bit frightened and the lady very worried. The girl looked at everything in the room then decided upon fixing her gaze on Holmes. She was a small girl, about ten years of age. She had long, curly blond hair and rosy cheeks. She could have passed for a china doll had she not looked so frightened. The woman on the other hand, which I took to be the girl's mother, was the exact opposite of her daughter. She had short, flat sandy blonde hair with a very pale face and dark eyes. The woman announced herself as Lauren Knox and her daughter was Amanda.
Holmes smiled and invited them in.
"I hope you had a nice journey from America Mrs. Knox, considering you don't like to go out much. These London trains can be quite crowded, I hope you easily found your way here."
The woman looked surprised.
"I am sure you deduced I was American from the accent, but how did you know the others?"
Holmes smiled. "It is my business to know what others do not. Judging by your pale complexion I deduced you don't see the sun much so you must not go outside very often and as for the train ride the ticket is sticking out of your pocket."
The lady was overjoyed. "Oh Mr. Holmes you're as wonderful as the people say you are! You must help me, I have no one left to turn to!"
Holmes sat down in his chair. "Please, tell us what is troubling you so."
The lady shook her head. "I don't know if you will believe this Mr. Holmes, but my daughters seeing ghosts!"
DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!! Cliffie!
Who is this mysterious woman and is what she's saying true? I'll try to hurry but I would like reviews please! I also tried to make this one longer. Did I do okay? REVIEW!!!!!