Author's Note:
I think I failed to mention in the previous chapter that the Sherlock Holmes is a little younger in this fic. Hey, I'm the writer, I can change anything! Lol, *Winkz* I'm also bringing in some new mysteries etc. Well enjoy and COMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. Critique also!
MERCI to THE COOLEST BETA READER EVER...HILARY!! Thanks so MUCH!
~***Chapter 2***~
It almost seemed to me like this was some Victorian England drama and I was an unpaid customer or guest viewing the performance. I scanned the nearby buildings wildly but could not find any metal stands or plush velvet seats. Fumbling to the door I struggled to search for the welcoming feel of a light switch or some method of electricity to brighten up the large abandoned, and steadily dark, room I found myself in.
"Damn it all," I hissed in frustration feeling cold air come in through cracks in the wall and unsuccessfully getting no light. "I can't stay here," I murmured in a slight word of forgiveness to the damp room as I began the trek back to the light and ground floor.
Watson's room was still unoccupied and gloomy so I easily ran by unnoticed but creeping past the Great Detective's room was another fabled story. He could probably already tell I was there by the creaking of my feet on the old wooden steps. Maybe even by the scent of my Tommy Hilfiger perfume.
As I quietly hit the bottom of the first floor I could already see light cascading out of the large doorway. Breathing softly I tiptoed past his room hardly making a sound.
"Watson? Is that you?" a fazed voice from the open room asked.
Panicking and generally freaked out I dashed turbulently across the landing only to be grabbed firmly by two iron grip arms. "And who are you?" he whispered dangerously, looking into my frightened eyes as I struggled violently to escape. For a second I stopped squirming and looked into his eyes, feeling like I was about to wilt. Clad in purple slippers and a matching velvet bathrobe he was the most handsome man I had ever set my eyes on.
The firelight from the abandoned room glinted off his gray eyes. His glare gently softened like melting butter. I needed a get away or a distraction, something to shock him. I couldn't pull anything violent, or clever, he was too smart for that. But what about a sudden little ounce of romance? Love was the one thing that I could use to befuddle the Great Detective.
So mischievously, and did I mention eagerly? I darted forward, and attempting to put my hand to his neck, I kissed him slowly. It felt strangely perfect, like the best feeling I had ever felt in my young life. For moments we just stood there. The detective and I passionately engaged in full lip lock. It was like we had known each other for our whole lives.
Then regretfully leaning away I walked backwards watching him with his eyes closed, an emotion of, did I believe, contentment on his face? I had a strange twisted feeling that I was Cinderella running away from her Prince Charming.
Part of me knew I had to run and find Jax but another part of me wanted to stay with this remarkable stranger. Practically sprinting and tripping down the stairs I leaped to the door. "Wait," he called above me, "Don't go."
Struggling not to give in and stay I ran out the front door and bumped into several groups of elderly women and gentlemen. "Sorry," I shouted to them, becoming painfully aware of the difference of their proper Victorian gowns and my casual laidback clothes. I was in tiny khaki shorts and a black spaghetti tank top, complete with upper undergarments showing. Not exactly the right thing to wear in 1888 England. Running down the street I found that I couldn't contain my tears any longer.
I'd already decided that I wasn't in the twenty-first century and was extremely lost. Clambering to the edge of the side walk I sat down and began to cry. I was a young woman stuck in a foreign time without anyone I knew and no place to stay. My mind kept telling me it was a dream but the feeling of the cobblestone street beneath me was all too real.
Pictures of my family kept popping up in my head. Of my mother washing dishes in the sink, soap bubbles up to her elbows. My father working the tractor in the fields of my home state, Iowa. And snapshots of my two brothers playing hide and go seek in the hay of the barn. Although there was about a 16 year old difference in ages between me and them, I missed them incredibly and we had a sort of understandable bond. But what would they do? What would Jax do? Would they send police looking for me? Would I be on the news and in the newspapers?
"Excuse me miss?" a friendly young man said, sitting down beside me on the curb. "May I ask what's wrong?" he asked looking into my shiny eyes. 'Strange psycho,' I thought at once. 'Probably some freak thinking I'm a prostitute.' But the kind look in his eyes and the smiling woman behind him showed that they were good-hearted people.
"I'm lost," I sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my face.
"What do you mean darling?" the woman asked politely but in a curious manner.
"I don't know," I sobbed, leaning over and crying into the man's fresh smelling black coat. He patted my back reassuringly and nodded for his wife to get down and talk to me.
"Don't worry darling," she said soothingly. "You're going to be fine."
"No, I'm not," I wailed, sitting up right and wiping my eyes.
"Yes you will," the woman said rubbing my arm. "Come on, we have a friend this way." I nodded and followed them, tracing my steps back where I'd just run from.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note:
Okay, okay, I know, short chapter but I'm updating soon. Stay tuned and REVIEW! PLEASE?
~kELS
I think I failed to mention in the previous chapter that the Sherlock Holmes is a little younger in this fic. Hey, I'm the writer, I can change anything! Lol, *Winkz* I'm also bringing in some new mysteries etc. Well enjoy and COMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. Critique also!
MERCI to THE COOLEST BETA READER EVER...HILARY!! Thanks so MUCH!
~***Chapter 2***~
It almost seemed to me like this was some Victorian England drama and I was an unpaid customer or guest viewing the performance. I scanned the nearby buildings wildly but could not find any metal stands or plush velvet seats. Fumbling to the door I struggled to search for the welcoming feel of a light switch or some method of electricity to brighten up the large abandoned, and steadily dark, room I found myself in.
"Damn it all," I hissed in frustration feeling cold air come in through cracks in the wall and unsuccessfully getting no light. "I can't stay here," I murmured in a slight word of forgiveness to the damp room as I began the trek back to the light and ground floor.
Watson's room was still unoccupied and gloomy so I easily ran by unnoticed but creeping past the Great Detective's room was another fabled story. He could probably already tell I was there by the creaking of my feet on the old wooden steps. Maybe even by the scent of my Tommy Hilfiger perfume.
As I quietly hit the bottom of the first floor I could already see light cascading out of the large doorway. Breathing softly I tiptoed past his room hardly making a sound.
"Watson? Is that you?" a fazed voice from the open room asked.
Panicking and generally freaked out I dashed turbulently across the landing only to be grabbed firmly by two iron grip arms. "And who are you?" he whispered dangerously, looking into my frightened eyes as I struggled violently to escape. For a second I stopped squirming and looked into his eyes, feeling like I was about to wilt. Clad in purple slippers and a matching velvet bathrobe he was the most handsome man I had ever set my eyes on.
The firelight from the abandoned room glinted off his gray eyes. His glare gently softened like melting butter. I needed a get away or a distraction, something to shock him. I couldn't pull anything violent, or clever, he was too smart for that. But what about a sudden little ounce of romance? Love was the one thing that I could use to befuddle the Great Detective.
So mischievously, and did I mention eagerly? I darted forward, and attempting to put my hand to his neck, I kissed him slowly. It felt strangely perfect, like the best feeling I had ever felt in my young life. For moments we just stood there. The detective and I passionately engaged in full lip lock. It was like we had known each other for our whole lives.
Then regretfully leaning away I walked backwards watching him with his eyes closed, an emotion of, did I believe, contentment on his face? I had a strange twisted feeling that I was Cinderella running away from her Prince Charming.
Part of me knew I had to run and find Jax but another part of me wanted to stay with this remarkable stranger. Practically sprinting and tripping down the stairs I leaped to the door. "Wait," he called above me, "Don't go."
Struggling not to give in and stay I ran out the front door and bumped into several groups of elderly women and gentlemen. "Sorry," I shouted to them, becoming painfully aware of the difference of their proper Victorian gowns and my casual laidback clothes. I was in tiny khaki shorts and a black spaghetti tank top, complete with upper undergarments showing. Not exactly the right thing to wear in 1888 England. Running down the street I found that I couldn't contain my tears any longer.
I'd already decided that I wasn't in the twenty-first century and was extremely lost. Clambering to the edge of the side walk I sat down and began to cry. I was a young woman stuck in a foreign time without anyone I knew and no place to stay. My mind kept telling me it was a dream but the feeling of the cobblestone street beneath me was all too real.
Pictures of my family kept popping up in my head. Of my mother washing dishes in the sink, soap bubbles up to her elbows. My father working the tractor in the fields of my home state, Iowa. And snapshots of my two brothers playing hide and go seek in the hay of the barn. Although there was about a 16 year old difference in ages between me and them, I missed them incredibly and we had a sort of understandable bond. But what would they do? What would Jax do? Would they send police looking for me? Would I be on the news and in the newspapers?
"Excuse me miss?" a friendly young man said, sitting down beside me on the curb. "May I ask what's wrong?" he asked looking into my shiny eyes. 'Strange psycho,' I thought at once. 'Probably some freak thinking I'm a prostitute.' But the kind look in his eyes and the smiling woman behind him showed that they were good-hearted people.
"I'm lost," I sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my face.
"What do you mean darling?" the woman asked politely but in a curious manner.
"I don't know," I sobbed, leaning over and crying into the man's fresh smelling black coat. He patted my back reassuringly and nodded for his wife to get down and talk to me.
"Don't worry darling," she said soothingly. "You're going to be fine."
"No, I'm not," I wailed, sitting up right and wiping my eyes.
"Yes you will," the woman said rubbing my arm. "Come on, we have a friend this way." I nodded and followed them, tracing my steps back where I'd just run from.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note:
Okay, okay, I know, short chapter but I'm updating soon. Stay tuned and REVIEW! PLEASE?
~kELS