More Story... yay! This thing has become a monster... and i must finish it.. please help!
as usual not mine dont sue
The night progressed in what one might call a mundane manner if not for the surreal situation I had been thrust into. Though Mycroft, who had the luxury of an additional few days to grow accustom to Holmes' condition it was quite obvious during dinner and the proceeding brandy that the large man was flustered around his brother.
In the days that followed I found myself reading musty tome upon musty tome on dementia till the wee hours of the morning; then testing newly formed hypotheses over a game of chess, which I still lost, on the terrace with "James" as he insisted on being called. He seemed perfectly healthy, fit as a fiddle, which he said he does not ever recall being able to play. The only new development I came across in my physical was an angry scar that ran across the lower left side of the skull. I was a bit surprised to find such a blemish buried beneath Holmes' pelt of black hair.
Naturally, when I pried as to where the it had come from, I was graced with the full story, or at least to his best recollection, of what my dear friend had been preoccupying himself with for almost half a decade.
The hospital to which Mycroft alluded to was in actuality a small convent that lay in the valley the falls run into. Some local women found him bloodied and beaten washing up on the river's edge. The sisters of Saint Michael's Charity, did what they could for his battered bones, but he laid in a coma for nearly a month.
"When I awoke, I quickly ascertained as to where I was, the Spartan decor, crucifix, the sound of bells in the distance. That doctor, was the easy part, the who was I left me far more puzzled. " Raking a hand through his slicked back hair, Holmes pause to prod the scar and winced.
"The only thought in my head at the time was a name, which I could only hope was my own, Moriarty, James Moriarty."
Our match that day was disrupted by the thundering rushed footfalls of Mycroft.
"Pack your things chaps, we leave for Reichardhart in an hour."
It would seem that his sources had determined and located the man responsible for sending the letter, and we were to leave for Switzerland before nightfall.
Holmes merely stayed seated, staring intently at the chess set before him. Without a word he moved his Queen in for the coup dee grad, my King merrily rolled off the table as it fell with a quiet clatter.
"Well doctor, this game may have drawn to a conclusion, but it seems that a new one is afoot. Pardon me while I gather my belongings."
Turning on his heel, I was left alone with my toppled king. The great detective was indeed alive; he is simply unaware of it.
Really short I kno ... sorry guys...-Nite