Author's Note

This is a definite one-shot. Maybe.

I would like to say from the outset that I wrote this before Ms. King's Locked Rooms actually came out, but after the excerpts were posted on her website. I've written this so as to bring it in line with what's on the website, it's mostly my imagination. Mary Russell belongs to Laurie R. King, of course, and since Holmes belongs to Russell, I guess she has a claim on him by proxy.

This is a drabble. Perhaps I'll come up with more at a later date, but I doubt that right now. Summer break looms before me, so who knows what is possible.

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There seemed to a certain irony to the situation. We had crossed the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean and the vast Pacific by fits and starts, pausing in India, Japan and Hawaii before washing up on the shores of California, over perhaps twenty thousand miles of ocean, only to find that the next mile or so to the hotel was next to impossible.

There had been some trouble in raising one of our bags from the cargo hold, and once it had finally been extricated, the taxi ranks had been swarmed by the other passengers. I was sitting on my trunk, trying desperately to remain calm and between the chaos of the docks and my own sleep deprivation I was quickly losing.

"I suppose we have no choice but to wait." I said hopelessly.

"No need. A chariot has been sent for us." I looked in the direction Holmes had nodded. Halfway down the taxi rank, a car was waiting. A cardboard sign with "Russell" printed in black letter was propped against the windscreen, but the driver was nowhere in sight.

"Perhaps we're meant to help ourselves." I said as Holmes plucked the sign off the windscreen.

"Ow! Maggie!"

"Don't you 'Maggie' me!" I turned to see a young girl dragging a younger boy along by the ear. She was dressed like the boy, with a newsboy cap over her short blonde hair.

"If I catch you pitching pennies with those boys again, I'll tell Da and if he doesn't knock some sense into you I will! Oh." The girl caught sight of us and straightened up. I realized that she was much older than I had originally thought, perhaps nineteen or twenty, but she was nearly a foot shorter than I. Of course, I was nearly six foot, but still.

"Are you Miss Russell and Mr. Holmes?"

"We are." I said.

"Jackson and Barnard sent me to pick up Miss Mary Russell and her husband Mr. Holmes from the docks." She tugged the brim of her cap automatically. There was a faint note of inquiry in her voice. There often was from people who had just met us, but I let her curiosity go unsatisfied. I'd sent a telegram ahead to warn my solicitors of my impending arrival, but I hadn't though to have a car sent. Perhaps this was a good omen.

"Get their bags, Bobby." Bobby scrambled forward to help the ship's porter heave our bags into the boot.

"And the meaning of this?" Holmes asked. He flipped over the cardboard sign to reveal "Holmes" printed on the other side.

"Ah, well. The police chief also called and asked if we could pick up Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his wife Miss Russell from the docks." She tugged the brim of her cap with amused deliberation. "Since the lawyers had already paid, Da said he would be happy to be of service to the police department, free of charge."

"Considerable business acumen." Holmes murmured, handing the girl her sign.

"Maggie Delaney. That's Bobby." Bobby peered up at us.

"Are you really the Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." He said accusingly and received a cuff around his already abused ear.

"In the car and no more lip." Maggie snapped. Bobby shrugged and scrambled into the front seat next to his sister.

"Sorry. Little brothers, can't shove them off the Gate, can't lock them in a box till they grow up. Where to?"

Maggie Delaney drove like a madwoman. San Francisco's streets were shared equally by horse-drawn vehicles, streetcars and private cars. Maggie dodged them all with apparent ease and breathtaking speed. It hardly mattered since everyone else was doing the same.

"I told the solicitors that I was coming," I said in a low voice as Maggie sped us through the crowded streets, "but how did the police chief know?"

"I sent ahead a few inquiries." Holmes said, avoiding my gaze.

Holmes," I began dangerously, but remembered the presence of the Delaney siblings. I reined in my anger at Holmes for conjuring a mystery where there was none. They were only bad dreams.

At the hotel a look from his sister sent Bobby around to help with the bags and a nother made him stand to attention on the kerb.

"Delaney Cab Company." Maggie said, handing me a business card fished out of the glove box. "If you need anything else, or if you want to hire a car for a week or two, give us a call. The lawyers said it was all to be charged to them and Da made the same offer to the Chief, compliments of the company, of course."

"Thank you Miss Delaney." Holmes paused for a brief second before continuing in a slightly louder voice. "I hope the tailoring business you are attempting to set up goes well for you. Robert Delaney, owner, or at least caretaker, of two dogs, a rabbit, and a horse, second generation from Ireland, you would do well to listen to you sister and stop fighting with your friends and pitching pennies in alleyways."

"Cor!" Bobby cried, deeply impressed.

"You forgot to tell him his sister was engaged." I said as we entered the hotel.

"Since the ring is concealed on a chain, I thought perhaps the news might not be public knowledge yet."

It was refreshing, I think, for Holmes to be met with disbelief for once rather than awe or fear. Fame was often as much as a hindrance as it was a help.

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Fin. For now.

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? Complaints? Review!

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