Twisting Time
Chapter Five
March 1888 London, England Russell's POV
I was dreaming.
I was walking along reading a book when I had run into the great detective. My mind smiled at the found memory of meeting my future husband. We scolded each other a few moments, as we had done when we first meet. Suddenly the dream changed. The memory was not the same anymore. The sky above darkened and the wind temperature dropped. The shimmering sun disappeared behind large clouds. In the dream, Holmes and myself continued talking, not noticing the change around us. Then, I pulled off my cap to release my strawberry blond hair, showing the great detective something he had not foreseen. At that moment, the clouds tucked back to where they had been previously and the sun shone bright again.
I jolted awake, seeing two gray eyes starring back at me.
***
"What-!" I cried out shortly, recognizing Holmes. I bolted straight up, bruising my shoulder a bit against the hard edge of the coach.
Holmes had appeared startled when I first awoke, but he now seemed at ease in the situation. Backing away a few steps he leaned against the wall.
"Mrs. Russell, or should I say Mrs. Lowell or should I say Mrs. Mycroft?" he began. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I had no idea how long it had been since he had last seen me. As long as it takes to install a bolthole, my mind fed back to me warily. My head suddenly began to ache slightly and my eyes began to grow dry.
"Mr. Holmes," I replied, leaning against the coach slightly, removing a few strands of hair from my face. "So good to see you."
"Indeed? It has been a while has it not?" he said, probing for information. I knew that he immediately recognized the maid's attire he had lent me previously.
"Yes it has," I spoke shortly, not divulging anything, as I knew nothing. My head continued to pound softly.
"Care to explain yourself?" he asked.
"I have nothing to explain!" I protested quickly without thinking.
"No? Then why pray tell are you here, on my property of all places, in my clothing?!" he asked, his voice raising.
I thought briefly then answered. "Here? Your property? Does the department store or building management know of this?" I asked, though I was treading into unused path. I had never asked nor never known how Holmes had gotten his boltholes. Now appeared to be the time to find out.
He blinked once, and then continued, ignoring my counteraction. "Very well, as to my clothes?"
"If you were to take that matter up with the police, I'm sure Scotland Yard would find it very amusing. Especially Lestrade?"
At this he flushed slightly and ran his hand through his hair unconsciously. "Mrs. Russell, I must know, how, -" he stopped starring down upon the floor. "How is it possible for you to have so eluded me and now appear here, just as you were before?"
"Many things are possible Holmes," I said, realizing afterward I had slipped to calling him Holmes, instead of the formal title I should have. He noted this right away.
Sensing my vulnerability in the situation, or perhaps taking a leap of faith-something which I doubted knowing Holmes, he came from his point near the wall and sat beside me on the coach.
"After you left, after deliberately taking two false identities, perhaps three as I have a notion that Mrs. Russell is close to being your real name..."at this he trailed off only to begin anew. "Hari, that would be Murry's friend, whom if you may recall, were both visiting Dr. Watson and brought you to us," here he stopped again out of breath, "Hari, drew a picture of you. Apparently, he is quite the artist. You look the same in that picture as you do now."
I shuddered a moment, realizing how this entire situation must seem like to him.
"I do not believe in the supernatural, but I believe something to be afoot."
"You do?" I asked, my eyes itched and were dry beyond belief. Perhaps there was something in this room, which was bothering me. I blinked rapidly, hoping I did so discreetly.
"Yes, I do." At this he looked strait at me. "And I believe that you must explain it to me. As your physical being may be at stake."
"At stake?" I questioned.
"The doctor told me of his examination of you upon your consciousness and earlier while you were unconscious. The odd markings upon your,..." he hesitated, "yourself," at this he blushed slightly, ever the Victorian gentleman.
"Odd markings?" In time changing and happenings I had forgotten about the so-called bruises on me. The markings, as Uncle John-no Dr. Watson in this time, I hastily reminded myself-didn't hurt, nor did I even remember attaining them.
"Yes, don't you know?"
"Of course I know," I replied somewhat angrily. I was suddenly very angry at the entire situation. Normally I would attempt to be calm, to be in control of the situation. However at the moment I suddenly wanted to act the distressed maiden and collapse into tears.
Holmes must have seen this for one look at my face he disregarded courteous Victorian behavior and took me in his arms. His arms held me close and we were soon in a deep hug.
I hung my head on his shoulder softly and then a moment later realized what he had done. So did he, for he pushed me away and stood, as though electrified.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Russell, your husband! Your honor, I had no right, please if you can forgive what I have done," he begged quickly.
All that I could think as he said this was that my husband would not mind in the slightest.
Holmes' POV:
What had I done? Disregarding a married woman's honor! A woman! I had embraced a woman! Women were sly, cunning and not to be trusted on the whole, as they were either too smart or not at all smart. I hung my head after I had asked for her forgiveness. The entire situation was perplexing and my mind dashed frantically between thoughts and pale reasonings.
Mrs. Russell looked up at me from the coach silently, not moving save to blink. Then to my utter surprise she stood and faced me wholly.
"Holmes, I don't know what to tell you," she said. This woman, I knew and had previously gathered was a creature of intelligence. Writing Hebrew and speaking Arabic among other things were not tasks to be done by every person, especially a woman.
"Tell me everything," I knew that I had to know what was truly going on. "But not here, as I said before, I think this case or situation may be affecting your health and you should be comfortable. Baker Street should do the trick. I'm sure the doctor will be glad to see you."
And so after a brief second, we left the bolthole to return to Baker Street. And I completely forgot Irene Adler, not to mention the King.
Dr. Watson's POV 221 B. Baker Street
I sat in a chair near the unlit fire, reading the paper slowly. News of Holmes solving his latest case was still in the paper. Recalling the last case I thought back to one before that, the Handless Murders...a series of murders that had never been solved, though through no fault of Holmes'. There was simply nothing to go on and parliament, even his brother, as I was to find, deliberately held him back.
Then had come Mrs. Mary Russell. Holmes had spent a great deal of time on her, I recalled. At times I thought he still thought about her. I myself would sometimes recall the mysterious bruises upon her and other affects I had noted. After her disappearance Hari had drawn a portrait from memory. Holmes had looked upon it during the case. Later, after awhile, I had caught him glancing at it now and again. Upon seeing my glance, he would reply that a case was never complete unless it was solved. Holmes now was involved with the king of Bohemia and the case of Irene Adler; something, which I thought, would prove interesting.
The door to our flat opened abruptly and I did not turn, as I knew it to be Holmes. My companion could only have caused the long strides and turn of the doorknob. What I did not expect though, was someone with Holmes.
"Watson, get up old man, we have a guest!" Shouted Holmes. Immediately I knew something was up. His voice had a particular tone to it---I turned and saw why, Mrs. Mary Russell. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Holmes standing behind with not quite a grin upon his face. It was not the placid smile he sometimes, but rarely, gave out to clients, nor was it a hearty glowing one. No, the twitch in his lip was one of merriment...or so I lead myself to believe. Holmes had not "smiled" in such a way while I had known him. At the time I did not know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Hesitating a moment, I stood placing my paper in the fireplace accidentally. Ignoring this I stood to greet her. "Good afternoon." I said. "Pleasure to see you again." Seeing Holmes' look, which consisted of a raised eyebrow and a gesture to leave I then said, "I must be going," though suddenly I wanted to stay very much. What on earth did Holmes have in mind? "I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring up some tea shortly," I carefully added, enlisting Mrs. Hudson to find out what they would be speaking about was something I had long thought about doing if a particular client came along. No doubt Holmes knew. Not that I wanted to eavesdrop or dare say perform a spoof of espionage...at this though my line of reasoning declined and I shrugged off the slight feeling of guilt. This was the woman! The woman who had disappeared! Holmes's small grin tugged at my mind.
Author's note: My, it has been awhile hasn't it? Thank you for all the reviewers, especially Lapin de la Flouve and "friend" who left me a note at my "doorstop" so to speak. ( No, Mt. Everest does not hold any particular appeal to me nor does a submarine.
All righty then,...I have a few ideas, actually too many. So, how about some help from my toughest critics (besides myself) the readers! What do you want to happen next?
March 1888 London, England Russell's POV
I was dreaming.
I was walking along reading a book when I had run into the great detective. My mind smiled at the found memory of meeting my future husband. We scolded each other a few moments, as we had done when we first meet. Suddenly the dream changed. The memory was not the same anymore. The sky above darkened and the wind temperature dropped. The shimmering sun disappeared behind large clouds. In the dream, Holmes and myself continued talking, not noticing the change around us. Then, I pulled off my cap to release my strawberry blond hair, showing the great detective something he had not foreseen. At that moment, the clouds tucked back to where they had been previously and the sun shone bright again.
I jolted awake, seeing two gray eyes starring back at me.
***
"What-!" I cried out shortly, recognizing Holmes. I bolted straight up, bruising my shoulder a bit against the hard edge of the coach.
Holmes had appeared startled when I first awoke, but he now seemed at ease in the situation. Backing away a few steps he leaned against the wall.
"Mrs. Russell, or should I say Mrs. Lowell or should I say Mrs. Mycroft?" he began. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I had no idea how long it had been since he had last seen me. As long as it takes to install a bolthole, my mind fed back to me warily. My head suddenly began to ache slightly and my eyes began to grow dry.
"Mr. Holmes," I replied, leaning against the coach slightly, removing a few strands of hair from my face. "So good to see you."
"Indeed? It has been a while has it not?" he said, probing for information. I knew that he immediately recognized the maid's attire he had lent me previously.
"Yes it has," I spoke shortly, not divulging anything, as I knew nothing. My head continued to pound softly.
"Care to explain yourself?" he asked.
"I have nothing to explain!" I protested quickly without thinking.
"No? Then why pray tell are you here, on my property of all places, in my clothing?!" he asked, his voice raising.
I thought briefly then answered. "Here? Your property? Does the department store or building management know of this?" I asked, though I was treading into unused path. I had never asked nor never known how Holmes had gotten his boltholes. Now appeared to be the time to find out.
He blinked once, and then continued, ignoring my counteraction. "Very well, as to my clothes?"
"If you were to take that matter up with the police, I'm sure Scotland Yard would find it very amusing. Especially Lestrade?"
At this he flushed slightly and ran his hand through his hair unconsciously. "Mrs. Russell, I must know, how, -" he stopped starring down upon the floor. "How is it possible for you to have so eluded me and now appear here, just as you were before?"
"Many things are possible Holmes," I said, realizing afterward I had slipped to calling him Holmes, instead of the formal title I should have. He noted this right away.
Sensing my vulnerability in the situation, or perhaps taking a leap of faith-something which I doubted knowing Holmes, he came from his point near the wall and sat beside me on the coach.
"After you left, after deliberately taking two false identities, perhaps three as I have a notion that Mrs. Russell is close to being your real name..."at this he trailed off only to begin anew. "Hari, that would be Murry's friend, whom if you may recall, were both visiting Dr. Watson and brought you to us," here he stopped again out of breath, "Hari, drew a picture of you. Apparently, he is quite the artist. You look the same in that picture as you do now."
I shuddered a moment, realizing how this entire situation must seem like to him.
"I do not believe in the supernatural, but I believe something to be afoot."
"You do?" I asked, my eyes itched and were dry beyond belief. Perhaps there was something in this room, which was bothering me. I blinked rapidly, hoping I did so discreetly.
"Yes, I do." At this he looked strait at me. "And I believe that you must explain it to me. As your physical being may be at stake."
"At stake?" I questioned.
"The doctor told me of his examination of you upon your consciousness and earlier while you were unconscious. The odd markings upon your,..." he hesitated, "yourself," at this he blushed slightly, ever the Victorian gentleman.
"Odd markings?" In time changing and happenings I had forgotten about the so-called bruises on me. The markings, as Uncle John-no Dr. Watson in this time, I hastily reminded myself-didn't hurt, nor did I even remember attaining them.
"Yes, don't you know?"
"Of course I know," I replied somewhat angrily. I was suddenly very angry at the entire situation. Normally I would attempt to be calm, to be in control of the situation. However at the moment I suddenly wanted to act the distressed maiden and collapse into tears.
Holmes must have seen this for one look at my face he disregarded courteous Victorian behavior and took me in his arms. His arms held me close and we were soon in a deep hug.
I hung my head on his shoulder softly and then a moment later realized what he had done. So did he, for he pushed me away and stood, as though electrified.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Russell, your husband! Your honor, I had no right, please if you can forgive what I have done," he begged quickly.
All that I could think as he said this was that my husband would not mind in the slightest.
Holmes' POV:
What had I done? Disregarding a married woman's honor! A woman! I had embraced a woman! Women were sly, cunning and not to be trusted on the whole, as they were either too smart or not at all smart. I hung my head after I had asked for her forgiveness. The entire situation was perplexing and my mind dashed frantically between thoughts and pale reasonings.
Mrs. Russell looked up at me from the coach silently, not moving save to blink. Then to my utter surprise she stood and faced me wholly.
"Holmes, I don't know what to tell you," she said. This woman, I knew and had previously gathered was a creature of intelligence. Writing Hebrew and speaking Arabic among other things were not tasks to be done by every person, especially a woman.
"Tell me everything," I knew that I had to know what was truly going on. "But not here, as I said before, I think this case or situation may be affecting your health and you should be comfortable. Baker Street should do the trick. I'm sure the doctor will be glad to see you."
And so after a brief second, we left the bolthole to return to Baker Street. And I completely forgot Irene Adler, not to mention the King.
Dr. Watson's POV 221 B. Baker Street
I sat in a chair near the unlit fire, reading the paper slowly. News of Holmes solving his latest case was still in the paper. Recalling the last case I thought back to one before that, the Handless Murders...a series of murders that had never been solved, though through no fault of Holmes'. There was simply nothing to go on and parliament, even his brother, as I was to find, deliberately held him back.
Then had come Mrs. Mary Russell. Holmes had spent a great deal of time on her, I recalled. At times I thought he still thought about her. I myself would sometimes recall the mysterious bruises upon her and other affects I had noted. After her disappearance Hari had drawn a portrait from memory. Holmes had looked upon it during the case. Later, after awhile, I had caught him glancing at it now and again. Upon seeing my glance, he would reply that a case was never complete unless it was solved. Holmes now was involved with the king of Bohemia and the case of Irene Adler; something, which I thought, would prove interesting.
The door to our flat opened abruptly and I did not turn, as I knew it to be Holmes. My companion could only have caused the long strides and turn of the doorknob. What I did not expect though, was someone with Holmes.
"Watson, get up old man, we have a guest!" Shouted Holmes. Immediately I knew something was up. His voice had a particular tone to it---I turned and saw why, Mrs. Mary Russell. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Holmes standing behind with not quite a grin upon his face. It was not the placid smile he sometimes, but rarely, gave out to clients, nor was it a hearty glowing one. No, the twitch in his lip was one of merriment...or so I lead myself to believe. Holmes had not "smiled" in such a way while I had known him. At the time I did not know whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Hesitating a moment, I stood placing my paper in the fireplace accidentally. Ignoring this I stood to greet her. "Good afternoon." I said. "Pleasure to see you again." Seeing Holmes' look, which consisted of a raised eyebrow and a gesture to leave I then said, "I must be going," though suddenly I wanted to stay very much. What on earth did Holmes have in mind? "I'll have Mrs. Hudson bring up some tea shortly," I carefully added, enlisting Mrs. Hudson to find out what they would be speaking about was something I had long thought about doing if a particular client came along. No doubt Holmes knew. Not that I wanted to eavesdrop or dare say perform a spoof of espionage...at this though my line of reasoning declined and I shrugged off the slight feeling of guilt. This was the woman! The woman who had disappeared! Holmes's small grin tugged at my mind.
Author's note: My, it has been awhile hasn't it? Thank you for all the reviewers, especially Lapin de la Flouve and "friend" who left me a note at my "doorstop" so to speak. ( No, Mt. Everest does not hold any particular appeal to me nor does a submarine.
All righty then,...I have a few ideas, actually too many. So, how about some help from my toughest critics (besides myself) the readers! What do you want to happen next?