Chapter Twenty Nine: Nightmares
"You look exhausted," he muttered quietly. "Didn't you get any sleep last night?'
I stifled a yawn and shook my head. "It's no use to lie to you. To be honest, I didn't really sleep last night."
"Why, what was troubling you?"
What Watson told me about you Holmes, what happened to you when you were a kid. The rage which clawed at me. Not to mention the nightmares of the two amber eyes.
"I just couldn't get comfortable," I said fighting back another yawn. The train pulled out of the station and the gentle clack-clack-clack of the train against the tracks was hypnotic and enough to loll me into a restful state of mind.
"Then I suggest you get some rest. We have a long night ahead of us," he said taking his pipe out of his pocket and filling it with tobacco.
"That's a good idea," I replied. In effort to find a comfortable sleeping position, I leaned against the detective.
He gasped and tensed. "W…what are you doing?"
"Relax Holmes," I murmured, closing my eyes. "I'm just trying to get comfortable."
"Yes but…"
"But nothing," I said with a small smile. Sleep was already weighing down my eyelids.
He grumbled some unintelligible response but I couldn't make it out because I was already falling victim to the soothing sounds of the train.
"Night Holmes," I mumbled closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of shag tobacco and sandalwood aftershave. That in conjunction with the hypnotic rhythm of the train was enough to lull me into a peaceful slumber.
I was awakened sometime later by what I thought was a muted cry. Not sure if the sound was real or imagined, I slowly opened my eyes to find Becky out cold on one side of the compartment and Watson groggily making himself more comfortable on the other.
"Father no!"
I glanced up at the detective who had just muttered and saw his eyes closed, but his pale face was contorted with fear. Dried tearstains were on his cheeks and he was thrashing about.
"No! Please, don't! No!" More whimpers of fear escaped his lips and his thrashing grew worse.
I quickly realized he was experiencing some kind of nightmare. My heart cleaved in two as I watched his agony and I knew I had to do something to calm him.
I carefully got up and knelt on the floor next to him. "Holmes, Holmes my friend, please wake up!"
His thrashing grew worse and his whimpers of fear grew louder. "Father, stop! Please! No!"
I brushed strands of raven hair off his forehead and gently rubbed his tense shoulders. I hated to see him in such agony. "It's all right Holmes," I crooned softly. "It's all right; it's just a dream Holmes. Please wake up." I shook him very gently, in attempt to wake him. "Holmes, my friend, please wake up." I couldn't bear to see him in any more pain, whether real or imagined. Once again I felt rage build up inside me, rage against his father who haunted him still.
"Holmes," I whispered gently and shook his shoulder. "Come on Holmes, please wake up."
He thrashed once again and his eyes flew open. He grabbed my shoulders and looked wildly into my face, although not registering what he was seeing. "Stay away from me! Don't hurt me again!" He shrieked in fear. His fingers dug painfully into my shoulders and I winced against the pressure.
I was beginning to panic and I did the only thing I could think of. I slapped him hard across the face. "Holmes, stop! It's me, Mackenzie."
He blinked his eyes and looked around, as though in a fog. His grey eyes were filled with fear and terror as they focused on my face.
"It's all right Holmes," I said rubbing his arm in a soothing fashion. "You were having a nightmare. You're safe now, you're safe."
He blinked once as the meaning of my words registered in his sleep-clouded mind. "Mackenzie?" He asked uncertainly. His voice was gravely from sleep and his hair was tousled.
I nodded. "You're safe now."
He blinked again and glanced around the cabin. I could tell he was still tired. "What happened?"
"You were having a nightmare," I said softly. I heard his whimpers of fear in my mind and my heart wrenched. Trying to comfort both of us, I climbed back on the chair and threw my arms around the detective. I hugged him tightly, despite his attempts to free himself from me. "I hated to see you so scared. What happened Holmes? Can you tell me what the dream was about?"
I felt him shake his head, but he hesitated long enough for me to realize he knew what he was dreaming about. I felt his arms go around me and his body trembled with fear. I held him tighter. "I'm here Holmes. I won't let anything hurt you again." I settled against him and this time he didn't protest. "You can sleep easy now."
His next words were almost inaudible and they were filled with a kind of insecurity that I never associated with the great detective. "Will you stay? Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
I looked up into his face and saw it creased with lines of agony. "Of course Holmes," I whispered softly. "I will stay as long as you wish me to."
He squeezed my shoulder gently and then murmured something. Several minutes later, his breathing evened out and I knew he once again fell a victim to the arms of Morpheous.
I closed my eyes and listened to him breathe. I wondered what terrors assaulted his mind, what horrors he kept locked in his memory. I wished to God I could do something to ease his inner turmoil, to make him feel safe and secure. I kept my arms wrapped around his slender body, my head leaning against his chest and I allowed the gentle lub-dub of his heart lull me into a semi-state of sleep.
"Mackenzie," a voice whispered, bringing me back to wakefulness. I felt a hand cover my mouth and immediately I tensed.
My eyes sprang open and I saw Watson standing over me, his palm covering my mouth so I couldn't cry out or make a sound. With his free hand he pointed upward and I followed his finger. Much to my surprise, Holmes's head was leaning on top of mine, a peaceful expression on his features. His arms were still wrapped around me, but he seemed to have changed position for I was leaning closer against him.
I looked at Watson and he smiled a genuine smile. "I don't know how you did it," he whispered.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. What was he talking about?
He must've seen my expression because he smiled again. "After his nightmare, I don't know how you managed to sooth him back to sleep. Normally, the only thing that can relax him after one of those is cocaine. You were so gentle, so soothing."
I once again looked up at the detective and noted the peaceful expression on his face and the slight smile that played along his lips. "I don't know what I did," I admitted quietly against his palm. "I just did what my Mom use to do whenever I had a bad dream." Memories of my mom soothing me back to sleep after a nightmare assaulted my mind, brining a nostalgic feeling of sadness over me.
Watson removed his hand from my mouth and rubbed the top of my hand with this thumb. "You have a gift of giving him solace."
I said nothing, unsure what to make of Watson's words.
"I hate to wake him because he looks so peaceful."
"Do we have to? Can't we just let him sleep?" I said, selfishly not wanting to leave the warm
cocoon of Sherlock Holmes's arms.
The good doctor shook his head. "We're almost at our stop."
I yawned and nodded. "I'll wake him," I said softly. I motioned toward Becky. "You can rouse her; it'll be a much more difficult task."
Watson nodded and sat next to Becky on the chair. He very gently shook her shoulder. "Mademoiselle," he said softly.
I looked back up at Holmes, wanting to savor the moment as long as possible. I tried to embed the picture of his peaceful face, the tousled raven colored hair falling into his face, giving him an innocent, almost boyish appearance, the languid dreamy eyes and the slight cherubic smile that played along his mouth, in my memory forever.
Very gently, I wriggled my arm from behind his back and I once again brushed his hair from his face. I gently shook his shoulder, although I desired to rouse him another way. "Wake up sleepyhead. We're almost there."
Groggily, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was, undoubtedly surprised to find himself in such a compromising position. "Mackenzie, what the devil?"
"Good morning to you too Holmes," I said, glad to find my voice was of normal tone.
He looked down at our bodies which were still entwined and he blushed furiously. "I…I'm…"
"Oh shut up," I said with a smile. "There's no need to apologize. I'm as guilty as you are. Did you sleep well?"
He cleared his throat and looked down at me, an uncomfortable smile playing along his lips. "Quite well, thank you."
Realizing he wanted to stretch, I slid to the other end of the bench seat and watched the detective with rapt attention. He stretched his arms and his neck which protested the movement and cracked loudly. He did not regard either Watson or Becky. His grey eyes met mine and they were filled with puzzlement.
"Mackenzie?"
"Yeah Holmes?"
"I'm curious," he said yawing in spite of himself, "I remember a troubled sleep and then you waking me. Did you or did I simply dream it?"
Most people would have answered immediately, yeah I woke you. However I could not find an answer that would satisfy his question. If I admitted to rousing him, I would have to tell him that he was in the throes of a horrible nightmare and I would have to explain that I soothed him back to sleep. That would have shown weakness in him, something he was not keen on expressing.
I could have lied to him, but I was such a bad liar he would have seen right through my charade. Not knowing what else to do, I stole a glance in Watson's direction. He caught my eye and seemed to understand my plight.
"You dreamt it old boy," the doctor said with a very convincing smile. "If anyone would know, I would. You know I am a very light sleeper."
Holmes nodded and seemed satisfied with his friend's answer. "Thank you Watson," he said smiling slightly. He nodded a greeting to my friend Becky, who was eyeing me curiously.
Damnit! She saw, she saw me in his arms; saw the stupid smile on my face. This is gonna be fun to explain.
I cast my eyes downward and then focused my attention to the world outside the train carriage. I didn't want to meet Becky's eyes, didn't want to see her sarcastic smile.
Much to my surprise, the scenery changed quite a bit from when the train had first left Paris. Gone were the tall buildings and the overcrowded streets. They were replaced by a spattering of ancient-looking dwellings snugly placed in valleys between the soft rolling hills. A faint dusting of snow was beginning to fall, dusting everything white, and turning the landscape into a serene image that seemed to belong on a Christmas card. Within a few hours, the snow would turn the sleepy little villages into winter wonderlands, utopias for children.
Dusk was also falling, the dark clouds of the storm blotting out the daylight and turning the warm cozy atmosphere into one of desolation. Even as I gazed out at the setting from the carriage of a train, surrounded by close friends, a feeling of isolation settled in my bones. Each house spaced far from one another, giving an almost ominous feeling to the otherwise quaint, picturesque scenery.
Mackenzie, morbidness is once again settling over you! Snap out of it Kid!
I was right and I knew it. My mind was once again turning itself into a nightmare making machine, bringing out the worst qualities in everything. The memories of Holmes's nightmare and the utter fear on his face did little to improve my spirits.
"Whatcha thinkin' about Mac?" Becky asked, interrupting my morose thoughts.
I looked up at her and noted concern on her features. "Nothing," I replied quickly.
"You only brood like that when something is bothering you," she replied matter-of-factly. "You have that frown on your face and your eyebrows are furrowed. Your eyes also have that far-off look which means you are deep in thought. I've known you long enough to know all your quirks and eccentricities. Now what's on your mind?"
I chuckled in spite of myself. "Can't hide anything from you Beck," I said with sisterly affection. "You're much too observant. But don't worry yourself; I'm not brooding over much of anything. Just letting my thoughts wander."
"Don't let them wander too much," Holmes said, interrupting my conversation with Becky. "We're here."
