Wow! Two chapters in one week! That's awesome! I can't remember the last time I had this much inspiration! Like, holy guacamole, where'd all that come from?!
So I have to apologize that things aren't as action-packed as they would normally be in a Sherlock Holmes fanfiction, I have no excuse for my lack of creativity when it comes to making up crimes; whenever I try, they sound ridiculously cheesy! Haha!
On the bright side, I want to thank every one of you who has come here to read my story, out of all the ones out there, and who left such kind and thoughtful reviews. To know that people actually enjoy my work is extremely gratifying.
*Reviews: Thank you Sam Fraser for the great suggestions for my Adlock story! Your help has been a lifesaver for me! And please, feel free to get in touch with me via PMs, my Instagram fandom_imagines_for_you, or my email address: theaspiringscreenwriter78 . I will create a Google Doc of the story so we can truly get it started and set in motion!
I think we need to have a chapter told from Sherlock's point of view, what do you think? Therefore, I must beg for your forgiveness if anything sounds out of character.
"Are you absolutely sure we remembered everything?" Charlotte asked, checking our bags for the third time. There was an amusing story involving the morning prior to getting here. We had to make it at exactly 11:04, but unfortunately, we had slept in an hour late and therefore, packing and getting ready to go was done in such a rush with only an hour to make sure to bring everything that we would need for a whole week in an Alpine cabin. Not that we brought a lot with us to begin with, although we wanted to remember our warm clothes and my disguises.
"I'm positive, love," I said. "And if we did forget something, it's too late to turn back now, unless you want to wait for the next train out of Reichenbach."
"No, thank you. It was hard enough to hike from France to Germany, I don't want to do that again and we have been waiting to come here long enough."
"I thought there was no honor in turning away from adventure," I reminded her, "and when you're a detective's assistant, sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zones." A positively evil idea came into my mind and I bit my lip to keep from laughing outright. "Oh, no. We need to go back, I've forgotten my violin!"
"You forgot what?!"
"My violin," I said, turning away from her. "I must have left it back at the hotel in our rush to leave."
"Alright," she said, almost in a panicked tone, "we will wait until we get to our destination and then as soon as the next train comes, we'll go back for it."
"You would do that?"
"I would do it in a heartbeat; I know how much it means to you," she smiled. "You would do the same for me if I left behind something precious."
"Of course I would." At that moment, I felt guilty for playing a prank on her; Charlotte was not only beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she was kind, caring, sensitive and the most tender-hearted person I'd ever known.
She sat down and I couldn't stop the impish grin from coming out onto my face. "Luckily, I've had it this whole time; I would never part with it." I held the case up as evidence. Her expression was absolutely priceless and I wished there was a way to capture the way that she looked so I could remind her of it later. "I was hoping I could play it for you while we were there."
"I'm looking forward to that, and I crave that fresh mountain air." She relaxed once she was absolutely sure that we had everything. "So, who is your alter ego this time?"
"I'm still sticking with Florian Amsel," I said. Last night on the train, we went over a bunch of different names; some of them were absurd and didn't sound anything appealing. Finally, after bouncing back and forth between names, I blurted out the most random one I could come up with, which was Florian Amsel. I read the name on a piece of paper, or was it someone I'd known long ago? I couldn't quite remember why the name seemed so familiar. Either way, I liked the sound of it and when I said it, it rolled right off the tongue. "Feel free to use that name for one of your books when I'm done with it."
The last time we had been here was a wild one so I couldn't really relax and enjoy myself, but the thoughts left my mind almost as soon as they appeared because at least this time we weren't chasing down a criminal.
Not yet, anyway, I reminded myself, after all, life could change when you least expected it. Sometimes I could still hear his voice, mocking me, taunting me and threatening death upon me and the people I cared about. I thought I saw his face in the crowd, and I immediately, I turned my head the other way so that I could focus on Charlotte, who was in awe of everything around her. I felt a strong inclination to bring her as close to me as I could; I wrapped my arm around her.
So here I sat at a curb, where we watched as people crossed the street dressed in coats and hats trimmed with costly furs and lace dresses, with my nails digging into my palms and my heart up inside my throat. I was so sure before I came here, before I even got on the train. I thought of everything, every scenario, every reaction, if you'd asked me twelve hours ago, if I was anxious about coming back here after that fateful night, I would have said no. I would have said that I had completely recovered, but if you could see me right now, you would think otherwise.
I couldn't speak, the lump in my throat stopped the sound before it got to my mouth and moments whipped past me like wind. Maybe if I took a deep breath, or once I got outside, I would feel better. I swallowed the lump down, hoping that I would be able to talk, maybe if I let my shoulders fall it would inspire the rest of my body to stop tensing, maybe if I hummed for a few seconds it wouldn't look like I was so scared, it was definitely harder than I thought it would be.
As much as I tried to hide it, I must have looked as afraid as I felt because Charlotte was glancing at me nervously.
"Just a little further," I smiled, making my voice sound as cheerful as possible, as we all must do when a pained expression must be masked. But it must have sounded forced because her expression didn't change, she still looked anxious for me, or was she remembering her own experiences? I remembered what I did to her, the look on her face as I fell from the balcony would forever haunt me. Never in my life did I feel so helpless; I never wanted to hurt her, I wanted to protect her from people like Moriarty, who would use her and John to get to me, just like he used Irene.
Guilt and regret still filled my mind, knowing that I could have saved her and I remembered the anger I felt when I discovered that she'd died and it was too late. Seeing her in the hotel in France felt like a dream or even a hallucination. Even though she told me how she'd managed to outsmart him, that is why I refused to form attachments with anyone. I couldn't risk them getting hurt. But no matter how hard I'd tried to protect them, John had been hurt before, so had Mrs Hudson.
I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and this time, I didn't hide them away. I had a lot of built-up emotions stored away somewhere in the back of my mind and from what I remembered Watson telling me, it wasn't healthy for me to hide it all away and pretend that nothing was wrong. I would never have cried in front of anyone else, not even him, but I trusted Charlotte and so I let it out, hoping my voice will come back if I give it a few seconds. I swallow and breathe in, and manage somehow to say, "Don't ever leave my side."
"I'm here," she whispered in her sweet, angelic voice, looking straight into my eyes and bringing her lips to mine briefly. They were slightly cracked from the winter, and I was pleasantly surprised at how soft they still felt as they moved to brush the tears away. "And I'm not going anywhere."
"Neither am I," I assured her and I could feel my shoulders drop and my muscles relax and continued to enjoy the rest of the ride. "I love the way the city looks right now. Perhaps tomorrow we can go sightseeing."
"I'd love that," she replied, cheering up and I think she was relieved seeing my sudden change of personality. She straightened her back and from the window, we could see the endless rows of trees and woodland, hills, streams and valleys that made Switzerland such a scenic place; and as soon as I spotted the Alps and a sense of adventure took hold of me.
The driver and Charlotte exchanged a few more comments, mostly involving the weather and how the temperature had been colder compared to last year. I watched her eyes light up as she took everything in, moving her hands animatedly as she spoke to him, and I couldn't hide my own amazement. It was like a scene out of the postcards my father used to collect, or a painting I'd once seen a street painter create, but it was different seeing it up close.
"Here we are," the driver smiled, but I could tell he had caught himself a dreadful cold. I thanked him, not forgetting to put on my best Swiss accent and giving him a generous tip. One of the perks about being undercover, was that I could create these characters and become completely immersed in them, it was fun. I was still keeping the same look that I wore in France because I liked the smooth hair and the fake spectacles.
There was snow on the trees and icicles hanging off the roof. This was the kind of winter that I liked the best. We had to be careful when we stepped onto the ground, since it was a little bit icy and there was a chance that we both could fall. But luckily we had good balance and got out without any trouble. The driver handed us our bags and we slowly walked up the steps. We both take a deep breath at the same time as swiftly, and effortlessly, I unlocked the massive front door and heard it creak as I opened it but just as Charlotte was about to enter, I dropped the luggage bags in my hands and lifted her up off the floor. She gasped, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Isn't it a tradition for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold?" I asked, feeling much better than I did before and she giggled I carried her inside and then set her down again onto the hardwood floor so that I could shut the door to prevent the winter chill from entering the house.
"Would you look at the view!" she gasped, running over to the window and placing her hands on the glass. "It's more beautiful than I remembered."
"It is, but not as beautiful as you are." I said, and it was true. She hadn't changed a bit since the first time I laid eyes on her in the men's club. I was even more intrigued by her while she used her finger to wipe away the moisture, making little shapes and laughing at herself when she finished drawing the two of us as stick figures, then drew a heart with our initials inside of it. A trained artist would immediately notice that one side was bigger than the other, but it looked perfect to me, just like she did.
On the first level alone, there were six bedrooms, including the master, there were also two bathrooms, a sitting-room and a library. I was thankful that we only brought a few clothes, some blankets, and one book along so we didn't have too much to carry and we wouldn't have too much to unpack.
We stopped at an East Wing bedroom that faced the woods in the backyard and stepped inside. The room was bigger than I remembered it to be, but not humongous, with two beds, two desks, and a large square window. I set my bags down one of the beds and began to unpack my things. My favourite white shirt and a change of clothes were neatly folded and put away on my side of the dresser. Then I put my book underneath the lamp on the side table. The wooden floors, the light brown walls, and the silk curtains around the window - it all brought back memories, both good and bad.
"It's perfect," Charlotte sighed, pleased. "I saw the kitchen and it's perfect, too. I will make us some supper tonight?"
"No, I shall cook for you." She seemed surprised when I said this, like I had something on my face and I shrugged. "What? You don't believe I can cook? I will have you know that not all of us believe in the 'only women should cook' taboo. And not to brag, but I am really good at it. And if it turns out to be a disaster, we can take a carriage into town."
"Alright," she said, turning to the window, drawing shapes on it. Sometimes she embraced her childish side, and so did I.
"How does a warm bath sound? You can go first. Or if you'd like I could join you," I said smirking a bit and Charlotte looked up at me as she let her hair down. I had to admit that it did look nicer cut a little shorter, and it was softer after we brushed all of the knots out of it.
"I'll go first," she said, giggling as she dressed down into her petticoat. "Besides, I tend to sing in the bath a lot, and I don't want to annoy you with my hideous voice." I knew that she was a little self-conscious of her voice, which was why she preferred to sing when no one else was around. But I didn't see any reason why. What she didn't know, was that I had heard her sing countless times before.
"Hideous? Darling, I think you have a beautiful voice; and singing in the bath it's nothing to be ashamed of." I walked over to her, placing my hands gently on her hips and kissing the birthmark on her shoulder, "and nothing you do could possibly annoy me." I watched her pupils dilate and could feel her trembling against me.
"That's a relief," she whispered and I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed her palm before bringing it to my face.
"At least let me prepare the water for you," I implored her, giving her the sweetest face I could muster and as always, she gave in and I followed her gorgeous figure down the hallway and into the large room where the tub was waiting for her. It was only big enough to fit one of us, lined with a small rack to hang her clothes and a towel on while she bathed and just enough room to stretch her arms out in front of her.
I shut the door silently so it barely clicked and then stepped over to the tap and I was lightly startled by the rush of water, and when everything was ready, I stood up again and sighed, reluctantly. As tempting as it would be to relax in a tub of hot water with my wife, I was first and foremost a gentleman, therefore, I left her alone to undress and clean herself up. And then she burst into song and I lingered in the hall for a moment, before I retrieved my violin from its case, playing along with her, and tuning out the rest of the world.
Feeling exhausted after a long day of travel and once we both smelled like the fermented soap on the shelves, and ate the lovely meal I worked tirelessly to prepare, with a little help from a cookbook I found in one of the cupboards above the kitchen sink, I noticed Charlotte laying down on the soft bed, looking up at the ceiling. I smiled and slowly climbed up onto the bed beside her, and then laid my head on her chest, letting her play with my hair. I knew it was something that calmed her down and quite honestly it was relaxing for me, too. I felt myself relaxing under her gentle touch.
"It's like having a big lap dog," I heard her say. "I've always wanted one."
"You know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea," I said, perking up slightly. For some reason I immediately thought of Gladstone and it made me like the idea of having a dog of my own, because according to Watson, it was his dog since he's the one who paid for him and who took the most responsibility in caring for him. But at the time, we were both staying at Baker Street, so he was technically our dog.
The thing about dogs that seemed to amaze me, was how they never judged you for your mistakes. Despite me using him as my Guinea pig, he never resented me, or was reserved around me, he always found a way to make me smile after a rough day, whether it was running around trying to chase his own stubby tail, or how he scratched his back against the carpet at Baker Street, or how he always waited at the door for Watson to come back from work. He was the kind of friend that I could rely on and who would make an exceptional guardian for Rosie once she grew up. He was an old boy now and I couldn't stand the pain that would hit once he could no longer be with us.
But I didn't want to think about that, not while I was supposed to be enjoying some quality time with the woman I loved more than life itself. In need of a little cheering up at the idea of missing him, I lifted my head up a little and rubbed it against my wife's collarbone and chest. I wrapped my arms around her middle so she couldn't escape, smiling to myself when I heard her laugh; that was one of the things I loved about her; the sound of her laughter could put me at ease better than any medication ever could. She moved my hands to gently push me away, but I wouldn't budge. I needed to hear that laugh again and again.
"The day before the ball, when I was injured and ill," I whispered, finally relenting and allowing Charlotte to catch her breath, "you would sing to me, wouldn't you?" I asked, and she nodded, a little taken aback. I brought her closer to me so that our bodies were close together. She was blushing a little; something else I found endearing about her and when I kissed underneath her ear, I felt her shudder. There was a time when I would have cursed myself for feeling this way towards anyone. It was a hard lesson to learn; sentiment was just a chemical defect found in the losing side, it was a disadvantage, something could be used against you by your opponent to tear you down, but now I would never change a thing.
"Hearing your voice, I thought it was an angel speaking and singing to me." It sounded absurd when I said it, especially since I didn't believe in Heaven, at least not in the way that we were all told to picture it when we were younger; but if there was such a thing, I know that she would be one of those beautiful angels, watching over lost souls and guiding them toward the light.
"Really?" she asked, batting her eyelashes and placed her hands on either side of my face. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"
I nodded, and sat up a little so that I was leaning over her and brushed my finger along her cheek. "If it's one thing, Charlotte, is that I never lie, even when it's to protect people's feelings."
She laughed again and overcome by emotions and how beautiful she looked, I kissed her, deeply, passionately, not holding anything back at all and she responded with equal fervor. It was as if a storm had blown in from outside and came inside, wild, untamed, unrelenting. We had the same motives, each competing for position, my only advantage was that I was physically stronger than she was and she was lightweight and easy to move. I looked down at her flushed face and kissed below her ear, her weakest spot and I heard the soft sound which came from her in response. I had mastered the ways of such fine arts over the past two weeks and it showed.
I vowed that I would do anything and everything in my power to protect her and to keep her close to me.
This was what it was like to be truly in love, and I was lucky to have found such a beautiful woman to be in love with.