Prompt: Blushing, from Madam'zelleG

The first year of the new century was greeted by all with optimism and a certain surety that we as a society were on the cusp of momentous change. The evidence for this was all around in the changes that had taken place in the great city of London since I had first taken rooms with Sherlock Holmes nearly twenty years earlier. The motorcar was fast overtaking the horse and buggy as the main mode of transportation, while the Underground rail system was expanding to reach outlying neighborhoods so that the old 'bus routes were much less used. It was now possible to listen to concerts in the comfort of one's own home, thanks to Mr. Edison's marvelous phonograph, and the advent of the telephone meant that communication was faster and easier than ever before. These new marvels were embraced by some and derided by others. I, for instance, liked nothing better than to sit and listen to a musical recording after a long day, while my friend Sherlock Holmes maintained that the quality was so poor the phonograph would never be a substitute for a live performance. He was much fonder of the telephone than I was, for it allowed him to update those clients who possessed one without waiting for them to receive and then answer a telegram. We were both very much interested in learning to drive a motorcar, though we had no plans to purchase one.

One innovation we had as yet paid little attention to was the invention of the motion picture camera. Holmes was not fond of theatre in general, and I believed that much of the spirit of a play should be lost if it could only be viewed through those small peep hole theatres I had seen sprouting up throughout London. We were hardly alone in this, for many of the great stage actors derided their onscreen counterparts as little more than cheap pretenders, and it was generally regarded as an amusement for the lower classes. Yet on a spring day in 1900, Holmes and I found ourselves caught in a sudden downpour, and hurried for any shelter we could find.

"That was more like Scottish weather," I remarked, for such drastic changes in weather were something I associated more with our Northern neighbor.

"Yes, our English weather is usually much more consistent," Holmes remarked.

"Consistently wet," I said. "Where are we?" I did not recognize the building, which appeared to be a disused shop at first glance, but was darkened inside so that I could hardly see. I wondered if perhaps we had stumbled into an abandoned building when a light at one side of the room came on. As my eyes adjusted, I realized we were not the only people in the room, for there were rows of hard, wooden seats facing what I now realized was a screen.

"I believe we are in a theater," I said to Holmes.

"One of those new-fangled 'nickelodeons,'" my friend answered derisively.

"I had read they were opening one in London," I said. At this, someone in the last row of seats turned around to tell us to be quiet, and I lowered my voice. "We may as well stay. I doubt it has stopped raining."

Holmes did not have a chance to answer, for at that moment the screen began to play a reel. Having never seen a motion picture before, I was somewhat curious, and I focused my attention on it. The scene was a small room with a table, on which sat a sack of what I presumed was money. A man, who appeared to be a criminal of some sort, was filling the sack with valuables when a second man entered the scene.

I am hardly a deductive reasoner, but I am capable of some leaps of intuition, and upon seeing the second figure's dressing gown and cigar, I had to stop myself from gasping aloud. Of course it was Holmes, though nothing else would have identified him as such. I could not help smiling, though I doubted my companion would be similarly impressed. As I watched, the actor portraying Holmes tapped the criminal on the shoulder, as which point he vanished into thin air, leaving the sack of valuables behind. I watched, enthralled as the onscreen Holmes searched, then sat down until the thief suddenly reappeared. The film was not long, a missed gunshot, a chase around the table, until finally Holmes was left with the sack before it too disappeared, and then it was over. I confess my mouth was hanging open in some shock in a most ungentlemanlike way, for I had never expected that my friend should be immortalized on film. I turned to Holmes, who looked utterly horrified at what he had witnessed.

"I have seen you look less upset at the scenes of vicious murders," I said.

"I can count this the scene of a vicious murder, at least of character," Holmes said. "How utterly preposterous. Disappearing sacks of valuables, a man vanishing into thin air. If this is what is to be considered art, I believe we can weep for the future, Watson."

"It is not so very bad, Holmes," I said. "I should have realized it would come to this. It is not much different from the play that fellow Gillette wrote and acted in."

Holmes gave me a withering glance, for this was hardly the first time we had clashed over the play. "Gillette insisted on marrying me off, Watson!"

"I did apologize for that," I said. I had had to approve the play on its initial writing, but any changes had been handled by my literary agent, Dr. Doyle, and he had failed me for the first and only time in allowing Holmes's marriage on the stage. "There was no sign of a marriage in this film, though."

"Please, Watson, spare me your opinions of the merits of film," Holmes said. "Someday it shall only be this medium that you and I are known; though no one should know you exist if this was all they had seen of us, and any small reputation I have shall be utterly destroyed."

We were interrupted by a small man wearing a garishly colored vest, who stared at us some shock. I was sure he was about to admonish us for entering his theater without paying the price of admission, when he suddenly broke out in a grin. "Why, I can hardly believe my eyes! You are Sherlock Holmes himself! And this must be Dr. Watson!" He wrung my hand enthusiastically. "I am so pleased you have come to see my theater, and on the exact day I showed this very film! Why, it is direct from America, you know. I do hope you enjoyed it."

"Yes, very much," I said, throwing a sidelong look at Holmes before he could betray his true feelings. "I never thought I should see Holmes onscreen." Judging by this film, he was now so well known that he needed nothing else to identify him other than a dressing gown and cigar. Had my stories truly become so famous?

"Your stories, Doctor, are so very well-written and exciting that they make a natural subject for a motion picture," the man said, as if he had read my mind, or followed my thoughts as Holmes did. "This is surely the first of many. The technology used in motion pictures is improving every day, and surely will allow a full story to be told. I think you can look forward to seeing more of your stories filmed, Dr. Watson. You have surely written yourself into immortality!"

I was surprised at the effusive praise and stammered thanks, though Holmes leaned over and whispered to me, "You know you are blushing, dear fellow."

I once again thanked the theater owner, and after greeting many theater-goers who were excited to meet us, we emerged onto the street, where it was once again sunny. I could not suppress a smile, imagining what the theater owner had said. Perhaps there would indeed be more films of Holmes's cases. Perhaps someday I should even see myself portrayed on screen. What an odd thought.

"I am very glad that is over," Holmes said. "I shall be quite content not to see myself portrayed on film again."

"Still, it was very interesting," I said. "I can hardly imagine what technology it took to make the thief vanish like that. Most ingenious."

"Yes, I suppose there were some factors of interest," Holmes conceded. "Perhaps if the subject were not myself I could even see fit to enjoy more of these motion pictures. Imagine if this technology could be adapted to the field of crime, Watson! If a motion picture camera were to be set up, one could catch a criminal in the very act! The possibilities truly are limitless."

I laughed. "You should be glad the technology is not yet up that point, for you would be out of a job," I said.

"There will always be need for a criminal specialist," Holmes said. "But this new century holds some interesting possibilities, my dear Watson. Some very interesting possibilities."

We never did go to see any further films of my friend's cases, though in future years that theater owner was indeed proved right, for many such "movies" of Holmes's adventures were made all over the world in the first two decades of the medium alone. Though he and I did come to enjoy motion pictures in general, especially after discovering that mysteries were quite popular a subject, and we became frequent attendees at our local nickelodeon. Though I imagine we were hardly popular guests, as Holmes always insisted on trying to solve the mystery before the solution was presented and usually spoiled the ending for anyone else present. The twentieth century, I mused, would undoubtedly be full of many more such innovations, and I for one was eager to see any marvels it would produce.

A/N: The film I used for this prompt is a real one, called Sherlock Holmes Baffled, and is the first time Holmes was ever portrayed onscreen. It dates from 1900, though I think it was shown in America and I have no idea if it would have been seen in Britain.