Prompt: A Christmas Eve miracle.
From: Hades Lord of the Dead
A/N; Contains religious themes
...
Ever since the completion of the Gribbonschaften murders in a modest home in Devon, I felt very peculiar, that something was prickling away inside me.
Holmes sat beside me on the train ride home to London on Christmas Eve, his unlit pipe gripped between his teeth in thought. I longed to discuss what this feeling was, but he did not look as though he would permit a word to pass his lips, friendly or otherwise.
I listened to the screeches of the locomotive, five carriages ahead of us, and the humming and quiet rumblings of the coaches behind, allowing these sounds to gradually melt into a blur of noise as I continued to ponder what was the reason behind my unrest. Deciding to eliminate the impossible, as my friend would do, I allowed my mind free reign to think over possible causes for my disturbance.
It could not be some nagging little details about the case, for Holmes had explained everything to me on the cab to the train station. I was looking forward to returning to Baker Street for one of Mrs. Hudson's hot meals, a warm bath and a cosy bed. I could not entirely say the same for my companion, for he is one of relentless energies and unpredictable actions, so it could hardly be about returning to London, either.
I gazed out of the window of the train, allowing silhouettes of bushes, trees and lonely farmers' cottages and barns roll by, their cheerful colours lost to the gloom of Nyx. All the while, the feeling did not dissipate, and it refused to remain as a constant; indeed, it intensified as we sped on down the track.
Deciding to go and stretch my legs for a little while, I rose from my green covered seat, and quietly excused myself, but Holmes merely lay in thought, staring at the ceiling in a contemplative manner. Rolling my eyes in fond exasperation despite my troubled mind, I stepped out of our compartment and closed the door behind me.
Almost at the same time, I saw someone step from their compartment further down towards me. It was a woman with hair blacker than anything of Erubus's creation swept up in a bun. She was dressed in a male's dark brown breeches and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her needle-sharp elbows, and her body, including her slender hands and delicately carved face, were covered in coal dust. Her eyes were a lovely hazel, burning with a unique fire that suggested a headstrong personality. I wondered briefly if I had seen her somewhere before, for she stirred some familiarity within my mind, but I could not place her anywhere.
"Good evening, miss," I greeted her politely, for I could also see her ring finger lacked a wedding band; or indeed any jewellery.
"Evening, sir." Her voice sounded calm and reassuring. She
"It's a pleasant night to be travelling," I continued, feeling rather awkward standing next to this young lady. She appeared to be no older than Holmes, and yet she seemed to have some masterful nature about her.
She did not answer me, but instead gave me a look with her hypnotising eyes. She looked at me in such a way that I did not realise her hand had snaked itself around my own until she gave a gentle squeeze.
"Trust me, Doctor, and all will be well." She said at last.
Confused, I was about to ask for the meaning behind her statement, when from the front of the train came a loud screech and an eardrum grilling, dull metallic 'BANG!'. Seconds after, the carriages rocked and swayed violently against the rails, before our carriage was flung onto the right-hand side, and lay there. I could hear a loud snap between our coach and the one behind. I felt myself being thrown off my feet and hitting the wall like an unwanted toy.
The whole event seemed like it was happening so slowly, but it was over relatively quick in contrast.
...
When I could rise without sinking back into unconsciousness, ears still ringing madly after the accident, my first thoughts were turned to my friend, and whether he still lived. Giving no thought for my own self, I ploughed back down the corridor to our compartment, now buried in the muddy, snow covered embankment along which less than two minutes ago we had been running alongside.
"HOLMES!" I cried out, trying to push the door open, but to no avail.
"Watson! Are you hurt, old man?!" I hear his voice muffled, but doubtlessly concerned over my wellbeing.
"I'm fine, Holmes- you're the one in the compartment!" I answered frantically, trying again to rough the door open. But it was hopeless, for my leg and shoulder were both jarred from the crash and I could not carry on.
"I am unhurt, Watson- now go and see to the other passengers, I will attempt to get myself out of here!"
"I cannot, Holmes- my bag is in there with you!"
The detective let out a muffled curse on hearing this. "Do what you can, old man! I shall attempt to be prompt about my escape."
Unwillingly, I looked round the compartment, and hurried to find the lady with whom I had been before the train went down.
But she was nowhere to be seen.
...
The only one who was in her compartment was a frightened old woman, trembling with shock from the impact of the crash. I soothingly asked her questions about herself whilst checking over any possible injuries. Surprisingly, there were none.
"Oh, Doctor! I fear that I am dead or going mad!" She wailed, as she sobbed into her hands.
"It will be alright, Mrs. June," I replied, patting her weathered hand in comfort before handing her my handkerchief. "I can assure you that both of those conclusions are not the truth."
"But, I saw a lady in my compartment, Doctor Watson!" She said frantically, grabbing my arms with a surprisingly strong grip. "She was dressed in a man's clothing, but she was gentler than any nurse I had ever encountered in all my life!"
Hearing this made my heart freeze over in shock. "I... did she have black hair and coal dust on her face and hands?" I asked her gently.
"Why, yes!" Mrs. June exclaimed. "You saw her too?"
I nodded numbly, realising something strange was going on...
...
On interviewing other people in the same carriage as us, they all confirmed the same sighting of the lady dressed as a man. And, more surprising still, they were all unhurt. Not a single bruise was to be found on them, not even a scratch; despite the broken glass from the windows, the luggage bags high overhead which could have caused head trauma or strangulation.
I had just finished interviewing the last passenger when I felt a hand place itself on my shoulder. I recognised the contact at once, and turned around.
"I do apologise for the delay, my dear Watson, but I found it somewhat harder to escape than I had initially anticipated."
"Holmes," I smiled in relief. "You will not believe this, but not one soul from this coach has been injured or killed in the crash."
At this, my friend frowned. "That is peculiar, Watson," he said in response. "For I had overheard train staff mention that coaches one to five and even the locomotive itself also have suffered from no injuries or casualties despite the severity of the crash."
"What caused this accident, anyway, Holmes?" I queried.
"We ran into another train, Watson. The mail train of all things." He gave a distasteful sniff at this. "I never believed the mail to be a shining example of punctuality or good timing. It seems that Fate decided to prove us correct on both counts."
"But Holmes, not one man, woman or child died on this train. Many people would have perished in the crash; you and Mrs. June would have been very probable victims. What strange fortune has befallen this accident?" I asked, still bemused about the whole matter.
"I do not know, Watson. But it seems that perhaps this is something that could not be explained." Holmes answered solemnly. "Perhaps it is best left to mere speculation, Watson."
I said nothing, but due to defiance of physics and the probabilities of survival of the collision, I was convinced that we had not bene saved by chance, but rather by a guardian angel.