Prompt at the end.
This is part of my Magical Creatures AU and takes place around 1881 or 1882
Back and forth. Back and forth. Window, mantle, table. Window, mantle, table. Back and forth.
"Perhaps if you told me the problem, I could help."
An irritated growl disregarded my suggestion. He kept pacing, head down, but the repetitive motion denied any chance of focusing on my book. I broke the silence again.
"Is it the case?"
His case had been progressing well, the last I had heard. He had certainly not complained about it recently, but that could easily have changed.
He waved a no, however. Another round supplied a different question.
"Did Lestrade try to convince you to take that blackmailing case again?"
I could not imagine why he would have, but Holmes ignored the query to do another lap. My friend had been pacing our sitting room for hours, deep thought proving he debated something though repeated attempts to help had failed to discover the cause. His last case had ended successfully. His current cases exhibited no true problems. Frustration would have become an argument if my actions lay behind this. What else could make him so restless?
I could think of nothing, and if I could not fix it, I saw no reason to make myself dizzy watching. When another attempt garnered less response, a resigned sigh shoved my book into a pocket to gain my feet. I could read in my room for a while.
Or I could read by streetlamp. A breeze trickled through the open window, reminding me of the wonderfully warm night. That bench on Boating Lake's shore had a lamp not two feet behind it. I would be comfortable enough there for a while, and maybe by the time I decided to return, he would be done wearing a hole in the carpet.
That settled it. A moment exchanged dressing gown for jacket and retrieved my cane. He never looked up as I shut the door behind me.
Darkness had long finished emptying London's streets. Windows shone here and there with families slowly ending the day, but my slow walk toward Regent's found only a few magical creatures enjoying the chance to move freely. A lutin drank from a leaking drainpipe. A dwarf avoided my path. Two rabbits bounded the other direction. I faintly caught sight of a nisse near the water. He disappeared before I could call a greeting, and leaves rustled above my head to make me glance up, then stare. Only a darkened sphere revealed where the night's brighter light should be, but millions of twinkling stars cast their feeble radiance as if to make up for the moon's absence. I had not stopped to watch the stars in far too long.
Nor would I crane my neck to do so here, where I could see only a fraction of those visible outside of London. Another couple of minutes served to reach my chosen bench, and heavy tension drained as I settled. I might extend my outing longer than I had originally planned. Only when I no longer watched Holmes follow the same path time and time again did I truly recognize how much his pacing affected me. I much preferred the peaceful stillness of a book in an empty park.
Though my book did not hold my attention for long. Ten pages found a cliffhanger finishing the tale, with the final portion of the book devoted to a sneak peek of the novel's companion. I closed the cover with a low grumble. If I had realized the author had done that, I would have brought a second one with me. Did I want to return to the flat long enough to pick a different novel?
No. Holmes undoubtedly still measured our floor with his feet, and I enjoyed the quiet too much to ruin it now. Not on such a warm night. Did I want to wander the park or watch the stars from my bench?
Walk the park, I decided when my neck protested the position. My book returned to its pocket to let me manage my cane, then an aimless stride leisurely crossed the bridge. Bats flitted after bugs overhead. A traveling sylph bobbed a greeting as she passed. A shooting star streaked a path low across the southern sky. That warm wind nudged me this way and that, as if guiding me through the park to its owner.
The observation made me pause and check my surroundings. A clear, non-solstice, new moon night in the heat of summer. Did that or any other factor suggest the presence of some born immortal?
Not that I knew, and I left the path to amble through the wilder section of the park. A squirrel bounded from branch to branch, chattering its irritation at my presence. Small noises revealed a bird rooting beneath a bush for a meal. An uncommon owl hooted in a nearby tree. Part of me wished I were out of the city, where I might see something more than insects, birds, and the occasional squirrel, but minutes passed in contented wandering. I had just debated returning home when a bright spot caught my attention.
I halted, then backed up a step and looked again. A white light shone through a tight group of trees. Strange. Nothing in the human realm could produce that cool, almost silvery glow, and cautious movements took me slowly closer. Had one of the more undesirable immortals come to London after all?
Unlikely. Such a visit would have emptied the surrounding areas of all magical creatures, but a small pixie tried to lure me to the clearing west of here. One hand gripped my amulet as I gradually—loudly—approached. A human that tried to sneak up on a magical never came out the better for the attempt.
The light grew stronger the closer I drew, illuminating leaves, brush, even a distant bench in its unusual glow. A flitting bird cast a harsh shadow. A bat left its hunting to search somewhere else. By the time I reached the group of trees, I squinted against the full brightness of high noon—still in that silvery light. A wide tree let my eyes adjust before I took a single step into the clearing.
To find a man apparently only a few years older than me. He reclined on the grass, hands behind his head and his eyes on the sky.
"You know I'm off duty today, Elkrik. Go bother someone else for a ride."
Elkrik. That sounded like a dwarf's name, and one notorious for relying too heavily on his friends, if I remembered correctly. How this immortal—no mere man glowed like that—could mistake me for a dwarf, I had no idea, but the carefree tone provided the courage to respond.
"My name is not Elkrik."
He started, then I distinctly felt him brush my mind as he spun to face me. Bored disinterest became a large, welcoming smile.
"No it's not," he agreed. "Right sorry about that. That pesky dwarf has decided I exist solely to ferry him around the world. Have we met?"
I moved slowly closer, watching for a silent cue to halt even as I tried to place this man with his story. Nicolas and Meredith had taught me far too much of the magical realm for me to not recognize a born immortal. With whom did I speak?
"No, sir," I answered slowly, fighting for the time I needed to connect the clues. "Doctor John Watson, human. I was investigating the light." One hand referenced my path, but I skipped the details as the pieces finally clicked. A glowing man that captained a ferry, whose day off was the new moon. "Nicolas once mentioned another method of magical transport," I continued, "one with more diversity than the train on a less rigid schedule, but I'm sorry to say I don't recall the driver's name." I stopped some ten feet away, unhesitatingly meeting his kind gaze. "Are you the moon?"
The man in the moon, more specifically, but I did not need to elaborate. Surprised delight somehow widened his already cheek-splitting grin. "I am indeed. Name's Moanne. A pleasure to meet you."
"And you as well." His silent invitation let me join him on the grass. "Even Nicolas' library did not have much about you. I suppose you took your free day in London to get off the trade routes?"
"That, too," he agreed, "but I mostly came to enjoy your current weather. I think I like watching the stars from the ground more than from my ship. They twinkle more down here."
I reflexively glanced up as another shooting star streaked above us. Such a distance would significantly change the view, and if his ship held more passengers at the full moon than at the crescent, Moanne would not have a free moment to glance at the scenery, much less enjoy it. I easily gathered why he would want to find a spot on the ground to pass the night.
Though Nicolas' admittedly vague account had also made me long to take the ferry someday. "I imagine the view up there is spectacular, though."
"Oh, it is." Easygoing joviality used one hand to prop him upright, ankles crossed like a university-aged boy. "Wide expanses of open ground. Sprawling cityscapes. Crashing ocean waves. I love what I do, but it's always the same paths, the same stars. Only on my day off can I pick a place simply because I want to be there." He waved to indicate the warm patch of green lit by twinkling stars. "Like your Regent's Park. I have enjoyed coming here the last several months. I don't often find an empty park even after sundown. Or get to talk with someone not begging me to give them a discounted ride," he added, wide smile changing to more of a smirk. "I'll have to do something about Elkrik soon. But tell me about you! You say you have been to the Pole?"
"I have." A small readjustment put my back to a convenient tree. "Several times. His library is something to see."
The low chuckle suggested he thought the same. "How long have you known?"
"I saw my first rabbit at about age six," I replied simply. "Met Nicolas a few years later. He thoroughly enjoyed teaching a 'novice' everything another author had not been able to describe."
"I don't doubt it. We do not often find a knowledgeable human." Memory lit his gaze to make him abruptly sit up. "Are you the one that introduced him to Meredith?"
"We served together," I confirmed. What had made him ask that? "She's doing well, I hope?"
"More than that! She has become Nicolas' right hand. Some are beginning to speculate how long until she decides to learn her Age."
I made no effort to hide my pleasure. Nicolas had not mentioned that development. I would have to ask him next Christmas.
Though I would not discuss it here, with someone I had just met. A moment's quiet changed the topic with a hesitant question.
"Will you tell me your own story? Nicolas knew only that your ship could go anywhere the moonlight touched, and the human tales contain even less."
"He wouldn't have much reason to catch a ride, would he?" Moanne retorted wryly. "That sleigh of his is impressive in itself, but my ship is quite a bit more complex. More closely resembling your sailing ships than a steamer, I ride the winds collecting stranded travelers and anyone too far from the train routes to reach a station. I'm a way-station, if you will, a way to get from home to the closest train. Nicolas mentioned the faster manner only works over short distances?"
I nodded. "He said even he would be hard pressed to reach Thurso from the Pole. Most would not make it that far."
"It's a way to escape danger," Moanne confirmed, "not a method of transport, so we have the Polar Line with its many branches and offshoots, and I handle the rest. My ship becomes standing room only some full moons."
"Does your ship's capacity fluctuate with the moon phase?"
An impressed look still indicated a negative. "Not quite. The time of the month does influence how many passengers I can take at a time, but the phases you see more accurately reflect how many I have rather than how many I can hold. No one keeps track of the new moon, but they know I take the day off, so I take gradually more and more requests until they realize it's been two weeks, then they start making other plans to avoid being caught without a ride."
And work decreased until the cycle repeated, I finished. That was far more complex than Nicolas' or even Mr. Frost's schedule.
"Do you ever wish to mix things up?"
"Oh, certainly." Mischief turned his mouth to declare I had missed a correlation. "I take a portion of the full moon off two to five times a year, usually when there's some event I want to attend."
Two to five times a year. The phrase brought my tutor's star charts to mind. "Lunar eclipses?"
His laugh nearly echoed off the trees. "Well done! Yes, you see a full eclipse when I have docked my ship. I hang a red cover to tell prospective passengers I'll be back soon enough. What do you think a solar—hello." The question cut off as he tilted his head, listening to something I could not yet discern, then peered through the trees into the rest of the park. "That other man is back again. I swear, you'd think he would stop searching when he doesn't find anything."
I sat up to look. "What do you mean?"
"Just an unknowledgeable human," he answered dismissively. "You probably know that magicals can choose who can see us, and I hide from the unknowledgeable humans every time I come this far into a city. He showed up my second month here. Wandered not ten feet away from this group of trees muttering about disappearing trails and the animals acting strangely. He never saw me or my light."
This could be a problem, especially as I recognized the shadowed figure. "Can he see me?"
"Course not." His gaze never left the man even as a gesture declared such an idea ridiculous. "You're with me, aren't you? He can't hear us, either. What is he doing?"
"Being himself." Moanne abruptly tore his attention from where Holmes closely inspected the dirt, question obvious. "My flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, is a detective far too curious to avoid trouble. He probably saw some sign of your passing the first month and has decided to solve the mystery."
That would explain both his long nights and his frustration earlier, but the speculation faded as Moanne looked between me and Holmes, then made to stand. "Well in that case—"
"No!" I barely resisted grabbing his arm, from physically preventing the immortal from making himself—and me—completely, utterly, horribly visible. "Let him find nothing," I pleaded with a glance at Holmes' slowly approaching figure. "You will send me to Bedlam if he learns of the magical."
Shock sent him back to the ground. "He's one of those?!"
"He is. I approached the discussion our first Christmas sharing a flat. He rejected any possibility of the magical and has not changed his stance since."
He muttered something about the "blind humans" but resumed his seat. "Should I scare him off?"
A moment debated the idea, but I finally shook my head. That would only intrigue him more.
"Just stay hidden. He will eventually give up. I have taken a piece of your night, though. Do you want me to leave you to your stargazing?"
"Only if staying puts you in danger," he returned solicitously. "I could take you as far as the other side of the park if you need to beat him home, but I do not often get to visit with someone. Sit with me for a while."
Gladly. I sat back against my tree where I could keep an eye on Holmes, and a question returned the conversation to the lesson it had been before Moanne sensed my friend. I much preferred a night learning of the magical over watching Holmes chase something he would never catch.
Though that did not make his irritated muttering of "nonsensical trails" any easier to hear. If he followed the path I suspected, I would need a story ready for when I returned.
From V Tsuion: That's no moon. It's a space station!
Well, space stations aren't a concept for another forty or fifty years and "outer space" for another ten or so. Moanne wanted to reveal his existence, though, so I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always greatly appreciated :)