Prompt: Cabin, from Wordwielder

It was in the busy year of 1895 that my friend Sherlock Holmes took his first case in the United States of America. While he had often assisted on cases in Europe, he had never crossed the Atlantic, though his travels around the world during the three years all believed him dead had made him a far more worldly traveler than I.

"After that, America is not so very far away," Holmes said as we ascended the gangplank to board the ship. "Though travel by ocean liner is still new to me." He was in extraordinarily high spirits, looking forward to our trip, which in addition to the case which he was to consult on in New York City, also included a trip to two different universities for the benefit of their chemistry departments, and no doubt many concerts and society events, for Americans were no less interested in Sherlock Holmes than the British public.

For myself, I was glad to be away from London for a time. The strain of the year had been difficult, as Holmes had often consulted on two or three cases at once, and his health was suffering under the burden. Some relaxation would prove beneficial to us both, and for myself, it had been too long since I had traveled. I am of an adventurous nature, and while ordinarily, Holmes's cases were more than enough danger for me, of late I had found myself reminiscing fondly of my travels in Australia as a youth, and even of my time in India. This case had arrived at exactly the right time for both of us, and I hoped that we might find time to travel into the west of the country, where I had heard the scenery was unmatched for beauty and the people for eccentricity.

First, however, we must get there, and I surveyed our ship with no great pleasure. The Majestic was supposed to be the largest, most luxurious ship afloat, but travel by ship is still no great pleasure. Well did I remember my voyages to and from Australia, and again to and from India, where we were crammed in little better than sardines, and fresh supplies were scarce a few weeks into the voyage. I mentioned this to Holmes in response to his excitement for his first trip on an ocean liner. It was, I pointed out, not the sea itself I disliked, but the cramped conditions onboard ship.

"Come, Watson, travel has improved since those days," Holmes said, dismissing my concerns. "Besides, that was on much longer voyages, and we shall be in first class. It shall be nothing like what you remember."

I did not tell him that my voyage home from India had been less than fifteen years previously, and travel had not progressed so very much. I merely followed him through the first class corridors until we reached our cabin, which was a very stately, albeit small room with two beds and a basin, with adjoining sitting room. I had to confess it was much better than the cabins I had endured on my previous voyages, though even in first class, single men were expected to share cabins.

"It will do," I said. "It is not as long a voyage, in any event." I began to unpack my belongings, which occupied me until the ship's whistle blew, heralding the start of the voyage. I hastened above deck so that I might see England disappear behind me. I felt the thrill of adventure as we left our old familiar shores to cross the ocean to a new world. I felt the marvel, too, that only a few short decades ago such a trip would have taken weeks in a wooden ship, at the mercy of the rough seas and stormy weather. Many a ship had been lost with no news of the final fate of her passengers. But Majestic felt solid beneath me, and as we picked up speed, the rocking I had come to associate with my sea voyages was lessened so I could easily keep my balance.

Holmes, having no sentiment to speak of, did not accompany me to the deck, and would have found my train of thought foolish if he had. We would be returning to England in a few weeks time; there was no call for wistfulness, nor for the romanticism of the sea that so many felt while aboard ship. Still, I held out hopes that the sea air would prove beneficial - particularly if the conditions aboard ship had improved as much as they seemed.

"I see we have begun moving, old fellow," Holmes said, sticking his head out of our cabin door to meet me on my return. "I know not how I shall occupy myself while stuck on this voyage - only the same people for six days and no work to speak of!"

"You might be surprised," I said dryly. "Crimes have not been unheard of onboard ships."

"Petty card fraud, Watson," Holmes said dismissively. "We may as well learn our way around this ship." He set off down the corridor, though stumbled rather quickly, unused to the rolling motion of the ship, which had become more noticeable. I assumed because we had left the Irish Sea behind and were heading into the rougher waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

I could not help a chuckle as I reached out to steady him. "You have not got your sea legs yet, Holmes." Though my smile soon faded as my friend looked up, his normally pale cheeks deathly white. "Holmes? Are you quite alright?"

In answer, Holmes simply ran back to our shared cabin, where upon following him, I immediately observed enough to diagnose him as seasick. "What the deuce am I to do now?" Holmes asked, his complexion now a sickly green. "I simply cannot go on like this for six days!"

"You will get used to it," I said. "I did not expect you would truly be seasick. You have crossed the Channel often enough."

Holmes muttered something about it being a shorter trip, which was true enough, though I still thought it rather odd as the waters of the Channel were famously rough in the best of conditions.

"I shall get you some water, and perhaps something bland to eat," I said. "Every ship carries hard crackers of some sort."

"I do not believe I can eat anything at the moment," Holmes said. He did indeed look miserable, and I found myself hoping the voyage would be a quick and easy affair. Heaven help him if we encountered a storm.

For myself, I found the voyage pleasant, the water calmer than my previous experiences at sea and the ship itself more comfortable and better equipped than any I had sailed on before. Though my experience was limited, for Holmes and I saw little other than the inside of our cabin, as he never gained his sea legs and the seasickness did not abate. The one time he tried to venture above deck, the very sight of the ocean led to Holmes rather embarrassing himself over the railing.

"I shall never travel by ship again," Holmes moaned the day before we were due to dock in New York.

"Well, until man learns to fly, I am afraid you do not have much choice," I said. "We must at least return home by ship."

"After that, I shall not take a case in America again," Holmes said. "Or Australia, or any location that requires me to cross an ocean."

"Well, then, let us make the most of this American trip, if we are not to return," I said.

Holmes nodded. "I have every interest in putting off our return trip as long as possible, Watson. Wherever you would like to visit, you will find me a willing companion."

"Very well," I said. "You rest, dear fellow. I shall make our arrangements."

A/N: The Majestic was a real ship launched in 1889 (she was owned by the same company which later owned the Titanic); at the time, she was the largest and fastest ship afloat. In the 1890s, though, you would not have the luxurious staterooms seen on Edwardian ships. Even first class passengers shared smaller rooms, so Holmes and Watson's cabin would be typical of first class accommodations of the period. Crossings typically took six days, and the ship's motion was much more obvious.