Society and Grace
Claire watched the country side pass her by as she sat in the train to Dorset. She was glad to get out of the city even if it meant being away from her cousin and Mr. Holmes. The Rolling Meadows and endless skies helped her breath easy, knowing that this weekend would do her some good. Finally, the train stopped at Weymouth, which was close enough to the shore to smell the sea. She stepped out, her blue pinstriped traveling dress fluttered in the breeze, and her brown hair almost blew out of its bun. Claire gathered her small suitcase and was about to start walking when she heard her name being called. She turned to see a short but thin woman with black hair and grey eyes waving to her. "Claire, over here!" She called, smiling broadly. Claire didn't hesitate and ran towards her good friend Rebecca Jenkins.
"Claire, I'm so glad you made it! Was the train ride alright? I imagine the winter weather might have slowed you down." Rebecca hugged her friend and then motioned for her driver to get Claire's bag.
Claire returned the hug courteously, "I'm glad to be here Rebecca; the ride wasn't too bad at all. It was a bit slower than normal, but the conductor warned us about possible rock slides blocking our path. Am I the first one here or are there others still arriving?" Claire inquired, hoping she wasn't late. Rebecca shook her head and then led her to the buggy.
"Oh no need to explain, I know how strong a hold London can have. You are the third to arrive, Sir. Gerald and his wife arrived late last night and our dear friend Harold arrived earlier this morning. Katherine and Vivian told me they may be running late, and Mrs. Thornberry will be here after tea." Rebecca explained as her driver led them inside the comfortable carriage and started off.
Claire smiled at the thought of the many interesting people gathering for Rebecca's engagement party. She knew everyone attending well enough, especially Harold Firth, he and Rebecca knew him through Whitehall. He was a charming man, his wife Grace was just as nice although very sickly, and so Claire almost never saw her. Then there was Mrs. Thornberry, Claire and she never got along too well, since she thought Claire was a rebel and a detriment to society. Claire tried her best to avoid her, and when she had to converse with her, she was on her best behavior. Sir. Gerald was a bit rough and stern but his wife Nora helped smooth out anything upsetting he might say or do. "How is Sir. Xavier doing, by the way? I heard that he might be getting promoted soon." Claire finally asked as they were bumped around on the gravel road.
Rebecca smiled earnestly, "Francis is doing well, and he is excited for the wedding in the summer. If he is getting promoted he didn't mention it this morning, it may just be a new assignment. Did I tell you that he is going to try for that position in Parliament?" Rebecca seemed to be glowing from the very thought.
Claire shook her head, surprised, "I had no idea he had those kinds of ambitions. I bet he would be a great addition to the government, he has the knack for negotiating." Claire smiled, trying to be supportive. It wasn't that she didn't like Sir. Xavier, it was just she disliked having her good friend move away from London. Rebecca nodded and began divulging her wedding plans and how Claire must be part of it at some point. Claire resisted at first, but then accepted the position of being her matron of honor. The coach finally reached the manor, and Claire almost gasped to see the size of it. It was one fourth the size of Kensington Palace, made of red brick that had gables and tall windows all around. The driver helped them out and opened the doors into the entryway.
Rebecca led her towards her room, still smiling, "I know you wanted a room with windows that locked. I hope you like it, when you are done there is tea in the sitting room." She motioned towards the room that was down the stairs and to the left. Claire nodded, and rested her suitcase on the bed. She went quickly over to the windows, they overlooked part of the grounds, and they did have locks. She struggled to put the locks in place, but it was better to be safe. Claire unpacked and then put her room key on her necklace, and hung it on her neck. She made sure the key rested underneath her clothes. She smiled at her level of preparation and silently closed her door, and walked downstairs to the sitting room.
Back in London
Sherlock Holmes sat in the rooms of Baker Street, unsure what to do about the sudden stillness in his office. His assistant was gone for two days in the country, and part of him missed seeing her there at the other desk. He would never admit to missing a woman of course,he was too stubborn for that. There was also the lack of a puzzling case for his mind to solve. He had to work otherwise he would have to resort to other means to stimulate his brain. There was always the prospect of the syringe in his drawer, for some reason he had not needed it for some time. The detective deduced it was due to the eternal mystery that was Miss. Watson. Just when he had her figured out, there was another facet of her personality hiding under her mask of good manners.
Sherlock did not have long to muse these thoughts, Dr. Watson came in before he could start his process. "Good morning Holmes, I see Claire has left for the country. I am glad she makes time for her friend who lives far away. I think it's good for her to try and be part of society. Don't you agree Holmes?
Holmes arched a brow at his good friend, "Miss. Watson, I think likes society as long as it is with small groups. With large functions like balls, I do not see her able to focus or be sociable. She would be too nervous of the sheer amount of people there. Plus, there is always the fear of seeing her ex-lover Mr. Gardnier." He sneered at the thought of William, that man was too proud and ambitious for his taste. He did not know what Miss. Watson's logic was in courting him in the first place. She seemed very smart about courting men, but then again everyone had their weakness. He deduced that her heart was hers.
Watson took in his friend's opinion as he sat down on the couch and began to read the paper, "Well, I think she will get along fine with the others up there. Until she returns, what do you say to dinner at Simpsons followed by a concert? It will be like old times!" John was excited at the prospect of having Holmes to himself without having to worry about Claire.
Holmes glanced at his over eager friend, " I suppose dinner at Simpson's would be pleasant, as for the concert, I have no desire for it. There are none playing now that would take care of my restlessness." He really didn't want to go anywhere, he wanted to evaporate into the cocaine in his desk. But, he knew Watson would not allow it. Watson nodded and then strode closer to his friend.
"Holmes, I know how you don't like being unoccupied but, please don't result to the drug. You are the smartest man I know, don't throw it away on something like this. We both need you here, Claire I know care for you even if she never shows it. She values your prescence in her life, you are helping her heal the wounds of the past. If she ever sees you on your bad days, it will undo all the healing that has happened."
Sherlock looked at his friend, confused at the words he was speaking. "I am in control of my need for the drug, I do not need it as of yet. As for your cousin, it does not concern me how you think she is doing. You only see what you wish Watson, true she has healed somewhat but, there is something still that is holding her back. As long as that force doesn't stop her from working, I don't care what happens to her." He was backing away from the feelings he had for Claire, he was rationalizing and analyzing them like a puzzle. He had come to the conclusion that she was a remarkable lady, but he still couldn't get past the fact that there had been a moment where they had been close. They had been like proper friends in the gang and then Jack was killed and they broke apart. Now, he was unsure that wouldn't happen again and he was not about to test it.
Watson glared at his friend, "Holmes, I know are lying about not caring. I don't care what your reason is, but I hope you realize that deep down you do. And that she trusts you with her life, which is something she hasn't done in a long time. But, I will leave this alone for now, I don't want to get angry and say something rash." The doctor sat back down and drank his brandy. He hated how thickheaded Holmes could be. Especially about Claire, he hoped that his cousin would be a good influence on Holmes. Between the pair of them, the detective and the former spy and encountered enough pain, and death that they could relate on a level he could not fathom.
Holmes was about to send another retort towards Watson, but gave up. You know he is right his heart seemed to say, but Holmes pushed the voice away with his mind. He picked up the agony columns in hope for some form of escape and smiled when he found it.
AN: I Decided to re-do this chapter. The fiance being a murderer seemed too conventional for my taste. Please R&R!