Before you ask, no, I have not tripped and fallen into a black hole or been eaten by a pack of killer jaguars. In fact, the reason I have not updated much lately is because I have been working on...drumroll please...a multi-chapter story! -applause- I won't post it until I have all the chapters finished (in case I need to change something or another as the story progresses), so if it seems I am scarce, don't worry; I assure you I am busy, and I'm fairly certain you'll like what I'm working on.
Anyway, this drabble(ish) is something of a glimpse into what the multi-chapter story is going to be about, on the emotional side of the plot anyway. I just can't get over the lonely, sad Holmes. -sniff-

I See

She had been standing on the corner of the lane, which was crowded with the familiar sights and scents of men who smelt of rotting fish and women smelling of alcohol, calling out to the passersby the same four words she had been reciting for longer than the past decade:

"Coin for a reading! Coin for a reading!"

As it was every day that came and went, she seemed to have no influence upon those that pushed and shoved by her, those that were too rushed in their efforts to create a better life for themselves to notice a gypsy woman offering a glimpse into the futures they each awaited.

As she stood leaned against the building, lighting a match for the cigarette she had stolen, an odd sense overtook her spirit, a potent sadness approaching from somewhere in the street. It was not the sadness which drew her attention; oh, no, for this place was filled with unhappy hearts and hopelessness beyond what should ever be felt. What made her pause and take notice was the depth of it, the depth of the soul which encompassed the sadness. It was a strange soul, one of intricate contradictions — contentment and pain, companionship and loneliness, forgiveness and resentment, fragility and strength, so capable of unconditional love and yet possessing the self-imposed shields against love of any kind….She was nearly taken aback by the rareness and sheer purity of it all.

Then, she saw eyes dark as coal watching her, and knew immediately the whose soul by those ardent orbs.

"You are the woman who offers palm readings?"

She affirmed, "Flora, milord."

"Flora, I have a proposition for you. You will be paid double your usual wages if you carry it out well enough."

It is a widely-known fact that a fabricated prediction is a disgrace to a true fortune-teller, and yet she could not deny this man his request; the truth behind his sorrow was beginning to emerge as he briskly described his plan to her. He glanced up every short moment, then a vague alarm reached his features, and he rushed her to reach the street he named and await his signal.

She watched as honest awe filled the man's face when she began her deception; he obviously did not believe she knew how he felt for his companion, or how said companion felt in return. It was most certainly a bond, and a powerful one at that.

She did her very best, made it twice as persuasive as was usual, and still the other man was not deceived. She watched and felt as the young doctor's anger flared towards his friend. He threw an insult, argued heatedly until both voices rose, and all the while it became clearer to her the reason for the darker man's inner turmoil.

That soul so deep and heart so innocent was suffering through a time of worthlessness, and her own heart ached for him when he realized this was not the first time. He had been abandoned by everyone in his life, for one reason or another.

After the younger man had disappeared into the jewelry shop's door, he dropped three times as much as he had agreed into her hand, an unspoken gratitude.

Her eyes followed him until he had also entered the shop, and she found herself wishing for the first time in her life that she really could see clearly into the future.

Review?