Author's Note: I wish I owned Sherlock Holmes and the series of short-stories and novels but, alas, I am only a fan who wishes they were the genius that created this sleuth. Enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter 2 Holmes Meets Sherlock
I awoke with a start and cursed my weariness. Quickly, I bent over the dog and, with much relief, saw his chest rise and fall with more steadiness than when I had fallen asleep. I had just stretched to get the blood flowing in my weary limbs when Mrs. Hudson came rushing down the stairs with a smile on her face.
"She's awake, Doctor!" she said.
I hurried up the stairs and had to pause to catch my breath, as I always had to these days because of my illness, at the top of the stairs. Once I was ready, I entered the room and saw the girl awake, looking blankly at Mrs. Hudson and myself. I went over to her and sat at her side.
"Good morning," I said kindly, "Do you know where you are?"
She looked at me, then the door, and back at me.
"Where is my dog?" she said. Her voice was blank without any trace of emotion, but I could tell she was very worried all the same.
"He is in the kitchen," I said, "We didn't think it was a good idea to move him, he's still very weak."
"Will he live?" the girl asked, sitting up a little in the bed.
"It is still too early to tell," I said gently, "But he is better than last night, so that is a good sign. I am doing everything I can."
"Thank you," she said and managed a smile, "Oh, I'm sorry, please pardon my manners. I forgot to answer your question. I'm at 221B Baker Street, your Dr. Watson, and your Mrs. Hudson," the girl said, looking around me and at a shocked Mrs. Hudson.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, awestruck.
"Dr. Watson said it when he thanked you for getting the supplies," the girl said simply.
She then turned to me and I saw her eyes, framed around her brown hair, were light brown, sharp, and full of intelligence. I remembered when she was standing that she was very tall and slight, at least five foot ten. She was a very pretty girl when she wasn't wearing men's clothing.
"Dr. Watson, are you sure you shouldn't be seeing a doctor as well? The pneumonia has taken a lot out of you," she said concernedly. I started and looked at her wide-eyed.
"How did you know I had pneumonia?" I asked appalled.
"Well," she said with a small smile, "Forgive me if I offend you with anything I say, you are extremely pallid and sweaty, which are signs of a slight fever, even if it does not affect you so much now. Also, you're throat sounds very scratchy and, since I walked through the door, you have been absentmindedly rubbing your throat because it bothers you from the coughing. Finally, when you came up the stairs, you paused to catch your breath. Most, if not all, pneumonia patients develop shortness of breath when exercising, even if it is as easy as walking up a flight of stairs."
I realized my mouth was open in shock and quickly closed it. She smiled and continued.
"Although, if I were you, I wouldn't smoke your pipe until you are fully recovered. It could irritate your throat even more. You have some bits of pipe tobacco on your vest," she added and pointed to the specs of grey on my vest. I realized I hadn't changed since I had smoked with Holmes last evening.
"My goodness," Mrs. Hudson said with a laugh, "She could give Mr. Holmes a run for his money."
"Oh, I wish I were as great as Mr. Holmes," the girl said modestly, frowning, "That is why I was on my way here, I need to speak with Mr. Holmes immediately. It is of great importance that I tell him what has happened."
"You should not leave until you are fully recovered," I said, "And Mr. Holmes is rather busy to take the time to see you now, I am afraid. Perhaps, once you make a full recovery, I could get him to listen to you. Now, I should send a wire to your parents. Could you tell me where they live?"
"You will not find them at the address I give you," the girl said sadly, "My mother died bringing me into the world and my father's the reason why I need to speak to Mr. Holmes."
I looked at Mrs. Hudson, who looked at the girl worriedly.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Seventeen, and I will be eighteen in two months and three days," the girl said.
"What is your name, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Victoria Elizabeth James," she said proudly, "My mother named me after the queen just before she died. She knew when she saw me I would look like royalty when I grew up."
I left the girl in Mrs. Hudson's care and went to check on my other patient. I found him trying to stand up on his four paws. He growled when I entered and I backed away quickly. The dog finally got to his paws, limped over to me, sniffed my trouser leg, and licked my hand. I knelt down to get a good look at his wounds and he put his right paw on my right arm.
"Oh, it is a pleasure to meet you too," I said with a laugh and shook his paw.
The wound was healing nicely so I felt safe leaving the dog alone for a while. I found Holmes sitting by the fire, tinkering with his chemicals.
"Good morning Watson!" Holmes said joyfully as I sat in an armchair and pulled out my pipe. Then remembering what Miss James had said, I hastily stowed it away in my pocket.
"Holmes," I said as he weighed a white powder, "Dare I ask how you knew our guest was a woman?"
"In the back, I noticed some longer strands falling out of the cap," said Holmes as he put the powder in a liquid and watched it dissolve, "They were too long to be a man's so I knew it had to be a woman."
"She is a strange one at that," I said and chuckled, "Did you know she knew instantly I was recovering from pneumonia and I smoked a pipe? And she remembered me thanking Mrs. Hudson, therefore remembering her name? It gave Mrs. Hudson quite a scare."
"Really?" said Holmes but I knew he wasn't interested in what I had to say. Sure, he heard what I had said. He heard everything even if it did not look like he did. But, if a piece of information was not useful for him, he threw it away and forgot about it.
We spent a good two hours discussing Holmes' other cases. It was clear Holmes was feeling pressured by the police to find the criminals quickly.
"As if they understand what I do!" he exclaimed, "They have no clue how much precision and thought goes into finding a criminal!"
I nodded as he continued his ranting. Eventually, he sighed and leaned back in his seat.
"Hand me my violin, will you Watson?"
I did as he requested and listened to him as he played. He used his musical skills to help him think when he was stuck. It was better than his other option: cocaine. His sleeves were rolled up and, as he played, I could see the puncture marks up and down his forearms. I hated when he used it, knowing it was killing him slowly but surely. I pleaded with him to wean away from it, but he just ignored me.
There was a commotion downstairs. It sounded like a door had been banged open and there were heavy steps climbing up the stairwell. I stood up and opened the door, seeing a white and grey blur go by, barking.
"Oh no, bad dog!" I shouted, running to keep up with the dog but, being as weak as I was, I had no chance of catching him. Holmes, on the other hand, was very athletic and was able to tackle the dog. The animal let out a cry of pain and a door opened to reveal Miss James, looking happy and worried at the same time.
"Sherlock!" she shouted and both dog and man looked at her.
"I beg your pardon?" Holmes asked as the dog broke free of his grip and ran at the girl, licking her face as she laughed.
"Sherlock, you're all right!" Miss James said, hugging her dog's neck, "Oh I knew you were made of tougher stuff than those bullets!"
"I'm sorry," Holmes asked, looking at the dog and the girl, "But who are you talking to?"
"Who do you think?" the girl asked, looking at Holmes annoyed, "And what were you thinking, tackling my dog? He is injured! He was just trying to find me because he was worried."
I finally managed to get up the final stairway, puffing as I did, but I had heard everything. Holmes was completely taken aback by Miss James' comment that I had to laugh.
"Don't you see Holmes?" I asked in between chuckles, "She named her dog after you."
"I do not know whether to be flattered or concerned," my friend said and Miss James frowned at him.
"Come, come my dear," Mrs. Hudson said, helping Miss James to her feet, "Time to get back into your bed. Yes, the dog can come as well."
"Mr. Holmes," Miss James said, turning back to my friend, "I would like to have a word with you when I am better. It is of the greatest importance."
"Watson will let me know when you are ready and I shall like to hear your story," Mr. Holmes said and left.
I followed Miss James into the room. Once she was settled in the bed, she patted the sheets and Sherlock, the dog, hopped up and curled into a circle by his mistress' side. I once again checked the girl's wound.
"Dr. Watson," she asked as I looked over her dog again as well, "Is Mr. Holmes any good at the violin?"
"Why yes, he is actually," I said, looking at her curiously, "How did you know he could play? Could you hear him play downstairs?" I had thought the sound would have not been able to travel all the way up here.
"No sir," she said, "I saw the rosin dust on his jacket. Why does he use drug needles?"
"He uses cocaine to help him think," I said dryly, "And I know how you figured that out, by the markings on his arms." She nodded and I continued, "That is his more extreme form of help. Most of the time, he plays his violin."
I left the girl and dog and went to my room. Mrs. Hudson promised to watch over the girl and dog so I could catch up on my sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was sound asleep.
Author's Note: Please tell me what you all think. I love reviews and constructive criticism so feel free to tell me what you like/dislike about it. This is my first Sherlock Holmes story so any advice is greatly appreciated. Thank you!
