SHVoLB 2
(A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You gaise make me feel special :D)
Twenty minutes of terrifying (on Watson's part) traveling, they arrived in front of a smart little townhouse on the familiar side of London. Mr. and Mrs. Marsh led them into the foyer which had stairs leading up to a second floor.
"We only have one available room, I'm afraid," Sylvia said, "You see, our daughter left at the start of this year to study abroad and won't be back for a few weeks still."
"That's…" Watson started but Holmes quickly finished with "Fine. That's fine, thank you."
The doctor raised an eyebrow at his friend. He hadn't been about to object so why had he jumped in so fast? His thoughts were interrupted by the woman offering to give them a tour of the house. They nodded graciously and she smiled, leading them along. Harvey looked a bit apprehensive about the whole thing but he kept his mouth shut during the tour.
The first room they came upon happened to be the living room and both time-travelers gasped at what they saw. A large, black box sat along one wall, in front of which was a coffee table laden with glossy covered magazines and on the other side of that, a small sofa. Holmes moved toward the center of the room and looked at the magazines. "May I?" he asked, holding one in his hand. Sylvia nodded with a smile and the detective began to flip through the magazine, his eyes flickering quickly over the pages before looking up at Watson, his eyes marveled.
"Watson! You must come look at this!" He stepped to Holmes's side and looked down at the bizarre piece of literature. "Just look at these pictures!" Sherlock announced excitedly, "All in such vivid color!" Watson took the magazine from him to get a closer look, staring raptly at the photographs of what he assumed was the fashion of the time they were in. More women in slacks and men in odd, trim suits and sometimes trousers that cut off at the knee!
Holmes had already moved on and was fiddling with the buttons on the big black box. "Holmes," Watson started but he was shocked into silence when a picture blazed to life on the surface of the thing. Holmes had jumped, his back colliding with the coffee table as he stared in awe at the would-be screen. The people on it were in fact moving and talking! The two men stood stock-still as they stared at the images and Harvey let out a chuckle.
"That would be a telly," he informed somewhat smugly.
Holmes was too consumed to respond with a witty remark and instead replied, "Is that so?"
"What…is it for exactly?" Watson asked, timidly reaching out and touching his finger to the screen. He was taken aback when there was a slight static shock and he examined his fingertip closely.
"Entertainment," Mr. Marsh replied, obviously amused, "You watch programs on it."
"Sort of like a play, I take it?" Holmes asked, his eyes never leaving the 'telly', "Except on a screen?"
"Yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Fascinating…" he remarked before standing again and looking about the room for other interesting gadgets. Watson kept his eyes trained on the television, all but hypnotized by its flashing, moving colors; though he quickly snapped out of his trance when Holmes let out a startled cry from the other side of the room. Watson jerked his head up, looking about until his gaze settled on the detective who held a long cylindrical thing with a light beaming up out of it and into his face. He dropped it in his alarm and it rolled on the floor a bit before settling harmlessly against the leg of the sofa,
The room was now filled with Harvey's booming laughter to which Holmes took great offense. "You don't have to tell me what it is, if that's what you're thinking!" Sherlock announced, picking the thing up again and clicking it off by way of a button on its side, "It's just an updated version of a pocket-lantern, am I correct?" There was no real question in his voice as he said this but Mr. Marsh answered him nonetheless.
"We call it a torch nowadays."
"Hmpf," Holmes scoffed and set the torch down on the table where he had found it, "I do believe we are ready for the remainder of the tour then if you don't mind."
They continued on to the parlor, which surprisingly enough, wasn't much different and then to the kitchen where they came across such modern marvels as a boxy thing called a "microwave" and a large, grand "refrigerator". But by far one of the most interesting things they had come across was the telephone. Both Holmes and Watson had heard of such a thing before but never had the pleasure of trying it out for themselves.
"This is a-…"
"Telephone, yes," Holmes finished for Harvey, surprising him, "I do believe it was invented in…1876? Indeed, I have heard of it."
"Then I trust you know how it works?" Mr. Marsh asked, humor edging his tone.
"Of course," Holmes sniffed, taking on an air of superiority.
Harvey looked skeptical for a moment and then shrugged, waving for them to follow on. Watson leaned in close to Holmes to whisper a question into his ear, "You don't really know how to work it, do you?"
"Well I've never done it but it couldn't be too difficult if Harvey can manage it," he replied tersely.
Watson nearly laughed but he held himself in check, giving his partner a reprimanding nudge. They were on their way up the stairs now and came upon a hallway with three doors. Harvey and Sylvia led them down to the last door and opened it for them.
"This will be your room;" she said pleasantly, "Until Monica gets back that is."
The room was a nice size with a large window on the far wall. In the middle stood a queen sized bed with a dark green, neatly embroidered bedspread. The walls were covered with aging wallpaper, flowery and still pleasant to look at. The small white vanity was pristine, save for a few pictures wedged between the mirror and wood and some perfume bottles. There was a bookshelf too, filled to bursting with worn books, showing the girl was somewhat of an intellectual. There were also large, glossy posters tacked to the walls which displayed groups of long-haired men holding what appeared to be new-fangled instruments. These contrasted greatly with the sweet and bookish femininity of the rest of the room, meaning that Monica was a rebellious young lady but also still kindhearted and well-read.
"Oh look at how late it's getting!" Sylvia exclaimed, staring at her silvery wrist-watch, "We have to get going to Aunt Margaret's!"
"Hmm? Oh, right!" Harvey said, snapping his fingers in remembrance, "Go get your coat, darling."
"Sorry to cut things so short," she apologized as she left the room, "I always visit my aging Aunt on Saturdays."
As soon as she had left the room, Mr. Marsh's face turned gravely serious and he addressed Holmes and Watson with a tone of upmost importance, "I'm trusting you two not to try any funny business while we're out and I'll know if anything is missing. My brother is a police officer and a good one at that…" he was cut off by the voice of his wife calling him from downstairs, "I'm trusting you," he warned again and then was gone.
Holmes looked at Watson and Watson looked at Holmes and neither knew what they should do next.
(A/N: Thank you everybody for such wonderful feedback! Please continue it! :D)