Prompt: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words. Go to your search engine of choice and type in a Watsonian word. Go to the images suggested for said word and pick one of them as the inspiration for your work today.
"Victorian London" got me pictures of a street at night. The story progressed from there
Pea soup. Swirling mist. Dancing fog. Possible synonyms drifted through my mind as I wandered the streets. Sometimes the best way to describe a scene was to recreate the perspective.
Flickering gaslamps. The clip clop of horse hooves. The quietly irritated argument of a couple resolving a disagreement away from the kids. I kept walking. And I kept thinking.
What did I want to do? What did I want to include? How much of the truth could I afford to tell?
A cabbie, slowly wending his way toward home. A human nightwalker on the prowl. A gang member aiming for the park. Holmes would want to know about that later.
Not now, however. He did not need to know about that now. He would not return until tomorrow anyway.
A young man walking home from a long workday. One of the Irregulars darting away from a spying mission. A hobgoblin setting up some mild mischief for his family's children.
A sylph, coming to a stop directly in front of me. Her high-pitched voice carried an undertone of worry.
"Come."
An attack. Fear froze my chest even as I sprinted after her semi-transparent form. Sylph were protectors, fierce in their own way no matter their size. For one of them to seek help from a human, their protectee must have been attacked.
Had one of the Irregulars—
No. I pushed the thought aside. Just because I had asked a few sylphs to protect the courtyard did not necessarily mean this sylph was from the courtyard. I had asked only that they keep an eye on the area, and crafting worries out of imaginings would only produce a panic I could not afford. Not if I wanted to help. She led me into the next alley, then through a maze of paths and onto the second large street. The next corner brought us to an abrupt halt.
"Here."
A small form huddled in the shadows, magical features slightly blurred in the way I had come to recognize. Sky blue eyes held nothing but wary caution as I slowly knelt several feet away.
"Hello, young one. My name is Doctor Watson. What's yours?"
Silence answered me for several seconds, but a glance at the sylph now hovering over my shoulder finally prompted a faint whisper.
"Lenora."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," I replied with a gentle smile. "Or should I say elf?"
Surprise burst into view. She stared at me, then at her protector, then back at me, but even opening her mouth refused to create words. I let her flounder for only a few seconds.
"I am human," I answered the obvious question, "but I have known of the magical my whole life. Are you hurt?"
She swallowed, then shook her head, grief directing her gaze at the ground.
"Just hungry. Da had to go, and Mum couldn't," she murmured. "No Age. Then she got sick, and the landlord wanted money 'fore Da could find me. Nina's been looking, but he must be somewhere north of the Pole. Or gone, too."
Entirely possible. While elves had a natural lifespan approximately four times longer than humans, they did die, and their nature did not protect them from the more unsavory magical creatures. We had no way of knowing if her father still lived.
At least not until I could pass his name to Nicolas. I would ask that later.
"I know of a group of about twenty young ones. Humans all, but open minded. I believe several suspect the magical, and at least one has seen Nixie. A faery," I added at her look of confusion. "They live in a courtyard on the other side of town. I can take you to them, if you want. You would have food, shelter, and friends, and you would be safe there."
"Safe?" she murmured. The next moment nearly said yes before her gaze landed on Nina. Hope abruptly disappeared.
"Nina would go with you, of course," I continued as if I had not seen her doubts, "and a few of Nina's friends also guard the courtyard. I'm sure they would be able to teach you about your heritage without fear."
"I—" She stared at me, fighting to process everything quickly enough to decide. Long seconds announced just how long she had gone with only Nina for help. "You promise?"
"I promise. You would be safe there, Lenora, and you would have food and shelter. I might—and I do mean might—be able to get a friend looking for your Da as well. Do you want to come?"
She opened her mouth, closed it, then swallowed again. A slow nod finally agreed. Nina hovered above her shoulder as they followed me out of the alley.
Drafting Holmes' case could wait for a different night.
Hope you enjoyed! And thank you to MHC1987 for your review last chapter :)