Author Note: Please take the poll on my profile, I'd appreciate it darlings~

~CWA

Clockwork:

Charles Worth was nicknamed as Clockwork over the years for his work using clock gears and clocks in generals- or even watches. He worked at the old shop down on Baker Street and has worked there- even owned the shop- for years. Not once has he even thought about another profession and not once has he left his shop besides to get something essential. When questioned about his love for the clockwork, he would usually give an offhand comment, a joke, about how he 'worked with time.'

No one understood why he loved his work- and oh did he love it so. To him, there was nothing more pleasurable than to sit down and work on a clock- to see all the gears, the nocks, and the crannies. To see every little scrape and scratch on each gear and to see every little notch in every gear- seeing how well they fit together… To see the gears turn and the hands move, it was watching time in motion. To him, working on a clock was more than a simple job; it was like having all the time in your hands.

So there he sat that late night, his body old, fragile, and shaky as he bent over the workbench. A small lamp leaned over his hands and his glasses were focused on one small gear of the clock. His hands were shaking, due to arthritis developing, but he paid no mind. To him, aging wasn't something that was permanent- to him, life was always in motion and when he has lived so long, it was almost as if he could see the past, the present, and the future at once. So what was the point of whining about the future when he knew that one day he would die? Yes, people usually worried about such things, but to him it was simply inevitable. Everyone died with time- sometimes they died young, sometimes they died old. Sometimes a death was claimed as an accident. Yet to Charles, there was no accident. Every death, every event, had happened for a reason.

Don't get him wrong, however. Just because he knew that everyone died when it was their time, he didn't plan on making funeral plans for his children or even his young granddaughter just yet- despite just how old his children, and grandchildren, were getting.

He smiled as he worked, thinking about his family- he lived a long, happy life indeed. Though many would say that it wasn't happy and would proclaim it a miracle he found love when all he did was work on clocks. Still, he did find love. It was a very long time ago, when he first started working on clocks- learning from his grandfather. He had met a young, petite beautiful woman by the name of Isabelle. Eventually, they did get married and they did have two children- two beautiful daughters. Still, clockwork took up a lot of his time and even took up more time when his daughter died back when she was seven due to an illness… or when his wife died from a heart attack the previous year.

He observed the gear in his hand as he held it up to the light, concentrating. Though, he still thought about his daughter, Susana, and her husband. He thought about his teenage grandchildren. Life is but a clock with a battery that will eventually die. But it still lives out its life, completely and fully.

"Room 145, second floor," a nurse instructed.

Susana nodded eagerly and practically ran to the elevator. She was alone- her husband was at work (planning on coming by later), and her kids were at school. Susana had to come to the hospital alone just to see her father, who had arrived from a heart attack. The last one he had, he almost didn't make it.

When she walked through, the first thing she noticed was her father lying in the hospital bed. His fragile skin looked thin, showing the veins that lay underneath. Around his mouth was an oxygen mask and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. Yet, he still held a small clock in his hand- fixing it like he always did so many times.

"Dad," Susana cried as she moved to get beside him.

He smiled softly and his eyes were half closed.

"Susana," he whispered.

"Dad, you should be resting, not fixing that clock. Please get some rest…"

"If I get some rest, I fear I might not wake up," Charles coughed slightly.

Susana looked at her father in fear and tears in her eyes.

"Dad, you…"

"Oh, don't you worry," he said dismissively, "I'll just get this clock done- it'll be my millionth clock, isn't that something? Then maybe… I'll get some final rest…"

"Stop it," Susana said firmly, "Stop talking that."

"Don't worry," Charles smiled, "I know you'll be fine, but eventually everyone runs out of time… My clock has been ticking for too long, Susana, and it's about to stop… I love you…"

"I love you too," she bit her lip and held one of his hands.

His other hand continued to work on the clock- just one more gear to turn… But the turn was never made, that final clock was left unfinished- forever.