Prompt: resolutions, from mrspencil

A/N: Well, I never did catch up but I did finish. Apologies for the somber mood of this response, but I found my inspiration in the centennial of the ending of WWI.

I enjoyed so much doing this challenge again and reading everyone else's responses. Thanks to everyone for a fun December and a HUGE thanks to Hades Lord of the Dead for organizing this every year. Happy New Year and I hope to be back in December (perhaps before if my Holmes muse cooperates).

Since my return from the blood-soaked fields of France, I had hardly paid attention to the date, or any other goings-on throughout the world. I had seen far too much of the result of such things during the past five years. Instead, Holmes and I spent much time seated in front of the fire, reminiscing of better times, or else I read quietly while he played his violin.

For I had accepted Holmes's request, made almost immediately upon my return after Armistice Day, that I should join him in his retirement in Sussex Downs. Having few other options open to me, and knowing that I could not return to private practice and that I should not be living alone, I agreed. I moved at once into the small bedroom that had been set aside for me since Holmes had left London, and resolved to live out my retirement in peace, as Holmes had done since 1904.

Peace. I contemplated the word as I watched Holmes read the newspaper over the breakfast table. A few words of the headlines jumped out at me, all about the peace that had been declared.. While I was immensely grateful that the horror of the war was finally over, I could not the feeling that the peace was somewhat empty, devoid of meaning. I was not the only one who felt such, for I knew many of my fellow soldiers were aghast that peace had been declared with no victor, that the destruction of the previous five years was all for nothing save some war reparations that many felt did not go far enough. Holmes and I did not discuss the war, for I knew that like many on the home front, he was merely grateful the war was at last over, and I could not fault him for that. Such unprecedented destruction had very nearly destroyed an entire generation, brought down three of the continent's great monarchies, and left some of the greatest countries in Europe in ruins. I could not see the point of it, and it rang false to me to celebrate a peace when there never should have been a war in the first place. If only we could turn back the clock to the summer of 1914! But already, the time before the war seemed far away, as if it had been a different world from the one we now lived in. I remembered how we had entered this twentieth century with such hope and optimism. Now it seemed scarred, as if it should never recover from this first great hardship.

I stopped my musings to wonder if Holmes still read nothing but the criminal news and the agony column when he suddenly folded his his newspaper and glanced at me. "You look like you have been daydreaming," he said. No doubt he could tell what had been occupying my mind, but in his retirement it seems Holmes has at last learned the value of tact, and so he did not say so.

"I do not know if one can call it daydreaming," I said. "Every time I contemplate the war it is more like a waking nightmare."

"It has seemed such for five long years," he said.

"It is not so much the war itself," I said. I had been fortunate in that I was not at the front, though my hospital had been close enough that we always heard the bombs and the gunfire. "I do not believe there is one person who can say what exactly this war was over, or what was gained by it. Not even your brother, Holmes!" I surveyed my friend over the table. "I am sorry, old fellow. I did not expect such an outburst."

"Not at all, Watson. You are right. Mycroft said as much to me many times," Holmes said. "I have never seen such pointless destruction in my life."

Perhaps it was the amount of time since the war's end, or perhaps it was that we had now started, but it suddenly seemed as if we could no longer avoid talking about it. Indeed, perhaps it was beneficial that we should. The war was beginning to feel as if it was a great weight hanging over us, much as it was hanging over the whole country. I saw the same haunted looks as I had seen in the hospital in France here on the streets of Sussex Downs. It seemed as if there had been no resolution, that the horror of the war far eclipsed the cause. Who remembered Archduke Franz Ferdinand now, other than as the catalyst for this destruction? Even the empire and monarchy to which he had belonged was a casualty of this Great War.

"It hardly feels as if it is a new year," Holmes mused.

"Is it New Year's Day already?" I asked. The days had largely run together since my return, for although the date of the Armistice was forever emblazoned in everyone's minds, the days since had been a whirlwind of activity, with the soldiers returning and then the strictly enforced quarantines due to the Spanish 'flu. I hardly noticed the dates anymore.

"Yes," Holmes said. "It is now 1919, old fellow."

1919. A lost year, it already seemed to me, for it came between the worst five years the world had yet seen and the start of a new decade. But, it was still the first year of peace since the autumn of 1914, and that must surely count for something. There was something promising in the idea of a new beginning, one that would surely be informed by the lessons we had learned from the previous five years. "I am glad to see 1918 in the past," I said finally.

Holmes nodded. "I for one am looking forward to a return to normal," he said.

"I do not know if there can be a return to normal, Holmes," I said. "I expect we shall have to spend this year and perhaps the next decade besides creating one anew."

"Then we shall resolve to do so," Holmes said, some of the old steely glint entering his eyes. "I trust that all these puffed up national leaders have learned the folly of their pride, so that a thing such as this war will not happen again."

I smiled sadly. "If only there were such a thing as New Year's resolutions for countries," I said. "And a way to ensure that they were followed."

Holmes made a face. "New Year's resolutions are a pointless exercise, Watson. One cannot simply decide to make a change only because it is a new year without the will to see it through." Far from thinking my companion bitter, I knew his opinion was informed by his own struggles with his bad habits, which had taken years and much patience to overcome. Perhaps he was right. It did seem fitting that a resolution not to allow anything resembling the previous five years to take place again should follow directly on a war that had no resolution at all.

"You shall not make any resolutions, then, Holmes?" I asked, half teasing, for I already knew the answer.

"Anything I wish to do in the coming year I shall certainly do without needing to make a formal announcement of it," Holmes said. "Though I do not intend to do much. There is little I wish to do other than conduct some chemical experiments, tend my bees, and enjoy the peace of retirement. I did not get much of a chance to do so before I was forced to join the preemptive war effort." In his way, Holmes had done as much for the war as I had, for he had continued consulting with our intelligence officials throughout the war.

"I must agree with you, Holmes. I have no wish to do anything else but accustom myself once again to peace," I said. The sun shone through the curtains, lighting up the fields beyond Holmes's cottage. It was a reminder that, while destruction had rained down much of the Continent, the war had not destroyed everything. The sun would still rise, come spring the flowers would bloom once again and the birds would come to nest. Perhaps a nation could heal, though the road would be long and hard and the outcome different than what we had thought at its start. "Perhaps I shall take up my pen again," I said, giving my companion a sidelong look. He had never warmed to my tales of our adventures, though he had given his permission for their publication readily enough. I sometimes suspected he did not dislike them as much as he pretended to anymore.

"A capital idea, Watson," Holmes said. "Though perhaps you may expand your subjects beyond my cases, old fellow. You can certainly write of anything you choose and no doubt any other story would be as popular."

I laughed aloud, to which Holmes appeared gratified. I realized it had been long months since I had laughed at all. "I have thought of it, but I have notes of too many cases that will be of interest to the public before I can think of writing anything else," I said. "Besides, I greatly enjoy writing them. It brings back many memories when I do."

"Well, there can be no harm in publishing them now," Holmes said. "It might even do the nation some good, to know there is still something of the old days left."

"You sound maudlin, Holmes," I said.

"Maudlin?" Holmes said. "Not at all, my dear Watson. In fact, I am more than ready to meet this new year, and the decade to come. The east wind has passed, old friend, and while much was lost, much still remains. I must believe the days to come will be brighter, if we resolve to make them so."

"I shall drink to that," I said. "To days to come, Holmes."