Chapter One: Cometh the Rain
Spring had come at last. The last remnants of my battle with Moriarty were washed away with the melting snow. There were only two records remaining of the incident: Watson's article and that in my own mind. My friend had taken his article to the local gazette, and they ran it on the front page. It was the first time I had been accosted by myself on every corner. My awkward smile was beaming at me from every front page. They had come to take the picture of Watson and myself only a day after the funerals, so I had not been in the best of spirits. But I had smiled for them nonetheless. Now it was only a week away from my 18th birthday. Annie had told me there would be no big celebration, but I knew that she was devious in those ways.
"What do you want for your birthday?" Watson asked as he pulled out his billfold to count his money again. He had been awarded a total of five pounds for his front page article, and he was so proud that he pulled out his money at every possible interval in conversation to count it. I turned my eyes from our window and looked to my friend with a sigh.
"I've told you countless times, Watson. I don't want anything but to leave this abyss and live my own life." I carefully combed back my dark hair so that it made a slight flip at the side-part, and Watson stuck his wallet back into his pocket. He stood, looked me firmly in the eye, and scowled.
"Everyone wants something, and I want to get you something for your birthday."
"If you must know," I said, feeling a slight blush rise to my cheeks, "I have all ready asked Rose not to get me anything. I do not wish for you to spend your well-earned money on me." I saw a sly smile slide across Watson's face. He had not been with us long, but it had taken him only a short time to become acquainted with Rose Williamson. She was, pun unintended, the blooming flower of our establishment. Her dark red hair glinting in the sunlight as she entered the room, her full lips pouting and clear hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. And her freckles standing against her pale, delicate skin-
'Your thoughts betray you, Jack,' Holmes muttered with a chuckle. I was quickly pulled from my daze by the sound of his knowing voice in my head. 'I suggest against dwelling on all things feminine and focusing on your travel plans and how they coincide with the plans of your country.'
"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.
"What?" Watson asked.
'You are turning 18 soon, Jack. Old enough to serve your country,' Holmes' voice was grave. He knew what I wanted to do with my life, and both of us knew that I was not going to throw it away by fighting in a war.
"Nothing," I told Watson. "I was just talking to myself." And it was true, in a sense. I sat down on my bed, my eyes searching the green hills rolling outside of my window. Without thinking it over in my mind first, I turned to Watson, a smile lighting my face. "Would you like to take a stroll with me?" I asked.
"More than anything," he said truthfully. "It is quite a beautiful day outside."
"I agree. And the fresh air may just stir my mind into thinking straight."
-------------------------------------------------
I felt the cool breeze playing in my hair, and I found myself constantly brushing my bangs from my eyes. The trees were budding in the yard, and the grass was a bright, vibrant green. The sky was a clear, robin's-egg blue, without a single tuft of cloud. In his hands, Watson carried his faithful notebook. I was reminded of the night that we first met, and the sight of his pale hands clutching fast to the notebook's cover. I smiled weakly.
"What would you say," I asked him finally, "if I were to tell you that I wanted to avoid going into the military by all costs?" He stared blankly at me for a moment, then looked to his feet.
"My first impression would be to think that thinking such things is awfully unpatriotic of you, but then I must remind myself who I am speaking to. I know you want to be a detective more than anything, but... I have to ask something of you."
"Go on, then," I prompted after he paused.
"If they were to come to place you in the very front lines, promise me that you would not fight them. Their cause is as just as your own."
"Every man in England is hoping that it will not come to that, Watson," I murmured. Presently, I heard a crack of thunder approaching from behind. I turned my head, and where there had formerly been not a speck of cloud, there were now rolling thunderheads approaching quickly.
"Promise?" Watson asked, his round face looking pathetically up at mine. Another low rumbling of thunder in the distance was our signal to begin moving inside. I was still amazed by the fact that the clouds had rolled up so quickly. I listened to see if Sherlock Holmes had anything to say on the subject, but he was unusually silent.
"Yes, yes, I promise," I said quickly, my eyes never leaving the storm clouds. "Come, we should get back inside before we are soaked by the rain. But I thank you for your company." Watson made no response. It seemed as though the answer I gave him did not satisfy him. My spirits dampened, I turned with Watson back to the house. Just as I opened the door for my friend to step inside, the rain fell.
The drops droned on the roof in a steady tattoo. It washed over the windows, obstructing all view. It flooded our streets and our yards. It seemed as though we were an island, surrounded on all sides by thick inches of water. No one was allowed to leave for any purpose at all, save for Annie who had to take trips to the market to buy all of us food. Watson and I would amuse the smaller children by gathering around the fireplace and telling our story over and over again. They never seemed to tire of the tale. And the rain came.
Before I could register the days gone by, it was the day celebrating my birth. I found myself mechanically packing all of my belongings into an old suitcase Annie had found on the third floor. As I snapped the top shut, I could see Watson standing next to me, his own suitcase in his right hand and his notebook in his left. His face was as bright as the first day I met him. I looked him over, and felt one eyebrow raise in incredulity.
"Where do you think you are going, young Watson?" I asked. His bright eyes dimmed and his face fell instantly.
"Holmes, I thought you said that we- That you and I would- I thought-"
"Yes, yes" I said with a laugh, "I was only fooling with you. But first I must give my farewells to Annie and sign your papers."
"Sign my papers?"
"Why, yes! You cannot leave this house without consent from a parent or the master of the house. If she thinks that I am a competent caretaker, then she will allow you to leave with me. If not, well... I wish you the best of luck, my friend."
"You mean... You would take care of me, Holmes?"
"What have you ever done that would put me so against you as to leave you cooped up in this hole? You are a good man, Watson, and so I must be true to my word. If all bodes well, we set out for London tonight. Quickly now, let us be off. I don't want to keep Annie waiting!" We set off quickly down the hall, giving one glancing look at our room before it disappeared behind a corner. Our feet smacked against the hardwood flooring as we tramped to the foyer. And, as I thought, there was a rousing cheer upon our arrival. There were brightly-coloured streamers draped around the walls and ceiling. Every child was in their best clothing, and they all wore smiles that were bright and true. Rose was the most beautiful of all.
Her hair was daintily pulled back behind her head, accenting her eyes. They peered out at me, with a happiness and a sadness that was so intense I felt it burning in the back of my mind hours after I had gone. They shone with the promise of tears, but I knew she would not let them fall until I had gone. The only face in the room that held a sadder expression was that of Annie. Her tears were all ready pouring down her swollen face. In her hand she clutched the papers for Watson's release. I stepped forward and was immediately set upon by the children.
"Goodbye, Jack!"
"We'll miss you!"
"Come back soon!"
"I will, I promise, as soon as I can!" I told them, trying to move toward Annie. I finally made it to her side, and I was summarily scooped up in her big arms. She embraced me for moments on end, and when she finally let me loose, I pulled a vast quantity of air into my lungs. The children giggled lightly, and Annie handed the papers to me.
"You've grown to be a very fine young man, Holmes. I know you'll take good care of him. Just..." Her tears choked her voice, and all she could resort to was pointing to the spot where I was to sign my name. I did so quickly, and she thrust the papers into my hand. In a soft voice, which was all she could muster, she whispered, "Take care of yourselves."
"We shall do our best, Annie. This I promise you." I picked my suitcase with my right hand and slung a bag over my left shoulder. "As soon as I am in London, I shall send you a letter. And one every month after that." Annie's eyes sparkled with tears, and I looked out the window. The rain was still pouring over the countryside. Sighing, I turned to Watson. He stared back, his face the brightest I had seen it.
"Where to, Holmes?" He asked.
"First, I would suggest stowing your notebook somewhere drier. We are in for quite the journey, and I suppose that most of it shall be rather wet."
Spring had come at last. The last remnants of my battle with Moriarty were washed away with the melting snow. There were only two records remaining of the incident: Watson's article and that in my own mind. My friend had taken his article to the local gazette, and they ran it on the front page. It was the first time I had been accosted by myself on every corner. My awkward smile was beaming at me from every front page. They had come to take the picture of Watson and myself only a day after the funerals, so I had not been in the best of spirits. But I had smiled for them nonetheless. Now it was only a week away from my 18th birthday. Annie had told me there would be no big celebration, but I knew that she was devious in those ways.
"What do you want for your birthday?" Watson asked as he pulled out his billfold to count his money again. He had been awarded a total of five pounds for his front page article, and he was so proud that he pulled out his money at every possible interval in conversation to count it. I turned my eyes from our window and looked to my friend with a sigh.
"I've told you countless times, Watson. I don't want anything but to leave this abyss and live my own life." I carefully combed back my dark hair so that it made a slight flip at the side-part, and Watson stuck his wallet back into his pocket. He stood, looked me firmly in the eye, and scowled.
"Everyone wants something, and I want to get you something for your birthday."
"If you must know," I said, feeling a slight blush rise to my cheeks, "I have all ready asked Rose not to get me anything. I do not wish for you to spend your well-earned money on me." I saw a sly smile slide across Watson's face. He had not been with us long, but it had taken him only a short time to become acquainted with Rose Williamson. She was, pun unintended, the blooming flower of our establishment. Her dark red hair glinting in the sunlight as she entered the room, her full lips pouting and clear hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. And her freckles standing against her pale, delicate skin-
'Your thoughts betray you, Jack,' Holmes muttered with a chuckle. I was quickly pulled from my daze by the sound of his knowing voice in my head. 'I suggest against dwelling on all things feminine and focusing on your travel plans and how they coincide with the plans of your country.'
"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.
"What?" Watson asked.
'You are turning 18 soon, Jack. Old enough to serve your country,' Holmes' voice was grave. He knew what I wanted to do with my life, and both of us knew that I was not going to throw it away by fighting in a war.
"Nothing," I told Watson. "I was just talking to myself." And it was true, in a sense. I sat down on my bed, my eyes searching the green hills rolling outside of my window. Without thinking it over in my mind first, I turned to Watson, a smile lighting my face. "Would you like to take a stroll with me?" I asked.
"More than anything," he said truthfully. "It is quite a beautiful day outside."
"I agree. And the fresh air may just stir my mind into thinking straight."
-------------------------------------------------
I felt the cool breeze playing in my hair, and I found myself constantly brushing my bangs from my eyes. The trees were budding in the yard, and the grass was a bright, vibrant green. The sky was a clear, robin's-egg blue, without a single tuft of cloud. In his hands, Watson carried his faithful notebook. I was reminded of the night that we first met, and the sight of his pale hands clutching fast to the notebook's cover. I smiled weakly.
"What would you say," I asked him finally, "if I were to tell you that I wanted to avoid going into the military by all costs?" He stared blankly at me for a moment, then looked to his feet.
"My first impression would be to think that thinking such things is awfully unpatriotic of you, but then I must remind myself who I am speaking to. I know you want to be a detective more than anything, but... I have to ask something of you."
"Go on, then," I prompted after he paused.
"If they were to come to place you in the very front lines, promise me that you would not fight them. Their cause is as just as your own."
"Every man in England is hoping that it will not come to that, Watson," I murmured. Presently, I heard a crack of thunder approaching from behind. I turned my head, and where there had formerly been not a speck of cloud, there were now rolling thunderheads approaching quickly.
"Promise?" Watson asked, his round face looking pathetically up at mine. Another low rumbling of thunder in the distance was our signal to begin moving inside. I was still amazed by the fact that the clouds had rolled up so quickly. I listened to see if Sherlock Holmes had anything to say on the subject, but he was unusually silent.
"Yes, yes, I promise," I said quickly, my eyes never leaving the storm clouds. "Come, we should get back inside before we are soaked by the rain. But I thank you for your company." Watson made no response. It seemed as though the answer I gave him did not satisfy him. My spirits dampened, I turned with Watson back to the house. Just as I opened the door for my friend to step inside, the rain fell.
The drops droned on the roof in a steady tattoo. It washed over the windows, obstructing all view. It flooded our streets and our yards. It seemed as though we were an island, surrounded on all sides by thick inches of water. No one was allowed to leave for any purpose at all, save for Annie who had to take trips to the market to buy all of us food. Watson and I would amuse the smaller children by gathering around the fireplace and telling our story over and over again. They never seemed to tire of the tale. And the rain came.
Before I could register the days gone by, it was the day celebrating my birth. I found myself mechanically packing all of my belongings into an old suitcase Annie had found on the third floor. As I snapped the top shut, I could see Watson standing next to me, his own suitcase in his right hand and his notebook in his left. His face was as bright as the first day I met him. I looked him over, and felt one eyebrow raise in incredulity.
"Where do you think you are going, young Watson?" I asked. His bright eyes dimmed and his face fell instantly.
"Holmes, I thought you said that we- That you and I would- I thought-"
"Yes, yes" I said with a laugh, "I was only fooling with you. But first I must give my farewells to Annie and sign your papers."
"Sign my papers?"
"Why, yes! You cannot leave this house without consent from a parent or the master of the house. If she thinks that I am a competent caretaker, then she will allow you to leave with me. If not, well... I wish you the best of luck, my friend."
"You mean... You would take care of me, Holmes?"
"What have you ever done that would put me so against you as to leave you cooped up in this hole? You are a good man, Watson, and so I must be true to my word. If all bodes well, we set out for London tonight. Quickly now, let us be off. I don't want to keep Annie waiting!" We set off quickly down the hall, giving one glancing look at our room before it disappeared behind a corner. Our feet smacked against the hardwood flooring as we tramped to the foyer. And, as I thought, there was a rousing cheer upon our arrival. There were brightly-coloured streamers draped around the walls and ceiling. Every child was in their best clothing, and they all wore smiles that were bright and true. Rose was the most beautiful of all.
Her hair was daintily pulled back behind her head, accenting her eyes. They peered out at me, with a happiness and a sadness that was so intense I felt it burning in the back of my mind hours after I had gone. They shone with the promise of tears, but I knew she would not let them fall until I had gone. The only face in the room that held a sadder expression was that of Annie. Her tears were all ready pouring down her swollen face. In her hand she clutched the papers for Watson's release. I stepped forward and was immediately set upon by the children.
"Goodbye, Jack!"
"We'll miss you!"
"Come back soon!"
"I will, I promise, as soon as I can!" I told them, trying to move toward Annie. I finally made it to her side, and I was summarily scooped up in her big arms. She embraced me for moments on end, and when she finally let me loose, I pulled a vast quantity of air into my lungs. The children giggled lightly, and Annie handed the papers to me.
"You've grown to be a very fine young man, Holmes. I know you'll take good care of him. Just..." Her tears choked her voice, and all she could resort to was pointing to the spot where I was to sign my name. I did so quickly, and she thrust the papers into my hand. In a soft voice, which was all she could muster, she whispered, "Take care of yourselves."
"We shall do our best, Annie. This I promise you." I picked my suitcase with my right hand and slung a bag over my left shoulder. "As soon as I am in London, I shall send you a letter. And one every month after that." Annie's eyes sparkled with tears, and I looked out the window. The rain was still pouring over the countryside. Sighing, I turned to Watson. He stared back, his face the brightest I had seen it.
"Where to, Holmes?" He asked.
"First, I would suggest stowing your notebook somewhere drier. We are in for quite the journey, and I suppose that most of it shall be rather wet."