Posted by Bowen Cates on 3/6/2008, 11:26 am
24.207.121.197
Chapter 2: In Which Many Things Are Made Clear
England, London, 221B Baker Street 1883 August the 22ed, 10:37pm standard London time
(Authors note: due to the fact that there seems to be a difference of opinion as to the color of Holmes’ hair and eyes - the 19th century Holmes being commonly thought to have brown or black hair with grey eyes and the SH22 Holmes having blonde hair and originally blue eyes - because this is an SH22 fan fiction I’ll make Holmes’ hair color blonde but his eyes grey (because of their ever changing nature in the show) in both time periods. I will also do the same for Watson as far as concerns the pigmentation of his elastomask (his eyes will be brown as they are usually.)
“What the Devil was that!” Demanded a tall gentleman, - hardly visible through the settling dust - to his friend between coughs.
“If I knew that, we could switch professions Holmes!” another man, slightly shorter yelled back with a matching British accent.
“Perhaps an asteroid?”
“Really Holmes! And you claim to have no knowledge of the solar system!” the shorter man laughed.
“Where are you old boy?”
“Just over here, give me a hand will you?”
Coughing and gasping the first man made his way over to his friend, once clear of the dust one could see that he was about six feet, had reddish blonde hair and side burns, and wore a very particular set of clothing. Which consisted of a vest, long cloth pants, a gold watch chain - that had something like a coin dangling from it - and a pair of shoes recently covered in so much dust that one failed to make out the color or material.
He reached down a hand to the other gentleman, who was dressed in rather the same style, except he had darker brown hair and a beard which covered a good deal of his face, and had no objects of any kind hanging from his silver watch chain. Taking his companion’s hand, he stumbled to his feet and fitted a manacle over one of his deep brown eyes.
“Thank you Holmes” said he, dusting himself off.
However, once Holmes had helped his friend he began rummaging madly through the newly accumulated rubble, searching for something.
“I rather think the object that made this mess will be more in the centre of the room”
“First things first, Watson” Holmes quipped, “I must find my violin”
“What?” Watson started in surprise “what has your violin to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all, I merely wish to be sure it is not too badly damaged” with a cry of triumph he pulled out from a pile of ceiling plaster his wooden violin case and quickly looked inside, a look of genuine relief passed over his face as he closed it again.
“No damage at all, they really should resume the manufacture of this type of case, now let us see if we can ascertain what it is that has made this infernal mess”
Even now, after knowing his friend for so long, Watson marveled at Holmes’ ability to keep all emotions under strict control, he also felt that he was handling things pretty well himself, considering the fact that the roof had just collapsed in on their quiet evening.
“Thank god Mrs. Hudson isn’t at home”
Holmes shivered, “oh yes, I am afraid I would not be able to explain this occurrence in any way which would satisfy her.”
Watson snickered “no doubt she would put it down to too much revolver practice indoors”
“No doubt” laughed Holmes, matching his friend’s mischievous grin.
“I say Holmes! Look!”
Watson had spotted, as was only possible to do from his view of the mess, a very particular shoe protruding out from under a large slab of cracked ceiling plaster.
“Let us hope he has had the same good fortune as my violin.”
Indeed Holmes was right in his guess as to their guest’s gender, for the shoe turned out to be attached to the foot of a teenage boy, dressed in strange clothes, but what could one expect when the circumstances themselves were just as unfathomable.
“Pick him up Holmes, let me just clear a spot on the sofa” instructed Watson, assuming a professional air as he began to remove bits of wood and ceiling from the red sofa in the corner of the room.
Holmes did so, looking over every inch of the child, he held in his arms, he was understandably unconscious, his metal rimmed glasses were cracked and mangled, but luckily no glass had pierced his skin, he did however have countless other smaller injuries. His curly black hair was mottled with blood and he was obviously of Jewish decent.
His arm was obviously broken, for it hung at an odd angle. He was quite tall, and Holmes would have placed him at about 13 or 14, it was amazing that this boy had survived such an impact at all.
He was wearing a simple sweater - yellow in color - trousers made of some brittle blue material faded at the knees and a white pair of shoes with a kind of advertisement on the sides.
he had also been tree climbing, handling a muddy object, running on a gravel path, had a liking waffles and maple syrup, had been unwrapping gifts, loved his mother and enjoyed reading, there was, however, one thing that puzzled the great detective about the lad’s appearance.
He addressed this concern to Watson as he lay the boy down on the sofa “what do you make of these melted patches on his sweater Watson?”
“I really don’t know Holmes” he handed the sweater over to the detective as he took it off the boy to check for any damage to his ribs.
“It is not fire, it almost resembles and electrical burn…” Holmes mumbled as he examined the piece of clothing in his hands.
Theodore opened his eyes to find two strange people bending over him, had it been anyone else he would have screamed, but at the sight of these two he knew he must have died and gone to heaven, to a wonderful place where ones dreams about the fictional world came true.
“You’re Sherlock Holmes right?” he said. Very calmly, his body was throbbing painfully but he supposed that that was natural when one had just died.
Holmes raised an eyebrow, but gave a little bow of his head “at your service, but I am afraid you have the advantage of me.”
“Theodore Trent” and then turning toward Watson “and you’re Dr. Watson…?”
“Yes indeed! How on earth do you know that?”
Heaven vanished before Theodore’s eyes, “we’re still on earth! But, but I’m dead! He was panicking now, and he felt cold, what had happened to his sweater?
“Calm down my boy, there is no need to fear, I am sure we only want for a little explanation to set things strait” soothed Holmes, fixing Theodore with a pair of awe-inspiringly intelligent grey eyes that seemed to twinkle with curiosity and an inwardly playful spirit.
“Perhaps you could help us to understand how is it that you came to fall through our roof a few moments ago? Surely the door would have been a far less painful means of entry.”
For the first time Theodore gave his surroundings a good look, dust coated everything, shingles and splintered wood dominated the floor and large wooden beams from the ceiling had crashed down onto a large oak table that had been in the centre of the room but was now lying on it’s side in a pile of broken china.
“That was your roof!” he exclaimed
“Indeed, so it would seem”
Message Thread:
« Back to thread