Posted by BC on 3/6/2008, 4:10 pm, in reply to "Chapter one part two"
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 trousers, 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, there were 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 source of all this hullabaloo 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 ascertain that it’s condition is not beyond repair” with a cry of triumph he pulled out from a pile of ceiling plaster, his wooden violin case and quickly peered inside, an expression of genuine relief passed over his face as he closed it again.
“No damage at all, they really should resume the manufacture of this model of case, now let us see if we can discover 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 very 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 long red chair 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 probably 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 thirteen or fourteen years of age. it was amazing that this boy had survived such an impact at all.
He was wearing a simple Jumper - yellow in color – over what seemed to be a plain blue long-sleeved undershirt. His trousers were made of some brittle blue material faded at the knees. On his feet were a pair a white pair of shoes with a kind of advertisement on the outer sides.
he had also been tree climbing, handling a muddy object, running on a gravel path, had a liking of 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 as he laid the boy down where his friend had indicated. “What do you make of these melted patches on his jumper Watson?”
“I really don’t know Holmes” he handed the article over to the detective as he took it off the boy to check for any damage to his ribs.
“It could not be a product of fire, it almost resembles and electrical burn…” Holmes mumbled as he examined the piece of clothing in his hands.
Message Thread:
« Back to thread