Posted by Bowen Cates on 3/9/2008, 9:36 pm, in reply to "chapter fifteen part two"
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Chapter 16: In Which Deidre Has Rather A Hectic Dinner.
It took a good hour for Theodore to get over his embarrassment, he was glad of one thing though: his stomach had created such a stir that 1800 Holmes, 2103 Holmes and Inspector Lestrade had all forgotten about the smile and everything had returned to normal.
Except for Theodore himself. He was sure that 1800 Holmes would bring it up sooner or later, that even if it was out of his mind now, the Victorian would soon remember, and Theodore did not like the thought of that at smile on 2103 Holmes’ face one little tiny bit. He had seen it before, it was the same smile that Theodore’s Mom always had on her face when his dad walked into the room.
That was not a smile that was ever, at all, under any circumstances, to grace the distinct, Hawk like features of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
And, whether 2103 Holmes agreed with that or not, his counterpart certainly did.
Theodore had had plenty of time to think it over during dinner, which had consisted of cold chicken sandwiches, salad and water as Watson had not had time to cook anything and was saving the waffles he had baked that morning for breakfast the next day.
Theodore had discarded all other explanations one after the other, as Holmes would do when going though a series of clues and separating the important ones from the useless.
It hadn’t been a prideful smile, as one would give to a student of detection, nor one of humor, enjoyment was also scratched of Theodore’s list of emotional suspects.
Contempt was ruled out the moment it had entered his head and satisfaction would be but a feeble excuse, a lie to himself in order conceal the facts.
As much as he was loathed to admit it, it had been a smile of true and contented affection.
An affection aimed at the ancestor of the man that 2103 and 1800 Holmes had once lectured about the distancing of one’s mind from one’s emotions.
Sherlock Holmes was…or seemed to be…there was no other word for it…affected by this woman. This abomination of the female gender who was farther from the elegant ideal of a Victorian lady, then Theodore was.
Now, his stomach full of food, Theodore could not have felt more empty. He didn’t understand it, he felt as if 2103 Holmes was betraying him. All this time, Theodore had always thought, ‘If Holmes doesn’t need other people to be happy, then I don’t either’.
Now that comforting assurance was being crushed a little more with every second.
Doctor Watson had been a welcome exception to Holmes’ secluded lifestyle; this was not.
He glanced around him at the room’s other occupants all sitting around the great oak table.
Wiggins and Tennyson wolfing down food, Watson as he patted Deidre on the back to stop her from choking on chicken sandwich, at Lestrade who was quietly scraping at her plate in a distracted fashion - probably reveling in the look 2103 Holmes had given her. Which made Theodore suspect that this had indeed been the first time she had received such a glance.
He turned his head to get a look at the rest of the group, 2103 Holmes was reading a two hundred and twenty year old newspaper, in a nonchalant fashion that suggested he had read it many times before.
1800 Holmes was sitting at the far end of the table, his food untouched, glancing distractedly at his other self with a hesitant glow in his eyes, which spoke of the contempt with which he held the emotion he had seen momentarily upon his own face.
Which would explain the reason that 2103 Holmes was seeking refuge in the pages of his newspaper, which Theodore now realized was flipped open to the page where it was the writers privilege to talk of the latest sports events of that time, a subject which 2103 Holmes and his counterpart, abhorred. Even if the latest events in that paper had taken place over two hundred years ago.
Suddenly 2103 Holmes closed the paper, and smoothing it out, set it down upon the table by his empty plate.
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