Posted by Bowen Cates on 4/7/2008, 9:48 pm, in reply to "Chapter 23 part one"
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And how his mother had taken it into her head to learn how to sew and had accidentally secured herself to the chair in which she had been sitting during the attempt.
A tear made its way down Theodore’s cheek as these images chased each other through his head. He really wished that he had never told Matt that he hated him. He didn’t hate him. He hated how he acted sometimes, but Theodore was sure that Matt felt the same way about him.
“I’m sorry Matt,” he whispered under his breath “I love you, bro”
He had no idea how long he had been immersed in his thoughts, when Holmes interrupted them.
“Mr. Trent? Are you quite alright?”
Theodore’s throat was so tight with emotion that he could hardly talk. The fear was overpowering.
There was something about anticipation of a tragedy, knowledge in advance that events would never be set right, that made it ten times worse then when you just got it over with.
Theodore opened his mouth to respond but no words came out, his mind was buzzing faster and faster, words floated through his mind until a familiar speech arose up from among the muddle.
It was a speech from a book, it was one of his least favorites from the Holmes series, but there was room for nothing else in his head.
There was nothing else to say.
“Mr. Trent? Are you alright?” Holmes was sounding a bit concerned this time. Theodore heard the detective rise carefully to his feet and take one or two steps toward him.
Before Theodore could even think, he had opened his mouth.
“It is a terrible thing, Mr. Holmes, to see a dreadful event, an atrocious situation, preparing its self before your eyes, to clearly understand whither it will lead and yet be utterly unable to avert it.” he murmured, not even realizing consciously what he was saying.
Holmes was quite close to him now, and Theodore could feel the heat from his body.
“What was that Mr. Trent?” The detective inquired kindly.
“It is a terrible thing, Mr. Holmes, to see a dreadful event, an atrocious situation, preparing its self before your eyes, to clearly understand whither it will lead and yet be utterly unable to avert it” he recited again, much louder then before. This time knowing, wanting it to be heard, wanting Holmes to know…something…something Theodore didn’t know…he wanted Holmes to know so he could tell him what it was.
“Can a human being be placed in a more trying position?” he finished, returning to a whisper.
He could feel the tears welling up inside him once again, he was so embarrassed, he had told himself that whatever happened he would handle it with grace, but now, he couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself.
The thing that saved him, the thing that stopped the tears from getting beyond control was the sound of a voice, a very quiet, very gentle voice, the owner of which knew exactly what he was talking about.
it said two words, the same two words that it had said to the original author of the speech, and for a moment, time rewound it’s self, and he was back in his world of fiction, his safe-hold, the situation was still beyond his control, but he was able think again at the very least.
“Perhaps not.”
Theodore looked up at the detective who was now sitting right in front of him, his legs crossed, looking at the boy across from him with a kind, honest expression, the likes of which Theodore had never seen before.
“Mr. Trent…Theodore,” he began “you have, I know, been through a great ordeal, and that, as far as we know, there are no others who have experienced it before you, with the notable exception of myself.”
Theodore blinked, but said nothing, surprised by the sudden use of his first name.
Holmes continued, placing a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “And I can imagine how difficult it was for you, being ripped from your family, witnessing a shooting and then waking up the morning with the entire world changed around you long after your family have died, and how their deaths must torture you.”
Theodore opened his mouth, bowing his head; the floor had suddenly become very interesting.
“I didn’t look them up, I was afraid too.”
“A wise decision” the detective answered “as I know from personal experience. What I am attempting to communicate Theodore, is that through all that has happened you have been extraordinarily brave, loyal, and steadfast, and have matured far beyond your years. And if you can just hold out a little longer, just have faith in the events to come, then everything will turn out for the best”
Theodore looked up once again.
“Do you…do you think so?”
“Yes Theodore, I do,
You know…I look at this new century and I am really in awe. I did not think it was possible, even for me, to survive such a wrenching experience. My future self has had almost a year in which to settle in, and yet he still struggles, you have been thrown from two times, each one more different from the one which you have just left.
You have really shown great courage and I have a huge amount of respect for you, all I would ask is that you have the same amount of respect for yourself, and that you believe that whatever happens, you will be able to lift yourself above it. Can you do that for me Theodore?”
To tell the truth, he didn’t really know, but for the man in front of him - as the detective well knew - Theodore would do anything, he did not know Holmes ever said things like that, if Theodore told the real Watson he would never believe him…
“Alright, I’ll try” he gave a determined nod and reaching a hand to his face, wiped away the few stray tears that remained.
Holmes’ smile returned to its usual inwardly humorous one as he nodded back.
“Thank you, Mr. Trent, I know you will”
Theodore grinned sheepishly “That was a really nice thing to say,” he admitted.
Holmes’ smile suddenly vanished and he pressed his hand to the back of his head again. But It seemed to Theodore that it was not the wound which was bothering him.
He paused for a moment, staring into space, and then shaking himself, continued.
“I was once told that very same thing by someone very dear to me, and now I tell it to you. Do with it as you will” he finished, half-heartedly.
Theodore knew he shouldn’t ask, but his need to know was getting the better of him.
“Doctor Watson told you?”
“No” Holmes sighed, a far away look in his eyes “Mycroft.”
Theodore just sat there, staring at the great man in front of him, and knew that he was not the only one who was feeling awful about his brother believing him to be dead.
He was about to try to explain this to Holmes, despite the impossibility of the task, when the white door on the far side of the laboratory that lead to Moriarty’s base of operations flew open and the criminal himself stepped into the green tinted light.
“My, my, old friend,” His voice was as distorted as his image as he smirked pompously; eyeing the two as though they were wild animals in a cage. “And I never knew there were such hidden depths to your character. Tell me, did you have to invite your brother over for lunch before he would admit that to you?”
1800 Holmes’ face suddenly took on a stone like appearance.
Theodore felt rage boil inside him at the jab concerning Mycroft’s weight. If it had been anyone else, he would not have believed that they could sink lower.
Holmes smirked suddenly and his eyes gleamed venomously as he replied.
“I believe, Professor, that you must have Mycroft confused with the dear Colonel.”
Moriarty’s lips pursed dangerously as the door clicked shut behind him.
“The others shall be along shortly, but I thought the three of us could have a bit of a chat concerning the delightful events that are about to take place.”
Theodore cursed silently to himself; this was not going to end well.
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