ACADEMIA
Based on the movie "Sherlock Holmes"

Curiouser, and Curiouser

Firelight reflected off the red walls that separated Holmes' room from the outside world. I sat in the armchair, Chester in my lap, his tongue hanging out. I was beginning to realize this would be his trademark. Watson and Mary had parted ways with us outside the restaurant, yet Watson looked a little regretful that he was no longer Holmes' partner in crime. His blue eyes looked slightly nostalgic as Mary led him toward a different carriage. Holmes had been silent on the way back to Baker Street; only the glow of his pipe lit the dark carriage. I let my mind wander as the streetlights passed and I could not wait until we arrived back home so he could explain his deduction that Lady Sheffield had 'stolen' her own jewels.

"So," I began, "would you care to enlighten me on how you came to your conclusion?" I stroked Chester's ears as he snored, lying across my knees.

Holmes removed his tailcoat as he stalked about the room, throwing it in a pile on the floor as he untied his neckerchief.

"Why don't you tell me?" He put me on the spot, and I stopped petting Chester in surprise. Chester seemed unsettled by my sudden change in demeanor, and opened his black beady eyes, looking up at me.

"I thought you were the detective." Maybe I could redirect his questioning away from me.

"I thought I had hired you as my assistant. It is time to make yourself useful." I felt offended. As if I had not been of use all evening! I was the one who interviewed Mrs. Hanson. He had hardly bothered to talk to the woman.

I told him as much, "Excuse me, but I believe I was the one who interviewed Mrs. Hanson and obtained the information to confirm her innocence." Even as I said it, I knew I was reaching too far. He would have done just fine without me. I prayed he could not see the blush rising in my cheeks from my mistake in judgment.

He had the audacity to snort, but just as he did, he was loading his pipe with more tobacco, so when he snorted little bits of tobacco flew into the air. It was my turn to snort, and Chester jumped in my lap. I suddenly realized he was getting dog hair all over my dress, and decided maybe I should not be too pleased with myself.

"How very lady-like of you." Holmes unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt, his pipe bobbing up and down as he spoke. I was still too amused from seeing him with tobacco all over his face to take offense.

"You snorted first good sir."

"Do as I say, not as I do. I had no idea you were so impressionable." I settled on rolling my eyes, another unladylike habit. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted his face off in as dignified a manner as he could muster.

"How dare you insult a lady. I should sick my dog on you." I looked down at said canine, and he looked back at me, then at Holmes, his limp pink tongue and beady black eyes making him look quite comical.

"He's meaner than he looks," I added dubiously. Holmes glanced at Chester, then me. I noticed the slight glint in his eye that indicated an inward smile, and smirked at him. As soon as I did, his face changed, as if his fleeting amusement had never occurred, and he walked over to the fireplace, picking up a red-hot poker from within. He began walking about the room, twirling the fire iron around and swiping it through the air as if it were a sword.

As he did this, he finally returned to the matter at hand. "First, tell me what you think happened. Then, I will tell you what really took place."

My eyes never left the swinging fire iron as I stuttered, "I don't think that's the best idea." Chester jerked in my lap every time Holmes made an extra quick jab.

"Nonsense. I want to know what you think."

"I wasn't referring to your question; I meant that maybe you swinging around a searing hot red poker while I am in the room would not be the safest action to take."

"I am perfectly in control of the situation."

"Famous last words of a fool." He took another swipe through the air, and this time the iron struck the stand holding the other pokers. Sparks flew as metal collided and the sound of iron bars clattering to the ground echoed throughout the room.

At the same time the irons were struck Chester yelped and jumped from my lap, ducking beneath my seat for safety.

"Please stop!" I stood up in alarm. I knew I sounded shrill, but he was frightening me

"What on earth are you so frustrated about?" I did not know how I knew this, but something about him seemed stern. He had hardly spoken all evening since our quarrel at dinner. He seemed to look at me in surprise for a moment, and I did not know if it was because of my scream or because of my deduction concerning his mood.

He appeared to come to his senses, and placed the hot poker back in the fire.

"Forgive me. Perhaps now is not the best time to discuss this." He tucked his hands behind him. I was taken aback. Was he really that upset? What on earth was wrong with him?

I began to protest, but decided against it. If he was not in a good mood, there was nothing I could do to improve it.

"Very well. Goodnight." I reached down and scooped up Chester from beneath the armchair. On my way toward the door I paused in front of Holmes, Chester curled in my arms.

"I have no idea what's gotten into you, but I hope you are in a better mood by tomorrow morning. We have work to do." I met his eyes to let him know how serious I was. He only looked at me, his gaze flat, as if he wasn't really seeing me at all. He turned his head to the fire and nodded, as if I was dismissed.

My footsteps echoed across the room, the only sound besides the crackling of the fire. His room felt empty even with the both of us inside. Holmes just wasn't present, and I had no idea why.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I awoke to the sound of scratching. I opened my eyes and through my bleary vision saw a blob of yellow at the door. I sat up in alarm, and as my sight adjusted, I remembered the events from the previous day. Chester sat at the door, whining and scratching at the wood. I hurried out of bed and into some clothes to take him for a walk. A gust of September air swept over me, jolting me awake as I stepped outside with Chester in tow. I did not yet have a leash for him so a length of rope would have to do for now.

As I stumbled down the street, still half asleep, I realized I had no idea where I was going. I decided to turn around and head toward the local park. It seemed odd for Chester to have to attend to his 'business' on the street. We had walked a couple of blocks when I heard someone calling my name.

"Miss Catherine, Miss Catherine!" Maggie walked toward me, a basket of fresh produce from the market on her arm. Strands of her fiery red hair blew in the breeze.

"Oh Maggie, Good Morning." My voice sounded hoarse and scratchy from lack of sleep. Nevertheless, I knew I had to get used to getting up early if I was going to be keeping Chester.

"And if it ain't Mr. Rochester. 'e sure is a handsome fellow." Maggie curtsied at us, looking down at the dog.

"Don't compliment him too much, you'll give him a big head."

"Oh g'on." She flipped her hand in my direction as she chuckled cheerfully.

A thought inched it's way to the surface of my addled brain. "Maggie," I asked, "has Mr. Holmes been acting strangely lately? Have you noticed him being a bit, off?"

"Why Miss, e's always that way, you know that as well as I do. Though, 'e was a bit off color when 'e came back from the dead and all that."

It took a moment before I remembered what she was talking about. William had told me about it, all those months ago, back in, when was it? February? He had always kept up with Holmes's cases because he got the London Times in from Galveston every month. William was always interested in the famous Sherlock Holmes. He used to regale me with stories of Holmes' adventures that were published in the newspapers. William was fascinated with them, but I had never shown much interest until I discovered I would be rooming with the world famous detective once I arrived in London. William had responded to my news with a very nasty letter just reeking of jealousy. I remembered how devastated and then how delighted he had been when news of Holmes' death/resurrection reached American shores.

"Do you mean, he was the same before, just as moody I mean?"

"Oh mum, e's always been moody, but just after it happened, 'im comin back from the dead and all, 'e seemed extra out of sorts. Dr. Watson finally told Mrs. 'udson 'ow Miss Adler 'ad passed, and we realized that must've been what 'e was on about. Every now and then 'e would be even more sour than usual, and we just chalked it up to 'im missin 'er. Did 'e ever tell you bout Miss Adler?"

I was dumbfounded. "No, he didn't. Not ever. Who was she?" I dreaded the answer.

Maggie, blushed, and then stepped closer to me, as if in secret. "Well, Mrs. 'udson would be ashamed of me if I told ya, but I fink you might as well know what you're gettin into. Miss Adler was 'is mistress. She was a beau'iful woman, but as much trouble as she was worf, Mr. 'olmes just couldn't keep away from 'er. I fink she met 'er end in the last big case 'e worked on. The one wif the Professor. It was back in the winter, I fink."

My blood froze in my veins. Professor Moriarty. I remembered that case. It had made the papers all over the world. I pictured Holmes with a mysterious, beautiful woman, and my stomach dropped through my feet.

I could not accept the idea of Holmes with a woman…with another woman…and I suddenly felt terribly sad. My knees threatened to buckle and I almost swayed on the spot.

"Are you alright Miss Catherine? You look awfully pale, more than usual, I mean. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She realized what she said, and looked bashfully at the ground.

"N-no Maggie, I'm…I'm fine. I just need…more rest. Yes, I'll take a nap when I get back."

"But you still 'ave to take Mr. 'olmes 'is breakfast, remember?" She looked apprehensive, as though the thought of her bringing Holmes breakfast was abhorrent.

"Y-yes. I do. I'll do that once I get back. Then I'll rest."

"Are you sure you're alright Miss? 'ave I upset you?"

"Oh no Maggie, what could you have done to upset me? Please, don't let me make you late. I'll see you back home shortly." Home. It suddenly didn't feel like home anymore.

CKCKCKCKCKCKCKCKCKCK

I returned to Baker Street in a daze. Mrs. Hudson met me at the door.

"His breakfast is ready dear, though; I doubt he is even up yet. I heard him playing the violin at 4 this morning." She seemed calmer this morning, probably because Holmes was not awake. He had not had time to terrorize her yet.

"Yes mam. I will take it up to him. Would you mind if I let Chester roam around? He's already been outside." The atmosphere seemed altogether different now that I knew a woman besides the landlady and maid had walked the halls.

"Of course dear. There's nothing he could do that would be half as bad as what that man has done." She jerked her head toward the ceiling as she helped me take off my thin coat. I really needed to buy some new clothes. My wardrobe, while sufficient for Texas winters, was no match for England's latitude.

Mrs. Hudson hung my thin, battered coat on the rack beside the door, then led me through to the kitchen. Mrs. Gosling awaited with Holmes' breakfast tray of ham and eggs.

"I don't expect he's even up yet, though, with that man, you never can tell." The grey-haired woman always seemed pessimistic when referring to Holmes. Sometimes I wondered what he had done to all of these women to make them detest him so much. Yes, he was obnoxious and moody. He was loud, arrogant and discourteous. But, I had never seen him be mean or hateful to anyone. At worst, he was aloof and ignored everyone. I supposed I was one of the "few," quite possibly only two, women who was not totally horrified by Holmes' personality traits.

"I'll take it from here Mrs. Gosling." I picked up the tray and the china rattled as my hands shook.

"Are you alright dearie? You seem out of sorts." Mrs. Gosling's blue eyes clouded with worry. She was the kind of comforting, motherly type who could always make you feel better with a hug. I was afraid if she did hug me I might lose what little composure I possessed and burst into tears. Why on earth was I so emotional? All because I had learned that Holmes, just like every other man, enjoyed the company of women? He was a bachelor for goodness sakes, not a priest.

"I'm just a little tired. I did not get much sleep last night."

"It's not small wonder with that man playing the violin all night. Be sure and take a rest for yourself before lunch."

It took all of my concentration to keep my arms from shaking the tray of food. I felt weaker than usual, as though I had been up all night. In truth, I had slept only a few hours, but very deeply. I never heard Holmes playing his violin, and my room was right next to his.

I walked slowly up the stairs, silently praying that Holmes was indeed asleep so I would not have to face him, at least not yet. Once I reached the door I barely knocked so as not to wake him up. A pathetic little tap was all that was needed for the door to be yanked open and Holmes to appear, his face almost manic.

"How do you suppose I am to know my breakfast is ready if it sounds as if a mouse is tapping at the door?" His eyes were wide and bright, and he spoke so quickly that it took me a moment to digest what he said.

"I uh-" was my elegant reply. He disappeared from sight as quickly as he had shown up, and I took that as a signal to enter.

His room was very dark, with only a small shaft of light filtering through the curtains.

"How can you even see what you are doing?" I tried desperately to make my voice level. I thought I succeeded as I set his tray of food down and moved toward the door.

"Where are you off to? We have important matters to attend to. I asked you last night to tell me what you thought about Lady Sheffield's 'stolen' jewels. As my assistant, I expect you to attend to my every request. You may start with cutting my ham."

I did not even try to stifle the sigh that followed. "I am your assistant, not your mother. You may cut your own meat or not eat at all." I crossed my arms over my chest and stood with my foot out to the side. My stance was the same that I had seen my mother use time and again, it signified that I would not be moved.

"Ooh, I sense a sting from our little bee this morning." He flopped down in his desk chair and stabbed his ham with a fork, picking it up and eating it like a turkey leg.

"I'm more like a yellow jacket. Bees die after only one sting. Yellow jackets pack quite a whollop."

"I assume from your colloquialism you are referring to the wasp commonly known for its yellow and black stripes native to North America. You seem to speak from personal experience."

"I learned never to climb that tree again."

"Once bitten, twice as shy." He took another bite from his ham-on-a-fork with extra zeal.

I decided to take his bait, even as melancholic as I felt at the moment. The sooner I played his game the sooner I could leave and be by myself. I dropped into the armchair I had only occupied a few hours ago.

I shrugged, "Can you blame me?"

"Yes, I actually can. You let one bad experience change your outlook. Did you ever climb trees again? Imagine what you've missed."

"I've missed being stung by yellow jackets and falling off of branches and breaking my arm. I learned my lesson."

"You learned nothing. You let fear stop you from further adventures. Imagine all of the distance you could have seen from the top of that tree."

"What good would it have done me? There was never anything coming."

"Storms are always on the horizon, whether you see them or not."

"Would you come to your point, please." I leaned forward on my elbows, I was quickly becoming frustrated with him. I knew he could sense my moodiness, but he did not let that keep him from annoying me some more.

"What seems to be the trouble, m'lady? Not getting much sleep? Is Master Rochester keeping you up at night?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

"You're one to talk, playing the violin at 4 in the morning."

"I happen to know for a fact you were asleep at the time." He finished his ham and began stirring his tea with rapid swirls. The spoon struck the china in quick succession.

"That's enough of your nonsense. You seem…agitated. Have you been up all night?" I stood up and walked over to him. He slurped up his tea and shoved his chair away from his desk as I approached. Just as he stood up, something fell out from under the tray. It landed on the floor with a small 'chink', as if it was glass. At first I thought it was a spoon or something so I reached down to get it just as Holmes reached down to do the same. My hand closed on the item just as his hand reached it, and I snatched it away from him, in an effort to annoy him as he had me for the past 5 minutes.

As soon as my hand closed over it I felt a sharp pain and opened my palm to see as syringe sticking out of my skin. I was astonished. Was he on some form of medication? Maybe I should ask Watson…

Just as my brain registered what it was, Holmes grabbed the syringe from my hand and threw it into the fireplace.

"What is that? Are you ill? Holmes what-?"

"That's enough for today. I'll call you when I need help with the case." He placed his hand at the small of my back to steer me towards the door. I felt the heat radiating from his skin through the fabric of my dress. He seemed feverish.

"Are you alright? What's going on?"

He almost shoved me out the door as he said, "Not to worry, come back tomorrow." He shut the door in my face, as he had on a number of previous occasions, but this time, it felt different. This time, something was wrong. I knew just who I needed to see, and I turned towards my room to change into something nicer.

Author's note: What do you think? I got some advice from a friend that I should have some more character intrigue. Think you know where it's going? I hope to update again in a couple of weeks, school is killer but maybe I'll get inspired before then. Have a great weekend!

Back                         Home                              Miscellaneous Movies Fanfic Page                          Next

Your Name or Alias:      Your E-mail (optional):

Please type your review below. Only positive reviews and constructive criticism will be posted.