One Wish Chapter One
[Authors Note]Author's Note: This story is set after the conclusion of the series, though the beginning pretty much carries on from where Time Shifts ended. I shall say no more lest I give spoilers. I aim to surprise with this one.
I stare out at the leaden skies of New London and watch the rain. I tend to like rain when I do not have to venture out into it, for it promises that there will be footprints to be found in the event of a case. Recently, however, I have come to loath it; especially while it is combined with these hurricane-force winds. These miserable storms have kept me imprisoned within the constricting walls of this house, away from my little sanctuary in which my dearest friend rests. I long to get out!
"Are you all right Holmes?"
Use your eyes Watson!
"Holmes?"
Do not snap! I close my eyes for a moment, put on a smile and turn to face the robot that is watching me with concern. "Of course I am Watson!" I say cheerfully. "I was just watching the rain and thinking."
He addresses me with a relieved smile. "Would you like a cup of tea? You have been sitting there in your contemplation of the rain for almost three hours."
Has it truly been raining for three miserable hours?
"Holmes? Are you quite sure that you are all right?"
Of course I am not! Furthermore, my Watson would have known what was wrong in an instant. I remind myself yet again to remain genial. "Yes, I am quite well." This is perfectly true; I am not ill.
"Is there anything that you would like for lunch?"
Lunch? I believe I have only just had breakfast! "Just a sandwich."
He frowns at me. "Are you working on a case? You had very little for breakfast; you must be starving!"
Enough of this! I am off to visit my Watson and his lovely wife; I shall simply have to take an umbrella. I stand and snatch up my Inverness and deerstalker. "I am off out."
"In this weather and with no sustenance in you? You'll catch a dreadful cold!"
I turn on him with annoyance. "I shall be quite all right I assure you old fellow."
He sighs dejectedly. "I do wish that you would listen Holmes."
I pat his shoulder, address him with a smile and run out to my hovercar.
Ugh! Driving in this weather is horrendous! The wind is stronger than I had realised and visibility is not the best. At least that means that there are few motorists about. I battle on through the driving rain, my jaw set grimly as I wrestle with the controls. I almost regret leaving the house, but just the thought of my friend and his oasis of green in this forest of concrete and plastic spurs me on.
I eventually park outside of the cemetery and pick my way to the Watsons' graves. Today, even the flowers look sad, beaten down as they are under the onslaught of nature.
I shiver as I stand beside my friend's headstone and pull down the flaps of my deerstalker, realising that I forgot the umbrella in my haste to get out of the house. I have no doubt that the robot will have words with me when I go home.
"Hello Watson," I say quietly as I pull my Inverness closer. "Miserable weather, is it not?"
I gaze about me and smile. Despite the foul weather, the graves of my friend and his wife are by far the finest in the cemetery. Sadly, the other graves are all as neglected as these were when Lestrade found them for me. I am rather proud of the work that I have put in and the results of my efforts.
"I am beginning to share your dislike of rain," I retort as I shift restlessly on my feet. I am already feeling the chill! I busy myself with duties such as deadheading until I quite forget the wind and rain, chatting quietly all the while.
The rain eases until it finally stops and I watch the sun bathe everything in its warm, golden light. The raindrops glisten on the plants and flowers, making even the stinging nettles look like bejeweled beauties. It was worth standing in the rain just to witness this!
I smile and suppress a shiver. "What a sight," I remark to Watson. "Truly, Providence provides us with more wondrous beauty in a moment than mankind could create in a millennia."
I glance in the direction from which the wind is coming and notice a new black cloud looming, beneath which hangs a ragged rainbow which dims and brightens as the cloud moves closer. More rain on the way! I shiver and brace myself, for I have no desire to go home just yet.
I tell my old friend about the common-place case that Lestrade dragged me away from a hot cup of tea and a warm fire over and bemoan the lack of interesting cases. I describe the lack of culture in this miserable century, where theatres and music halls (not that I had much time for the music halls, mind you) have been replaced by cinemas, television and computers.
"It is unbearable Watson!" I complain. "Even Moriarty's presence here is not enough to keep me from going mad with boredom!" Yet I know that I am not being honest. I know that this is not mere boredom. This is much worse; unbearable memories that I should not have to endure resurface when I have nothing to occupy me. Even now, they are playing through in my mind, much like one of those 'movies' that Lestrade has subjected me to.
My last memory of Watson is a painful one indeed. He had had me sent for and, although the message that I received did not say that he was dying, I knew. The urgency in the message was enough to tell me what was amiss. As a result, I almost found myself unable to pluck up the courage to go to him and when I finally did it was almost too late. I remember hurrying into his room and sitting beside him on his bed. I held his hand as if the grip of my fingers was enough to keep his weary soul within his scarred and battered body. I remember his apology for causing me such pain. I believe we both shed some tears at that point. He asked me to play for him and of course I did so. When the music ended and faded away, I set aside my violin and gazed down at my friend's still form. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping; his eyes were closed and his lips turned upward in a gentle, contented smile. I took his hand in mine once more, knowing as I did so that there would be no pulse.
The heavens open with a crash of thunder before the sun has even ceased to shine. I shiver anew under this fresh onslaught as I weep silently in the pouring rain, allowing the elements to wash away the tears as they fall.
I eventually return from the memories and sniff despondently. "As always, I miss you terribly," I inform my old friend with a wan smile. "I shall be very selfish, as is my wont, and admit that I wish that you were here. I am sure that nothing would seem as dreadful if only you were at my side."
Selfish I may be, but I know that I can be perfectly honest with my Watson. I dearly wish that I had found it within myself to be so open when he was alive!
"I suppose I should go," I remark eventually with another cold shiver.
If he could, I know that the old fellow would have told me as much long before now. As always, however, I find it difficult to tear myself away.
"I shall see you tomorrow old chap. Some of these perennials need some attention," I sniff and stamp my cold feet. "Until tomorrow then. Good day Watson, Mrs. Watson."
I turn to take my leave and am met by an angry Inspector Lestrade, who strides to my side and draws close in order to share her umbrella.
"Are you zedding crazy?" she demands hotly. "What are you doing out on a day like this?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Visiting Watson."
"You could've crashed that car of yours!" she practically screams in my ear. "D'you realise how dangerous this weather is? Zed Holmes!"
I sniff and suppress a shiver. "My driving is not that bad."
She glares at me. "We'll discuss this at Baker Street. Come on, get in my cruiser."
"What about my car?" I have no intention of leaving it here for I shall want it tomorrow!
"I told Watson to take it home," she says with a smug smile. "Come on. Just get in the zedding car."
I obey with another quiet sniff. I give a violent shiver as my friend climbs into the driver's seat beside me and turns the heating up.
"D'you realise how easy it is for even an experienced driver to get blown off course in these gales?" she snaps at me.
"It is also g-good to see you Lestrade," I retort with my usual sarcasm.
"You might change your zedding mind when I'm finished with you! Don't you dare laugh at me Sherlock Holmes!"
I wipe the smirk from my face and give her my finest contrite expression.
"What were you thinking of? You could've been killed or even killed somebody else! Don't tell me that didn't even cross your mind!"
"There w-was hardly anyone about!"
She huffs and glares at me. "And that should've told you just how dangerous it is out here!"
I have no answer to that.
Lestrade shakes her head and starts the car as I shiver miserably and huddle further into my dripping Inverness. "Zed! You really must be crazy! How long have you been out in that?"
I shrug. I have no idea at all.
"You don't even zedding know?" she explodes. "Holmes! What the zed is wrong with you? D'you wanna get sick?"
"Of course not!"
She frowns at me. "You could've fooled me! Look at you! You're soaked!"
I am quite all right! I give another violent shiver and regard her thoughtfully. "What b-brought you here, anyway?"
"Where else would you go to for hours without a word when you aren't working a case?" she asks. "Watson'd know if you were consulting on anything privately and I haven't put you on one of my cases since you threw a zedding fit over the last one!"
I ignore that remark. I do not throw tantrums! "I take it that Watson telephoned you and asked if I had come to see you?"
"That's about the size of it," she nods. "He started to really worry when I said I hadn't seen you all day..."
Oh wonderful! This does not bode well.
She shakes her head and glares at me from the corner of her eye. "What the zed is wrong with you? You obviously didn't think to dress any warmer than usual... Heh! You didn't bother to grab an umbrella, even! I thought you were meant to be smart!"
I take it that she is not talking about being smartly dressed... I shrug my shoulders and sniff.
"No answer for that one. Right."
I grumble. "I miss Watson and w-wanted to s-s-see him... I did not th-think any f-f-further."
"You're really cold!" she turns the heater up again. "I wish I could understand you! Why the zed did you have to stay in the rain until you were turning blue?"
I shrug again. "I hardly noticed the c-c-c-cold."
She huffs a quiet laugh. "I think you've started noticing it now..."
"I am ac-ctualy w-war... uh... Attishoo!" I grimace and slam my eyes shut for a moment before pulling a handkerchief that is (thankfully) still dry from my pocket in order to give my nose a good blow. "...warming up. Excuse me."
I can see that she is grinding her teeth. I choose to ignore the insult and curse that she mutters beneath her breath.
I do not fare very much better when we reach Baker Street. My robotic friend begins his tirade the moment that we enter the house.
"My God Holmes! What in Heaven's name have you been doing? You must be soaked through!"
"Ashoo!"
"Yes, I should think that you have caught a cold! Go and take a hot bath; I shall get you a change of clothes."
Well, at least his lecture was shorter.
When I enter the living room, having sufficiently warmed up and changed into dry clothes, I am met by a stony silence. Lestrade is gone and Watson has decided that he does not wish to talk to me.
"I feel much better now," I remark pleasantly.
My companion does not even turn to look at me.
"I am sorry to have worried you old chap."
He shrugs but still refuses to face me.
"I am sure that I shall be quite all right; I have stopped sneezing now that I am warm..."
He shrugs again.
"Watson?" I approach him slowly and rest a tentative hand upon his shoulder. "Come now old fellow, what is it?"
He brushes me off. "You do not care whether I worry or not!"
I stand frozen. I did not expect this! "Of course I do!"
"You spare not a thought for me or for Lestrade!" he thunders, turning a furious glare upon me. "You did not see how scared she was when I told her that you had gone driving in that storm; I did. She thought that we were going to find you hurt or worse!"
I keep myself from averting my gaze. I am not a coward. "I am truly sorry."
"She was close to tears when she left here. Lestrade - almost crying! And why? Because when she spoke to you about the terrible danger that you put yourself in (not to mention us, seeing as we had to go in search of you), you laughed at her!"
"I did not mean for her to think that..."
"Do not try to explain your actions to me Holmes," he growls. "I suggest that you call Lestrade and apologise. I am going to make you some soup while you do so and then you are going to eat it without a word of complaint."
Once I have apologised, Lestrade calms down somewhat. I am still talking with her when Watson presents me with the soup.
"I better let you eat. Look after yourself Holmes."
I give her a smile. "Likewise my dear."
She snorts with laughter and ends the call.
The following morning, I find that I am not in the best of moods. The wind may have dropped, but the weather is still wet and cold. I also clearly have the beginnings of a chill after standing out in the rain for so long yesterday. I do not admit as much to Watson, naturally. I have work to do at the cemetery and I am not going to be kept indoors against my will!
I get into my car and make my way to the cemetery, being sure to use the autopilot to ensure that I shall not cause an accident should I sneeze while I am at the wheel. The absent motorists of yesterday are all back and out in force today.
I park and scramble out into the mist and rain, only to find that the gates are locked. I test the chain and padlock, rattle the gates and then walk the perimeter, checking the six foot wall for weak points or possible foot and hand holds. Grr! I can find no way in!
I am just about to go back to my car when I notice a woman attaching a laminated notice to the gate. I decide to investigate.
CLOSED FOR RENOVATION UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, the sign says.
Well, thank you so very much! What about the graves that I have been tending to? I hope that my hard work is not going to be ruined!
I get into my car and return to Baker Street, feeling even more miserable and irritable.
I stare out at the leaden skies of New London and watch the rain. I tend to like rain when I do not have to venture out into it, for it promises that there will be footprints to be found in the event of a case. Recently, however, I have come to loath it; especially while it is combined with these hurricane-force winds. These miserable storms have kept me imprisoned within the constricting walls of this house, away from my little sanctuary in which my dearest friend rests. I long to get out!
"Are you all right Holmes?"
Use your eyes Watson!
"Holmes?"
Do not snap! I close my eyes for a moment, put on a smile and turn to face the robot that is watching me with concern. "Of course I am Watson!" I say cheerfully. "I was just watching the rain and thinking."
He addresses me with a relieved smile. "Would you like a cup of tea? You have been sitting there in your contemplation of the rain for almost three hours."
Has it truly been raining for three miserable hours?
"Holmes? Are you quite sure that you are all right?"
Of course I am not! Furthermore, my Watson would have known what was wrong in an instant. I remind myself yet again to remain genial. "Yes, I am quite well." This is perfectly true; I am not ill.
"Is there anything that you would like for lunch?"
Lunch? I believe I have only just had breakfast! "Just a sandwich."
He frowns at me. "Are you working on a case? You had very little for breakfast; you must be starving!"
Enough of this! I am off to visit my Watson and his lovely wife; I shall simply have to take an umbrella. I stand and snatch up my Inverness and deerstalker. "I am off out."
"In this weather and with no sustenance in you? You'll catch a dreadful cold!"
I turn on him with annoyance. "I shall be quite all right I assure you old fellow."
He sighs dejectedly. "I do wish that you would listen Holmes."
I pat his shoulder, address him with a smile and run out to my hovercar.
Ugh! Driving in this weather is horrendous! The wind is stronger than I had realised and visibility is not the best. At least that means that there are few motorists about. I battle on through the driving rain, my jaw set grimly as I wrestle with the controls. I almost regret leaving the house, but just the thought of my friend and his oasis of green in this forest of concrete and plastic spurs me on.
I eventually park outside of the cemetery and pick my way to the Watsons' graves. Today, even the flowers look sad, beaten down as they are under the onslaught of nature.
I shiver as I stand beside my friend's headstone and pull down the flaps of my deerstalker, realising that I forgot the umbrella in my haste to get out of the house. I have no doubt that the robot will have words with me when I go home.
"Hello Watson," I say quietly as I pull my Inverness closer. "Miserable weather, is it not?"
I gaze about me and smile. Despite the foul weather, the graves of my friend and his wife are by far the finest in the cemetery. Sadly, the other graves are all as neglected as these were when Lestrade found them for me. I am rather proud of the work that I have put in and the results of my efforts.
"I am beginning to share your dislike of rain," I retort as I shift restlessly on my feet. I am already feeling the chill! I busy myself with duties such as deadheading until I quite forget the wind and rain, chatting quietly all the while.
The rain eases until it finally stops and I watch the sun bathe everything in its warm, golden light. The raindrops glisten on the plants and flowers, making even the stinging nettles look like bejeweled beauties. It was worth standing in the rain just to witness this!
I smile and suppress a shiver. "What a sight," I remark to Watson. "Truly, Providence provides us with more wondrous beauty in a moment than mankind could create in a millennia."
I glance in the direction from which the wind is coming and notice a new black cloud looming, beneath which hangs a ragged rainbow which dims and brightens as the cloud moves closer. More rain on the way! I shiver and brace myself, for I have no desire to go home just yet.
I tell my old friend about the common-place case that Lestrade dragged me away from a hot cup of tea and a warm fire over and bemoan the lack of interesting cases. I describe the lack of culture in this miserable century, where theatres and music halls (not that I had much time for the music halls, mind you) have been replaced by cinemas, television and computers.
"It is unbearable Watson!" I complain. "Even Moriarty's presence here is not enough to keep me from going mad with boredom!" Yet I know that I am not being honest. I know that this is not mere boredom. This is much worse; unbearable memories that I should not have to endure resurface when I have nothing to occupy me. Even now, they are playing through in my mind, much like one of those 'movies' that Lestrade has subjected me to.
My last memory of Watson is a painful one indeed. He had had me sent for and, although the message that I received did not say that he was dying, I knew. The urgency in the message was enough to tell me what was amiss. As a result, I almost found myself unable to pluck up the courage to go to him and when I finally did it was almost too late. I remember hurrying into his room and sitting beside him on his bed. I held his hand as if the grip of my fingers was enough to keep his weary soul within his scarred and battered body. I remember his apology for causing me such pain. I believe we both shed some tears at that point. He asked me to play for him and of course I did so. When the music ended and faded away, I set aside my violin and gazed down at my friend's still form. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping; his eyes were closed and his lips turned upward in a gentle, contented smile. I took his hand in mine once more, knowing as I did so that there would be no pulse.
The heavens open with a crash of thunder before the sun has even ceased to shine. I shiver anew under this fresh onslaught as I weep silently in the pouring rain, allowing the elements to wash away the tears as they fall.
I eventually return from the memories and sniff despondently. "As always, I miss you terribly," I inform my old friend with a wan smile. "I shall be very selfish, as is my wont, and admit that I wish that you were here. I am sure that nothing would seem as dreadful if only you were at my side."
Selfish I may be, but I know that I can be perfectly honest with my Watson. I dearly wish that I had found it within myself to be so open when he was alive!
"I suppose I should go," I remark eventually with another cold shiver.
If he could, I know that the old fellow would have told me as much long before now. As always, however, I find it difficult to tear myself away.
"I shall see you tomorrow old chap. Some of these perennials need some attention," I sniff and stamp my cold feet. "Until tomorrow then. Good day Watson, Mrs. Watson."
I turn to take my leave and am met by an angry Inspector Lestrade, who strides to my side and draws close in order to share her umbrella.
"Are you zedding crazy?" she demands hotly. "What are you doing out on a day like this?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Visiting Watson."
"You could've crashed that car of yours!" she practically screams in my ear. "D'you realise how dangerous this weather is? Zed Holmes!"
I sniff and suppress a shiver. "My driving is not that bad."
She glares at me. "We'll discuss this at Baker Street. Come on, get in my cruiser."
"What about my car?" I have no intention of leaving it here for I shall want it tomorrow!
"I told Watson to take it home," she says with a smug smile. "Come on. Just get in the zedding car."
I obey with another quiet sniff. I give a violent shiver as my friend climbs into the driver's seat beside me and turns the heating up.
"D'you realise how easy it is for even an experienced driver to get blown off course in these gales?" she snaps at me.
"It is also g-good to see you Lestrade," I retort with my usual sarcasm.
"You might change your zedding mind when I'm finished with you! Don't you dare laugh at me Sherlock Holmes!"
I wipe the smirk from my face and give her my finest contrite expression.
"What were you thinking of? You could've been killed or even killed somebody else! Don't tell me that didn't even cross your mind!"
"There w-was hardly anyone about!"
She huffs and glares at me. "And that should've told you just how dangerous it is out here!"
I have no answer to that.
Lestrade shakes her head and starts the car as I shiver miserably and huddle further into my dripping Inverness. "Zed! You really must be crazy! How long have you been out in that?"
I shrug. I have no idea at all.
"You don't even zedding know?" she explodes. "Holmes! What the zed is wrong with you? D'you wanna get sick?"
"Of course not!"
She frowns at me. "You could've fooled me! Look at you! You're soaked!"
I am quite all right! I give another violent shiver and regard her thoughtfully. "What b-brought you here, anyway?"
"Where else would you go to for hours without a word when you aren't working a case?" she asks. "Watson'd know if you were consulting on anything privately and I haven't put you on one of my cases since you threw a zedding fit over the last one!"
I ignore that remark. I do not throw tantrums! "I take it that Watson telephoned you and asked if I had come to see you?"
"That's about the size of it," she nods. "He started to really worry when I said I hadn't seen you all day..."
Oh wonderful! This does not bode well.
She shakes her head and glares at me from the corner of her eye. "What the zed is wrong with you? You obviously didn't think to dress any warmer than usual... Heh! You didn't bother to grab an umbrella, even! I thought you were meant to be smart!"
I take it that she is not talking about being smartly dressed... I shrug my shoulders and sniff.
"No answer for that one. Right."
I grumble. "I miss Watson and w-wanted to s-s-see him... I did not th-think any f-f-further."
"You're really cold!" she turns the heater up again. "I wish I could understand you! Why the zed did you have to stay in the rain until you were turning blue?"
I shrug again. "I hardly noticed the c-c-c-cold."
She huffs a quiet laugh. "I think you've started noticing it now..."
"I am ac-ctualy w-war... uh... Attishoo!" I grimace and slam my eyes shut for a moment before pulling a handkerchief that is (thankfully) still dry from my pocket in order to give my nose a good blow. "...warming up. Excuse me."
I can see that she is grinding her teeth. I choose to ignore the insult and curse that she mutters beneath her breath.
I do not fare very much better when we reach Baker Street. My robotic friend begins his tirade the moment that we enter the house.
"My God Holmes! What in Heaven's name have you been doing? You must be soaked through!"
"Ashoo!"
"Yes, I should think that you have caught a cold! Go and take a hot bath; I shall get you a change of clothes."
Well, at least his lecture was shorter.
When I enter the living room, having sufficiently warmed up and changed into dry clothes, I am met by a stony silence. Lestrade is gone and Watson has decided that he does not wish to talk to me.
"I feel much better now," I remark pleasantly.
My companion does not even turn to look at me.
"I am sorry to have worried you old chap."
He shrugs but still refuses to face me.
"I am sure that I shall be quite all right; I have stopped sneezing now that I am warm..."
He shrugs again.
"Watson?" I approach him slowly and rest a tentative hand upon his shoulder. "Come now old fellow, what is it?"
He brushes me off. "You do not care whether I worry or not!"
I stand frozen. I did not expect this! "Of course I do!"
"You spare not a thought for me or for Lestrade!" he thunders, turning a furious glare upon me. "You did not see how scared she was when I told her that you had gone driving in that storm; I did. She thought that we were going to find you hurt or worse!"
I keep myself from averting my gaze. I am not a coward. "I am truly sorry."
"She was close to tears when she left here. Lestrade - almost crying! And why? Because when she spoke to you about the terrible danger that you put yourself in (not to mention us, seeing as we had to go in search of you), you laughed at her!"
"I did not mean for her to think that..."
"Do not try to explain your actions to me Holmes," he growls. "I suggest that you call Lestrade and apologise. I am going to make you some soup while you do so and then you are going to eat it without a word of complaint."
Once I have apologised, Lestrade calms down somewhat. I am still talking with her when Watson presents me with the soup.
"I better let you eat. Look after yourself Holmes."
I give her a smile. "Likewise my dear."
She snorts with laughter and ends the call.
The following morning, I find that I am not in the best of moods. The wind may have dropped, but the weather is still wet and cold. I also clearly have the beginnings of a chill after standing out in the rain for so long yesterday. I do not admit as much to Watson, naturally. I have work to do at the cemetery and I am not going to be kept indoors against my will!
I get into my car and make my way to the cemetery, being sure to use the autopilot to ensure that I shall not cause an accident should I sneeze while I am at the wheel. The absent motorists of yesterday are all back and out in force today.
I park and scramble out into the mist and rain, only to find that the gates are locked. I test the chain and padlock, rattle the gates and then walk the perimeter, checking the six foot wall for weak points or possible foot and hand holds. Grr! I can find no way in!
I am just about to go back to my car when I notice a woman attaching a laminated notice to the gate. I decide to investigate.
CLOSED FOR RENOVATION UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, the sign says.
Well, thank you so very much! What about the graves that I have been tending to? I hope that my hard work is not going to be ruined!
I get into my car and return to Baker Street, feeling even more miserable and irritable.