Geometries: Arrangement (Sherlock Holmes '09 Movie)
Title: Arrangement (Part 1 of Geometries)
Pairing: Watson/Mary Morstan, Holmes/Watson
Rating: G for this part, increasing in later parts
Warnings: none
Summary: Holmes and Mary Morstan have a little chat, and come to an agreement.
Author's Note: I recently re-watched the Sherlock Holmes movie, and shortly afterward saw a comment that the movie is basically Holmes/everyone. This stems from that thought. And also I like the idea of Mary Morstan being fairly badass in her own right; she wouldn't have landed Watson otherwise, would she?
"So, Mr. Holmes. You retrieve a stolen diamond from your former lover and give it to John, knowing that he will, in turn, propose with it to me. Pray tell, what exactly is that all about?"
He almost looks away, catches himself just in time. Forces himself to continue to meet her gaze. Hopes that he appears brazen and unashamed, in accordance with his cultivated persona.
In truth, he is shocked that Mary is here, that she has not only agreed to this meeting, but assented to his strange request to come alone. It smacks of impropriety, a meeting between a known bachelor such as himself and a woman soon to be wed, with no chaperone in sight. Nonetheless, she had agreed, had shown up at Baker Street at the appointed time, with no Doctor Watson in tow.
He wonders if he has overestimated her concern for propriety. And her opening gambit, direct and sharp as it is, confirms that doubt. Very well then, he thinks, with perhaps some admiration in the thought. Let us cut to the chase.
"A valid question, my dear lady. And one that has no small bearing upon the reason I invited you here today."
"You wish to speak to me of John." It is not a question, and so he need not respond. Instead Holmes stands, and begins to pace the floor.
Now that she is here, it is surprisingly difficult to begin. The approach he had laid out in his mind has been wrecked by the force of her unexpected directness, and now he finds himself tongue-tied.
Very well - let us start with the established facts. That seems safe enough.
"I am aware, Miss Morstan, that you love Dr. Watson deeply - and that he fully returns your regard."
A brief smile chases across her face, and is gone. "Mr. Holmes, I had not thought to hear you express it so plainly."
He does turn his face then, feeling something almost like embarrassment. He is quite unaccustomed to speaking to a lady in this way; well, except for Irene, and she hardly counts. Is hardly a lady, when it comes to all that.
"Well. One must always begin with the facts."
"It is quite apparent that you two care for each other a great deal. And yet - when I saw you at Watson's bedside, after the explosion - you said that you believed I cared for him equally."
Damn her boldness, for she still does not look away. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. Your memory is correct."
Wretched girl, of course my memory is correct. That has never been in question, and is far from the point that he wishes to make.
He barely restrains himself from snapping at her. "Yes, of course. But what I wish to know... Do you truly believe that still?"
She is silent for a moment, then.
Damn the girl, again. He has no idea what is going on in her mind. Can't help but think that a man would be easier to read - that his Watson would be easier to read. But knowing the lover, in this case, does not give him any insight into the mind of the beloved, and so he simply waits.
Finally she answers. "I do. And furthermore, Mr. Holmes, if I may be so bold, I am well aware that John cares greatly for you, as well."
She gives a faint smile in response to his blank stare. "As you yourself said, Mr. Holmes, one must always begin with the facts."
"Do not make the mistake of thinking me simple, Mr. Holmes. A mere woman I may be, but though my body may be fragile my mind most certainly is not. You are not the only one who can observe, and it takes no great powers to make note of this fact."
"I know how difficult it is on him, the thought of leaving you. I am well aware that his spirit is torn. Just as I have no doubt whatsoever of his love for me, neither do I question in any respect the depth of his attachment to you."
She seems to soften slightly, to let down her guard. "In truth, it has cost me sleep on several nights, the concept that I might contribute to any pain or distress on the part of the man that I love."
Holmes studies her, observing the face which for the moment shines bright and honest, and recalls Watson's praises of her gentle kindness and her sweet, open soul. Decides that there may be something to it, after all.
Well, one personal revelation merits another. "In truth, I have felt the same way." His legs, of their own will, deposit him down on the armchair opposite Miss Morstan. Mary. The future Mrs. John Watson.
"I... You asked about the diamond."
"Yes."
"...I know that I have made difficulties for you two in the past. That I have placed myself as an obstacle, in the way of the Doctor's and your relationship."
"Yes." Her voice is uninflected, blank.
"Surely a woman whose mind is not fragile, as you say, can deduce the meaning of the gift, knowing that."
She shifts in her chair, very slightly. "It is an apology, of course. A statement that, in your own unique way, you are giving your blessing to our relationship."
He does not feel the need to make a verbal response.
"And yet, Mr. Holmes, there is another aspect of the gift to consider as well."
He arches an eyebrow at her, gestures for her to continue.
"Our engagement ring, the rather ridiculous diamond which I wear on my finger, was a gift from you - and neither of us is ever likely to forget that fact." She holds the abovementioned finger out, turning the hand slightly so that it catches the sun, scattering refractions of light over the walls of the dim chamber. "By giving us this particular gift, you have effectively inserted yourself into the midst of our relationship, in such a way that we will constantly be aware of your presence."
"Do you think, Mr. Holmes, that my John will ever look at our engagement ring and think of anything but you? Do you think, indeed, that I will be able to do so, knowing the diamond's history and source?"
"I must congratulate you, Mr. Holmes. It is a most clever ploy. To outward appearances, it fully complies with the rules of polite society, while beneath the surface it manages to quite subvert them."
"In truth, Mr. Holmes, you are as cunning as a woman when it comes to matters of the heart."
Her speech leaves him speechless in several regards, not least that he had never thought to find himself complimented by being compared to a woman. Truly, Mary Morstan has her own hidden depths.
And still she continues. "So allow me, Mr. Holmes, to adopt your methods for just a moment, and deduce the true reason for this conversation."
"Your having blessed our relationship with a gift implies that you have come to accept it, and in fact, that you wish it to continue. Your having inserted yourself into the middle of it in such a way, implies that you do not wish to lose your connection - your relationship, if I may be so bold to use that word - with Dr. Watson. And your calling me here alone, without my fiancé's presence, implies that you wish to discuss something of which he would not approve, or that would make him uncomfortable to hear."
"Now, considering how close you are with my dear John, you are as aware as I that he can be very conventional in his thinking, at times. In truth, he is rather bound to propriety, and to following the mores of polite society. I have no doubt that he will make every effort to be a model husband, even to the extent of abandoning his oldest friend and... companion... simply because he feels that is what he ought to do."
"But I am not such a foolish woman that I wish my husband to be miserable - much less that he be able to trace that misery back to me. I do not wish to lose him any more than you do."
"I know, Mr. Holmes, that a man such as yourself makes no move without careful consideration in advance. I can only assume, therefore, that you brought me here to propose some alternate plan, one that will allow our dear Doctor to resolve his dilemma and spare him the distress of having to choose between two equally unpleasant alternatives."
"I am all ears for such a thing. So tell me: what do you propose?"
Holmes can only stare, mouth agape. He had expected to have to charm, to hint, to beat around the bush in that way that women seem to prefer. To see it here, laid out rather more eloquently than he could have done himself, is quite astounding, and he feels a sudden rush of gratitude towards Miss Morstan. In truth, she could have made this so much more difficult - could have made it disastrous. Could have used it to drive a further wedge between Watson and himself.
She exhibits wisdom of a sort most unexpected. That she is trying to make it easy for him, that she sees how it is in her own interest to do so, is quite astounding. Suddenly he feels more hope than he has allowed himself in weeks.
She is watching him patiently as he gathers his thoughts. How have I been blessed to know, not one but two amazing women, both so unrepresentative of their generally fickle and useless sex? Not that she was anything like Irene - she was light where Irene was dark, and honest where Irene was sly. Rather like Watson and himself, in fact; and suddenly he appreciates Mary Morstan all the more.
Again, he finds voice in a recital of the facts. "You love Doctor Watson, and he obviously loves you. As you say, I also care for the Doctor a great deal, and you say that you believe he also cares for me."
She nods.
"I simply wish to propose, then, that we allow all of those facts to remain true. That you and Doctor Watson will wed" - as he and I never could, he thinks but does not say - "and I will support your marriage in every way that I am able. I will not make any demands on his time that are so excessive as to strain your relationship, and neither will I speak ill of you, nor disparage your relationship in any way. Indeed, I... I am not skilled in such matters, but I should do everything possible to encourage him to be a good husband and to consider your wishes."
"In return, you will allow, or indeed, encourage him to continue to take cases with me, and for us to spend time together in some of our old haunts. Even if they do not quite fit your sense of propriety - such as, for example, the boxing ring, or in some rough alleyway or pub."
"I assure you, Mr. Holmes," she interjects. " I have traveled a bit, and seen a small part of the world. My sense of propriety is rather less rigid than you think."
He continues without acknowledging the assertion, for he has already deduced it by this point. It is merely some unfamiliar nervousness, he thinks, that causes me to speak with unnecessary caution.
"And furthermore, if from time to time our work should stretch on into the late hours, or require some evening jaunt, you will not object to the Doctor spending the occasional night over at Baker Street. I shall keep his quarters open, of course."
"Of course." Her mouth quirks slightly, and he gives her a sharp glance. But she does not pursue the subject of quarters any further, instead turning gracefully to the expected bargaining.
"I should not like him to be there every night, of course, nor even half the nights in a week. For one thing, it would likely cause comment."
So there is a limit, he thinks. Apparently, it is the point at which anything extraordinary might become known to the public. He can easily work within that.
"Very well, I will respect it. Let us say, perhaps - two nights out of the week at Baker Street, then?"
She nods her assent. "But not both weekend nights, for I will wish to be seen with him from time to time, to go out to plays or concerts and the like."
"Very well," he says again. "I will demand his attentions no more than one weekday night and one weekend night every week."
Suddenly she giggles slightly and pulls the back of her hand up to her mouth, the sound and gesture suddenly making her seem much more feminine. "Oh Mr. Holmes, what would our dear Doctor think if he could hear us bargaining over him so? As if we were making up a housekeeping schedule, or some such thing."
Not being familiar with such schedules, Holmes merely shrugs. "It's good that he is not here."
"So, my dear lady. I shall leave it to you to make it clear that Watson and I may continue to associate. He is more likely to hear it from you than from me, at any rate. I do have one more request, though, if I may."
"And what might that be, Mr. Holmes?"
"Only that, in the future, you should refrain from throwing any nearby beverage in my face, should I happen to quite inadvertently offend you in some way."
She smiles at him fully, then, unexpected and genuine. Betraying almost fondness, or something close by. "My dear Holmes, I will promise you nothing of the sort."
Pairing: Watson/Mary Morstan, Holmes/Watson
Rating: G for this part, increasing in later parts
Warnings: none
Summary: Holmes and Mary Morstan have a little chat, and come to an agreement.
Author's Note: I recently re-watched the Sherlock Holmes movie, and shortly afterward saw a comment that the movie is basically Holmes/everyone. This stems from that thought. And also I like the idea of Mary Morstan being fairly badass in her own right; she wouldn't have landed Watson otherwise, would she?
"So, Mr. Holmes. You retrieve a stolen diamond from your former lover and give it to John, knowing that he will, in turn, propose with it to me. Pray tell, what exactly is that all about?"
He almost looks away, catches himself just in time. Forces himself to continue to meet her gaze. Hopes that he appears brazen and unashamed, in accordance with his cultivated persona.
In truth, he is shocked that Mary is here, that she has not only agreed to this meeting, but assented to his strange request to come alone. It smacks of impropriety, a meeting between a known bachelor such as himself and a woman soon to be wed, with no chaperone in sight. Nonetheless, she had agreed, had shown up at Baker Street at the appointed time, with no Doctor Watson in tow.
He wonders if he has overestimated her concern for propriety. And her opening gambit, direct and sharp as it is, confirms that doubt. Very well then, he thinks, with perhaps some admiration in the thought. Let us cut to the chase.
"A valid question, my dear lady. And one that has no small bearing upon the reason I invited you here today."
"You wish to speak to me of John." It is not a question, and so he need not respond. Instead Holmes stands, and begins to pace the floor.
Now that she is here, it is surprisingly difficult to begin. The approach he had laid out in his mind has been wrecked by the force of her unexpected directness, and now he finds himself tongue-tied.
Very well - let us start with the established facts. That seems safe enough.
"I am aware, Miss Morstan, that you love Dr. Watson deeply - and that he fully returns your regard."
A brief smile chases across her face, and is gone. "Mr. Holmes, I had not thought to hear you express it so plainly."
He does turn his face then, feeling something almost like embarrassment. He is quite unaccustomed to speaking to a lady in this way; well, except for Irene, and she hardly counts. Is hardly a lady, when it comes to all that.
"Well. One must always begin with the facts."
"It is quite apparent that you two care for each other a great deal. And yet - when I saw you at Watson's bedside, after the explosion - you said that you believed I cared for him equally."
Damn her boldness, for she still does not look away. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. Your memory is correct."
Wretched girl, of course my memory is correct. That has never been in question, and is far from the point that he wishes to make.
He barely restrains himself from snapping at her. "Yes, of course. But what I wish to know... Do you truly believe that still?"
She is silent for a moment, then.
Damn the girl, again. He has no idea what is going on in her mind. Can't help but think that a man would be easier to read - that his Watson would be easier to read. But knowing the lover, in this case, does not give him any insight into the mind of the beloved, and so he simply waits.
Finally she answers. "I do. And furthermore, Mr. Holmes, if I may be so bold, I am well aware that John cares greatly for you, as well."
She gives a faint smile in response to his blank stare. "As you yourself said, Mr. Holmes, one must always begin with the facts."
"Do not make the mistake of thinking me simple, Mr. Holmes. A mere woman I may be, but though my body may be fragile my mind most certainly is not. You are not the only one who can observe, and it takes no great powers to make note of this fact."
"I know how difficult it is on him, the thought of leaving you. I am well aware that his spirit is torn. Just as I have no doubt whatsoever of his love for me, neither do I question in any respect the depth of his attachment to you."
She seems to soften slightly, to let down her guard. "In truth, it has cost me sleep on several nights, the concept that I might contribute to any pain or distress on the part of the man that I love."
Holmes studies her, observing the face which for the moment shines bright and honest, and recalls Watson's praises of her gentle kindness and her sweet, open soul. Decides that there may be something to it, after all.
Well, one personal revelation merits another. "In truth, I have felt the same way." His legs, of their own will, deposit him down on the armchair opposite Miss Morstan. Mary. The future Mrs. John Watson.
"I... You asked about the diamond."
"Yes."
"...I know that I have made difficulties for you two in the past. That I have placed myself as an obstacle, in the way of the Doctor's and your relationship."
"Yes." Her voice is uninflected, blank.
"Surely a woman whose mind is not fragile, as you say, can deduce the meaning of the gift, knowing that."
She shifts in her chair, very slightly. "It is an apology, of course. A statement that, in your own unique way, you are giving your blessing to our relationship."
He does not feel the need to make a verbal response.
"And yet, Mr. Holmes, there is another aspect of the gift to consider as well."
He arches an eyebrow at her, gestures for her to continue.
"Our engagement ring, the rather ridiculous diamond which I wear on my finger, was a gift from you - and neither of us is ever likely to forget that fact." She holds the abovementioned finger out, turning the hand slightly so that it catches the sun, scattering refractions of light over the walls of the dim chamber. "By giving us this particular gift, you have effectively inserted yourself into the midst of our relationship, in such a way that we will constantly be aware of your presence."
"Do you think, Mr. Holmes, that my John will ever look at our engagement ring and think of anything but you? Do you think, indeed, that I will be able to do so, knowing the diamond's history and source?"
"I must congratulate you, Mr. Holmes. It is a most clever ploy. To outward appearances, it fully complies with the rules of polite society, while beneath the surface it manages to quite subvert them."
"In truth, Mr. Holmes, you are as cunning as a woman when it comes to matters of the heart."
Her speech leaves him speechless in several regards, not least that he had never thought to find himself complimented by being compared to a woman. Truly, Mary Morstan has her own hidden depths.
And still she continues. "So allow me, Mr. Holmes, to adopt your methods for just a moment, and deduce the true reason for this conversation."
"Your having blessed our relationship with a gift implies that you have come to accept it, and in fact, that you wish it to continue. Your having inserted yourself into the middle of it in such a way, implies that you do not wish to lose your connection - your relationship, if I may be so bold to use that word - with Dr. Watson. And your calling me here alone, without my fiancé's presence, implies that you wish to discuss something of which he would not approve, or that would make him uncomfortable to hear."
"Now, considering how close you are with my dear John, you are as aware as I that he can be very conventional in his thinking, at times. In truth, he is rather bound to propriety, and to following the mores of polite society. I have no doubt that he will make every effort to be a model husband, even to the extent of abandoning his oldest friend and... companion... simply because he feels that is what he ought to do."
"But I am not such a foolish woman that I wish my husband to be miserable - much less that he be able to trace that misery back to me. I do not wish to lose him any more than you do."
"I know, Mr. Holmes, that a man such as yourself makes no move without careful consideration in advance. I can only assume, therefore, that you brought me here to propose some alternate plan, one that will allow our dear Doctor to resolve his dilemma and spare him the distress of having to choose between two equally unpleasant alternatives."
"I am all ears for such a thing. So tell me: what do you propose?"
Holmes can only stare, mouth agape. He had expected to have to charm, to hint, to beat around the bush in that way that women seem to prefer. To see it here, laid out rather more eloquently than he could have done himself, is quite astounding, and he feels a sudden rush of gratitude towards Miss Morstan. In truth, she could have made this so much more difficult - could have made it disastrous. Could have used it to drive a further wedge between Watson and himself.
She exhibits wisdom of a sort most unexpected. That she is trying to make it easy for him, that she sees how it is in her own interest to do so, is quite astounding. Suddenly he feels more hope than he has allowed himself in weeks.
She is watching him patiently as he gathers his thoughts. How have I been blessed to know, not one but two amazing women, both so unrepresentative of their generally fickle and useless sex? Not that she was anything like Irene - she was light where Irene was dark, and honest where Irene was sly. Rather like Watson and himself, in fact; and suddenly he appreciates Mary Morstan all the more.
Again, he finds voice in a recital of the facts. "You love Doctor Watson, and he obviously loves you. As you say, I also care for the Doctor a great deal, and you say that you believe he also cares for me."
She nods.
"I simply wish to propose, then, that we allow all of those facts to remain true. That you and Doctor Watson will wed" - as he and I never could, he thinks but does not say - "and I will support your marriage in every way that I am able. I will not make any demands on his time that are so excessive as to strain your relationship, and neither will I speak ill of you, nor disparage your relationship in any way. Indeed, I... I am not skilled in such matters, but I should do everything possible to encourage him to be a good husband and to consider your wishes."
"In return, you will allow, or indeed, encourage him to continue to take cases with me, and for us to spend time together in some of our old haunts. Even if they do not quite fit your sense of propriety - such as, for example, the boxing ring, or in some rough alleyway or pub."
"I assure you, Mr. Holmes," she interjects. " I have traveled a bit, and seen a small part of the world. My sense of propriety is rather less rigid than you think."
He continues without acknowledging the assertion, for he has already deduced it by this point. It is merely some unfamiliar nervousness, he thinks, that causes me to speak with unnecessary caution.
"And furthermore, if from time to time our work should stretch on into the late hours, or require some evening jaunt, you will not object to the Doctor spending the occasional night over at Baker Street. I shall keep his quarters open, of course."
"Of course." Her mouth quirks slightly, and he gives her a sharp glance. But she does not pursue the subject of quarters any further, instead turning gracefully to the expected bargaining.
"I should not like him to be there every night, of course, nor even half the nights in a week. For one thing, it would likely cause comment."
So there is a limit, he thinks. Apparently, it is the point at which anything extraordinary might become known to the public. He can easily work within that.
"Very well, I will respect it. Let us say, perhaps - two nights out of the week at Baker Street, then?"
She nods her assent. "But not both weekend nights, for I will wish to be seen with him from time to time, to go out to plays or concerts and the like."
"Very well," he says again. "I will demand his attentions no more than one weekday night and one weekend night every week."
Suddenly she giggles slightly and pulls the back of her hand up to her mouth, the sound and gesture suddenly making her seem much more feminine. "Oh Mr. Holmes, what would our dear Doctor think if he could hear us bargaining over him so? As if we were making up a housekeeping schedule, or some such thing."
Not being familiar with such schedules, Holmes merely shrugs. "It's good that he is not here."
"So, my dear lady. I shall leave it to you to make it clear that Watson and I may continue to associate. He is more likely to hear it from you than from me, at any rate. I do have one more request, though, if I may."
"And what might that be, Mr. Holmes?"
"Only that, in the future, you should refrain from throwing any nearby beverage in my face, should I happen to quite inadvertently offend you in some way."
She smiles at him fully, then, unexpected and genuine. Betraying almost fondness, or something close by. "My dear Holmes, I will promise you nothing of the sort."