Chapter 1
Author's note:
Anywho, enjoy!
I was happy to be back home, but I was no longer the same. Afghanistan had changed me, though I wasn't really sure how. I was at loose ends, as some might put it. Unsettled, not quite ready to put adventure away just yet. Of course, opening a practice was my own way of lying that I would still have that thrill. I figured once I was called out to patients, I would be far too busy to feel those imaginary ants crawling over me.
I found a boarding house, some of its rooms vacant, and I decided to stop and have a look. The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, seemed very happy to see me, and practically pulled me inside when I introduced myself. Her hair looked older than her face, and her eyes were wide and shifty.
"I haven't had somebody come to look at the place in ages!" She chirped, bringing some tea into the parlor. "I can't lower the price even further than I already have."
I sipped my tea, looking around. Unless it was haunted, I could see no physical flaws in its structure. It seemed peaceful, quiet, sturdy. I set my cup down. "Is something wrong with the house?"
She tapped her fingers against her own cup awkwardly, her eyes raising towards the stairs. She'd done this more than once, I noticed. It was like the North Pole was up there and her eyes were a set of magnets. I followed her gaze, deliberately turning my head.
"Nothing is wrong with the house," she chuckled. "It's just...I already have one renting, and he...can be a handful to live with."
"Oh?" I continued to stare up the stairs.
"I've had some renters in the past...they just can't handle his..." she paused, and shook her head. "Well, he's different."
From the tone of her voice, I figured the boarder might be mentally handicapped, most likely a relative. Being a doctor, and a war veteran, I had a lot of patience, and had always had a soft spot for those who could not help themselves. I smiled, scratching my head. I really did hate to give away that I was such a softy when it came to such matters.
"Mrs. Hudson," I said. "I'm a doctor, I understand these things." I leaned forward to return my empty teacup to its saucer. "I can assure you that your current resident will not bother me."
The landlady only stared at me. She finally broke her gaze and sighed, standing up to collect the dishes. "You don't know Sherlock Holmes," she said quietly, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head.
I guess I also have a bit of a stubborn streak to me. "When can I move in?"
--------------
I began my move the next day, not having many things to begin with. I'd wanted a fresh start and figured I was young enough to make new memories, so I'd only taken necessities, and some of my writings.
I moved up and down the stairs, carrying carton after carton, always passing the mysterious area where some sort of phantom menace of a resident lurked, apparently. I imagined some poor, deformed deaf and dumb creature, huddled in a corner, waiting for some kind of interaction. My imagination went a little overboard, and I could see Mrs. Hudson opening the door a crack, throwing in a crust of bread, some cheese, quickly closing it back and locking it tight. I shook my head.
I decided to see for myself, mentally rehearsing my introduction, incase he truly couldn't communicate, or understand English, for that matter. I kocked at the door, softly, and heard something clatter around. The door opened, but only a crack.
"Um, hello?" I took a step back from the door. "You must be Mr. Holmes?"
The door opened just a bit wider. He didn't look deformed, only disheveled. His dark hair was unkempt, his face unshaven, his clothes smudged and dirty, hanging off of him, not fitting quite right. In one hand he held a violin, in the other-some sort of rooted up plant. It was sprinkling dirt all over the floor.
"I'm Dr. Watson," I greeted, holding out my hand. "I'm renting out part of the house."
He didn't shake it, only stared at it. " 'Doctor'?" he repeated quietly, as if to himself rather than me.
"Yes," I shrugged, still smiling.
"Very nice to meet you, Doctor." He shook my hand. "I promise I will try and stay out your way. I'm sure you'll be very busy in setting up your practice after the war."
My brows furrowed slightly. How did he know I was back from war? I hadn't even told Mrs. Hudson. He took notice of my confusion and said, "Your handshake," he explained. "Your directness, your walking stick." he took it right out of my hand and retrieved the blade within. "Afghanistan, I presume."
"Yes." I nodded. "That's, um, that's very clever."
"Not really." He handed me my cane back. "Facts are all in plain sight."
I guess he didn't understand I was giving him a compliment. I had already decided there was nothing wrong with him, so my next mystery was figuring out why so many had moved out because of him. I liked the house, and I planned on staying. My flatmate hardly seemed threatning so far.
"Mrs. Hudson told me she's cooking dinner tonight," I said after a few moments of silence. "Perhaps...maybe..."
"Not interested." He closed the door in my face.
Being rude was not a good enough reason to leave, but I believed I was starting to understand why the formers hadn't liked him anyway. I felt a little put off by the incident, but told myself he was probably just incredibly busy, or shy. I continued to move my things, and when I was finished, I collapsed on my new bed, sighing.
I had just started to doze, some time later, when the sound of a gunshot sounded. I sat up, feeling my pistol in my pocket. I knew I couldn't leave it there forever, but after returning from war, hostility becomes second nature. I heard another, and another, and realized it was coming from Holmes' room.
"Not again!" Mrs. Hudson said from the staircase, shaking her head.
I figured she was frightened, so I nodded at her. "I'll find out what's going on."
I knocked on his door again, receiving no response. "Holmes?"
The door opened, and my eyebrows furrowed. Dirt and smoke was everywhere. Even without, the room was a wreck, cluttered beyond any recognition of living quarters. I looked around slowly. Holmes watched me, suspiciously, and explained, "I was trying to see if this rare plant from the coast of the black seas could provoke a larger impact from a gun bullet."
I honestly think he thought me to believe it made sense. I stared at him, and then back at the mess. "I don't think our landlady appreciates you experimenting that."
He shrugged, waving her away with his hand. "Mrs. Hudson," he frowned, shaking his head. "She's out to kill me, you know."
I stared at him again. Maybe something was wrong with his head. He caught me looking at him and said, "Just facts, old boy. Just facts."
"So..." I moved further into the room, moving things around with my shoe. "Why do you live here then?"
"I'm not afraid of death," he said, moving through the clutter faster than me and picking up a violin. He gave it a few plucks. "Besides, she's very important to a case I'm working on. I think she might be a jewel thief."
I stopped walking. " 'A jewel thief'?" I knelt down to pick up a paper on the floor. "And how long have you been working on this case?"
"Since I moved in," he said, giving no further clarification. Pluck, pluck, pluck.
"It's very unhygenic to live like this," I said, my doctor side kicking in. "You could get really sick."
"Don't tell me what to do." He said it so casually, like he was commenting on the weather.
Pluck, pluck, pllllluuuuuuccccccck.
I nodded. Apparently, we were never going to get along. Still, I wouldn't move out like the others. This was my house too now, and I had every right to live here in peace. I moved back to the door.
"So what are you?" I asked, one last feeble attempt to make conversation. "A detective?"
He didn't answer. He was staring into space, still plucking away at his violin. I left the room. I didn't want to admit that my feelings were slightly hurt. I mean, who'd even want a friend like that? Still, I couldn't help but feel a little disheartened. I'd been yearning for companionship, and didn't really have the time to go out and make friends.
------------
Mrs. Hudson and I ate dinner together, and after we'd finished, she began packing food away.
"Is somebody coming over?" I asked, watching her bundle leftovers together.
She shook her head. "I'm sending it up to Mr. Holmes."
I raised my eyes to the stairs. "I wouldn't. He should have come out when he had the chance."
The landlady sighed. "I used to think the same thing, Doctor." She began making some tea. "But he's a stubborn one, that man, and believe me-" she put everything in a cloth bundle. "If I don't feed him, he won't eat. He doesn't remember to."
I laughed. "That's ridiculous! And if he told you that-"
"Dr. Watson." Her eyes told me she was serious. "Trust me, he forgets."
She started to carry the food up, but I stopped her, offering to take it myself. I don't know what it was. I'd never really been that persistant, but something about him made me want to make him accept me. I guess it's because I'd never really been disliked. Not that I was busting with popularity, but still...
I didn't knock on his door this time, but just opened it instead. I was surprised to find it wasn't locked. For such a neurotic loon, he wasn't very careful about his safety.
He had taped several sheets of paper to the walls since I'd last visited him. The papers were littered with notes, and he paced back and forth, observing them closely.
"I brought you some food," I said, daring to step inside.
He didn't even look at me. "Is it evening already?"
I looked at his black-out curtains. "Yes."
He turned around, eyeing the cloth parcel in my hand. "What is it?"
"Does it matter?" I tried my best not to scoff. "Mrs. Hudson was nice enough to make you something."
"Of course it matters." He stared at me, like a professor about to give a stern lecture. "Say I don't know, and I eat it anyway. And it turns out I have a rare, but deadly food allergy, and Mrs. Hudson knew all along. Then she waits for me to succumb to death, painfully, slowly. When I finally take my last breath, she comes in and steals my rare ruby pendant."
I didn't even know how to react. I finally managed to aske, "You have a rare ruby pendant?"
"No." He shrugged. "But if I did, I guarantee you that Mrs. Hudson would have already had her menacing eyes on it."
"Right." I set the food down. "Well, I'll just leave this here then." I headed back for the door. "You can study it...if you like, just incase something might trigger an allergy."
He glanced at the food again. "One moment, Doctor."
I turned back.
"Perhaps you might stay a bit," he said. "Just incase the ingridient is well-hidden, and my throat closes, and I cannot make any sound."
I guess it was his charming way of asking me to join him. I closed the door behind me, moving his way. "Where shall I sit?"
To Be Continued...