Author's Note:

So after my first foray into this branch of Sherlockiana ("Requiem for a Friend"), I churned out a list of short stories I wanted to do for SH22 and decided to make them a collection. Now, as they say in Sound of Music, "let's begin at the beginning—a very good place to start!" Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes, Inspector G. Lestrade, and Dr. John Watson were (allegedly) created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and reside within the public domain. The cartoon incarnations and Beth Lestrade belong to their creators. Holmes's back-story is mine.

==1. Renascence==

Rating: K+
Summary: Just after his reawakening, Sherlock Holmes deals with the aftermath of resurrection.

Pairing(s): none
Warnings: well, if you count "what the devil" as language…
Word Count: 325

I sigh at the sight of a deep brown Inverness and deerstalker folded neatly on the room's one table. "Thank you, Sidney Paget," I mutter as I examine the other clothes. Russet-red waistcoat, mustard-yellow shirt, tan trousers, cobalt-blue tie… honestly, was the person responsible for this collection colour-blind?

What I wouldn't give right now for my own characteristic black suit, or even my country tweeds. Ah well, one must make do with what one has (however distasteful). I set the clothing down for a moment to study myself in the mirror nearby—my body feels quite young, and my hands, at any rate, look it.

I find myself going slack-jawed in shock for the first time in two lifetimes.

I am blond.

I am blond.

And… and blue-eyed? What the devil…

My features are unchanged—that is, this is recognisably myself from about the time I first met Watson. All aging beyond that of a man in his mid-twenties is lost. Extraordinary.

But I am blond-haired and blue-eyed.

How is this possible? Something must have gone wrong in the regeneration process, but… what a way to go wrong! Blond hair and blue eyes in place of my natural, admittedly monochromatic but striking black hair and grey eyes… I could not look more Anglo-Saxon if I tried…

A laugh escapes me, and it borders on hysterical. At last I fit my Christian (and Anglo-Saxon) name, Sherlock: fair-haired. My family would not believe this. Watson would not believe this…

Watson.

This futuristic, female Inspector Lestrade must not have seen fit to restore John as well… or perhaps could not. I close my eyes against the pain threatening to take hold of my heart and twist it mercilessly.

Not now.

There will be a time to mourn later. For now, I have clothes to don, and a New Scotland Yarder to question. Surely I can put aside the grief for just a few hours?

Just a few hours.

Author's Note:

Poor Holmes!

Of course, the real Holmes is supposed to be black-haired and grey-eyed, so if this show is to be in any way canonical, something had to happen to his original coloring. For a plausible explanation, I direct you to Jack of All Suits' one-shot "Companionship, Discussion, and Hairbows."

I have to say that I really, really like Holmes's characterization in SH22. He's still sharp, still mildly arrogant and condescending, still witty and sarcastic… and at the same time, has anybody ever noticed that he's gentler, a bit softer? When you think about it, it makes sense: we're talking about a man who lived a full life (to his 70s at least), died, and then was restored to life. While he has the body of his early twenties, I think he has more of the maturity of his later years.

Next up, a sequel: Holmes deals with the fact that John Watson will no longer be in his life. Stay tuned!

Please review!