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Fic: The August Series (part 1 of 5)
Title: August 1912
Author: Daylyn
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, although actually in the public domain. No profit is intended.
Summary: Holmes says good-bye before leaving for America.
Author’s Note: Well, in honor of Sherlock Holmes’s birthday, and my New Year’s resolution to actually write more, I finished this piece of angst that has been mulling around in my head for the past month or so. Poor Sherlock—it’s his birthday, and I make him suffer.
August 1912: Separation
By Daylyn
I sat at my desk, reviewing my files, when there was a knock at the door and the maid stepped in.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” said she, “but there is a gentleman here who insists upon seeing you.”
“Tell him to make an appointment,” said I, knowing that I had little time before my next patient’s arrival and I then had to go on rounds.
“I did, sir. But he was most adamant. He insisted that you were the only one who could help him and that he had to see you immediately.”
“It will only take a few moments, Doctor, but there is no other who can assist me,” said a wizened, deformed old man, with white hair and a sharp face. He was carrying several volumes of books. The maid looked on in horror as he made his way into my consulting room.
“It’s quite all right, Betsy,” I said to her, dismissing her from the room. “I’ll see this gentleman now. Just ask Mrs. Fitzgerald to wait a few moments when she arrives.”
“If you’re certain, Doctor.”
I smiled at her. She gave a little curtsey and a bewildered look, then left the room.
I turned to my new patient. “What are you doing here, Holmes?”
“Ah, Watson. My disguises fail me now.”
“I’ve seen this one before, Holmes, as well you know. In my former consulting room. It seems unlikely that you are trying to hide from me. So I ask again, what are you doing here, Holmes?”
His bright grey eyes looked directly into mine. No matter what his disguise, his remarkable eyes were always recognizable. “I’ve come to say good-bye, Watson.”
Of all the things he could have said, this was one I least expected. “What?” I asked dumbly.
“I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m leaving for America. My ship sails on the morning tide.”
My mind seemed to have stopped functioning. “But… why?” was the only thing I could think to say.
“I’ve been commissioned by the government to do a bit of… investigating. They needed an unknown agent to infiltrate an American organization, and I fit the bill.” He snorted, as if in disgust. “Mycroft would skin me alive if he knew I was here.”
I felt sick, numb, lost. “Why are you here?” I blurted out.
He met my eyes again. “I promised I would not disappear again without an explanation, and I cannot trust that any telegram I would send would be delivered.” He looked at the floor. “I know how hard those three years were for you, Watson. I will not do that to you again.”
“But, how can you leave? You’re retired. Living in Sussex. This is ridiculous.”
“No, Watson. It is… necessary.”
I looked at him sharply. “Whatever do you mean, Holmes?”
“Ah, Watson. There have been some accusations flying around of late. About me… you… us.” He looked at me directly again.
“I thought those rumors had been laid to rest when I remarried years ago,” I said hoarsely.
“New… gossip… has arisen. Mycroft thought it wise if I was to vacate myself from the country for a while.”
“I… see.” I tried to hide my hurt, but was, as usual, completely unsuccessful when it came to Holmes’s piercing gaze.
“Totally unfounded tales, Watson. There has only ever been one person for me.”
I looked at him in amazement, and then shook my head. “The completely selfish part of me is grateful for that, Holmes. But the rest of me wants to see you happy.”
“You have seen me happy, Watson,” he whispered. “I was happy for many years while we lived in Baker Street.”
I swallowed around the lump that appeared in my throat. “As was I, my friend. But the world would not let us be.”
“Yes. That is why I am leaving for America. Unfounded rumors will come back to haunt me or, even worse, to harm you. I think, instead, that it is time for me to leave the confines of merry old England and try my hand at espionage in the untamed New World.”
“Will it be dangerous?”
It is amazing how, even though I was 60 years old, Holmes could look at me and make me feel like a naïve youth.
“I’ll come with you then,” I blurted out. “Let me come and help.”
“Watson,” he said harshly, “you seriously would give up your practice, your wife, your very life here to come with me to America into Lord only knows what.”
I looked down into nothing and contemplated what such a decision would mean and how much I would lose. Then I looked at Sherlock Holmes sitting across from me and knew I could only make one choice. “Yes,” I said softly. “I would follow you.”
Holmes inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. When he looked at me again, there was a soft shimmer that I had only rarely seen. “It is enough to know that you would, Watson. No, I cannot allow it, my good fellow.” He waived away any protest I was about to make. “As I said,” Holmes continued, “I will not allow your life to be destroyed.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, examining each other, memorizing the other’s features, storing up our memories.
“I must go,” Holmes said quietly and stood.
I rose with him and engulfed him in a tight embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back,” I demanded.
“Watson—”
“Promise me!”
“I cannot know what will happen, Watson. You understand that.”
“No. I will not let you go, Holmes, unless you promise me. You have never outright broken your word to me when you’ve given it. If you promise, you will take better care. I cannot let you leave here knowing you will not likely return. Promise me, Holmes, that you will come back to me.”
He held me even tighter. “I promise,” he breathed, his voice breaking. Then he held my face and kissed me fiercely. Years of memories flooded back to me and I pulled him tighter still. I could taste the bitter tang of the spirit gum from his costume, but it made no difference. I kissed him back, just as desperately.
He broke away with a cry. Before I could even react he was out the door. I stood there, watching the empty space, until my maid appeared.
“Is everything all right, Doctor?” she asked me. I guess I looked rather stricken.
“I am fine,” I lied.
“And your patient?” she said, looking at the front door where Holmes had disappeared.
“Ah. It appears that I could not help him after all.”
She looked perplexed.
“Has my next patient arrived?” I enquired.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Send her in.”
The maid disappeared after giving a little curtsey. I sat at my desk and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, with the taste of Sherlock Holmes still on my lips, I prepared to face my day.
Part 2: August 1914: Reunion
Author: Daylyn
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, although actually in the public domain. No profit is intended.
Summary: Holmes says good-bye before leaving for America.
Author’s Note: Well, in honor of Sherlock Holmes’s birthday, and my New Year’s resolution to actually write more, I finished this piece of angst that has been mulling around in my head for the past month or so. Poor Sherlock—it’s his birthday, and I make him suffer.
August 1912: Separation
By Daylyn
I sat at my desk, reviewing my files, when there was a knock at the door and the maid stepped in.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” said she, “but there is a gentleman here who insists upon seeing you.”
“Tell him to make an appointment,” said I, knowing that I had little time before my next patient’s arrival and I then had to go on rounds.
“I did, sir. But he was most adamant. He insisted that you were the only one who could help him and that he had to see you immediately.”
“It will only take a few moments, Doctor, but there is no other who can assist me,” said a wizened, deformed old man, with white hair and a sharp face. He was carrying several volumes of books. The maid looked on in horror as he made his way into my consulting room.
“It’s quite all right, Betsy,” I said to her, dismissing her from the room. “I’ll see this gentleman now. Just ask Mrs. Fitzgerald to wait a few moments when she arrives.”
“If you’re certain, Doctor.”
I smiled at her. She gave a little curtsey and a bewildered look, then left the room.
I turned to my new patient. “What are you doing here, Holmes?”
“Ah, Watson. My disguises fail me now.”
“I’ve seen this one before, Holmes, as well you know. In my former consulting room. It seems unlikely that you are trying to hide from me. So I ask again, what are you doing here, Holmes?”
His bright grey eyes looked directly into mine. No matter what his disguise, his remarkable eyes were always recognizable. “I’ve come to say good-bye, Watson.”
Of all the things he could have said, this was one I least expected. “What?” I asked dumbly.
“I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m leaving for America. My ship sails on the morning tide.”
My mind seemed to have stopped functioning. “But… why?” was the only thing I could think to say.
“I’ve been commissioned by the government to do a bit of… investigating. They needed an unknown agent to infiltrate an American organization, and I fit the bill.” He snorted, as if in disgust. “Mycroft would skin me alive if he knew I was here.”
I felt sick, numb, lost. “Why are you here?” I blurted out.
He met my eyes again. “I promised I would not disappear again without an explanation, and I cannot trust that any telegram I would send would be delivered.” He looked at the floor. “I know how hard those three years were for you, Watson. I will not do that to you again.”
“But, how can you leave? You’re retired. Living in Sussex. This is ridiculous.”
“No, Watson. It is… necessary.”
I looked at him sharply. “Whatever do you mean, Holmes?”
“Ah, Watson. There have been some accusations flying around of late. About me… you… us.” He looked at me directly again.
“I thought those rumors had been laid to rest when I remarried years ago,” I said hoarsely.
“New… gossip… has arisen. Mycroft thought it wise if I was to vacate myself from the country for a while.”
“I… see.” I tried to hide my hurt, but was, as usual, completely unsuccessful when it came to Holmes’s piercing gaze.
“Totally unfounded tales, Watson. There has only ever been one person for me.”
I looked at him in amazement, and then shook my head. “The completely selfish part of me is grateful for that, Holmes. But the rest of me wants to see you happy.”
“You have seen me happy, Watson,” he whispered. “I was happy for many years while we lived in Baker Street.”
I swallowed around the lump that appeared in my throat. “As was I, my friend. But the world would not let us be.”
“Yes. That is why I am leaving for America. Unfounded rumors will come back to haunt me or, even worse, to harm you. I think, instead, that it is time for me to leave the confines of merry old England and try my hand at espionage in the untamed New World.”
“Will it be dangerous?”
It is amazing how, even though I was 60 years old, Holmes could look at me and make me feel like a naïve youth.
“I’ll come with you then,” I blurted out. “Let me come and help.”
“Watson,” he said harshly, “you seriously would give up your practice, your wife, your very life here to come with me to America into Lord only knows what.”
I looked down into nothing and contemplated what such a decision would mean and how much I would lose. Then I looked at Sherlock Holmes sitting across from me and knew I could only make one choice. “Yes,” I said softly. “I would follow you.”
Holmes inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. When he looked at me again, there was a soft shimmer that I had only rarely seen. “It is enough to know that you would, Watson. No, I cannot allow it, my good fellow.” He waived away any protest I was about to make. “As I said,” Holmes continued, “I will not allow your life to be destroyed.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, examining each other, memorizing the other’s features, storing up our memories.
“I must go,” Holmes said quietly and stood.
I rose with him and engulfed him in a tight embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back,” I demanded.
“Watson—”
“Promise me!”
“I cannot know what will happen, Watson. You understand that.”
“No. I will not let you go, Holmes, unless you promise me. You have never outright broken your word to me when you’ve given it. If you promise, you will take better care. I cannot let you leave here knowing you will not likely return. Promise me, Holmes, that you will come back to me.”
He held me even tighter. “I promise,” he breathed, his voice breaking. Then he held my face and kissed me fiercely. Years of memories flooded back to me and I pulled him tighter still. I could taste the bitter tang of the spirit gum from his costume, but it made no difference. I kissed him back, just as desperately.
He broke away with a cry. Before I could even react he was out the door. I stood there, watching the empty space, until my maid appeared.
“Is everything all right, Doctor?” she asked me. I guess I looked rather stricken.
“I am fine,” I lied.
“And your patient?” she said, looking at the front door where Holmes had disappeared.
“Ah. It appears that I could not help him after all.”
She looked perplexed.
“Has my next patient arrived?” I enquired.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Send her in.”
The maid disappeared after giving a little curtsey. I sat at my desk and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, with the taste of Sherlock Holmes still on my lips, I prepared to face my day.
Part 2: August 1914: Reunion
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I like that Watson saw through his disguise. :)
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Yeah, finally, after so many years, Watson can see through his disguises.
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I demand that you fix him immediately.
(You broke me a little, too... )
Wonderful job, as usual!
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So glad you liked it.
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(...would love some fluff now *goes to search for it*)
:D
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But this angsty bit wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it out. Glad you liked it. Thank you.
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Oh, and a little nitpick: Whatever to you mean, Holmes? "do", I think.
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And thanks for the nitpick! I fixed it immediately after reading your comment (on my way to work). That's what I get for writing and posting at midnight!
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Wonderful fic :)
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"No. I will not let you go, Holmes, unless you promise me. You have never outright broken your word to me when you’ve given it. If you promise, you will take better care..."
Agh. That bit really got to me; achingly sad. :-( As if Holmes could hold his vow like a talisman against harm...and then the last sentence confirming that Watson isn't being merely sentimental, and it would actually be eminently practical to promise so...
[hopeful tone]Reunion sequel planned?
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[hopeful tone]Reunion sequel planned?
You mean The Last Bow isn't the sequel? ;-)
Yeah, I'll have to work on that. I'd like to see the reunion fic too.
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I agree, this needs a sequel ...
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I really dreaded Watson to follow him nonetheless, but of course, that... erm, just speculating...
Yes, it definitely calls for a sequel, so there's no backing out now, my twin. ;o)
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Well, LAST is really the canon sequel, but maybe I'll be inspired to write my take on the reunion (which would certainly have a few sparks not mentioned in the original story). Hmm... *ponders*
Glad you liked it.
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The shock and distress and subsequent numbness was palpable in this. Very well done!
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I think I have a glimmer for a sequel in my head... now I just need some time (and to remember my resolution to write more).
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Poor Holmes & Watson--that was a gut-wrenching reason for Holmes to accept an assignment in America.
I love the fact that Watson was willing to follow him--even though I think Holmes was right; Watson couldn't very well abandon his wife. (Whatever his reasons for marrying.)
Thank you for another lovely story,
Rose
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Yeah, I'm always trying to work around the concept of Watson's marriage in later fics. Sometimes it's fine to ignore it (especially since, I believe, it's only mentioned once), but it does create lovely angst potential. I think Watson's decision here is very spur-of-the-moment (but I also think he would have stood by it and followed Holmes anywhere). But Holmes couldn't allow Watson to ruin his life.
Glad you liked it!
How in the world did I miss this?
When I wrote my own version of this I reread "His Last Bow" for the first time in years and was shocked to discover Watson didn't even know Holmes had been gone! I know friends can lose touch, but still. I think your version is an improvement on ACD's. How he could have too such good friends get so far apart... Bastid. *mutters grumpily*
Re: How in the world did I miss this?
Well, I've always chosen to believe that Watson was just offering exposition for the readers so that they would know where Holmes had been. I utterly and completely refuse to believe that Watson didn't know that Holmes had gone. (Denial is not just a river in Egypt).
So glad you liked it -- and more (angst) is coming.
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It always seemed unbelievable to me (even before I cottoned to slash) that Holmes would contact Watson to meet him in LAST if they'd previously been out of touch for many years (not only during Holmes's years in America, but the retirement years in Sussex). It makes complete sense if they had frequent contact (platonic or otherwise).
I love your theory ... that the trip to America was as much for their own safety as for King & country. A painful scene, but beautifully done. Am off to read the sequel so I can smile again. Thanks Daylyn.
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So glad you liked this. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but then I had ideas that wouldn't leave my head. And so... we're heading through the angsty bits now, but I do promise a happy ending (in the last part).