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spacemutineer.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
acdholmesfest2014-04-15 02:21 am
- fic,
- pg,
- rating: pg
Fic for desecrets: The Keeping of a Retired Detective, H/W, PG
Recipient:
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desecretsAuthor: [redacted]
Rating: PG
Characters: Holmes/Watson, female OC
Warnings: None
Summary: Holmes retired because the bees were much better than the uncreative criminal classes. Unfortunately, no one seems to understand.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and his Watson belong to Sir ACD. May he not be rolling in his grave with what we have done.
A/N: Thanks to my beta, [redacted].
"Now, just remember to take the drops thrice a day and you'll be fit by next week," I told Mrs. Williams.
She smiled at me. "Of course, Doctor. I do wonder, though, if I could stay a bit longer? I have a question for Mr. Holmes."
I resisted the urge to sigh. For the most part, the villagers left Holmes and I in peace. They know of Holmes' deeds through my published works and in the case of some like Mrs. Williams, know I could be called upon for minor medical assistance given that the nearest doctor was in the next village over. A small walk of half a day, but some prefer to take the shorter trip to the cottage I share with Holmes. It is I who brought in the bulk of our income now, not Holmes--he had completely and utterly retired from anything formerly resembling his detective work, preferring to study bees and ensure our garden provided some of what they require.
Still, there were times when Holmes had a caller of some sort, wanting a bit of the old work to sort out their domestic troubles.
Holmes had been silently recalcitrant this morning, sullenly drinking his tea and refusing food with a disdainful look before leaving for the outdoors. Today was not a good day for him to be called upon.
While Londoners would shrug and think nothing of Holmes' manner, the villagers found his behaviour to be less tolerant. It was not so much that they expected him to be in a good mood all the time, but more that they could think of no reason he should be so disagreeable with company.
I had to try, though, if Mrs. Williams face was any indication. I led her to the cottage proper (my office being in an space that was a building added on rather than an actual room) and set her up with a cup of tea before leaving for the garden. Holmes was there, of course, scribbling in a notebook, frowning and leaning close to a flower that I realized was occupied by a bee. I waited patiently for the bee to finish and Holmes to look up.
"Mrs. Williams?" he asked.
I nodded. "I am unsure what she needs to speak with you about--"
"Oh, it's always the same," Holmes bristled. "Cheating husbands, missing maids, and wandering animals. Dull!"
I smiled and patted his arm. "Unless we wish to be social pariahs when I go into town to collect what we aren't growing here, we must be at least a bit hospitable."
He threw me a dark look as he stood. The notebook snapped closed and he trudged into the cottage. I sighed and followed, preparing myself to sooth Mrs. Williams' nerves.
~~~
Later, as we were walking along the dusty road our cottage sat upon, I asked aloud why he had turned down Mrs. Williams' query. "Sure, a bit of work now and then is good to break up the pace. After all, you couldn't possibly know that her bird--"
"Was now in the possession of her sister?" Holmes finished with a scoff. "I had been in town yesterday to collect a package for the hives and saw the bird in the shop window."
I frowned. "How could you have known that it was Mrs. Williams' bird?"
"They are identical twins, Watson," Holmes growled. "The bird in question is noted for its abilities for facial recognition. When Mrs. Thompson was with the bird, I took note that the bird, despite being a new pet for her, was familiar toward her. But how?" He shook his head. "And as I was observing all this, Mr. Williams joined Mrs. Thompson in the shop and the bird also recognized him. Further, I noted that Mr. Williams was far too friendly with his sister-in-law."
I turned that thought over. "You knew that Mrs. Williams would ask your opinion today?"
Holmes sighed. "I did, yes. I was in a rather foul mood because of it--I know you noticed, old boy. I apologize. It is only that when I saw the bird and Mr. Williams and more, that your diary held an appointment with Mrs. Williams...well."
"Holmes, I know you well enough to not take your sour moods to heart," I soothed him. "I wish you had told me--I could have fabricated some story to prevent her from seeing you."
"And she would then have called again another day," Holmes pointed out darkly. However, his mood did seem to be improving.
"She had to go into town to pick up the script I wrote for her," I said smugly. "She would have had to pass her sister's shop and would have called on her, if only for a moment. And from there, well." I shook it off. "I suppose you knew that the bird had been given in love because of yesterday?"
"Quite." Holmes clasped his hands behind his back. "Do you ever wonder why I choose to not take any cases here?"
"I thought perhaps the bees were enough work," I admitted. It didn't matter to me, much. Holmes was happy and we no longer had anyone who could hear us as we lived out the remainder of our days together. No one to question why only one bed was ever slept in, why our chairs sat side by side rather than facing each other. Holmes was happy enough and I was ecstatic and I needed to know nothing of the why. If I ever did wonder, I simply thought of all the time Holmes devoted to his bees. It seemed perfectly acceptable to me.
"Mm, the bees," Holmes muttered. He took in a deep breath and turned around on the path, walking backwards. "My dear boy, the bees are, in a word, simple. One would think it would bore me, but their simplicity is what makes them complicated and yet they need nothing of me. If you and I were to leave in the night, they would carry on without me. It is that complex nature which I like to study and it never is dull or boring.
"The people and cases here, though, are too much like London. If one were to take all the problems London's citizens experience and boil it down to its essence, all of it would be found in the common English village. Repetitive, dull, boring. It never changes its tune and the emotion we humans bring to it--"
He stopped suddenly and I stumbled, trying not to fall into him. I grasped his arms. "What is it?"
Holmes' face pinched up. "I like the bees, Watson. And you, of course. But you two are the only exceptions--I wished to retire simply because I could not stand it anymore."
I recalled with alacrity, remembering the fits that had lead up to his announcement of our retirement. "Holmes, your work was the only thing--you always said to me--"
"Yes, yes," he cried, throwing my arms off. "I know. Always I said that, but I find...Watson, it got so boring and dull and repetitive. As I said. I could not stand it any longer. I have spent years studying people, their habits and their homes and cast offs and manners. In the end, there was nothing new. Nothing to challenge me."
"Oh, my dear," I sighed.
He flapped his hand at me and resumed our walk. He had left London behind, his beloved city and all his work; he left it all for something infinitely more interesting. In truth, I did not understand it--to me, our life was far too simple for a mind such as his, but if there is one thing I have ever learned, it is that I can never hope to know Holmes completely and wholly. It bothered me none, though I did want to understand this.
Holmes half turned, looking for me. I realized then that I had stopped, lost in my thoughts, and half smiled as I caught up with him. I did not need to understand. I never had really. Holmes could explain himself as he wished to, but he didn't have to. Our life together had never needed explanations. We were two men thrown together by simple need of a shared roof and had made not only the best of it, but made a life for love and friendship.
I brushed his hand with my own, carefully, and felt more than saw Holmes' smile.
"Do not wish that you could stop them from asking for my skills," he told me. "They were quite undone by the knowledge that we had chosen to retire here and there is nothing that will stop them from asking for an audience with someone so famed. That I could help them with their domestic troubles...Well, no matter. After the first dozen that I turned down, they stopped visiting for quite some time and now only when they find themselves desperate. I could wish it all away, to retire completely alone save for you and the bees, but such is the price of solitude out of London. Yes?"
I nodded. "Quite, Holmes. So long as you are not too troubled and are happy."
His hand now brushed mine. "Very happy, old boy. So very happy."
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Thank you.
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Tuesday, April 16, 2014
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If I tell you that walk actually brought a tear to my eye, will that communicate the depth of how much I loved this fic?
(As an aside: I also recommended it at Tumblr (http://marta-sherlock.tumblr.com/post/83832195066/fic-rec-the-keeping-of-a-secret-detective-author).)
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(And thanks for the recommend!)
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A touching story with a current of bitter in the sweet.
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