The Case of the Displaced Detective

by Stephanie Osborn

  I am uncertain if you have ever truly forgiven me, in spite of your protestations earlier today. In truth, I am uncertain if I have ever forgiven myself; I have often considered, had I been stronger, had I been wiser, I might not have ever acted upon those feelings which, in the end, only served to so deeply wound you. Watching our counterparts in the other continuum has only managed to reinforce that discomfort, as I now perforce must wonder if my choices were correct. Ha! I suppose that thought must have a familiar ring to you. Suffice to say these days, I understand all too well how you sometimes feel about my arrival in this continuum.

  At any rate, I decided it was high past time you understood the reasons for my behaviour those long years ago. If you can find it in your heart to forgive a stubborn, fearful ass, the fearful ass will be eternally grateful.

  Always and ever yours,

  W.S.S.H.

  * * *

  Chadwick finished reading the letter and stood staring at it in amazement.

  “Ohmigosh,” she murmured lamely after several moments. “He actually…explained.”

  She shook her head, then suddenly galvanized into action, all hints of alcohol-induced unsteadiness gone. Chadwick tucked the letter, now a precious communiqué, into its envelope and the envelope safely into the drawer of her nightstand. Then she prepared for bed, ending by slipping the gown over her head and letting it slide to the floor. Momentarily she debated donning a robe, then daringly decided against it.

  Chadwick slipped out of the bedroom and across the hall, where she tapped on the door of Holmes’ bedroom. A faint light shone underneath.

  “Holmes?” she called softly. “May I come in?”

  “Of course, Chadwick,” came the muffled reply. “You know I am always available to you, if to few others. I have already retired, but if you do not mind…”

  “It isn’t like I haven’t nursed you through a case or two of the flu, so I don’t think I’ll mind.” Chadwick turned the doorknob and entered with a smile.

  Holmes put aside the book he was reading, sitting up in bed with dilated grey eyes as he took in the vision in blue satin standing before him. He scanned her from head to toe, then raised his gaze to meet hers, and his eyes crinkled.

  He likes the nightgown, she thought, seeing his reaction and recalling her other self’s explanation of it. He thinks it’s pretty. So he WAS the one who turned down the bed and put out the gown. Her heart suddenly leaped with hope, and she fought it back down. Don’t be silly, Skye. Of course he cares, you’ve known that all along, but he never said he loved you. Don’t read too much into that little letter, or you’ll only get hurt again.

  She made her way to the bedside and sat, offering him another shy smile. He returned it, and asked, “To what do I owe the honour of this little tête-à-tête?”

  “To the letter you left me,” Chadwick replied, sapphire gaze soft. “I wanted to thank you for it. It…explains a lot. And that…helps.”

  Holmes nodded and dropped his gaze thoughtfully, saying nothing.

  “And I also wanted to say, you really were forgiven, that very day. I didn’t fully understand your reasons until tonight, but I had a…a feeling, I guess you could say. See, I knew, when you didn’t leave, that you still wanted me for a…companion,” Chadwick explained, searching for exactly the right words, desiring to express herself to him without causing either of them pain. “And I knew…” Her voice shook, and she cleared it, struggling to keep it steady. “You weren’t a womanizer, so our…time together…hadn’t been meaningless, for either of us.”

  * * *

  Holmes’ head shot up, and he stared at her, stunned at both her grasp of the situation and her complete acceptance.

  “So,” she continued, a hint of shy primness in her manner, “I kinda figured at the time that it was all more than you were willing to take. I just didn’t quite know why. I thought maybe I’d somehow pushed you too far, too fast. Now it makes perfect sense.” She ran a light fingertip tentatively over the back of his hand as it lay on the coverlet, and he had to repress a sudden, unexpected shiver of yearning. “Anyway, I wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry. Let it go, if you can.”

  “Thank you, Skye,” he murmured, staring at the blankets. “That is…good to know.”

  “Okay,” she said cheerfully, with a gentle grin. Chadwick rose from the bedside and turned toward the door. “Good night.”

  “Good night, my dear.” He reached out to retrieve his book, stifling a wistful sigh.

  “Oh, one more thing.” She paused at the door and half-turned.

  “Yes?” Holmes stopped with the book in hand and looked up at her.

  “NOBODY calls you an ass around ME. Not even you. Is that clear?” Chadwick gave him a stern look, and her sapphire eyes glinted in something akin to anger.

  “Perfectly.” Holmes’ lips twitched in amusement as he responded.

  “Good.” The blue gaze calmed, angry glint replaced by mischievous twinkle. “Remember that. ‘Night.”

  “I shall. Good night, Skye.”

  The door closed behind her, and a certain detective sat staring at it with dreamy grey eyes for fully five minutes. Finally he discarded the unopened book on the nightstand and turned out the lamp.

  * * *

  When Chadwick woke the next morning, the small vase in which she’d placed her lupine the night before had found its way from an end table in the den to her nightstand. And a second spray of lupine rested in it beside the first. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. What on earth has gotten into him? she wondered, dumbfounded. This isn’t like Holmes.

  But by the time she meandered her way through her morning ablutions, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt—deeply thankful that urgency was not required in said ablutions—and ambled into the den, she found herself being met by that same Holmes. He promptly offered her a smile and a cup of coffee with plenty of cream, just as she liked it.

  “Here you are, my dear Chadwick. I fear I cannot claim to have made it, only to have poured it for you. Tina is already in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and I have been duly chastised by young Martha for failing to be home more often.”

  “Dat’s wight, Unca Sherwock,” a high-pitched voice noted behind him. “Oo gots ‘a bwing Auntie Skye home sometimes, oo know.”

  Holmes spun, grey eyes flickering in wry amusement, to face the child, who stood in the door of the south hallway with her little hands on her hips and a firm expression on her pixie face.

  “Believe me, Martha, when I say I would if I could,” he informed her with a grin, spreading his hands in tolerant deference. Chadwick sipped the coffee, smiling while she watched this interaction.

  “Martha,” she interjected, “it isn’t Uncle Sherlock’s fault we aren’t home more often. It’s Auntie Skye’s.”

  “Auntie Skye done kep’ Unca Sherwock away?” The child stared up at the two adults, confusion in the wide innocent blue eyes.

  “No, honey,” Chadwick explained, crouching down. The little girl came to her trustingly as Holmes reached down and silently freed Chadwick’s hands of the coffee mug. “Auntie Skye’s…machine…is all messed up, and I’ve been working hard to fix it, to keep it from harming Uncle Sherlock, and you, and your mummy and da, and our friends, and everybody.”

  Behind her, Holmes’ eyes widened at Chadwick’s prioritized enumeration.

  “You see,” Chadwick went on, unaware that by this time Tina had also joined the audience, “before you were born, even before your mummy and da got married, a bad man tried to take away Auntie Skye’s machine. And we only just found out he broke it when he did that, so it wasn’t working right anymore.”

  “Oo! Da bad man!” An angry Martha stamped her little foot. “Him bwoke Auntie Skye’s toy!”

  “Right,” Chadwick agreed, lips twitching as she attempted to stifle laughter at the child’s simplistic, yet accurate, grasp of the situation. The slightest noise emerged from the man behind her, and she recognized a suppressed snort of mirth in the
sound. “And Uncle Sherlock and I have been working hard to fix it, so it wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

  “Is it shawp?” Martha asked, troubled and subdued. “Cut da baby?”

  Chadwick looked blank at that one, not quite able to translate the toddler’s terms into anything applicable to the tesseract, and cast her gaze back over her shoulder. Twinkling grey eyes met her glance, and of all people, Holmes came to her rescue.

  “Yes, Martha, it is a big sharp thing,” he informed the child, “and would cut the baby very badly. It would cut everyone, very badly. But Auntie Skye has almost gotten it repair—er, fixed.”

  “With tons of help from Uncle Sherlock,” Chadwick added.

  * * *

  “Okay, dat’s good,” Martha declared. It seemed obvious to her that, if Auntie Skye and Uncle Sherlock said it was fixed, the matter was settled and there was nothing to worry about. No longer upset, the child toddled back toward the kitchen. “Wet’s eat bweakfas’ now. Marfa’s hungwy.”

  * * *

  Chadwick rose to her feet, and Holmes stepped forward, laying a light hand on the small of her back as he handed the coffee mug back to her. Chadwick took it, but remained staring at the floor, while Holmes watched her thoughtfully. Tina gazed at them soberly before asking, “The whole thing was Haines’ fault?”

  “It was,” Holmes verified. “So all of Skye’s self-recriminations have been misdirected. The maledictions should have been aimed squarely at Haines.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Tina noted. “I didn’t think Dr. Chadwick’s calculations would have been that far off.”

  “Nor I,” Holmes agreed quietly.

  Sapphire blue eyes flickered in gratitude, and Chadwick cast appreciative looks at her companions.

  “Well, let’s get some breakfast,” she decided.

  “I hope you two don’t mind eating with Martha,” Tina offered apologetically as she turned and led the way into the kitchen. “The little moppet flatly refused to eat with Billy and me. She insisted she wanted to have breakfast with her auntie and uncle.”

  Holmes and Chadwick both chuckled.

  “You know it’s not a problem, Tina,” Chadwick declared. “Martha’s a sweetheart, and we both enjoy being around her.”

  “But how are you going to eat, Martha?” Holmes only half-teasingly asked the child, who stood patiently beside the kitchen table. “This is a big people’s table, and you haven’t your special chair.”

  * * *

  The little girl eyed the table thoughtfully, then cast a considering gaze upon Holmes. She watched as he pulled out a chair for Chadwick and saw her seated before taking a seat himself, then she toddled over to his side.

  “Gonna sit in Unca Sherwock’s wap,” she decreed, holding out her arms to be picked up.

  * * *

  “Oh, now this is gonna get interesting,” Chadwick muttered in amusement. “I can’t wait to see how you get out of—oh, Sherlock, you’re not!” she exclaimed, as the detective picked up the little girl and settled her on one thigh. “How on earth are you ever gonna eat, yourself, like that?”

  “I shall manage,” Holmes shot her a brief grin. “Extra napkins may be in order, however.”

  “Done,” Tina grinned widely, grabbing a handful of paper napkins from the cupboard and plopping them beside Holmes’ elbow before turning back to serve their plates. “You know, Mr. Holmes, I never would have guessed, from Watson’s stories, that you liked children so much.”

  Holmes shrugged.

  “The clues were there, though subtle,” he decided, feeding Martha a bit of scrambled egg before taking a bite of his omelet. “Mostly in the use of the Irregulars.”

  “Oo wikes kids?” Martha observed around chewing her egg.

  “I do, Martha.”

  “Coo. When is oo an’ Auntie Skye gonna make me a pwaymate?”

  “Huh?” Chadwick looked up from her own omelet, startled and confused by the question. Holmes’ expression indicated he, too, was somewhat startled, though rather less confused; his face flushed slightly.

  “Hush, Martha,” Tina scolded quickly, embarrassed. “I’ve already explained that to you. Friends, remember?”

  “Oh,” the child murmured in a subdued fashion. “I forgot.”

  “I don’t understand,” Chadwick said quietly.

  “Martha thinks…” Tina began, turning beet red. “I’m sorry, Dr. Chadwick. Martha has it in her head that you and Mr. Holmes are…like her mum and da. A family. And that families are supposed to have children.”

  “Oh,” Chadwick murmured, sounding much like Martha. “So you explained?”

  “Tried to,” Tina sighed. “I’ll just keep repeating it until it takes.”

  “Okay,” Chadwick replied softly, returning her attention to her omelet.

  But Holmes noted she seemed to have lost her appetite.

  Grey eyes closed to hide the pain in them.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Chadwick disappeared into her room, and Holmes wandered down to the barn. He greeted Silver Blaze with an apple nipped from the kitchen and spent some time in general conversation with Williams and their staff before he wandered back to the house in Billy’s company, thankful to have some leisure time.

  Holmes found Chadwick on the deck in the lee of the house, clad in her old bubble-gum pink bikini, soaking up the autumnal sun like a cat.

  “Chadwick,” he reprimanded, taking a seat on a corner of her blanket, “you have put on your sunscreen, have you not?”

  “Everywhere except my back,” she replied lazily. “Oh, this feels so good.” After another few seconds, she continued, “And don’t worry. I was gonna call Tina to put it on my back when I was ready to roll over. She loaned me the kitchen timer.” The egg timer Holmes had noted sitting nearby went off just then. “Oh, I guess it’s time to roll over, or I’ll be sunny side up,” she noted whimsically, suiting actions to words. “Holmes, would you mind getting Tina for me?”

  “No need,” he decided, picking up the tube of sunscreen, which lay beside the egg timer. Before she could reply, nimble fingers had unhooked her bra top. “However, I should recommend you lie quite still while I do this. Several of the Aerotech Drive Irregulars have the buggy out, working on it in the barnyard, ensuring that it is in proper function in case you should wish to go for a drive. It would prove rather… revealing…should you move.”

  As he spoke, Williams emerged from the house, and Holmes watched absently as he sauntered across the back yard to chat with Wang, Huggins, and Hargreave as they overhauled the buggy. By this time Holmes already had a large blob of cream in his hand, and he spread it across Chadwick’s back, using broad, unhurried strokes.

  * * *

  “Oh!” Chadwick exclaimed, surprised and mildly shocked at the feel of his fingers gliding over her skin. She struggled with the effort to avert responding to the unavoidable sensuality of the smooth touch, and wondered if she was only imagining a hint of possessiveness in it. “I—you don’t have to do this, Holmes. I thought you’d rather…”

  “Skye,” he said quietly, continuing to work, “I should have thought by now you would understand that I will not let you come to harm if it is in my power to prevent it. Even in so simple a matter as sunburn.”

  * * *

  In the barnyard, the four men huddled, murmuring together, and suddenly a wide-eyed Williams glanced over his shoulder, directly at the couple on the deck. Holmes met Billy’s startled gaze, then raised an eyebrow before deliberately directing his attention to the shapely back beneath his hands. Williams’ expression changed from surprise to smirking glee, and he turned back to his satisfied companions. Holmes finished his work and capped the tube of lotion.

  * * *

  “I…I guess I didn’t…” Chadwick glanced up at him uncertainly as he fastened her top once more, then she pushed up enough to reach for the nearby towel, handing it to him. “Here.” She fished an ice cube out of her glass of water and gave it to him as well.

&nbs
p; “Thank you.” He allowed the ice cube to melt in his hand, then wiped off the residue of sunscreen, while she reset her egg timer and settled back down.

  Then, to her surprise, he stretched out on the blanket, lying on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded hands, and staring her directly in the eyes.

  “Skye, I know it is difficult, in the circumstances. But if you can, I should very much like it if you could try to relax around me. We have been together too long, and been through too much, to worry about giving offense, wouldn’t you say?”

  Chadwick blinked at the calm grey gaze. “I…I just thought…” she began, letting her voice fade away.

  * * *

  “I know,” he answered gently. “And I appreciate your attempt at considering my feelings. But as you said yourself last night, I still wish you to remain my…companion. My closest companion, at that.” He maintained her gaze, allowing his eyes to crinkle almost imperceptibly. “Had you considered it in that light? That you are my closest, most trusted ally? The best friend I have in this continuum, and on a par with Watson in my original spacetime?”

  Chadwick stared at him thoughtfully.

  “No, I haven’t,” she murmured, stunned at the honor being accorded. “I…thank you.”

  “And I thank you,” Holmes responded softly. “Perhaps someday…I should like to see my two bosom companions meet…”

  Chadwick offered him a shy smile, and he returned it. Then he closed his eyes with a sigh, content to absorb the warmth of the sunlight on his back.

  * * *

  Chadwick studied his face for several moments, then closed her own eyes and tried to relax. She had almost managed it when he murmured, “Skye?”

  “Yeah, Sherlock?” The name came unbidden to her lips, and she internalized the wince, refusing to open her eyes for several seconds lest he see it. So she missed the slight smile on his face at the sound of his given name.

  “Have you ever been to London?” he asked laconically, appearing half-asleep. Noticing that fact, Skye closed her eyes again.