An Unexpected Vacation

[lightconductor]

Watson's brain hadn't quite caught up with the reality of his situation. That they were in danger, he understood. That Moriarty was behind it, he grasped easily. That it was necessary to flee the country, he could not argue with even if he wasn't happy about. And it was easy to understand why he had to take this convoluted route to the station, separate from Holmes, even if he didn't naturally fall into step with whatever Holmes's latest plans were.

But here he was, at the station in one piece, still with the feeling that he only knew half of what was going on, or even less than half, and there was no sign of Holmes. Their compartment was occupied, too, by some Italian priest who seemed to speak little English, if any at all, and could not be made to understand he was in the wrong compartment.

Where was Holmes? Watson was beginning to feel more than a little desperate. Had something happened? Was this part of their escape plan? Had there been a last minute change? Ought Watson to get off the train and see if he could, somehow, manage to track him down? Should he stay on the train and wait to see if Holmes rejoined him later on?

He had no idea, but his heart was pounding away in his throat.

The train was pulling out of the station, then, and Watson was craning his head, searching for sign of Holmes, and seeing nothing. He hardly looked at the priest across from him, clutching at the sides of the window in his anxiety.

Comments

[mustbethetruth]

Frankly, Holmes is sick with worry. He's mostly very upset that Watson is here because he knows precisely what Watson's involvement in all this is; they love each other, and Moriarty wants to use that to hurt Holmes. He relented to bringing Watson with him because at least he could keep Watson safe if they were together, even if he doesn't really think that his side is the safest place, either. The hardest part of all of this is keeping this quiet from Watson, but he isn't sure he has the courage to tell him.

He's glad, too, that this journey starts out with him in costume; he vents some of his unease in his little act, and he watches Watson's anxious face with some detached amusement. Once the train begins to move, however, it's safe to shatter the illusion.

"My dear Watson," he says, hiding his smile, "you have not even condescended to say good-morning."

[mustbethetruth]

This trip is intoxicatingly distracting. It's tempting to think of this as simply a holiday, like their first holiday together; it's tempting just to enjoy his time with Watson, but he can't relax completely, not until he knows that Moriarty and his gang are captured. He makes a conscious effort to keep his mood in decent spirits, however. He doesn't want to be upset; he doesn't want to let it show how worried he is, not really, but it's difficult.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette and doesn't glance at the clock. A telegram should be coming soon, and every second that it's not here has him more nervous.