Frock Coated Fascination

Chapter 3

The journey to Devon was much longer than he remembered. It was only late afternoon, so the landscape didn't look quite the same as it had the night of the ball six months ago. But despite the amount of time that had passed, John could still recall the gaunt, dark figure of the mysterious bachelor. Although he hadn't consciously spared a thought for William Holmes, it puzzled him that he could call back the man's exact image and the slight twitch of his mouth and spark of curiosity when they'd locked eyes.

Déjà vu hit as the carriage rolled up the long driveway and turned in at the gate. The dark, double doors of the house were opened by black frock coated footmen and as the Watsons stepped into the former ballroom, John gasped involuntarily. When not full to the brim with swarms of people, the hall seemed like a giant coffin, very grey when not lit with the many sconces, like it once had been.

As if summoned by the sound of the door, at the top of the iron staircase descending to the middle of the ballroom floor appeared Siger Holmes, a man of a formidable height and stature. He was lean but muscular enough. Although his hairline was receding slightly, he had a full head of thick hair, with a thick moustache and beard to match.

"Ah, Samuel," rumbled Holmes, striding easily down the stone slabs to shake John's father's hand firmly. "Let me introduce-" he broke off, suddenly realising the absence of his youngest son. "Sherlock!" he roared, his voice seeming to echo in every corner of the house. John frowned in surprise. Sherlock? Who-

But then, as if he'd been there all along, a familiar, slender figure stepped out from the shadows. A cheekboned, bright eyed figure with a dark mop of curly hair. He shook Samuel's hand firmly, bowed low to kiss Elizabeth's pale one and stopped in front of John. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he said with a slight twitch of his lips, extending his palm.

"John Watson," the other replied, taking the hand and gripping it in a handshake.

The dining room of Brackley Manor was as grey as the entrance hall, well it would have looked that way if the candles impaled on the iron sconces along the wall hadn't been lit. They ate in general silence, punctuated occasionally by the odd remark. John kept glancing at the youngest Holmes opposite him, finding his eyes each time looking back. His gaze was intense but John had to tell his eyes to move away because he was caught up in the golden green and sea blue.

When the last of the plates had been emptied, Siger turned to his son. "Sherlock, John's father and I have to talk business. Why don't you go and amuse yourselves?" In response, the younger man rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back, striding towards the doors and motioning for John to follow.

John found it hard to take in every single detail as he followed the young Holmes along the corridors, he was concentrating more on keeping up. They didn't speak but it somehow felt right to keep it the way it was. However, despite the overall grandeur and the beautiful carvings that rang along the ceilings, nothing prepared him for their final destination.

The doors opened and for what felt like the thousandth time, John's jaw dropped. Floor to ceiling, dark wood glossed shelves perfectly lined with leather-bound books of every size, shape and colour. Four metres up a decorative balcony was built in, creating a walkway around the whole room. Then at the end of the library, John laid his eyes on the most beautiful, ornamental organ he'd ever seen. The pipes were painted gold, with blue rings and floral patterns. The console stood proud under the weight of its decorative burden, with a highly elaborate layout of different pulleys and keyboards.

"The novelty wears off eventually," murmured Sherlock, watching John gape at the domed ceiling that could undoubtedly rival the Sistine Chapel. The sandy-haired man quickly shut his mouth, embarrassed by his own open fascination.

It took John a while to find what he was looking for. He could feel bright eyes resting on him but wasted no time in searching every shelf. It was like a labyrinth, books everywhere he turned. Not that he was complaining. He traced their spines lightly with his index finger, marvelling at the amount of dust that came off with it. Who would waste an opportunity like this!? He'd live in this place if he could. Which reminded him...where were those ever watchful eyes...

"If you're looking for the medical manuscripts, you're at completely the wrong end of the library," came an amused but snobbish voice to his right.

"How did you-"

"Ever since you came in here your intent was clear. That was obvious from the methodical way you looked at the shelves, if you hadn't previously known what you were looking for then you simply would have been meandering. I noticed that your eyes always lingered on the books that bore signs that they could have medical links but you kept moving on so they were clearly not the right thing. Hence, the journals."

"Brilliant."

"That's not what most people say."

"Why, what do most people say?"

"They simply express their wish for me to leave."

"Yes!" she gushed, gazing ecstatically at the ring being slipping onto her slim finger. "It's beautiful," she sighed, looking lovingly at the handsome face of her new fiancé. They walked back up to the house arm in arm, enjoying the familiarity of the steps their feet had taken so many times before.

As they entered the drawing room, all heads turned to them expectantly. "Mother, cousins," Sarah began, "John just asked me to marry him!"