Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Fantasy

Chapter 2:


The Truth is Often What Others Assume it To Be 

     "That is not danger, it is inevitable destruction. You stand in the way not merely of an individual, but of a mighty organization, the full extent of which you, with all your cleverness, have been unable to realize. You must stand clear, Mr. Holmes, or be trodden under foot."  – Moriarty 

   Dying and returning with voices where memories belonged was enough to mess anyone up. Josephine found that even though some of those memories continued to resurface, she was still struggling to figure them out. Her body drifted numbly through an emptiness she didn’t understand.  Fingers and arms twitched uncontrollably, legs rotated seeking purchase as she tried to determine where she was. Her task proved impossible with no up, down, light or dark. There was no sensation, only an impossible sense of movement. She was floating within a weightless sightless soup of molasses. 

   It felt easier to accept the presence of the voices in her head but regaining pieces of the memory she lost and being mysteriously transported from her house to a mideval room full of angry Englishmen were both way outside of Josephine's understanding or comfort zone. Everything kept happening so fast; first she was in her living room reading; next she was looking into the face of someone that seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to be there. 

   Thinking back she remembered the maddened expression on the face of the man screaming. It was more than rage. It was more than crazy, which he’d seen enough of to recognize. No, that expression was what her Papa would have called 

   ‘the true face of evil', 

   or 

   'A cold dark emptiness filled to overflowing with the absence of God’. Josephine couldn’t honestly say that she understood it then but she did now. It was that darkness that had cried out: 

   “Kill the girl Jackie! Kill her now!” 

   The voices in Josephine’s head fled in that exact moment, an impossibility that she was still trying to piece together when the nothingness dissolved around her sensory deprived body to reveal a fire warmed room. The floors were hardwood and full mahogany bookshelves lined the walls. The air smelled vaguely of cedar, old books and pipe smoke. She recognized the brand of pipe tobacco as a cherry scented one that her Papa smoked. Large oriental carpets of dark blue with intricate inlaid patterns of red and green roses covered the hardwood floors. Outside the window on the edge of the sidewalk, sunlight glinted brightly nearly obscuring the numbers 221B on the side of a black mailbox. As she stared the light softened and streamed through the glass to fill the room with a warm glow. 

   At the far end of the room lay two high backed chairs in front of a fireplace that crackled loudly. A man stood quietly, arms clasped behind his long suit jacket. He stared out a large open bay window to the street beyond where the sounds of Horse hooves and carriage wheels could be heard striking stone. He stepped away from the window and turned only to freeze when he saw Josephine. The quiet man’s dark brown double-breasted suit fit him well. Josephine stared back not sure what to say and the strangers blue eyes inspected her with an intensity that looked familiar. 

   The man was tall, thin, and full of an energy that seemed out of place with the grey on either temple surrounding his dark black hair.  The expression on the man’s face wasn’t surprised exactly, more excited to see Josephine and slightly impatient, as if he had waited a long time for her arrival and now waited for her to speak. 

“Hello?” Josephine said. It was more of a question than a statement. Papa would have groaned out loud. He hated it when Josephine failed to be assertive. 

   The man raised a hand and waved her off. 

“I daresay my young lady, not a word. Not a single bloody word. One must take but one look at you and observe all to ascertain what need be known.” 

   Another voice rose from the second chair; its occupant went unseen, hidden by the height of the chairs back. 

   “Come now Holmes, wherever have your manners gone? Is that any way to greet our inarticulate visitor?” The man stood then, dressed in a smart black suit, with a top hat in hands covered by crisp white gloves. He turned to Josephine with a smile and winked. “Welcome to our study young lady, this rather rude and unsociable fellow is the Detective Sherlock Holmes, and my name is Dr. Henry Jekyll, at your service.” He bowed. 

Sherlock Holmes? Dr. Jekyll? Josephine thought. How is this possible? 

Holmes stepped forward, raised his pipe, and drew on it while he considered. 

“My dear Jekyll. Have you known me so long that you are still unable to deduce my methods? Witness as I ascertain the truth behind this young ladies arrival. Judging by the girls clothes and the shock on her face she is as surprised that she is here as you are. Her height, muscle tone, and the modulation of her voice indicate the lady is fourteen years of age but I see by the reaction in her eyes when I say this that she hides a secret. I have not seen her prior to this day, and do not readily recollect her name so I must assume that she is from earth prime not earth two as we are. Her confusion at my deduction of this information indicates that she has no idea what I have just said to her.  Therefore this lady can only be one person.” 

   Saying so Holmes turned his chair to face Josephine and sat with a flourish. His pipe burned brightly and he smiled. She looked at Doctor Jekyll who stared back at her with incredulity. The Doctors eyes softened and he smiled. They both turned to Holmes. It seemed clear to Josephine in the space of that moment and the look that passed between them that the Doctor felt affection for the man. 

   “Honestly Holmes. Surely even you cannot deduce such specific facts from information that miniscule. Muscle tone and vocal timbre?” Jekyll laughed heartily and clapped Holmes on the shoulder. 

   Where the hell am I? Josephine wondered. She had no idea what was going on or why she was there, only that if this truly was Sherlock Holmes standing before her that maybe she could get the answers she needed. 

   “Do you know who I am sir? Do you know why I’m a girl here?” Josephine asked. 

   “Yes Holmes, pray do tell. Who is the girl and why is she a girl here?” Jekyll repeated. He rolled his eyes for dramatic effect and it seemed clear that he was only playing with his friend. 

   Holmes for his part rolled his eyes and pulled the pipe from his mouth with a smile. His mood seemed to lighten and he reached towards the desk to his right. Inset into the wooden border of the desktop was a small button that he depressed, activating an intercom. 

   “Watson?” Holmes called.“Could you come to my study please? It seems our guest has arrived ahead of schedule.” 

   Both Doctor Jekyll and Josephine stepped forward and in unison asked, “Guest?” 

   Across the room a large ornate door hidden in the wooden paneling opened and Watson stepped into Holmes’ study warily. He carried a black cane in his left hand. His limp was pronounced but he compensated well enough. Watson’s dark brown hair was slicked back and well cut. The mustache was speckled with grey and longer than Josephine remembered, curling up at the edges. She’d never seen him dress in a suit like the one he was wearing now. The material was rough brown and well worn with patches on the elbows of the jacket. Josephine tried but found herself incapable of speaking through the shock of recognition.

   Josephine knew this man. She was raised with this man. She had no idea how it was possible but this man was someone she had known intimately her entire life. Josephine knew Watson! 

“Papa?” 

   Papa stepped forward and gathered Josephines stunned body into his arms. It wasn’t hard. The girl felt as if someone had kicked her in the head and stood on her chest while she was trying to stand up. To add to that,  her new breasts were getting squished.  Things were not going well. Josephine felt short of breath and faint. 

   “There, there, Josie my girl. Do take a deep breath and steady yourself,” Papa said. 

   Tears streamed down Josephines face but she ignored them and so did Papa. 

   “This is Josephine?” Doctor Jekyll asked as he turned his chair and sat heavily. He raised the glass he’d been drinking from earlier and tipped it back, drinking the amber liquid inside in one swallow. The wind had been taken out of him. “You mean to say that you have finally succeeded in summoning the wanderer to us? For the love of the Architect, to what end Holmes?” 

   Holmes stood and nodded in the stunned girls direction. 
“I should think that the answer to that question would be elementary my dear Jekyll. The Ripper has located the seals. It’s merely a matter of time till they are obtained. We need to be ready and Josephine is our only defense. Our sword of truth if you will.” Holmes replied. 

   Josephine looked into Papa’s eyes and saw only kindness there. Her Grandpa flinched at the use of the word defense but otherwise the smile remained. 

   “I don’t understand Papa,” Josephine said. “What’s going on? How did I – wait, is your name really Watson?” 

   Papa grinned, and patted Josephines back. Sadness filled Papa’s eyes for a fleeting moment but quickly turned to resolve. They were hardened but honest. 

   “Those are the eyes of a soldier Josie honey, a good man,” said the lady in Josephines head. 

   “You’ll get the answers you need. I promise you. It’s just going to take a while. I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?” Papa asked. 

   It sounded unfair. Too much lay behind them unexplained, but Josephine thought about it and decided she could wait for anything as long as Papa was there. The world could fall down around her as long as she didn’t have to handle it alone. Right now her legs trembled with exhaustion and her stomach growled with hunger. 

“Yes Papa,” She said. 

   It was at that point that Papa steered Josephine towards the door she’d come through. 
Suddenly the voices careening through Josephines head became agitated. The volume in her head rose and the young ladies voice broke in through the clamor. 

   “Your book Josie, you must ask them about your book!” 

   Even after a year she rarely understood the reasons for the requests that the voices made, but found early on after her return that if she ignored them things only got worse. 

   “Um, before I go, has anyone seen my book?” Josephine asked. 

   Jekyll and Holmes turned and stared at each other. Jekyll raised his eyebrows expectantly. 
Holmes in contrast drew his brows together with frustration. Smoke from his pipe drifted lazily toward the ceiling. “I’m quite certain I haven’t a clue what the deuce is compelling you to stare at me so slack jawed Jekyll,” he grumbled. “I’m a detective, not a clairvoyant.” 

   Doctor Jekyll smiled and turned to Josephine while he spoke over his shoulder. “Of course not my good man, no such inference intended. You can deduct our adolescent savior’s age from the timbre of her voice, but the whereabouts of a book are beyond you. I understand. Now then young lady, what book?” 

   Holmes seemed slightly offended while his back straightened significantly. 

   Josephine felt silly now. She couldn’t imagine why it was so important. The voices began to argue and it became even harder to focus on the conversation. 
“It was my ‘Lord of the Rings’ book.” Josephine winced. That last comment jumped out in a tone that even she felt was whiny. 
Doctor Jekyll barely contained his surprise and leaned back into his chair. “Bloody hell,” he said “Tolkien?” 

   “What?!?” Holmes leapt from his chair and jabbed an index finger angrily toward the door. His pipe hit the carpet, spilling glowing embers across the dark auburn weave and setting it alight. “I ask you my dear Jekyll must I forever be tortured by that pretentious family of hacks?” Doctor Jekyll hastily tamped out the fire with his feet, his eyes never leaving Holmes. He seemed more amused than nervous. The running soundtrack of voices Josephines head jerked to a stop, no doubt as surprised as she was. Papa’s steadying hand remained on her shoulder and she could hear his intake of breath. 

   Josephine backed up a step “Mr. Tolkien has a whole family that writes?” She asked cautiously, unsure of what may be coming next. 

   Holmes was still fuming so it was again Jekyll that spoke. 

   “No. It’s rather complicated to explain you see, but suffice to say that Tolkien holds the sole distinction among your kind to have one of our kind actually write his material. A fact that is not lost on Holmes since he’s been unable to either explain or duplicate their particular accomplishment.” 

   Holmes slashed his arm through the air and scoffed. “It’s a muddy existential chicken or the egg issue young lady. Or in other words, if Tolkien only created the Baggins’ in the most general sense without an actual developed novel then how were they able to write his books for him. Man can create fiction…but fiction cannot create fiction. Don’t you see?” 
He chose that moment to look down at the floor and his broken pipe in complete dismay. 
“Dash it all Jekyll. I’ve ruined the pipe. However shall I cogitate without it?” 

   Josephine was stunned. “Are you saying that Bilbo and Frodo really did write those books?” She asked. “That they wrote them for Tolkien?” 

   Holmes glared at them all with disgust. “I am saying no such thing young lady! It is empirically impossible for such a thing to occur. Fictional creation can only occur when a physical being creates a fictional one. It only works one way.” His face was set. 

   Papa cleared his throat and leaned over Josephines shoulder to make eye contact with Jekyll. 
“How soon he forgets the creation that stands in front of him,” Papa said. 

   Doctor Jekyll smiled and nodded. Holmes sighed. 

   “I give you my word Jekyll, I will determine one day how those books were made possible. It may lead to the secret of our passage between the worlds,” Holmes said.  

   Josephine raised her arms in confusion. “What creation?” She asked. They were talking around her without talking to her again. She hated it when adults did that. 

   “Come then my girl,” Papa cried ignoring her question and pulling Josephine towards the now open door. “I have your room waiting and we need to get you settled in before supper. I wager Mrs. Hudson will have words with us all if you show late.” 

   Josephine reluctantly allowed Papa to pull her along. As they walked down the hallway she looked over her shoulder through the door that was closing. She could see Doctor Jekyll and Holmes staring at them silently. It was impossible to be sure, but they seemed sad. 

   Doctor Jekyll leaned over and whispered a question into Holmes’ ear.  His head jerked towards his friend and his eyes narrowed dangerously. 

   “I have no such illusions regarding my heroics or importance in the grand Architect’s plan dear fellow.” Holmes whispered. “Best you allow me to do my job with the dispassionate flair you seem to place so little regard in or I assure you we shall all perish.” 

   The door closed and Josephine,  even more confused than before,  hurried to follow Papa, known as Watson here, into the strange world she found herself lost in. 

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