The Saint And The Settler

The Start of a Few Hellish Months

When he exited the large, crowded airport, Sherlock was immediately hit by the strong warmth of Texas. He shielded his greenish-blue eyes from the blazing rays of sunlight with his long-fingered hand.

Quickly, Sherlock's attention was brought to the high-pitched voice of a woman speaking his name. "Sherlock Holmes?" She asked as he approached.

She was a pretty lady with brown, silky hair tied into a pony tail, a few strands escaping the small prison. Over her pale blue eyes was a pair of thin, rectangular glasses that rested on the bridge of her long nose.

"Obviously." Sherlock replied to her questioning stare.

"I'm to take you to your final destination of the day," she said with a small sigh as she read from the cell phone in her dainty hands. "Do you have all of your belongings? I assume you won't be back here for a while."

A grim expression appeared on his face as he gestured toward his few bags. "I've got everything." He ducked inside the black car in front of him, shoving his duffel bag in before him leaving her to take care of the other luggage.

Sherlock found that the drive would be quite boring so he pulled out his 'Bees for Dummies' book, knowing that it would be impossible for him to get a WiFi signal on his laptop.

As they drove away from the busy airport and away from the city, he soon realized he was honestly, in the middle of nowhere. Only rolling fields of practically nothing to look at. With a sigh, Sherlock opened the large book to the dog-eared page and began reading where he left off, oblivious to the beautiful day outside.

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"Crap!" John shouted as he dropped the small vase in his hands, and arousing the sleeping dog next to him, who growled in irritation from being awoken for the ninth time in the last hour. "Sorry, Winston," he sighed apologetically and scratched the dogs head and behind his ear. John had spent the entire morning and early afternoon cleaning only to have put a medium sized dent in the messiness. His guest would be there in about-
"FIFTEEN MINUTES!?" screamed John as he looked at the round clock on the wall in front of him for the first time all day. He could've sworn he had at least another hour to try and make the house presentable.

He desperately tidied up the small rectangular room to the best of his abilities to attempt at a clean first impression. "Well, Winston, it'll have to do." He said to the dog who had his head tilted in curiosity at his frantic owner. John decided that there was not much more he could do and went outside to sit on the wooden swing, that hung from two strong chains, on the front porch. He swayed back and forth as he watched a blue jay flutter past. The sun was shining brightly, forcing John to squint as he followed the path of the bird calming him- for the most part- in his fidgety mood.

When he heard the faint rumble of an engine he glanced up and noticed a black vehicle crawling up the long, graveled drive. John sucked in a breath, "Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself.

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Once Sherlock noticed the figure on the front porch ahead of him, he froze in the back seat, hoping nobody would see. He slouched in his seat as the car drew closer. He avoided getting out of the safety of the car for as long as possible. The young man, not to much older then him, obviously tanned from working out in the Texas sun. When Sherlock finally stepped out of the car he could also see, while a good half-a-foot or so shorter then him, was exceptionally built compared to his tall, lanky frame. The sunshine made his blue- a hint of dominating grey- eyes sparkle. When the man suddenly shifted his gaze from the woman, whatever her name was, getting out of the car to him, he quickly averted his attention and began pulling out his dark green duffle bag from the car and shut the door with a thud, ignoring his other bags in the trunk.

When he turned around he was startled, not expecting to see the man suddenly appear behind him. How he managed to do that without alerting Sherlock was beyond him.

"Hello. I'm John," he said as he stuck his hand out toward Sherlock. "John Watson."

Sherlock took John's callous covered hand in his and gave a firm shake. "Sherlock Holmes," he replied.

"Hope you're hear to stay cause it looks like you're stuck here," John said, pointing behind Sherlock.

Sherlock turned, "Seems like it," he said realizing the car was already on its way out the long driveway, his bags carelessly tossed out into the ground.

Sherlock followed John up the creaky, wooden stairs, while each of them mentally prepared themselves for a next few hellish months.