Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Thirty-two: Parallels

Of course you all know the story of Sherlock Holmes, his wife Gracie, and Dr. John Watson. Quite the tales those three have experienced together. However, what f something else was happening with the golden trio alternatively...in a different time perhaps? True there are very few that could know about both stories, and since there is no TARDIS in sight, I suppose it is only you, dear reader, that will know both parallels. Yes indeed, this is the story of Sherlock Holmes, his wife Gracie, and Dr. John Watson. This tale however, takes quite a different turn...the turning back of time perhaps?

1885 (More or less)

"Papers! Papers!" A voice called through the wet London snow. The coach pulled up beside the man.

"Here." John instructed the driver. "How's The Blue Carbuncle doing?"

"Very popular, Dr. Watson. Is there going to be a proper murder next month?"

"I'll have a word with the criminal classes."

"If you wouldn't mind. Is that them? Are they in there?" John groaned as he received a swift kick to the shin.

"NO. No, no, not at all." It was at this remark, merely to spite her husband as well, that Grace Holmes could not be silent any more. She leaned forward beside John, smiling at the man.

"Good day to you, sir. Enjoying the weather?" A hand clamped down on hers, but she ignored it, smiling broadly at the man. John signaled for the driver to continue on his path, and Grace was pulled firmly back into her seat.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes!"

"You did that only to spite me." Her husband spat. This was indeed, Sherlock Holmes.

"What? I only exist on this earth to please you dear." She replied, smiling up at him, which he returned with a glare that didn't quite reach his eyes. An idiot could deduce that, despite her plots to irritate him, the man loved her hopelessly, and she him as well. The coach stopped just outside of 221B Baker street, where Mrs. Hudson, their land lady, was eagerly awaiting to meet them.

"Mr. Holmes. I do wish you'd let me know when you're planning to come home." She cooed.

"So dearly sorry Mrs. Hudson. You see-"

"We hardly knew ourselves. That's the trouble with dismembered country squires. They're notoriously difficult to schedule."

"Must you be so morbid?" questioned Grace, slapping his arm lightly with the back of her hand.

"I do solve murders dear. It's a traditionally morbid occupation."

"Did you catch the murderer Mr. Holmes?" A young boy asked, assisting in carrying the bags into the flat.

"Caught the murderer..."

"Still looking for the legs however. Quite unfortunate really."

"I think we'll call it a draw." The couple replied together.

"And I noticed you've published another one of your stories, Dr. Watson."

"Yes, did you enjoy it?"

"No." It was at this moment that all three of them proceeded to enter 221B.

"Oh?"

"I never enjoy them."

"Why not?"

"Because, John. She doesn't say anything. All she does in your stories is show people up the stairs and bring you breakfast." Grace called down the stairs, feeling it was necessary to enlighten her dear friend to Mrs. Hudson's troubling thoughts; All of which she deduced, of course.