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In The Beekeeper's Apprentice, there is an account of Russell's 18th birthday that contains almost no dialogue (the actual dialogue being restricted to the gifts section of this minor portion of the story). I have always felt that this scene deserves some emphasis. I would love to see what happened in the days before and what exactly was said when they first saw each other. It occurs to me that Russell might not have included a more detailed account of the day itself because she was too loaded to remember, therefore . . . here is my version.
The Most Charming Case of Apoplexy
by Nineteen year old not quite a lady
Part I
Russell came towards him, her eyes wide and her hair unbound. She looked up into his face, laid her hand on his arm, and opening her lips slightly she softly said, "It's a damned good thing you did retire if that's all that's left of the great detective's mind."
"What? Russell?" He awoke with a start and sighed as he realized where he was and that he had been speaking out loud. He looked around quickly to make sure that the door to his room was closed, cleared his throat and attempted to focus on ascertaining the time of day. It was about twelve in the afternoon on January the second. He was immediately cheered and a somewhat demented grin stole onto his face . . . to be banished immediately when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He spoke out loud again quietly this time, "Don't be a fool, Holmes. She's just coming back for vacation, just for a little rest from the demands of her education and in that absence undoubtedly all sorts of new and interesting things have surfaced."
The smile was almost completely under control now, he was relieved to see, but then a genuinely melancholy thought occurred to him. The concern was that in Russell's stories of Oxford - her irritating housemates, (he was especially interested in the amusing tales of Diane the hypochondriac - even Mr. Thomas' bare account had made him smile) and her interest in acting as brought out by the youngest of the Beaconsfield family. Included in all narration of the difficult courses, the easy professors and new friends - among all these particulars of her new life, his concern was that she would casually relate the name of someone who was more than a friend to her. How would she be different from the girl he knew and who would she be different with? He snorted silently and shook his head. "That's ridiculous, Holmes. She will be the same old Russell, just with her head more full of theology and chemistry. A totally changed Russell, it's perfectly ludicrous indeed!" As he dressed in the day's clothes, rather than the more regal attire that would be assumed for the party itself, his eyes wandered to the dressing table where a small, carefully wrapped package sat. The blue of the wrapping paper was almost as blue as her eyes, and he silently congratulated himself on finding that particular shade, considering it took four extremely frustrating days in London. He picked up the small parcel and smoothed some of the creases with his fingers. The darker blue of the ribbon made for a striking present and he smiled widely again. He tucked the gift into his pocket before leaving his room for the conversation of Mrs. Hudson and he glanced into the mirror again. And this time he did not try to make his grin vanish.
He found her in the kitchen, making some of Russell's favorite foods, "Hello Mrs. Hudson."
"Oh, hello Mr. Holmes, I was going to give you ten more minutes to sleep before I came up to get you. Oh, just think of it, Mary is turning eighteen!" She sighed and turned back to the multitude of saucepans resting on various counters.
He responded affecting a puzzled and disinterested air, "Russell's birthday? Oh yes, that's today is it? I suppose I shall have to get her something now. Perhaps one of my books from the library or my monograph on -"
"You'd no sooner forget her birthday than you would forget your own," she retorted. "And," she continued, "I saw the beautiful gift you got her when you came back from your shopping in London, because that wonderful blue just almost matches her eyes and only her gift could drive you into London four days before Christmas! And though you left a wee bit angry, you came back looking almost relaxed."
"Mrs. Hudson, I am gratified to know that your exposure to my profession has not been wasted. What is that you're making?"
"I am preparing all of the food that Russell appreciates, but that you never touch. All the food she likes."
"Yes, she certainly does consume an ungodly amount of food, doesn't she?"
Mrs. Hudson turned around, "Why Mr. Holmes!" Then she saw the smile on his face and relented, laughing herself. She turned to the stove again and immediately turned back around. He had just put the parcel on the table and was surprised to find her eyes on him. He looked at the small gift, laughing and raised his eyebrows at her in a silent query. When she did not speak and did not turn back to the culinary creations that so obviously needed her attention, he asked her himself.
"Are you all right, Mrs. Hudson?"
"That's just what I was going to ask you Mr. Holmes."
Startled, he said lightly, "You were going to ask me if you were all right? That's rather odd wouldn't you say?" Instead of waving a towel or stirring spoon at him in reply, she merely looked at him with that directness he found a touch unsettling.
"She'll be the same Russell that you and I know, Mr. Holmes. She won't have forgotten us and you won't be celebrating for a stranger." He tried not to look as surprised as he felt and replied, "Of course not, Mrs. Hudson." Her simply stated words echoed in his mind long after she had turned back to the stove, humming.
Part II
He occupied his time until he had to get dressed with an intensive reading of some commentaries regarding the relationship between Jesus as Christ and the Old Testament. He then moved on to another set of commentaries on the reckoning of Jesus' full humanity with the fact that He did not sin, and finally finished his theological reading with a treatise on the development of Judaism in modern day North American countries. He heard the door open and close and thought no more about Mrs. Hudson until she returned five hours later. He stirred from his chair and called to her, "Mrs. Hudson, is that you?"
"Of course, Mr. Holmes - Dr. Watson isn't due to arrive for an hour yet!"
"Yes, naturally, I just lost track of time," he shouted back. He closed his eyes and massaged the sides of his temple with his hands. When he opened them he realized that he was sitting in a pile of open books, that a layer of dust had settled onto his entire person and that his fingers were marked with ink. He carefully laid the books down and looked at the experiment in the far corner of the room that had been set aside for his current preoccupation with theology. He walked over to it and for the next two hours he managed to believe that during that experimentation, when every measurement and theory brought to mind the fact that she was not there to participate or contribute; he had convinced himself that he had not thought of Russell once. He glanced at the time, whistled softly and ran lightly up to his room to change, coming down just in time to hear distinctive footsteps in the entryway announcing Watson's presence.
"How are you Watson!"
"Wonderful Holmes, I feel perfectly marvelous. It is truly a delight to see you and Mrs. Hudson, and of course to celebrate Mary's birthday."
"Well, come in, come in. Let's not stand about in the hallway, Mrs. Hudson might observe our idleness and put us to work helping to concoct some of Russell's birthday delicacies."
"And you Holmes," Watson observed after he had sat down and drinks had been dispersed, "You are looking very well indeed."
"I knew that I would be seeing you, so in an effort to keep you unworried I have been practicing all day at being transfused with merriment."
Watson replied somewhat doubtfully, "You really haven't been doing that have you? You really are happy, aren't -"
"Watson!" Holmes cried, "You really are most entertaining, what else could I possibly feel on this day?"
"You're quite right Holmes," he stammered. "It's just on Christmas you mentioned that you, uh, that you . . ."
"Missed her, Watson?"
"Er, well yes."
Holmes smiled, "Yes, Christmas did seem particularly lacking this year, a quite natural reaction when someone who has been an almost constant student and companion, is no longer there. I can assure you though, having the house quiet and to myself served to balance out my feelings toward her absence. But she will be here again and we will celebrate."
Watson looked at him a moment longer and chuckled uncertainly. He went on to inform Holmes of his recent activities and during this interim when Holmes was both partially listening and thinking of something of his experiments, his apprentice and the future, did he become aware of feelings of uneasiness.
Mrs. Hudson had finally finished cooking and baking and she went to her room to change into more formal clothing. When she emerged, both Watson and Holmes exclaimed on how lovely she looked. She blushed and Holmes added, "I almost think that is not appropriate to wear, Mrs. Hudson." Both she and Watson started and gave him quizzical looks of surprise. But Holmes continued, "I have to say I do not think it quite fair to outshine in beauty the girl whose birthday it is, but if you really feel you must, then we must console Russell as much as we can." Watson laughed and Mrs. Hudson smiled enigmatically and they both placed their gifts on the table in the kitchen. Watson explained his gift and Mrs. Hudson revealed her present as well, silver hair combs and as she described them, all three of them exclaimed over how charming they would be sure to look. They stayed in the kitchen maintaining easy conversation until Holmes thought he had heard a car pull up in the drive. "That will be she," Watson said and they moved toward the entryway and waited for her arrival.
Part III
As Holmes reflected back on the evening, he recalled his desire to give her the space and objectivity that her arrival, and that her new life, demanded. He told himself that he was glad she was back, and that she could give him a hand in the laboratory, but aside from that, his natural affection for her, that their friendship extended into nothing further. He wondered if she would be well, without acknowledging to himself just how much the answer would affect him. And above all, he had wished to be objective and unconcerned by any changes made in her physical appearance. (Mr. Thomas had once made a jest implying Russell had bobbed her hair and Holmes had felt it necessary to wonder if the man would have been able to hear a heart attack over the telephone). Holmes wished to convey all these things, his ability to be independent after her constant tutorials, and his desire to have her back for more of the same lessons. Above all, however, would be his inability to be influenced by how she had changed, but after looking back on the evening he came to a very strong conclusion.
He never had a chance.
She knocked on the door quietly and from her footsteps he could hear that she was wearing high heels. He turned away and went to the kitchen to get glasses of champagne to welcome her with. He had just gotten three glasses down from the shelf, put them down on the kitchen table and strolled into the hallway just as she opened the door. "Russell," he exclaimed. "We all wish you many happy tidings on this -" and it was here that she stepped out of the shadows of the doorway and stepped into the brightness of the main rooms and it was here, that it became necessary for him to stop speaking all together. Watson and Mrs. Hudson moved forward to greet her and wish her joy on her birthday, but Holmes, however, could participate in no such coherent conversation. He had prepared himself for her to be different, prepared in a more vague way for her to be formally dressed for their celebration tonight, but when he was able to think and speak again, he reflected on how unprepared he was for her to be stunning. She took his breath away and he had just enough presence of mind left to think that with that dress and that hairstyle she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And then, with that moment of reassuring sanity left, she moved toward him and he was left astonished. He watched her speak brightly with Watson and Mrs. Hudson and he realized something incredible, something that made him more speechless than before. She had not changed. She had always looked this way, but he who had prided himself on the power and thoroughness of his observations had somehow neglected to take notice of this fact. This beauty was not someone strange, but her natural appearance and it was he who had changed. Her eyes fastened on his and he felt powerless to speak.
Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson were in the kitchen getting the champagne, but even if they had been present he wouldn't have heard them. He would have been no more aware of them then he was of anything besides her. The shape of her body, the way she moved across the room, the texture of her hair, he could not but see it all. The way the green velvet highlighted her eyes and how her hair framed her face, the scent of a special perfume- he became aware of her as a physical being and it bewildered him. His breathing seemed very loud.
"Hello Holmes." He sat on the chair openmouthed.
"Are you all right? You seem a bit... lost," she said, looking at him full in the face.
"You don't know how right you are," he thought distantly.
"Dr. Watson," she called smiling, "I think Holmes is about to faint at my feet, you might want to lend me a hand." The reference to a faint broke the spell of speechlessness, though he was still at a loss for coherent thought.
"You know I haven't fainted in years, Russell, I've been trying to give it up."
"It's really more of a compliment Holmes, if you try to look not so completely horrified," she said quietly.
He could only echo her words, "Horrified?"
"Yes, you know, shocked and disappointed and all that comes when you try to be something you're not." She plucked nervously at her dress but looked him straight in the face however when she spoke again, despite her anxiety. She said lightly, "But I feel good and I like how I look and so no criticism from you is going to spoil it for me."
He cleared his throat before he spoke, "That would be a quandary, if we had a difference of opinion, however I have seen that it does suit you simply because it is not an unnatural thing."
She raised an eyebrow at that and he smiled at her disbelief. And not knowing exactly why he did it, aside from his heart telling him that he should, he stood up and made her a very low bow. Surprised again, but smiling, she stood and returned his compliment with a gracefully executed old-fashioned curtsey, a gesture he hadn't even granted her credit of knowing.
He continued speaking, gaining his equilibrium with a foray into amusement, "It is you, Russell, this appearance - every detail is perfection, except of course the hair style. It is interesting I must say, but the two plaits are really much more complimentary, and much more suited to a formal gathering such as this one." At this declaration she pursed her lips and as he continued she began to laugh.
"There is just one thing to make this completely perfect, to make up for that completely awful way you've arranged your hair," and he dashed into the other room and quickly placed a magnifying glass in her hand. She gave herself up to laughter at this and drew Mrs. Hudson and Watson with her delight. Holmes continued to exaggerate his admiration of her, backing up a few steps so as to be standing with the other two guests. When he sensed Watson and Mrs. Hudson's presence next to him he angled his head to one side while stroking his chin with his right hand and exuberantly stated,
"She is a much lovelier detective than I ever was."
At this Russell flippantly interjected, replying "That's not saying much Holmes." He raised his eyebrows at her in mock disbelief and stoutly declared, "Though I usually went with a lower heel, so as not to tower above my multitude of dancing partners." And at this they all laughed and Russell who had been holding the magnifying glass while he spoke, put it aside and smiling, she turned back to them. After seeing her again with one of the oldest tools of his profession, aside from the mind, Holmes generally felt much less nervous around her and the evening passed without anymore extraordinary incidents until it came time to give her their presents. They had just finished singing to her and Holmes went into the kitchen and returned with the three gifts. Mrs. Hudson gently placed the cake aside and handed Russell her present. She opened the hair combs and exclaimed how lovely they were and after hugging Mrs. Hudson she promised to wear them all the time to show them off to everyone at school. Watson shyly handed her his gift and said he knew she had wanted it because she had mentioned it once to him. She beamed into his face and laughed as she opened it.
"Just perfect Uncle John, perfect. Now I shall write you so many horribly long letters that you will be sorry you ever gave it me." She hugged Watson as well and smiled again as he blushed. Holmes stepped forward.
"Here is my gift, Russell. Happy eighteenth birthday." She opened the box cautiously and carefully set aside the paper, "I do so love that blue, Holmes," she murmured and Holmes and Mrs. Hudson shared a glance of enjoyment. She opened the box and looked up at him, "Holmes, it's beautiful." She delicately touched the small brooch.
"It belonged to my grandmother. Can you open it?"
She laughed dubiously and made an effort of focusing on the gift. She shook her head.
Holmes laid his fingers over hers and twisted two of the pearls and it opened in her hand.
"Her brother, the French artist Vernet, painted it on her eighteenth birthday. Her hair was a color very similar to yours, even when she was very old."
She sighed and smiled at him and spoke with some difficulty, "Thank you. Thank you everybody." Her eyes swam with tears and for a moment Holmes considered going to her and telling her not to cry, please, that it hurt his heart for her to do that, but he checked this reflex almost as naturally as it had occurred. He saw that with the high emotion of the evening and the quantity of champagne she had consumed there was bound to be some sort of demonstrative scene. He sighed, wished he could help her pull herself together, did not see what he could possibly do and so left that task to Mrs. Hudson. He and Watson went to their respective bedrooms and as he walked along the dark hallway he scowled at Russell's display of emotion. The scowl soon turned to a smile as he thought, "A few minutes of slightly silly behavior out of the entire three hundred and sixty-five days in the year is all right I suppose." He heard Mrs. Hudson speaking in low tones in the guestroom and soon after Mrs. Hudson left her sleeping charge for the solitude of her own quarters.
He followed her example and changed into his nightclothes and dressing gown, thinking about the evening and what he had seen and felt. He reflected over the evening and thought about many disjointed things, how her hair had looked, how she whistled through her teeth when she read, how she had surprised him that day on the coast, how she snorted at him, teased him and made him aware of someone outside himself. How she had provoked him and excited him and he was no more aware of why he was moving out of his room towards hers than he was aware of why he had bowed to her.
He walked there, slowly, and wishing for things he could not articulate and came to a stop outside her door. What would he say to her, what would she say to him? He regained control of himself and turned away, but stopped again and walked back to her door even slower than before. He heard her stir inside the room as she came awake. He heard her walk quietly to the door and press her head against it listening for noise. He smiled, imagining her listening to him listen to her and became still. He laid his hand on the door and anticipated her doing the same from inside the room. He blinked and took his hand away, curiously satisfied by the odd gesture and when he got back to his bed he slept well without dreaming.
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