Last Minute Doubts

by Metpatpetet

It was with a degree of trepidation unusual for him that Holmes considered his upcoming marriage. He didn't need Watson to tell him that the almost forty year age difference between himself and Russell would create unusual situations and perhaps difficulties. To give Watson his due, he had been as tactful as he was capable of being. After congratulating Holmes warmly, he had paused, given a somewhat strangled cough, and said, "I say, Holmes--" and begun to redden.

"Are you all right, Watson? Swallowed the wrong way? Can I get you a glass of water?"

"No, no, I'm fine... I just... well, Holmes, this is a rather delicate subject, but given our long association..."

"And friendship, too, I should hope." There was a glint in Holmes' eye which Watson would have done well to notice.

"I can't say this is a complete surprise. I have seen how much Mary dotes on you, and your solicitude toward her... but, Holmes, do you really think that you and such a young girl ought to marry? I grant you, she has no family, and even with Mrs. Hudson as chaperone, there could be talk about the amount of time you spend together... but she could be your daughter, man!"

"My feelings for Russell are hardly fatherly, Watson. Neither am I playing Pygmalion to her Galatea, although once I did. Are you suggesting that there might be conjugal difficulties?"

Watson appeared not short of total bronchial collapse. Taking pity on him, Holmes brought him some water, then said, "I admit that my physical appetites have never been so strong as to outweigh my need for cerebral stimulation. But I think I can cope with the demands of the marital relationship."

"Yes. Well." Watson seemed restored after several sips of water. "You must admit that, in this area, I have rather more experience than you. Married life requires a degree of regularity in one's habits, and that you have never had. Not every woman has the patience my beloved wife has shown whenever you dragged me off somewhere at a moment's notice. Besides, Mary is a vigorous, indeed passionate, young woman. Have you thought about children?"

Holmes had. The subject had arisen during a walk through Regent's Park, as he and Russell had watched a number of children of differing sizes and shapes being herded by their nannies in the direction of the zoo. Nodding in their direction, Holmes had asked, "How do you feel about children, Russell?" At first she had appeared startled.

"Well, I suppose they're all right in the abstract," she said thoughtfully, "but I can't say I've been thinking about them in the concrete and immediate future."

"Married couples do seem to have them occasionally," Holmes pointed out.

For a moment Russell stared at him, apparently trying to decide if he was hinting that he wanted her to be barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen on a frequent basis. Then she grinned. "Children need not be an inevitable side-effect of marriage, Holmes. I can recommend some reading material if you're not up to speed on that subject."

"Thank you, Russell, but I believe I am acquainted with what is euphemistically referred to nowadays as "birth control, although that seems a considerable misnomer. ‘Conception avoidance' might be a better description. Once one is pregnant, birth seems fairly inevitable."

Holmes now said to Watson, "Russell is completely involved in her studies and being my partner for the present." He shrugged. "Of course, that could change." He smiled suddenly. "Who would ever have predicted that, at nearly 60, I would eschew bachelorhood for the married state?" Russell had pointed out that in Hebrew the word for "beloved" and "uncle" were the same; in certain cultures and periods of history May-September marriages did not raise eyebrows, but in England, even post-war England, there would be quite a few.

But he was aware of a nervousness. A child or children underfoot? A bored and possibly unsatisfied wife? Would Russell, in another twenty, or at best, thirty years, be stuck with an invalid husband and find her mental acuity vanishing under the burden of child-raising and nursing him?

More immediately, there was the problem of the wedding itself. Not, Holmes realized with relief, a church wedding. No awkward interviews with the future in-laws -- in this case, a very welcome situation as Holmes was older than Russell's father would be, if he were still alive. But perhaps Russell, like most young women, wanted the full panoply of bridal finery and display. He determined to be as accommodating as he could be, but he doubted he could carry it off entirely successfully. Russell was very acute in perceiving his feelings at times.

After the meeting with Watson, Holmes met Russell for lunch at the Savoy Grill. Over starters, he asked her about shopping for rings and a wedding dress. Again, she seemed surprised, as if she hadn't given the matter any thought. "I suppose there should be a ring--even in a civil ceremony one is required, isn't it? But I don't really like jewelry, and particularly on my hands--" she looked down at her hands, with their unmanicured nails, two of which were broken and the rest kept short and serviceable. "And I'll ask Mr. and Mrs. Elf to design a frock suitable for the occasion, but Holmes, do you really want so much fuss about it? I know you've never married before, but I was hoping for a very modest registry office ceremony, maybe a nice wedding breakfast for Uncle John and Mrs. Hudson--you do want them to stand up with us, don't you?--and then motoring down to Sussex for a quiet few days. Unless," she amended, thinking that "quiet" was not a word Holmes really appreciated, "you had other plans."

Holmes gazed at her for a moment, as if querying her sincerity on this, then gave a short laugh. "Women are--" he began, but Russell interrupted with some asperity.

"If, Holmes, those rather trite and uncomplimentary remarks Watson attributed to you in some of his early stories constitute your sum knowledge of the female sex, then I fear you are incorrigible. Have the past six years taught you nothing?"

"I should hope that most of my life heretofore has been a constant education, Russell. But you must admit that you are not typical of your sex."

She regarded him warily although this was obviously an attempt at placation if not apology. About to ask him whether there was such a thing as a typical woman, she was saved from falling into the diversion he had laid for her by the arrival of the main courses. When the waiter had withdrawn, she finally observed, "You are somewhat agitated, today, Holmes. Is the confirmed bachelor having second thoughts?"

At times the best defense is attack. "Are you?"

Russell applied herself conscientiously to her mixed grill. After a time she admitted, "There is something I did wish to discuss about our living arrangements, but it's a bit awkward."

He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"What with my Dream, and your irregular sleeping hours, I was wondering whether it might be preferable to have adjoining bedrooms."

"Russell, you're blushing." Good heavens, did she too think he was past it? No, she was probably just being practical.

This of course had the effect of intensifying the blush. "It's not--"

"Oh, hush, girl. We will be working together. It seems only civilized that you should have some privacy when you want it."

Suddenly she put down her fork and burst out, "Oh, Holmes, this is quite damnable. I wish we could just walk into a registry office after lunch and be married before anyone knows and before anyone can inflate this whole business into a major event."

Holmes smiled knowingly and put his hand in his interior jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and proffered it to Russell. "I think, " he said, "that we can accomplish that quite easily."

It was a marriage license, issued to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Bachelor, and Miss Mary Russell, Spinster.