This Married State

by Gean' Fuqua

Authors' Note: This is our second joint effort at creative writing, trying to 'fill the gaps' of the Russell-Holmes books by LRK. We want to think that their honeymoon was a special time and in a place one makes once in a life time memories. We appreciate this forum and the support it receives from fans all over the world.

We married. Not quite as we expected, but ten days later in a flurry of activity, we walked into a magistrate office in London, said the words, signed papers, and were pronounced husband and wife. A simple gold band was on my finger.

We stood together, holding hand; only later did I realize we were holding each other upright. The small private event we envisioned had become an occasion for the people around us. Brother Mycroft, Uncle John, and Mrs. Hudson had to be there. Mrs. Q would never have forgiven our rudeness if she had not been allowed to prepare food for half of London's population. Tillie, Patrick, and a few others came from Sussex. The apartment was filled with people wishing us well, smiling and shaking hands with each other and us. But I am ahead of all that happened.

We agreed to marriage on the docks, then turned the day's events over to others. I slept in the afternoon and woke to find Holmes sitting in the pink chair watching me sleep. He was dressed in an immaculate evening suit and so clean that one would not recognize him as the scum covered individual hauled out of the river a few hours ago. I, on the other hand, could say I was clean. I must have appeared a disheveled mess--hair, clean and dry--but not combed and wearing a linen shirt and old trousers. At least I was covered.

"What are you doing here?" I asked

"I have come to take you out. We need a celebration to mark this occasion-or have you changed your mind?"

I gathered myself upright. "I have not."

"Good. Now, get dressed for a fancy party. Something-blue, I believe." With that he left the room, closing the door.

He had been in my closets! Before my anger flared, I remembered this was the man I loved and who loved me. He deserved the elves' blue creation. I wrapped my hair in a low plait twisted at my neck and put the one-shouldered gown on. The person reflected in the mirror looked like no one I knew.

I quietly opened the door. Holmes stood at the window and slowly turned as I stepped into the room. His hand moved to his chest and his lips moved but I heard no sound. I slowly walked across the room.

"What did you say?" I asked. He did not move until I reached for his hand.

"Be still my heart is what I said, dear Russ. I fear I may not make it with you in that dress. However, you are beautiful enough for any celebration, especially this one. Come, young one." With that he placed my hand on his arm and we were off.

A long dark car carried us out of the city. Finally I could contain my curiosity no longer.

"Where are we going, Holmes?"

He had not touched me since leaving the apartment. Now he reached for my hand. "We are going to a rather large, elaborate celebration. We will be only two of three hundred or so guests. Most of these people will not know us, or care to. However, tonight you are the woman I plan to marry-shortly-and these are people I want you to see, maybe meet. It will be for you to decide."

The car slowed and turned into a gated entrance. I caught a glimpse of uniformed men. The house was a castle. The evening passed in a blur. Holmes was wrong when he said most people would not know us. It seemed everyone knew him and wanted to talk. Gradually we made our way into a grand ballroom. Couples were swirling around like brightly colored birds in the sky. My blue creation matched any dress in the room, and received quite a few comments.

"Come, Russell."

"No-I can not-"

"Yes, you can. Follow me."

The man could waltz. I followed his lead. A few times I faltered, but quickly recovered. His expression and rhythm never changed. When the number ended, he led me into another room where food and drinks covered table after table. I ate little and drank less.

Each time we entered the ballroom, a waltz was playing. Each time Holmes took my hand and we waltzed. This was the only time we were alone. Near mid-night, we slipped out into the clear cool evening and departed. I had not breathed normally in hours. Exhaustion caught up with me in the car. I believe Holmes actually wrapped his arm around me and pulled my head to his shoulder.

"Quite a day, Russ."

"Yes, quite a day. What does it all mean, Holmes?"

"Nothing or everything. What ever you wish. Tonight you have been established as my consort in this social strata that we will seldom enter-unless you should desire it." He stopped and tightened his arm around me. "And I wanted to show you off."

I smiled. My head leaned against his chest. I felt his hand on my hair. And I slept.

I had said the words avoided all my adult life. She had accepted them, young as she was. I left her, cleaned up and returned to her apartment, letting myself in, and watched her sleep. She would not change her mind, of that I was sure. Tonight I would take her into the society of elite aristocracy of England. It was to show her off but also to establish our association on a personal level. I had never taken a woman into this world. She wore the blue dress I had found in her rooms during those frantic days I thought I had lost her. As proof that my heart is strong, I did not faint when I saw her. She was stunning.

The next day Holmes and I met with lawyers and accountants and other men in offices. At the end we had written wills, put the care of property, factories and funds into their hands. Holmes refused to accept any part of my inherited wealth. I refused to leave until he did. Finally the lawyers cornered us with compromise. He accepted putting his name on one-half of all I owned if I agreed to add my name to everything that was his-which was considerable in view of how he lived. This was more exhausting than chasing criminals in the street or dancing half the night.

Another day we spent walking in the city. Holmes insisted on a wedding trip. I finally relented and left those plans to him. We talked about the future and little about the past.

I spent another two days with the elves getting practical clothes for "warmer climates" according to Holmes' instructions. They wanted to add a true bridal ensemble but on that issue I was adamant I would not be decorated in white or satin or laces or ruffles.

Each evening Holmes appeared at the apartment. Almost always he was formal to a fault. I almost decided that the kiss on the dock and my feelings with it were a dream. Then he would do something that would bring it all back in a sudden flash.

One night he brought strawberries, sat on the floor and fed each one to me. One at a time. Another night his hands massaged my feet. I could not remember when anyone else had touched my feet. The next evening he brushed and combed my hair, practically carried me to my bed, and left me alone. We had stepped out of our previous relationship to move quietly and with certainty to the next intimate level.

Another day, Holmes appeared with a French woman carrying a large dress box. He introduced us then left. Inside the box was a silk dress the color of pearls, but iridescent with a hint of pale pink. Lace surrounded the neck then dropped to the waist. The skirt flared to its hemline just below the knee. On close examination, the lace was not lace but tiny pearls and beads and silver threads made in the design of lace. A note in Holmes' handwriting was in the box.

"For my wife."

The neckline was high enough to hide scars yet the back draped below my shoulder blades. Where the blue dress was fashionable and trendy, this one was elegant and graceful. It was the most extravagant dress I had ever touched. It looked like something angels wore in dreams, only short and showing most of my leg below the knee. Mrs. Q and the Parisian dresser got me out of my clothes and into this vision. She had even brought shoes, stocking, and undergarments-and not much of those. I stood looking in the mirror at this person who could not be Mary Russell. The two women pulled at hidden threads and gradually the dress became my shape, or made my shape look better because I saw hips and curves where before there had been none.

I was still in the dress when the telephone range. It was Holmes. He spoke of several things before I said, "I like the dress." Silence met my ears.

I heard a soft laugh. "No ruffles, no lace, no satin, and almost not white." With another chuckle he was off.

The day arrived for our appointment with the magistrate. Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Q helped me dress. I stared at the mirror telling myself that this was what I wanted. Mrs. Hudson kept assuring me that we were doing the right thing. Uncle John and Holmes arrived with Mycroft in a long dark car, gathered Mrs. Hudson and I into it and we were off. Holmes sat opposite me, our knees touching. In the short drive, his only comment was "Russell, you look nice."

Mycroft, Uncle John, and Mrs. Hudson talked about gardens and flowers as if it were a normal day.

Holmes was out of the car as soon as it stopped, pulling me with him.

The others forgotten, I whispered, "I would love you without all of this."

His long finger moved to his lips then to mine. He said, "This is my desire, as I believe it is yours." His hand wrapped around mine and we entered the office.

Almost before the clocked ticked again, we were back in the car, this time side by side. A gold ring on my finger marked our official state. Everyone was smiling at us; even Holmes smiled. I leaned to kiss him-a brief, polite, in-company-of-friends kiss. A full minute passed before we parted, then the three traveling with us laughed, made polite remarks, and patted us and each other-everyone looked so pleased.

At the apartment, food had been prepared for various and sundry associates one has as acquaintances. Everyone talked at once, giving us their best wishes. A few hours later we were back in the car with a dozen people waving us goodbye.

I sighed as my head fell back on seat cushions. "Thank goodness that is over."

Holmes chuckled, "There is more, dear wife."

Women are the most stubborn of the sexes, I have no doubt. A day spent with lawyers and accountants proved more taxing than anything else we had done. I wanted her name placed on all I owned as well as holding shared with Mycroft. She would have none of it until the lawyers huddled and developed a compromise acceptable to both of us.

On other days, we talked of life, her career, our future, and all those things involved in a shared life. She never expressed a doubt or regret with our decision. For years she had considered the Sussex cottage her home, now it would be official. I delivered the dress I had ordered for her twenty-first birthday, one of the things forgotten in those confusing, battered days of early January. She graciously accepted the dress and the fittings and wore it for our wedding day. She was as beautiful as I knew she would be.

Our driver had entered a large rail yard, maneuvering the car along a narrow paved tract, between huge locomotives and rail cars. Suddenly, a small station appeared looking like it belonged in Sussex instead of London's rail yards. Sitting beside the platform was a private train painted a gleaming green with gold trim. Holmes was out of the car speaking to several men while I sat and gawked, mouth opened. There was no doubt who's train this was, or who's it had been.

Holmes returned to the car. "Come, Russell." It took his hand on me to get me to move. "Are we speechless? Struck dumb?"

I nodded, but managed to walk onto the train. Holmes looked so pleased with himself. I let him lead me from a dining car to a seating area, then into a bathroom complete with huge tub, and a bedchamber done in gold and white beyond that. It was furnished like a small lavish apartment, paintings on the walls, draperies at the windows; those two initials on everything. "Are we the only people here?" I asked.

"We are unless you desire company. There are servants, people who run the train. But I assure you, these are the most discreet people you will ever find." He sat down on a chaise lounge and watched me navigate the room-or train car. I felt the slow movement of the train as it began to move out of the rail yard and reached to steady myself. Holmes' hand found mine and drew me to his chair. We had been alone before, but this was different. I was his wife and he was my husband.

"The old queen's train. Husband, I am impressed. I did not need it."

Before he responded, he rearranged our positions so that my back rested against his chest, his arms around me, then he spoke. "I will marry only once, Russell. I want the beginning to be memorable for both of us. We need time to make this transition. We have thirty days-less if you desire-to begin this process of married life without interference or obligations. We are alone. It is a selfish desire, but I want to have your undivided attention and I want to return those attentions. I hope you will feel the same."

His last words had come as quietly and seriously as any words he had ever spoken to me. I could feel his heart beating against my back. I brought his hand to my lips and felt his lips below my ear. In seconds I remembered the kiss from the dock. The train moved into the dark countryside. Some hours later we lay in the darkness of the queen's bedchamber realizing the passion we had awaken within each other.

"Holmes, the queen's bed! How could you do this? How many women can say they spent their wedding night in the queen's bed?" As soon as I said the words, I started laughing. Holmes was laughing with me. "She was not always old, Russell, dear."

In a few days time, I made calls and visits to arrange a holiday worthy of this occasion. Every request was granted and put into motion.

Some events of that first night as husband and wife are forever etched in my memory. We laughed which made Holmes say he loved me first because I had a brain and second because I made him laugh. Once I cried, not from pain or sadness, but in the aftermath of unbelievable ecstasy. This husband of mine had a passionate soul covered by that aloof, remote exterior. And he uncovered it in me, in my mind, my heart and in the deepest recesses of my body. For the rest of my life I believe Sherlock Holmes knew this night had set our marriage on a path to private pleasure and intimate passion of body and spirit.

The early morning sun found a quiet bed and two people sleeping peacefully in each other's arms. I woke first to watch this man I loved, and who loved me, sleep. He stirred and opened his gray eyes to my broad smile. Last night was no dream. He pulled me closed to him.

"A man could get use to this." He spoke his thoughts out loud.

I blurted out, "So could I."

I moved my hands over his chest followed by light kisses until he moved so that our mouth's touched. I felt his hands explore my body and heard deep unfamiliar sounds coming from my own throat. Waking up to his love was as natural as waking to life itself.

"I love you," he said, suddenly, stroking my face with his fingertips. I saw his enlarged pupils turn his gray eyes almost black.

"I love you," I whispered. "Forever."

"Forever," he responded. We remained in bed a while longer as the train moved over the countryside.

He slowly moved to get up, wrapped a white sheet around his waist, disappeared and returned with a lavish breakfast tray.

"Food, young wife. Rouse yourself from your marriage bed and bring forth your appetite!" He sat the tray at the bedside table and brought me a gown and my specs, putting each arm into a sleeve and positioning the eyewear on my nose.

He turned back to the tray while I got out of bed. My hand gathered the bedclothes together to smooth over the bed when I saw the evidence of my virginity. I must have hesitated or made some sound causing Holmes to turn. I could feel the heat of embarrassment flame across my face when his arms came around me. His lips found my neck, then my ear as he gently turned me to face him.

"Why Russell, I perceive a flush to your face that is not often there. Do not be this way. Look at me." His gentle voice commanded me to look at him. His eyes looked into mine. "You are the most wonderful creature I have ever had in my life. I will not say this often, but always know it to be true. I love you today, tomorrow, and for as long as I live. Do not forget this. My greatest fear is that you have brought me much more in marriage than I could ever bring you." He touched my face, my neck, then my hair with those long sensitive fingers, soothing the hot flush on my face. He turned me around to the bed and in one swift wave of his hand indicated our bed.

"And, this dear wife, in some societies, is indeed a dowry worthy of a great bride's price!" His voice was playful yet gentle.

He was teasing me, not because of what the sheets told, but because of my reaction. I balled my hand into a fist and cuffed his chin, gently. All I could say was "My tea will be cold."

During breakfast, the train stopped and I heard water running into the bathtub. Holmes explained that we were ahead of schedule and the train stopped for us to bathe and dress--we could use more water with the train still. He refused to tell me where we were going other than we would change to a boat in Plymouth.

The luxury of the hot bath was not wasted on me. I propped my feet on the tub edge and watched Holmes shave.

"How is married life, wife?"

Just then a light knock on the door sounded and a maid entered with a stack of thick white towels and our freshly pressed clothes. Holmes took all this from her and indicated that she should leave us. He held a towel out for me that was almost as long as he was.

"Stay there, I'll be a few minutes." And I sat while he bathed.

"Do you think the queen and her consort did this, Holmes?"

He laughed so hard that he fell back in the tub, completely submerging himself in the water. He continued to laugh as I threw a towel toward him.

"'This' is an indefinite word used in that sentence. Did the queen bathe here? Yes, she did. As did the present king until he got a new train. Did either the past queen or the present king do other things we have done? I should expect so, Russ." He continued to laugh as he toweled himself dry. I turned from him deciding to pout at his merriment. Of course, my towel fell away as I got up and he insisted on helping me dress.

"I am not helpless, Holmes."

"Let me do this, wife. When we return home you can assume your emancipated life. But for the next few weeks, let us be unique and irreplaceable to each other, let me be chivalrous, and I will attempt to treat you as my queen." His voice was as familiar as an old shirt but there was a gentle persuasion that made me smile as I kissed him.

I agreed to his request only after he agreed to disclose our destination, which he agreed to do as soon as we were on the boat. We watched as the train wound its way to the Plymouth harbor where Holmes pointed out our boat-a misrepresentation on his part-it was a large private yacht.

"Except for its crew, we will be alone," he said, "unless you want company."

I threaded my fingers with his. "I have all the company I need."

Once on the small ship, Holmes was true to his promise. He pulled out maps; his long finger traced our sea route, past France, around Spain and Portugal, past Gibraltar to the Mediterranean, then northward to the largest of Spain's islands.

"I believe you have never traveled to Majorca, Russ. I have been there only once, for a few days, many years ago. I promised myself I would return if I ever married because it was the most beautiful place I had ever been."

One beautiful day followed another for our voyage. Holmes and I stretched in the sun, watched the coastline slip by us in the far distance, laughed, read, and became lovers. The direction for our physical evolvement proved to be quite interesting. Holmes had a very physical aspect that was unknown to the readers of Watson's stories. I was a quick student.

Russell appeared pleased with our destination. The solitary hours spent together were put to good use. By the time we reached out destination, she was discovering the physical and mental connection of passion and emotions that were as old as man and woman and she responded as any intelligent being would.

We had gotten dressed before sunrise to watch our destination island rise from the sea. Majorca appeared as dark mountains that gradually changed to lush green as the sun rose. The city of Palma-or a huge castle above the city-took shape. Full sunlight revealed a magnificent gold cathedral and hillsides covered with buildings so white they appeared like snow. The smell of oranges reached our nostrils before we stepped on land.

A small private villa overlooking the city was ours for two weeks. The rooms were filled with sunshine and flowers and fragrances. Even my 'warm climate' clothes seemed constricting and heavy when worn in this bright light. Flowers were everywhere; exotic purples, passionate pinks, sunny yellows, and flame reds. The sun was so bright that I had to squint and shade my eyes with my hand.

Holmes stopped at a hat seller and placed a wide brim hat on my head and when he kissed me there in the street, people applauded and laughed.

We ate eggs, sausages, tomatoes, and oranges in sweet and tangy flavors, made in unfamiliar dishes, which did not stop us from eating. When I looked at Holmes, his eyes were enough for me to know that he was pleased. This gentle, sensitive man convinced me again and again that our marriage was not only right but it was good.

We spent two weeks exploring the streets, the beaches, the hills and valleys of this isolated paradise. No one knew us; no one asked us questions about thieves, robbers, killers, missing relatives, or theology. I was reluctant to leave this private place. Holmes and I walked slowly to the docks on our last day trying to lengthen every minute.

Our first night on the return trip found us early in our bed so familiar with each other now that there was no embarrassment lying wrapped in each other's arms and legs.

"Thank you, Holmes."

"For what, dear wife?"

"For giving me life, for happiness." He moved even closer to me.