Russell's Dream

by "And then a miracle happened"

My thanks to "A woman of brains and spirit," whose story Sherlock Holmes Reminisces provided partial inspiration for this piece.

It was a cool June night in 1921. Russell and I had accepted a job only that morning, our first real case since our February marriage. The work we did for Mycroft on our honeymoon had been more academic than detective in nature; we had deciphered some historical documents for the Italian government. Our present case was in a different league, however. A clerk in our client's office had embezzled his family fortune, and the culprit left at least one corpse to mark his trail. Russell and I had spent the day packing and doing a bit of background research. Of course, we also went to town to purchase our respective train tickets. I was headed for Wales, while she would be going off to Scotland. Still, our trains would not leave until the next morning, so we were free to have one last night together in our Sussex cottage. We "said our fond goodbyes," as Russell so delicately puts it, and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

I was so cold, and so tired, and so weak. Why did my arms hurt so as I knelt over to untie my shoelaces? It was vastly important that I untie them, I was sure of that. I needed to be on my way, and quickly, but where was I and where was I about to go?

"Of course I'm going with you," I said. Drat! One of my laces was knotting up dreadfully, and the end of the other was frayed. I'd never get them off at this rate, and then I wouldn't be able to follow Holmes into the Thames. Ah, there it was at last, Holmes and I had to catch Margery's husband. He was on a boat, and he was getting away. We'd have to swim to get to him, and I had to get my boots off so I could go in the river. Why weren't my fingers working properly? "Don't be foolish, of course I'm going with you." Silently, I felt my heart whisper, 'I belong with you.'

"You're not," said the man I secretly loved. And then my head hurt very much, and I sank into a sea of blackness in which all I could perceive was the echo of that forlorn farewell, "You're Not... You're Not... You're Not..."

I awoke in the middle of the night. Russell was thrashing about with a ferocity I had not seen in her sleep habits since our trip to Palestine. Since her Dream. I had thought her long freed from the nocturnal prison in which she relived the deaths of her parents and brother. Still, she seemed to be lost in its terror again tonight. I hesitated only briefly. The sterile caresses of Palestine, so appropriate from tutor to fledgling pupil, would have no place in our marriage bed. I sat up and reached for my wife. I stroked her marvellous hair and caressed her face gently.

"Russ, I am here," I comforted the newly orphaned child of her Dream. "Have no fear, you are here home with me. I am here, no harm shall befall you, you are safe and well and whole."

The world cleared around me and I was sitting on a dock as a tall thin form swam toward the boat that carried our enemy. I watched them struggle, and then there was a gun. I heard two shots. It seemed my heart would split open with each one until, each time, I saw with relief that the bullet had missed my Holmes. Then came a third shot. My heart did split open then, as the boat collapsed and Holmes fell into a seething wall of flame. The flame went on and on, rising to the firmament as my heart dried into nothingness from its heat. I stood at the dock's edge, gasping. My entire self was being consumed on the pyre brought about by the third gunshot. A stir came in the water at my feet, and a burnt white oval topped by a charred grey scrawl drifted into view. I mustered what remained of my being, forcing my body to bend to the water, but when I put my hand out, the face it touched was nothing but an empty shell.

"No!" I screamed, and the world ceased turning from the force of my anguish. "No!" I screamed again, as I crumpled on the dock.

Russell's eyes flew open as I held her. When she focused on my face, I watched her blink several times in confusion. She looked down at our bodies, taking in the sight of her pale blue nightgown and my red plaid pyjamas. Her eyes whirled around our bedroom before coming to rest again on me. Uncertain, I held her gaze. Barely had we settled so when she took my face between her hands and kissed me deeply.

He was alive! He was safe and well and whole and I was here in his arms! As he responded to my kiss, the events of the last months came flooding back to my memory. Holmes had not died in the Thames; he had proposed to me on the dock after just such a kiss as we were sharing now. We were legally married, and I was in our bed with him. Tomorrow we would leave on two separate trails for the Hubert case. In the meantime, my nocturnal unrest had woken my husband at three a.m. before a very demanding day, and we would both be needing all the slumber we could get. I drew back, though remaining within the circle of his embrace, and began to mutter an apology.

"No, Russ, don't worry, it's all right... it was your Dream again, wasn't it?" Holmes asked. I answered automatically, but shuddered as I did so.

"No. I mean yes, a dream, but not The Dream... it was worse."

"Worse? Worse than losing your family? What dream could be worse than that?" In my bewilderment I almost failed to notice the flush creeping up her cheeks as she looked away from me. I reached out to cradle her face in my hand and brought her gaze to mine. "It's all right, Russ, you can tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell your husband about it, can you not?" Russell buried her face in my shoulder and breathed her answer into my collarbone.

"I was on the dock again. And I watched you fight Franklin. And... and... you were killed in the explosion..." As hot tears soaked into the collar of my pyjama jacket, I sat stunned by this revelation. Not knowing what else to do as a torrent of emotion swelled within me, I ran my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp with my fingertips. Russell's shoulders heaved again. She hid her face against my neck and began to speak. "And you died without ever knowing that I loved you..." As her sobs began to quiet, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

"Ah, Russell mine," my husband murmured. "Tomorrow we will renew our acquaintance with the criminal underworld for the first time in our married life. Of course you have worries, of course you would dream about them." He drew us back onto our pillows and looked into my eyes as he caressed the angle of my jaw. "Know this now. Your dream can never come true. Never. You are my wife and my love, now and forever. Even if I die while on this case, I will go to meet my Maker with your name on my lips and your love in my heart."

I felt my cheeks warm, half in embarrassment and half in pleasure. I whispered, "Thank you, Holmes. I love you too." As I closed my eyes, I felt his lips brushing against my forehead. I rolled into my husband's embrace and we drifted off to sleep.

Author's Disclaimer: "Prenuptial Revelations" is a work of appreciative fiction. It is based on characters created by Laurie R. King (Mary Russell) and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson.) I do not hold any copyrights on these characters.