TITLE: Codicil
FIRST PUBLISHED: May 7, 2012
SUMMARY: #4 in the Afterword series. Holmes and Doyle, 'His Last Bow'.
oOo
“His last bow,” Holmes mused thoughtfully, flipping idly through the pages. “Suggestive.”
Arthur Conan Doyle said nothing.
“I take it you’re hoping that, if you say it’s the last case I ever took, you won’t have to write any more about me?”
“That was the idea,” Doyle said tiredly.
“And of course you had to put a preface in too…” Holmes cleared his throat and began to read, pacing around the room.
“The friends of Mr. Sherlock Holmes—”
“I know what I wrote, Holmes.”
“Really,” Holmes returned scathingly. “Then maybe you can explain to me what you mean by ‘a small farm upon the downs’?”
“Just what it says,” Doyle remarked calmly.
“You can’t do this to me.” Holmes put the book down. “Doyle—Arthur—I’ll go mad!”
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I can’t change it now, anyway; it’s already published.”
Holmes groaned, collapsing into a chair. “I can’t believe it. Bees, for goodness’ sake. Bees!”
“I did ask you,” Doyle said, “If you had a better idea.”
Holmes didn’t answer.
“But I’m sure you didn’t come here just to complain,” Doyle said. “After all, to my recollection, you did that just after it was published the first time in the Strand. And every other time we spoke.”
Holmes got up and stood next to the window, lighting his pipe. “No, you’re right,” he admitted.
“You know that’s going to kill you if you keep doing that,” Doyle said mildly.
Holmes laughed. “You are the only one who can kill me,” he answered. “And somehow I think, if you ever killed me again; you’d do it in a more glamorous way.”
“Hmmm.” Doyle said.
Holmes shrugged. He stared out the window. “Maybe I just wanted to talk.”
“Really?” Doyle asked, skeptically.
Holmes gestured out the window. “When you wrote A Study in Scarlet it was a modern story. Now, it’s all in the past. A memory.”
“Well… that’s just the way it turned out.”
“I suppose,” Holmes said morosely, still looking out the glass.
“Why don’t you go visit Watson?” Doyle asked eventually to the silent detective.
“Watson’s busy,” Holmes said shortly.
“Busy? With what?”
Holmes shrugged. “It’s not his fault. He’s still got a practice…”
“Holmes!” Doyle didn’t know whether to be amused or infuriated. “I should have known that’s what you were getting at. No, I am not going to take you out of retirement!”
Holmes crossed his arms, miffed.
“If you have nothing better to do, then leave,” Doyle said. “I am actually trying to work on something.”
“Fine,” Holmes said, knocking out his pipe. He disappeared without another word.
AN: I'm not sure if this one really makes sense... I think maybe it's a little abrupt in places.