Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wake.

The familiar voice roused me from the deepest sleep I had found in weeks, and a slow stretch found me on the most comfortable bed I had known since my injury. Where was I?

On the grass. Green grass below me, blue sky above me. I had apparently slept in the middle of a field, out of sight of any buildings.

How had I gotten here?

The selkie. Memory returned in a rush. Insomnia. Helping Kukrin. Seeking the selkie’s bridge. I had found a thick patch of grass not twenty feet from the river, and the inexplicable warmth had lulled me into exactly the sleep I had requested. I stretched once more then slowly stood. If she had woken me, it must be time to leave.

To leave without pain. I paused at the first step, marveling at the rare occurrence of nothing hurting. Whatever magic selkies had, I dearly wished humans could learn it. A slow but even stride carried me steadily toward the woman standing at the water’s edge.

“Good morn, Doctor John Watson. It is well to see a human keep his word. Many have tried to stay longer than their invitation.”

“You have a lovely home, Madame.” My nod approached a partial bow. “I thank you for the night’s sleep, but I promised to help my friend with his case.”

Delicate lips pursed as if confused, and I wondered how much of my recent past she had gleaned through the telepathy all magical creatures possessed to some degree.

“You wish to return though he doth ignore thee?”

My hand twitched in the flinch I otherwise smothered. He had no need of me. I knew that and always had, but he had not yet asked me to leave, and he had requested my presence on this trip. That would suffice.

I could not tell her all that, however. “My word is my word, no matter his actions. He has not yet freed me from that promise.”

And I hoped he never did, but I could not tell her that either—nor would she expect me to. That inscrutable gaze studied me for another moment before she stepped to the water’s edge.

“Fare thee well, Doctor, that I might see such devotion again.”

I caught the barest glimpse of her seal form, but I made no attempt to see more. Shallow ripples followed her progress downstream as I slowly crossed the bridge, my speed more of desire than necessity. I could not ignore how loose every joint felt after a night in the selkie’s home. Uneven stones did not even make me stumble as they had hours ago, and a part of me wished I could return here every night we remained at the inn. I reached the other bank without once needing my cane.

“Watson!”

Holmes’ voice came from my right the moment the bridge flickered to announce me back in the non-magical realm, but I barely noticed the call. Bright daylight drew my attention to the sun’s position high in the sky. In true selkie mischief, she had not woken me until less than two hours before noon.

Not that I minded. I enjoyed a restful sleep far too much to worry about the time.

“Watson!”

My friend nearly skidded to a stop in front of me, and long fingers wrapped tightly around my arms as if worried I would disappear. Lines tracing his eyes suggested hours of fruitless searching.

“Where the blazes have you been?!”

“Sleeping,” I replied, making no effort to hide my confusion. Why had he paused his work? He knew I would catch up. “Did you solve your case?”

“Only because he appeared in front of me,” he snapped. “I have searched this entire section of river, including that bridge. Where were you?”

“The other side.” He suddenly blanched almost as badly as Kukrin had, his bizarre frustration disappearing behind a wave of shock and—was that fear? I quickly rotated my hands to grip him in return. “Holmes?”

He swallowed, hard, but still could not answer quickly. “Your trail ended ten feet up the bank,” he managed in a tone somewhat softer than normal—and noticeably unsteady, “but I had no proof—you crossed the bridge last night?”

“Quieter over there,” I quipped. What about this so distressed him? “I got a wonderful night’s sleep on the grass. Why?”

Rather than the ease I sought to provide, the humor merely made him clutch me harder.

“Holmes?”

“Did you meet anyone?”

“A young woman.” Who could turn into a seal, but Holmes did not know of the magical. “We spoke for only a few minutes before she went somewhere else for the night. What is it?”

He would soon bruise me if he did not let go. “Did you see her again? Or anyone else?”

“This morning, just before you found me, and no. Talk to me, Holmes. What is wrong?”

“The innkeeper—” The sentence broke as my own confusion strengthened. Why was he shaking? “The innkeeper asked me to investigate a string of disappearances. Anyone who leaves the inn after dark does not return within the week, if at all. Nearly two dozen people are still missing. Every trail ended at the bridge.”

And mine had ended close enough to make him connect me to the others. He had thought me a victim of the troll, though that still did not explain such a strong reaction.

I saw no reason to ask. He probably simply did not enjoy the idea that someone else had vanished with him present. Finding those people mattered more than forcing the awkward conversation, and I would have to be careful how I did this.

“I might know where they are.”

The grip that had started to ease quickly renewed. “You saw them?”

“No.” Rotating my arm made him note his strength. “I can ask if that young woman has, though. Wait for me behind that tree.”

One finger pointed at the tree that had trapped Kukrin last night, but he shook his head.

“I am coming.”

“No.” Gentle prodding freed my arm to let me step away. “She is wary of strangers and only spoke with me because of a prior connection. Wait for me under the tree, out of sight of the bridge.”

He did not follow me, but he did not walk to the tree, either. Stubbornness in his gaze announced his intention to stay no matter what I said.

Except conversing with someone Holmes could not see would only get me sent to Bedlam. I would have to use a different method.

“Do you remember the snowstorm that winter solstice?”

Yes, the flicker of surprise revealed. He did, though he did not yet understand why I mentioned it. I had accurately “predicted” a record-breaking storm that hit just after sundown. What Holmes thought an induction had actually been a magical warning, but the illogical foreknowledge had helped me many times since.

As it did now. Defiance vanished as quickly as it had formed.

“You have induced something.”

“And I cannot put it into words,” I finished. “If you do not wait for me out of sight, you will never solve this case.”

He studied me as if trying to read my thoughts, but when I merely stared back, he finally left me by the river. I faced the water the moment he disappeared behind the branches.

“Madame Selkie.”

She must have been listening. I barely finished speaking before she resumed her spot on the low wall.

“What wilt thou?”

Her tone warned against unfounded accusations, but while her comment about overstaying a welcome had made me wonder, I saw no reason to accuse her when Kukrin had provided a far likelier culprit.

“Do you know how many humans the troll killed and if there are any remains?”

Surprise released a bubbling laugh. “How dost thou know of the troll?”

“Kukrin said you had taken over from a troll, but he did not say when.”

She still gave me that bright smile, though I felt no compulsion behind it. Long legs swung over the wall to let her stand on the stones.

“I found evidence of three humans in my home,” she answered, “but they died of accidents, not a predator. Zinjo preferred animal to human. As for the other twenty—” A gesture ripped a hole in the veil between realms to reveal people sitting on the grass, exploring the trees, and trying to break through a barrier. None seemed aware of the others. “Such is the fate of those who seek to overstay their welcome. They are unharmed, but many will not find the exit this year.”

Many will not find the exit. The window vanished with a wave of her hand, but I did not answer immediately, staring through my feet in deep thought. I needed a wording to open the conversation without promising anything I could not deliver.

“Is there a way another human can set them free?”

“An exchange,” was her simple reply, and my leg warmed in caution.

“Will you elaborate?”

She threw her head back in a joyous laugh. “I have not seen that amulet in ages! Very well, Doctor. To free the foolish humans, another human must offer himself or herself in exchange, to be my willing companion for the rest of his or her life.”

A leaden ball landed in my chest. I could solve Holmes’ case and leave him, or I could stay with my friend and leave those people to find the way out of the trap they had dug themselves. That they may not understand they had dug themselves.

As much as I did not want to spend the rest of my life in the other realm, my wishes mattered little. Three years abroad had proven Holmes had no need of me, and I could not in good conscience leave them trapped in a place they did not understand.

“Take me. Let them go home.”

A suspicious noise from the tree suggested Holmes heard at least some of our conversation, but he did not interrupt. I kept my attention on the selkie. Whatever she had expected, it had not been an offer.

“You, Doctor? What of your promise to your friend?”

“Freeing them will solve this case,” I answered too quietly for Holmes to hear. I did not want to do this, but desire and willingness were not the same. “Holmes can solve the others without me.”

He did not need me and never had. He could take the credit for finding twenty missing people in one morning, and when the press died, he could move on without slowing down for me. My “disappearance” would matter little as soon as the next case arrived.

For the first time since meeting the selkie, I felt her glean my thoughts. A frown twitched her mouth, apparently disliking—or perhaps disagreeing with—something she found, but she did not voice the problem. It did not concern my offer.

“No wonder Father Christmas thinks so highly of you.” A wave of her hand placed the missing people on the far bank. “Go back to your friend, Doctor. I am content in my home.”

Her smile trying to match sunlight again, she winked then vanished before I could reply. Had she truly—

Offer.

The word inserted itself into my mind to prompt a relieved sigh. She had sincerely meant offer, not give. Just as she had probably never shown herself to the people she had held, so she did not want a companion. Not every selkie wished company.

Fortunately for me, but I had no time to consider her actions. Twenty people of all ages realized they had suddenly returned to the riverbank, and they all found their voices at the same time.

“What—”

“I’m at the river!”

“How did we get here?”

“Wait, why isn’t it dark?”

“You’re worried about dark? Why isn’t it storming?! Wasn’t there a storm rolling in?”

“Hold!”

Holmes silently returned to stand on my left as the single word cut through the budding argument, then every eye turned towards me. Silence reigned only until I gave my name and the date.

“What?!”

“No!”

“Not possible! It is barely October!”

“October? Are you mad? It’s June!”

“You’re both mad!”

“You must be Mrs. Cratchet.”

Holmes cut through the clamor that time, though he repeatedly glanced between me and the crowd, and a distracted thought wondered why fear lingered in his eyes. He should be riding the high of a finished case, not clinging to my sleeve as if still afraid I had been eaten.

Whatever the source, he set it aside for the moment to focus on the “victims.” We could hardly have twenty people arguing with each other about the date.

“You disappeared on June tenth,” he continued when the older woman spun to stare at him in amazement, “on a midnight walk. Most of your family thinks you joined your husband, but your daughter still searches for you.” The information stunned her—and everyone else—to silence, and he used the opportunity to address the crowd. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. One of you disappeared only two weeks ago.” His gaze indicated a young man on the edge of the group, “but some have lost months. Does anyone remember what happened?”

A flurry of speech answered him. I caught only various repetitions of crossing the bridge, along with something about seeking diversion, rest, or a butterfly, but Holmes nodded once as if he had heard a lot more than that.

“Where were you?”

A field, a forest, a barn, and a lake all appeared in the variety of answers. The frown twitching my friend’s mouth announced how little he liked the lack of consistency.

“Did anyone see a person?”

Yes, but only about half described the selkie. Some saw no one, some saw a young man, and one described a formation resembling the river’s former occupant. When Holmes apparently intended to keep asking questions until the answers made sense, I broke into the interrogation. That path led only to confusion and the asylum.

“Is anyone injured?”

No, as the selkie had promised. I pointed upriver.

“Does everyone remember the inn?”

Yes, and they needed no further hint. The innkeeper would get the shock of his life when twenty missing people charged his door.

Though, perhaps not as much of a shock as would an unknowledgeable human. Kukrin had hinted that we stayed in a magical inn. The keeper would be able to put enough pieces together to figure out what had happened.

Holmes waited only for the last straggler to leave earshot before fear forced itself into words. “You tried to bargain yourself to a kidnapper.”

So he had heard some of our discussion. I shrugged away the question, wondering why his shoulder stayed so close to mine.

“There was no other way to free them.”

“Inaccurate.” A hand on my arm forced me to stop walking and face him. “How many times have you told me not to use myself as bait?”

Far too many, especially when I considered the many times he had not understood the trap, but I could not say that.

“I was not bait, and I was in no danger. She meant me no harm.”

“You cannot know that.” His hold tightened minutely as fear traced his forehead again. “More than allowing yourself to be kidnapped, you offered. Why?”

“It is not kidnapping if the person goes willingly, Holmes, and she did not kidnap them. They trespassed where they should not have been and found themselves with no way out.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course it does.” I could not free my arm, but something in his normally stoic expression made me wonder what would happen if I did. “Better one person than twenty, and nothing else would have worked. You solved your case, and those people can return home. Why does the how matter?”

“Because you offered yourself in exchange!” In an instant, his tone flipped from carefully controlled questioning to something much closer to anger. “I could not hear the other person, but you clearly told them to take you! You told me to wait out of sight so you could leave?!”

“No.” His grip was growing painful again, and I gently rotated my arm then slipped free. “I told you to wait because she would not have approached me with you nearby. I did not want to leave, as you should know if you heard our discussion. Ah, no.”

He froze, mouth still open to either refute my statement or at least continue arguing, but I would never be able to tell him enough to make him understand my decision. I kept my hand up in a silent stop talking.

“My options were to abandon them in a trap of their own making,” I said calmly, “or set them free only to fall in, myself. I made the only decision I could with the information I had, and it does no good to argue about it now. Now, I would like something to eat. Are you coming?”

I turned away without waiting for an answer, but the way he hurried to walk with me declared his firm yes. A painstakingly light touch took my arm in his.

“Do you know where the other three are?”

“Dead,” I answered shortly. “She saw the remains. Told me it looked like an accident in the dark.”

A momentary squeeze betrayed his continued reaction.

“Do you intend to explain anything that just happened?”

No. Holmes had rejected the truth of our world years ago. As I did not wish to be locked in Bedlam any more than I wanted to be a selkie’s companion, I doubted I would ever answer all his more difficult questions.

He had mellowed somewhat during his years abroad, however. If he ever proved a willingness to learn and accept the other realm, my decision might change.

And perhaps a carefully worded response would aid that.

“No,” I answered bluntly, “but the day you can tell me what a rabbit, a canary, and a lizard have in common, I will reconsider.”

He spent the rest of the walk thinking about that, though his many guesses never found anything close to accuracy. He soon dropped the topic to deal with the aftermath of his case.

And flatly refuse to let me out of his sight—or more than a few feet away. I merely rolled my eyes and joined another trip to town in search of families. He would never tell me what about this morning had so badly upset him. The argument was not worth the effort.