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The Beginning of Disestablishment

by SherlockWatson


The snow falls at a slow, dreary rate that almost perfectly matches my level of care.

I find that dwelling upon things like snow and rain, more the weather in general, is not only a stupid practice, but for one who lives in the dreary city of London, is pointless as it is nearly always the same, give or take a few degrees in temperature.

The snow makes a white layer of frosting over my coat as I cross the small distance between my front patio and my car, I brush this of as I step into the driver’s cab of my late 2008 model BMW 323i and start the engine.

As per usual for a Monday morning I am making the 10 minute drive to my office from my flat in east London. I work as a private detective and find absolutely no pleasure in the dribs and drabs if society, constantly bringing to me problems such as missing animals, missing jewellery, family members and, if the police cannot solve it, cases of murder.

In fact, now that I come to think of it, the police themselves ask me upon several occasions for help in solving their own cases, but not tonight. Tonight is the celebrated holiday of “new years eve” but excuse me if I do not divulge with you my nonexistent plans. I guess I do not find Passion in celebrating the start of another expected year. I do not derive passion in anything, and that I believe, is what my psychologist points out as a “downfall”. In the regal family of the Charles’ there has not been a downfall, there has not been a hereditary illness and there certainly is not a psychological downfall.

As you might have guessed I am the last in the line of the Charles’ family. A family that is descended from the lords of old England, but this is the start of a story, involving a young girl, me (a male at age 26) and a little bit of magic.

On this particular New Years Eve, I did make it to the office, thank you very much for asking, and I did indeed sit down and received my first case by lunch time. A runaway persons, age 25, by the name of Alice. Alice was apparently engaged to a man named Jonathan, but went missing and left behind a note bidding him farewell. In my personal opinion there is no need for him to understand the young maidens where abouts, but the case intrigued me.

The note was made of a certain French paper, this could be told by the colour and smell of the paper as it burnt with a light pink hue, but this paper was only sold in one newsagent in all of England. I did not tell Mr. Jonathan this, but I did intend to investigate this.

As it was, I found Miss Alice by midday, this was an easy task due to the ring she still wore on her finger, though upon seeing her, she immediately sparked something in me that had never before been seen. I was drinking tea in the coffee shop next door to this newsagent when I saw Miss Alice across the room, she looked straight at me and smiled, not a creepy smile, a tentative little intriguing smile, I returned the favour as she left the shop, and she motioned for me to follow.

I followed her to a deserted park, where she sat on a swing and motioned for me to sit on the one next to her. “you must be John” she said with a smile, as she said this she moved slightly on the swing and her long blonde hair drifted in front of her deep, blue eyes, she really was beautiful to behold.

“Yeah, your fiancée hired me to find you; apparently he has spent too much money on your upcoming wedding to let it go to waste.”

“my wedding,” she scoffed, “it really isn’t my wedding at all, it’s his and my damn mothers, my mother needs the money and he happens to be rich, I don’t love him at all, I’ve been forced into this from the start, and now I am finally doing something for myself, being the dangerous one for once.”

“Well, speaking against my clients is not something I usually do, but I do see where you’re coming once, I rebelled once against my parents, they wouldn’t let me use the linen napkins, ha, I showed them.” That almost brought Alice to tears with laughter. “What, I stole the napkins from the pantry, is that not rebel enough for you?”

“I can tell you’re not the type to get out much, are you?”

“Not at all really, why do you ask?”

“Its new years, you and me are going to live a little, and together.”

That night, on the stroke of midnight, I made a commitment and two months later I was a husband, and two years later a father. I had found something that before this I never had;

Passion.

And that’s just it, you don’t really realise what the importance of that is unless you earn it, unless you make it. Passion is almost like a drug, it keeps you pushing that little bit extra every day, so you can sit back at the end of it all and say “boy that really was worth it.”

It is what makes the most learned scholar enjoy his books, or the least learned child enjoy even the wind rushing through soft grass, it is what makes us humans, and what makes us whole


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5 Reviews


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Sat Apr 14, 2012 8:01 pm
InspiredLight wrote a review...



This was a well-written short story. You can describe what you are imagining in your own head very well and it shows in your work. the only thing I would have to critique is this sentence:
" I was drinking tea in the coffee shop next door to this newsagent when I saw Miss Alice across the room, she looked straight at me and smiled, not a creepy smile, a tentative little intriguing smile, I returned the favour as she left the shop, and she motioned for me to follow."

Instead of saying creepy you could say unsettling or disconcerting, maybe even disturbing. I hope you get well soon and continue to write!




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Sat Apr 14, 2012 5:32 am
SherlockWatson says...



yeah, this is just a short story, i got my tonsil's out a few days ago and am in a lot of pain, so don't judge it to harshly.





Have a biscuit, Potter.
— Professor McGonagall