"March of Time" (Rated G), March 2019 Holmes Minor Monthly Prompt

[gardnerhill]

Title: March of Time
Author: gardnerhill
Form/Wordcount: 500
Characters/Pairings: John Watson, Mary Morstan Watson, Constable Rance
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: None
Summary: Across three Marches.
Author’s Notes: For the Holmes Minor March 2019 prompt: March


***

1892

"Mrs. Watson, your husband is here."

Pride filled him at the defiant, unrepentant look on Mary's face as she stood and walked to the opened cell door, still wearing her rumpled VOTES FOR WOMEN sash over her mud- and tomato-soiled dress.

"'March for equality,' my eye. Shouting in the streets and creating a public nuisance." The grizzle-haired policeman smirked. "Might want to teach her the error of her ways tonight, sir." In other words: Give her a good beating and show her who's boss.

"I'll give that all the consideration it's due, Constable Rance. It is still 'constable' after all these years? Sherlock Holmes was quite right, you'll retire a constable." Watson walked out, Mary on his arm, past the red-faced man.

In the cab back to Kensington, she laid a hand on his. "Darling. This is the first time you've mentioned him without choking."

He blinked. "Dear God. You're right."

***

1893

All he knew was cold and wet, and breathing, and voices. Everything seemed distant, shrouded in heavy grey. His arms were trapped.

"Threw himself in the Thames, Inspector. Good thing one of the new lads was walking his beat in earshot and blew his whistle straightaway. Got a squad of men to drag him out." He'd heard that voice before, a few times.

"Get that lad's name for me, he's saved this man's life." Lestrade. Why did Lestrade sound so sad and bleak? He had a wife still, and friends.

"Chap won't thank him for it. He was screaming 'they're all dead, I killed them all' and fought the blokes who saved 'im. Mad as a March hare."

"Shut your fool mouth, Rance. His wife dies of the 'flu and takes their first babe with her? How'd you think a doctor would act?"

"…Yessir. Leave the straightjacket on him?"

"Yes. I promised… someone… that I'd help keep him safe. He's not hanging himself in my cell tonight."

***

1894

March. Keep marching. March through dust, rain, mud, snow, tears, grief, emptiness. March.

The plod of a soldier took over his mind, swathed him like the canvas jacket Lestrade had removed the morning after the last time he'd tried to feel anything. It felt almost like peace. It kept his mind quiet with duty and routine so that he resembled living people once again.

Marching was simple, rhythmic, hypnotic. March his rounds, march home. March to the churchyard, march home. March to the charity hospital, march home.

The daffodils were fading and the primroses were beginning to show. Soon he would end his year of wearing full mourning, marking nearly three full years of wearing black in one form or another, for one death or another.

Death. Strange death of a young noble.

Not a march this time, a walk to the house. His old life, past life, in that house of death.

Walk toward Constable Rance at the scene, his old life stirring awake like a crocus uncurling from the snow.

A bump, a stumble, spilled books.

Halt.

Comments

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Very poignant! I like the last March especially.

[gardnerhill]

A soldier's mindless routine must be a comfort during a terrible time.

[smallhobbit]

A great look at three Marches - I like them all in different ways.

[gardnerhill]

It's such a versatile word.

I've had Mary be a suffragist in the past, so that particular "march" was a no-brainer!

[debriswoman]

Really well done:-)

[gardnerhill]

Thanks so much. This took a while to write, actually - a couple of weeks to tap each word into place.

[saki101]

You distilled so much about all three characters into a few sentences.

I especially liked -

"I'll give that all the consideration it's due, Constable Rance. It is still 'constable' after all these years? Sherlock Holmes was quite right, you'll retire a constable."

What a cutting reply.

[gardnerhill]

"Oh yeah there was a suspicious-looking guy who showed up at the murder site, so I let him go." That's the action of a policeman who'll retire at the same rank he was hired at 30 years before.

Sadly, Rance is hardly the only policeman who thought all those suffragists needed was a good husband-beating to set them right.

[scfrankles]

I must admit I had completely forgotten about Constable Rance - such a interesting choice of character to use for your piece. And it was such a great idea to use those three different references to March and marching.

I loved this version of Mary - her strength of character and the strength of her marriage with Watson. It was heartbreaking to then have the aftermath of her death and Watson's despair. I think what hit me the most was Why did Lestrade sound so sad and bleak? He had a wife still, and friends. Watson can't comprehend there are still people who care deeply about him.

In the first two sections Mary and Watson both end up in a cell, and I suppose in the final section Watson is still in a kind of cell away from the world because of his grief. I love that line at the end Walk toward Constable Rance at the scene, his old life stirring awake like a crocus uncurling from the snow. Spring is literally and metaphorically finally here.

[gardnerhill]

Oh, nice catch! Even I didn't catch that "both end up in a cell" bit - it's just how the story wanted to come out. And a soldier's mindset is very much like being locked in a cell, yes.

I just can't imagine John Watson, who loves and respects women and lives with the most unconventional of men, marrying a dull or stupid person. The kind of woman who can happily blow off a lost treasure to marry a poor doctor has got to have more to her than "Yes dear go have fun with Mr. Holmes, I'll sit here and knit." ...Which of course makes her loss all the more poignant than if she was just a convenient plot device to prove the heroes' heterosexuality and little else (*cough*ACD*cough*).

Lestrade may have helped keep Watson alive in those ghastly 3 years, especially after Mary's death - by providing possibly cases, forensic work at the police station, or just companionship at his club. Which might explain why Lestrade becomes part of their small circle of intimate friends by SIXN.

Beautiful

[jesse_the_k]

Each word is a handmade brick, so well made in total.

Thank you.

Walk toward Constable Rance at the scene, his old life stirring awake like a crocus uncurling from the snow.

A bump, a stumble, spilled books.

Halt.

raised a tear.

Re: Beautiful

[gardnerhill]

Thanks so much.

And I pretty much did build this brick by brick - took me two weeks to write!