An Affair to Remember-Sherlock Fanfic

The French Rivera

Sherlock and John rode in a horse drawn carriage through the little town on the French Riviera and as they reached the top of the hill, Sherlock had the carriage stop. “Look how beautiful it is down there,” Sherlock said as he smiled at John.

John laughed and said, “So you want to hear an old joke? If it’s so beautiful down there…” “What are you doing up here?” Sherlock and John said in unison as they both laughed together.

The ride was over all too quickly and as John got out of the carriage and walked up the steps to Sherlock’s grandmother’s house, John marveled at the beauty before him. The house was white, with a red tiled roof and as they entered the bougainvillea strewn courtyard a collie ran toward them. The dog happily jumped up on Sherlock, oblivious to the silk suit Sherlock was wearing, and wagged his tail. “Good boy, good Figaro,” Sherlock said as he affectionately patted the dog on the head. The dog jumped down and ran to Sherlock’s grandma as she came out of a small chapel. “Sherlock,” she cried with joy as she came over and took his face in her hands. “Sherlock, it is so good to see you and who is this?” She said as she glanced over at John. Sherlock motioned for John to come over as he introduced John to his grandmother. “This is John, a friend of mine from the ship.” Sherlock said as he lightly put his hand on the small of John’s back.

John looked around the courtyard in wonder and said, “This is so beautiful, I think I could stay here forever.”

Sherlock’s grandma smiled sadly at John, “This is a place for people to go to remember, it’s not a place for someone as young as you, for you have yet to create your memories,” Sherlock’s grandma said softly as she reached up and touched John’s cheek.

John flushed under her intense scrutiny and asked awkwardly, “The chapel seems so lovely, may I go in it?”

Sherlock’s grandma waved him on, “Of course my dear, enjoy.”

John went into the tiny chapel, crossed himself and knelt down in front of the little altar, as he looked up the sun from a small window lit up his face, and it was this ethereal setting that Sherlock saw, as he watched John from the doorway for a moment and then slowly he walked in, crossed himself and knelt down at the altar beside John and for once in his life, Sherlock felt in awe of another human being as he prayed beside John. After a few moments of prayerful silence, Sherlock and John went into the house where Sherlock’s grandma was setting out tea things. John rushed forward to help Sherlock’s grandma as she attempted to carry the tea tray to a small table.

Sherlock’s grandma smiled up at John and said,”It’s so nice to see a man that helps out with household things.” John blushed and looked shyly at Sherlock’s grandma.

They sat down at the tea table and after a few sips of tea Sherlock restlessly got up and announced that he was going to look in on the neighbor. Sherlock’s grandma nodded and John fidgeted in his chair, unsure of what to say. His eyes rested on a landscape painting on the wall and he commented, “Why that painting is so lovely. Did you paint it?”

Sherlock’s grandma shook her head, “Sherlock painted that.”

John looked at the intricate details of the painting’s seaside town and felt as he could reach out and touch the water of the shoreline. Sherlock’s grandma watched John intently for a few moments and then said, “Sherlock, is an artist and a critic; therefore every time he creates, the critic in him tears his art down. He is always attracted to the case he hasn’t solved, the art he hasn’t tried, the person he hasn’t met. It makes me afraid for Sherlock, for everything comes so easy to him that I am afraid that one day he will be put to the test. Life will present him with a bill that will be a high price to pay.”  

John nodded and was prevented from answering as Sherlock came through the door. “Well, did my grandma treat you right?”

John nodded and laughed, “Yes, she told me how you used to throw tantrums as a child when you didn’t get your way.”

Sherlock laughed and kissed the top of his grandma’s head. “I still do if I don’t get my way. Oh by the way I painted something for you grandmother.” Sherlock handed a brown paper wrapped package and when Sherlock’s grandma peeled the paper back, she gasped. For it was a picture of her late husband.

“Oh, Sherlock, it’s wonderful,” she said as she took his hand. “It makes me miss him, but it makes me happy too,” she said as she lightly stroked the man’s features in the painting. It was as if she touched the oil on the canvas, her husband would magically come to life.

John shivered for it was late afternoon and as the sun began to go down the chill of night slowly descended upon them. “Are you cold, dear?” Sherlock’s grandma asked as she pulled a man’s white cardigan from the back of a chair. “Here dear, wear this.”

John took the cardigan and slipped it on. “This is a wonderful piece of craftsmanship,” John said as he fingered the sweater.

Sherlock’s grandma looked out into the distance and smiled, “Someday I will send it to you,” she said softly.

Sherlock anxious to dispel the serious mood that had come upon them all, walked over to the piano. “Is my violin still under the here?” Sherlock said as he knelt down and pulled out a battered old case. He opened it up and exclaimed, “It’s still in tune.”

Sherlock’s grandma nodded, “It was your grandfather’s and I have a local violinist come and play it and tune it once a month. He is skilled, but nothing compared to you and your grandfather.”

Sherlock held the violin up and smiled, “Grandma, join me at the piano,” he said as he tightened up the hair of bow.

Sherlock’s grandma shook her head, “Oh Sherlock, I can’t really play anymore,” she said as she looked down at her gnarled hands.

Sherlock waved her off, “Nonsense,” he said as he grabbed a piece of sheet music off the table.

It was a beautiful Chopin Nocturne and John was thoroughly entranced with their playing, just as they stopped, the ship’s whistle blew, shattering the peaceful tranquility of the afternoon.

Sherlock’s grandma looked sad, “Time for you to go I suppose,” she said as she hugged Sherlock and then hugged John as well.

As Sherlock waved good-by, it would be the last time he would see his grandma and as if she sensed it she blew Sherlock a kiss and shouted out as loud as she could muster, ”Sherlock, I love you.”

Sherlock didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead as the carriage took them back to where the ship was docked.