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Majestic

Chapter Text

Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson found themselves on the promenade this particular evening. They were on an ocean liner, the RMS Majestic headed for America. Mr. Holmes had received a telegram requesting his assistance in Chicago at the World’s Columbian Exposition. While the case itself was of little interest to Mr. Holmes, the chance to attend the Exposition with his way paid was one he could not pass up.
Sherlock admired a large Irish setter being paraded around the deck. Dr. Watson noticed a rare smile brush his friend’s countenance. “Something caught your eye Sherlock?”
“Yes, that’s quite a handsome dog.” Sherlock responded, following the canine with his eyes. “Were I more inclined to the country I would not mind to have such a companion.” Sherlock replied, lighting his pipe as he walked over to the railing. The sun had just set, the waves of the Atlantic lulled the ship gently. It was lucky that they were traveling in the summer and had no need to worry about icebergs. The trip from Liverpool to New York would take around one week. Mr. Holmes was not fond of the cramped quarters, but, as always he did enjoy the people watching that kept his active mind so entertained.
“Indeed. What a beautiful coat that creature possessed. I do wonder though. Wherever do they relieve themselves on this vessel?” Dr. Watson supposed.
Sherlock bit down on his pipe. “Those dogs are better cared for than most of the people on this ship.”
“I cannot argue with that.” Dr. Watson fiddled with his bowler. “Well, I suppose I will see you in the lounge later Sherock.”
“Hmm.” Was all Sherlock gave as a response, staring wistfully towards the sea. He stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, allowing the constantly spinning wheels in his head to run. He was in fact so lost in thought that he failed to notice a diminutive woman had taken up residence at the rail a few meters to his side.
“How dare you walk out on our dinner!” A male voice cut into Sherlock’s mind palace like a steel blade.
“I will not sit idly by whilst people are being denigrated and belittled.” The female answered equally as strongly.
Sherlock turned to the two people arguing next to him. The male was obviously very embarrassed to be in this predicament, the woman as well, however she stood proud and sure of herself.
“Margaret, I will not have my fiancé disrespecting me in front of our company and the servants!” The male had moved closer to the woman, grabbing her upper arm and attempting to shush her.
“As it stands, Thomas, I will not have MY fiancé grabbing me like a piece of meat and speaking to me as though I an adolescent and not a grown women.” She countered, flinging his arm off of her. She gathered her dignity, turned her nose up, and marched past the man, returning to the dining room.
Thomas gripped the handrail, breathing heavily, his teeth grinding together, his knuckles turning white. He released his breathe and turned, meeting Sherlock’s gaze. “Women.” Thomas said, giving Sherlock a knowing smile, which was not returned. Thomas turned and followed the path Margaret had just taken.
Sherlock found himself smiling as he replayed the events in his head of Margaret standing up for herself. A shadow crossed his brow as he recalled how Thomas had grabbed her. At that memory, Sherlock found himself inexplicably drawn to join the rest of first class in the dining hall; an event he usually avoided at all costs.