Apotheosis

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Watson watched Becca make her slow way down the hospital corridor. It was only a few scant days since she had woken up from her coma, and the “medical miracle of upstate New York” was now on her way back home. “I mean, they said you could have a wheelchair. You don’t have to walk.”

Becca waved off Watson’s attempts at offering aid. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just tired of staying in this damned hospital. I hate doctors. Uh, no offense.” She offered a grin in Watson’s direction. “You’re different, of course. And the way you read Harry Potter books to me, it was kind of sweet.”

Watson smiled slightly, tocking his box set of books under his arm. “Well, I had never read them, and I think Harry needs as much power as he can muster up right now. Besides, it seemed fun, even though we only got to the end of the second book.”

Becca nodded, then stumbled on the slick, waxed floor. Watson immediately offered his hand, and she took it gratefully. “Whoa, I guess I’m not as sure on my feed as I thought I was. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Watson replied. “You are sure you are well enough to return home?”

“I don’t have any brain damange or physical injuries, so they can’t keep me here.” Becca shuffled slowly, making each step carefully so that she wouldn’t fall again. “I want to thank you for coming, Watson. I would have had to call someone from work to pick me up. That would’ve been embarassing.”

“Becca, please, just call me John?” Watson grinned, and Becca thought that she saw a slight reddening of Watson’s ears.

“John, alright,” Becca smiled. “And I’m free!” she exclaimed as they walked through the sliding double doors and out of the hospital.

“I hired a cab for us,” John said, pointing to the yellow car that was puttering away at the curb. “I would have gotten a car, but, I can’t drive.”

“A cab’s fine,” Becca answered. SHe grinned again as Watson opened the car door for her and helped her inside. A pure gentleman through and through. Extremely English. He’d make a wonderful husband, Becca thought. If only his wives didn’t die so often. Then again, those were just stories. Oh, what am I saying. John himself is just a figment of the collective imagination of the world! But he seems so real. He IS real. He’s here, with me, right now.

“Becca...” Watson murmured to her.

“Hmmm, what?” Becca blinked, drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of Watson’s voice calling her name.

“Could you inform the driver of the whereabouts of your home?” asked Watson.

“Oh, it’s 584 Oakwood Drive, the big apartment complex at the corner near the park.” Becca answered.

“Yeah, I know the place. No problem.” The taxi driver put the cab into gear and started to drive off, with Watson and Becca sitting comfortably in the back seat.

The cab ride was short and silent. Neither Becca nor Watson wanted to discuss the upcoming Apolalypse within earshot of the driver. Although she didn’t have HBO, Becca once heard about a show on that channel where hidden cameras were placed in cabs driving around New York City. The cameras captured passengers confessing to the most outrageos things. Becca didn’t want to end up on that show, especially when the thing she would talk about would have branded her a complete and utter lunatic for the rest of the life.

If the world didn’t actually end, of course.

The taxi soon stopped in front of a fifteen story building. “Here y’are. That’ll be fifteen ninety,” muttered the driver, pointing to the meter.

Watson helped Becca out of the cab first and let her rest on a nearby park bench while he paid. “Here’s a twenty. Ah, keep the change?”

“Thanks,” the driver grunted as he took the twenty dollar bill from Watson’s hand. The taxi drove off, actively searching for another fare.

“Will you be able to make it to your flat?” Watson asked.

“Yeah, I just need to take things slow,” Becca replied, standing up gingerly. “My apartment’s on the sixth floor. Have you ever been in a modern apartment building?”

Watson shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I have. You see, I barely manage to get out of my realm, most of the time. It’s all a bit boring, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Becca said as they made their way to the entrance way of the building.

Watson watched with interest as Becca pressed a series of numbers on a keypad located next to the door. The door suddenly gave a loud bozzing noise and swung open without effort. “Interesting way to keep strangers out. Now do visitors get in? Are they given a special code as well?”

“No, that would be too complicated,” Becca said, grinning. Showing off modern technology to Watson seemed like an absolute treat. “You see this wall of buttons on that side of the door? Each button corresponds to a different apartment, you see the numbers? A visitor would press the button of their friend’s apartment, and the person would ‘buzz’ them in.”

“So you are able to unlock the front door by means of a simple press of a button, even though you are quite far away from the door?”

Becca nedded.

“Fascinating...” murmuered Watson.

Becca smiled slightly and pointed the way to the elevator. “Have you ever been in one?”

“No, I’m afraid when Doyle wrote me, elevators were not in full use in England yet. But I have heard about them.” Watson stared at the two buttons sitting on the wall in between the two elevator doors. “These buttons call the elevator, correct?” Watson smiled at Becca’s encouraning nod. “And the arrows correspond to which direction you wish to the elevator to go. Since you live on the sixth floor, we would need to go,” here he pressed the button with the arrow pointing towards the ceiling, “up.” He stared, fascinated that the button would suddenly give off a bright glow around its edges.

“I’m amazed, John,” Becca said coyly. “A man from Victorian England able to operate a twenty-first century elevator.”

“My dear Becca,” Watson replied. “I’m a fictional character. I am, by no means, stupid.”

The elevator doors suddenly opened and Watson and Becca stepped inside. Becca pressed the button marked 6 and the elevator dutifully closed its door. They began to ascend.

Becca’s apartment was just a few doors away from the elevator. Becca fished out her keys and unlocked both the deadbolt and the regular knob. “I’m sorry the apartment’s such a mess. I left in a hurry that day, well, that day you took my soul.”

Watson hesitated at the front door.

“Oh, is there some rule that a Theo can’t enter a mortal’s dwelling place unless invited inside? Like a vampire?” Becca asked.

“No...” Watson answered, still looking around the apartment.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Becca asked.

“It’s not really common for an English man to enter the home of a lady they’d just met.”

“Oh, but stealing someone’s soul right out of their body is perfectly alright?” Becca shook her head. “You’re a Theo, John, don’t forget. You’re not really subject to a lot of the rules you used to adhere to.”

Watson stepped inside the apartment, admiring the modern conveniences of America. In the corner, there was a television. Not an immense one, but Watson believed that it sufficed. The aprtment was small, and despite Becca’s insistence, the apartment was rather tidy as well. The only mess Watson could see was a newspaper strewn across the couch.

“You can make yourself at home,” Becca said, walking towards the bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower,” she yelled. “Sponge baths were just getting to me, you know? Are you hungry? You can order delivery, if you want. There’s a stack of menus on the fridge in the kitchen. Underneath the cow magnet.”

“Uh..thank you!” Watson called out, but he already heard the thunderous sound of hot water running. Becca would hardly hear him anyway. He made his way to the tiny kitchen, nothing more than a place to keep the refridgerator and stove, along with a cupboard. A microwave oven stoutly stood on one side. Watson reached out for the menus on the fridge and began to rifle through them. Chinese. Italian. Indian. Japanese. Thai. So many choices! Watson felt that he could go for a nice slice of roasted chicken breast, but he opted for the Italian menu instead.

As a Theo, Watson really didn’t need to eat, but he was in a real flesh and bone body, and the upkeep of said body was wearing him down. He was voraciously hungry. He perused through the small folded up, paper menu. So many different names for the dishes! At least they all included an explanation of what was included in each dish. Watson opted for a rather innocent-sounded seafood linguine. He noticed a few dishes had stars drawn next to them. He assumed that these were favorites of Becca’s so he chose one for her. Just in case she felt like eating.

He called up the number on the menu and gave his order. About half an hour later, Becca came out of the shower. She dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and joined Watson in the living room.

“Erm, I took the opportunity to order us dinner,” Watson said. “I hope you don’t mind...Italian.”

“Italian would be great, especially after eating that bland hospital food for the past food days. Ick,” Becca sighed and plopped onto the nearest couch. “I mean, I know its healthy and everything but really...Ick...”

A small box next to the front door sudden began to emit strange buzzing noises, making Watson startle.

“It’s okay. It’s just the delivery boy.” Becca got up and pressed the button on the box. “Yes?” she said, projecting her voice towards the box.

The box emitted another noise. This time it imitated the sound of a young man. “I got a delivery here from Antony’s. Seafood linguine and eggplant parmesean?”

“Excellent, come on up.” Becca said, pressing the button twice. The delivery person came promptly, his arms laden with two large paper bags. “Hey Becca,” said the boy.

“Evening Ed,” Becca grinned. “How much do I owe you?”

“Twenty-four fifty.”

Becca was about to reach for her purse when Watson stood up and stopped her. “Allow me, Becca.”

“John, I can afford it.”

“No really. I insist. I am, after all, a guest in your home.” Watson reached in his pocket and fished out two twentys. “Here.”

“Sir,” Ed started. “I don’t have enough change for...”

“Keep it,” Watson said.

Both Becca and Ed glared at Watson.

“Really?” Ed asked.

“Yes, keep the change,” Watson said.

“Wow, thanks!” The boy gave the two bags to Watson and left the apartment.

Becca gave Watson a long stare.

“What? Eat yours before it gets cold,” Watson was already opening up his bag. “So this is seafood linguine...” he murmurred to himself.

“I don’t need you to pay for things. I can take care of myself,” Becca said.

“I know you’re fully capable of it,” Watson started. “But I had to insist. It’s not every day I get the chance to, what was the phrase? ‘Pay for take-out?’”

Becca sighed, resigned to the fact that Watson would have done the same thing regardless. She took out the foam container which held her eggplant parmasean. “Thank you, for paying. And ordering. Eggplant parm is my favorite from Antony’s.” She fished out the plastic fork and knife from the bag and watched Watson do the same. “Do they even have delivery of food in your...uh...realm?”

“Not as such,” Watson began, cutting up the noodles on his foam plate. “There are food vendors who travel door to door to sell their goods. And sometimes the grocer’s are kind enough to deliver. But, never prepared food like this.” He scooped up a forkfull of noodles and brought the whole thing to his mouth. “Mmmm! Excellent!” he exclaimed through his mouthfull of shrimp. “Such, such flavors!”

“You’ve never had Italian before?” Becca asked.

“No, never.” Watson shook his head. “You’ve got to understand, Becca, that in my London, all we have are English restaurants. Oh, I suppose a few French ones as well, but I’ve never been to those. Rather, Holmes doesn’t want to try any of them.”

Becca nodded and ate some of her own dinner. “Oh, forgot the rolls.” She fished out a small dinner roll from the bag. “There should be one in your bag too. What’s it like, being a Theo? Technically, you’re immortal, right? As long as one person believes in you?”

Watson spoke between bites. “Yes, and I don’t think there’s any danger of anyone forgetting Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Being a Theo can get frightfully dull, I’m afraid. We’re...stuck...in our own realms most of the time. I might go on a case with Holmes but it always turns out the same. He solves the case, I’m astounded, hooray for Holmes. Sometimes, it does get monotonous.”

“Is that why you joined Claudius?” Becca tore her roll in half and dipped it into her eggplant’s red sauce before taking a bite of it.

“Mostly why,” Watson said. “Sometimes it’s like being stuck on a wheel or in a loop that you can’t break free of. Holmes likes it just fine. Me...” He trailed off, shaking his head and eating silently.

“You want more adventure,” Becca finished. “You want something more than being Holmes sidekick. That’s why you took up this little quest.”

“And what about you, Miss Sidler?” Watson said, suddenly becoming quite formal with Becca.

Becca began to wonder if maybe she had begun to probe into Watson’s life a little too far.

“What made you want to become a morgue attendant?” Watson asked.

“I didn’t plan on doing it,” Becca said. “It just sort of fell in with my love of detective stories. Yours in particular, in fact. Kind of ironic, isn’t it? This is the stupidest thing, but when I was eleven years old, I had the biggest crush on you.”

“So it was YOU,” Watson laughed.

“You...you KNEW?” Becca muttered, her face suddenly turning a nice shade of red.

“Once a Theo realizes his or her power, they can sense whenever a mortal takes a, shall we say, unnaturally large interest in them. You were that girl I felt. I never could figure it out. I never let Holmes in on it, either. Imagine what he would have thought! Me, an object of a young girl’s affections!”

Becca tightened her lips.

“Oh, my dear, please don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered. And my Theo power grew tremendously because of you. For that, I thank you.”

“Even one person’s belief can change a Theo?” Becca asked, intrigued.

“Indeed,” Watson answered.

“That’s...that’s amazing. It’s astonishing to know the power of human belief, of human memory.”

“So, you were saying, you wanted to become a detective and solve crimes?”

“Yeah, that was my dream when I was younger,” Becca said. “Then I realized that I wasn’t smart enough to join the police force as a detective. Not strong enough either. No one really does freelance detective work anymore. These days, all private investigators do is spy on unfaithful spouses and watch for folks who commit insurance fraud. The romance is gone, John. I decided I could do just as well studying dead bodies. Oh! Forgot t get something to drink. Red wine okay?”

Watson nodded, not really willing to admit that he’d never really had red wine with an Italian meal before. He had to think to himself that this all looked like a first date.

Becca fetched two wine glasses and a half a bottle of a decent though not spetacular wine. “It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty good. And once you get drunk enough, you won’t really care what it tastes like after a while.” She began to pour.

“Becca, when I touched you that first time in the morgue, and you saw that vision, what exactly did you see?” Watson took a sip of the wine.

“I can’t really describe it. It was, like the entire universe got together for once and had to let out a collective scream of terror. Why do you ask? Didn’t you see the same thing?”

“Not really,” Watson said. “As a Theo, I received a much higher, shall we say, dose of the vision. I saw specific images. I know this creature, the one the Slouchers will become, I know what it will look like. It will take over the world with its charisma, make itself appeal to all the world’s races. It will unite the world, only to destroy it in one fell swoop.”

“So, this is all a bunch of infamous Theos who are pooling their power?”

Watson nods, finishing up his meal. “All of the infamous Theos are gathering up together. Hopefully, Claudius and Harry will figure out something that we’ve missed so far.”

“Like who’s leading the Slouchers.” Becca added.

“Exactly, there must be a ringleader. Otherwise, they would have never gotten it into their heads to join together in the first place.”

“But how can they join together at all?” Becca pondered. “I mean, aren’t all infamous Theos cut off from the memory web?”

“True, but that barrier is quite flimsy in some places. Family links, for example. Those are extremely strong, even when members of a certain family are in infamy while others are not.”

“So the infamous ones are taking advantage of those tenuous links to the outside.”

Watson nodded. “You do realize the part you must play in this?”

Becca shook her head.

“Everything that has ever happened, for some strange reason, is in your head, or was. When you saw Mr. Horowitz’s tattoo, that triggered some sort of ancient collective memory. Something only a member of your family would know about, probably.”

“Well, my dad used to say that some of our family passed away in the Holocaust, but lots of Jewish families were lost then. What made mine so different?”

“I have no idea, Becca,” Watson confessed. “But for some reason, those Slouchers had to make sure you didn’t remember what you saw. They targetted you specifically, and I daresay I’m glad we were able to get you to safety before they tried again. And I’m sure they will try again.”

“And you’re here to protect me.” Becca grinned.

“I shall try my very best to, yes.”

Geez, it’s like this silly story I wrote once,” Becca sighed.

“Story?”

“Well, since I had a huge crush on you when I was younger, I wrote really bad stories about how I’d meet you and we’d go away together solving crimes without that pesky Holmes getting in the way.”

“Did you?” Watson’s eyes were filled with mirth.

“It was silly kid’s stuff, really,” Becca said. “Nothing worth reading. Just some stupid pieces of fan fiction.”

“I beg to differ, Becca,” Watson said. “Sometimes this ‘fan fiction’ can be the best thing for a Theo. You know, after Sir Conan Doyle died, any books published about Holmes and I are pretty much fan fiction, correct?”

Becca nodded.

“So, I, Holmes, and all of the other fictional Theos in the After owe a great debt to those fans who continuously keep us alive and real.”

“I bet that news would make millions of teenaged girls happy.”

“I would say so.” Watson grinned.

“Is it all good?” Becca wondered.

“Well, slash can get a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t do much harm. Unless you count a Theo’s ego.”

“Holmes?”

“Right again, Becca. He’s a bit wary of the blatant homoerotic symbolism in a few of our fan fiction stories, but I know it’s all in imaginative fun.”

“Anything to boost power, right?” Becca asked.

Watson nodded but said nothing. A few moments later, a single insect landed on the table in between Watson and Becca.

“That’s weird, I thought the windows were closed,” Becca said.

Another insect fluttered down onto the table.

“Okay, I gotta call the landlord about this,” Becca said.

More and more insects began to fly around the kitchen/dining area.

“What the hell? Oh, my God, John! The air conditioning grille!”

Watson looked up at the direction Becca was pointing. Locusts, by the tens, the hundreds, the thousands, were crawling through the slats in the grille.

“What’s happening?” Becca had to shout to be heard over the insects’ inscessent buzzing.

“Becca, down on the floor, now!” Watson lifted his arms and let a burst of energy fly from his hands which cleared the air of the flying bugs, but more seemed to be coming out of every opening in the walls. “It’s an apocalyptic sign!”

“Locusts? Like the plague God sent to torment the Egyptians?” Becca asked.

Watson nodded. “We’re not safe here, Becca. They’ve found us! We’ve got to flee!”

“Flee? Where?”

“I don’t know, but it must be far away from here!” Watson grabbed Becca’s hand. “This will be painful, but neccessary, my dear. Steel yourself.”

Becca closed her eyes, and her body felt like it was getting ripped apart. Wherever she and Watson were, she could no longer hear the maddening buzz of locusts.

Posted by Michelle at November 21, 2002 5:09 PM