Fun with Brunel...
The geek-iness continues!
Last night I had a dream where I met Brunel and he asked me to help with his atmospheric railway. Now for those transport geeks out there you'll know that this was rather... silly idea of Brunel's. He wanted to move the trains by sucking air from the tunnel and propelling them along that way (vacuum traction). In my dream he wanted to use some fantastic material I'd never heard of for the pipe flaps, but I insisted on it being leather... Again as transport geeks will know it was the leather flaps that were part of the undoing of the entire thing 'cos those pesky rats ate them... So obviously the idea failed after a year and it was all my fault.
I can't even be successful in my dreams!!!!!
For more information on his failure and other other disasters that affected it.
Title: - please suggest!
Chapter: 1
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Mycroft Holmes/Female Character (implied), Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Lestrade (will eventually be Mycroft/Lestrade)
Synopsis: Random WIP. You wouldn't really say that Mycroft is a marrying man would you?
Mycroft was not there was his daughter was born, nor was he there when his wife died. They had been married only eight years and during that time only been together twice (on their wedding night, and almost nine months ago). It was not that he was cold hearted, he did love his wife and he was ecstatic about being a father.
He was one of those odd individuals with a very narrow field of interest (mostly involving steam trains, technical drawings and mathematics) - he loved his work, and he loved his wife it was just easier to express a love for stream trains and mathematics than an actual human being.
His wife, Florence accepted this. She understood the obsessions, she was the only daughter of the famous Isambard Kingdom Brunel and her brothers were a civil engineer and a lawyer. She knew how to be around technical-minded folk. She herself was quite technically minded, although she kept to herself she occasionally amused herself with mathematical puzzles.
Mycroft didn't mind, he knew it was not proper for a wife to be interested in such things as mathematics and politics, but it was a private hobby and he was a firm believer in things that are private remaining private. That's why he didn't mind about his younger brothers apparent 'perversion' - it was conducted in private and didn't need to be discussed.
When his daughter was born Mycroft was in a meeting with the Foreign Minister. At the age of twenty-mine he had made such an impression on his superiors with his intellect and fact-storing ability that overnight he had practically become head of his own department. His primary responsibility was still as a senior accountant with the Foreign office, but his secondary responsibilities were fast becoming more important.
A clerk had brought the message that his wife was in labour and he had excused himself with a brief explanation, accepting a brief 'congratulations' from the Foreign Minister. He hurried back to his home in Lambeth (his salary did not quite allow him to live in much splendour) in time for the doctor to tell him that his daughter was fine, but he was concerned about the mother. She was loosing blood at an alarming rate. He accepted this with quiet dignity and asked to see his wife.
She looked so small, lying there upon the stained linen. She smiled up at him gently, and he took her hand.
"Flo." He said quietly, squeezing her hand.
"What would you like to call your daughter?" She asked in her straight forward manner, her voice distressingly weak.
"I..." for a moment his mind faltered. "I don't know."
"Don't be upset, Mycroft." She replied smiling despite her pain.
"It'll be all right, Flo." He knelt beside her bed. "It'll be all right." He repeated more to reassure himself.
Florence gave an agonised cry and the doctor touched Mycroft's arm, asking him to leave whilst he tended to his wife. Without resistance, he did so.
The doctor was busy with Florence for almost an hour, during which Mycroft sat patiently in a straight-backed wooden chair outside the bedroom. He didn't read, work or offer a prayer he just stared at the wallpaper unconsciously calculating how many heptagons he could fit into the patten.
He stood up upon hearing the bedroom door open and turned to face the doctor. He knew that it was not good news.
"Mr Holmes?"
"She's dead?"
The doctor was a little taken back, "er... yes... I'm sorry..."
"I understand, there was nothing you could do. May I see my daughter?"
"Would you like to see your wife?"
"I would rather remember my wife alive than dead." He looked hard at the doctor. "May I see my daughter?"
"Yes... of course... er... the midwife will bring her." The doctor retreated back into the bedroom thoroughly confused by the entire situation. He had never had to deal with a man like Mycroft Holmes before and he never would again.
The elderly midwife brought the tiny bundle to her father. She gently placed her into Mycroft's large arms and he looked down upon his daughter for the first time. She had her mothers features, but there was something about the eyes that said she was a child of Mycroft's. For a fleeting moment he was seven years old again and staring down in wonder at his brother sleeping in his cot.
"What are you going to name her?" The midwife asked, interrupting his memories.
"Florence." He responded. "Florence." He smiled at the tiny creature. She gurgled slightly and caught her fathers finger. "I shall need a wet-nurse, please find an appropriate candidate." He handed back his daughter to the midwife, who seemed taken aback.
"Of course sir."
"Mrs Smith..." he faltered for a moment, "thank you for being with my wife."
"You are welcome Mr Holmes."
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1) Florence Brunel was a real person, she was born in 1847 and sadly died in 1876. (That gives you an idea of the time-line)
Sharing a bed can reduce you brain power - but only in men. Umm... where have I read something like this before?
Q: I suspect that my Wife, who is of Robust Constitution, has been Nocturnally Absorbing my Vital Forces. Should I seek a Separate Bed before this Process reaches its Unhappy Termination?
A: Indeed you should, sir, and without delay. 'A Single bed is always to be preferred, both for married and unmarried people. Where two persons sleep in the same bed, the one who has the stronger physical power is likely to absorb the vital forces from the weaker one.'
(From 'Once a Week is Ample', original source of information ' Dr Sylvanus Stall 'What a Young Man Ought to Know' - 1897)