The Ruby in the Smoke sneezefic - (6 Parts)

[Triosk1]

Being a huge fan of Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart stories (and the rest of his stuff), I watched the dramatisation of The Ruby in the Smoke series with great interest, and wasn't too disappointed. Afterwards I thought about my favourite character, Fred Garland, and was inspired to write this fanfic. However, you don't need to have seen the drama or read the books really. If you have read the books, this is in an imaginary space between The Ruby in the Smoke and the Shadow in the North, where Sally has gone off on a visit to an imaginary aunt. There is no Trembler, because I'm going on the dramatisation, and they didn't put him in, but oh well.

For those who haven't read, heard of or seen these characters: It's set in Victorian London. Frederick and Rosa Garland are brother and sister, who share a house where Fred runs a business. He is a photographer, a pretty technical job at the time, as cameras were bulky, on tripods, and required glass plates with chemicals on them to take the pictures. I'm not an expert, but those are the basics I think. Oh and you had to put your head under a cloth to look into them. His business comprised taking photographs of wealthy people who wanted them, in sittings. They'd sit in some pose that they wanted to be in, he had various props to make it look like whatever they wanted it to look like, he'd take the photograph, lots of flash and smoke, and they'd pay him for it. Rosa is an actress, and Sally Lockhart is Fred's love and their bookkeeper. Until she came along, they were in debt, but now they have turned it all around. That's about it really. Here we go.

Fred Garland entered his small photographic shop in high spirits, a bag of fresh chemicals under his arm. He removed the ''gone out for 10 minutes'' sign from the window, put the bag down on the desk in the reception, and took off his overcoat, which he had been glad of in the frosty January weather. He waited for a few moments, but no customers seemed forthcoming, and he could wait no longer for the chance to experiment with his new chemicals for photographic plates. Fred was, in his own words, a photographic artist. The fact that he took photographs for people in sittings in order to run a business was merely a sideline. Although he now had another sideline, thanks to his new love, the wonderful Sally Lockhart. She had suggested he take some good photographs of various famous London tourist attractions, and sell them as photographic postcards, and after a day's easy work, he was now making enough money to almost class the business as successful.

"I am going to marry that girl," he murmured to himself happily, as he removed the chemicals and himself into his dark room to experiment. The only dampener on his mood had to be that he could not marry her at once: Sally had gone to stay with an aunt for two weeks, and Fred had waved her off from the coach stand only the day before, leaving another 13 Sally-free days to be got through. He had his sister Rosa, an actress, for company though, but it wouldn't be the same without Sally. Perhaps another thing lowering his spirits was a mild headache and scratchy throat, Fred reflected, but they were surely from the apothecaries where he had procured the chemicals and would pass in a few moments. He settled down to work, in the approximate hour before the end of Rosa's matinee performance, when she would no doubt return and scold him for leaving the reception unattended.

Fifty-five minutes later, the scarlet hair and passionate eyes of Rosa entered, followed by the rest of her, clothed in a cheap but fashionable dress, alerting Fred to her presence by the shop bell. He rushed out of the dark room, trying to give the impression that he had only been there five minutes. As the light hit him, he noticed that his headache had not faded with the passing time, but he smiled sheepishly at his sister, a hand running through his matching red hair in a nervous movement. She put her hands on her hips menacingly, knowing full well that he had not been at his post for a good time, but grinned. Hoping to head her off, Fred cut in before she could speak.

"How was the play?" Rosa had been in a run for almost 2 weeks, but most nights (or indeed days, with 2 matinees a week) held some interesting event, and she would usually wish to tell it to him.

"The play was fine. I was, of course, magnificent," she said in a breathy voice, opening her arms in a sweepingly majestic gesture. Fred was used to this, and grinned at her. She turned her green eyes back on him, "and how is my dear brother? Keeping busy in the dark room I suppose?" Her eyebrows rose, just daring him to deny it. Fred could never resist a challenge.

"I assure you, I was only in there for a moment. I had hardly left my p-" he broke off very suddenly, eyelids fluttering wildly, and put up a hand to his face. Rosa did not notice for a moment, and then looked at him curiously. It was obvious that he was trying his best not to sneeze. She watched as his eyebrows furrowed deeply, his hand still awkwardly in front of his nose and mouth. She heard him take in several jerky breaths; "heh…heeh…heh…" and his chest billowed outward. There was a moment of calm, when it seemed as though the battle could easily go either way, but then Fred jerked forward sharply.

"Kaah'TSHEEW!" He straightened up, very red in the face, and felt in the pocket of his waistcoat for a handkerchief. Luckily, he found one, and pulled it out, blowing his nose and taking the moment to collect himself again. Rosa was speechless for a moment: although they had lived together all their lives, she could not ever recall having heard her brother sneeze. She shook herself, realizing she was being rude.

"Bless you. Are you alright?"

Fred had fully recovered himself, and put a hand to his forehead in the attitude of a dying man. Then he grinned. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, girl. Just the chemicals I expect." He moved away from the reception desk, opening his arms in a welcoming manner as though he was presenting the desk to her. "Now that you are here, perhaps you would care to…"

Rosa cut across him. "Yes, yes, alright, I'll take the fort. You go and play with your chemicals." Having had her moment of creativity on stage, she was happy to give her brother his moment until they closed. Fred, feeling spontaneous and very grateful, took his sister in his arms and kissed her cheek, then sprang off into his dark room once more; leaving Rosa smiling after him, and examining the appointment book to see if anyone had been in since that morning.

As the day wore on, however, Fred's mood, and his health, seemed to deteriorate. Working with strong smelling chemicals, his nose continued to itch and tickle irritatingly all the time, in a most unusual way for him. Frederick Garland was one of those annoying people who never got ill, no matter how badly he treated his body. It was as though his good humour simply made him immune to illness. Now, however, he was beginning to have nagging doubts: he might be getting a cold.

Leaning over a photographic plate, and moving it gently from side to side to try and see through it, Fred took a breath, and felt his nose itch severely. He knew he was going to sneeze again. Not being used to sneezing at all, he had no idea how to prevent the unusual when it threatened to occur, and he only had time to put down the glass plate, before his inhaling breath jerked. Quickly he pulled out his handkerchief, positioning it in front of his face. He waited a few seconds, feeling a complete idiot, eyelids fluttering and eyes raised to the ceiling under them, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hah…hah…" again a moment when the sneeze seemed about to go away, but then another hitch, "HAH…Kaah'TCHEEW!!" Fred jerked forward, catching the sneeze in his handkerchief, but the itch did not seem to want to let him go so lightly. He raised it again, "Heeh…HEH….KSHEEW!! Kaah'SHEEEW!!!" Finally Fred took a shaky breath and blew his streaming nose. That was the final straw: he had caught a cold. Taking a seat, he massaged his throbbing temples gently, and tried not to let self-pity get the better of him. Many people were going through a lot worse, and they weren't complaining. But, as is so common with people who are rarely ill, the idea of actually being ill was enough to depress Fred completely. He was about to sink into completely over the top degrees of misery when Rosa put her head around the door. She raised her shapely eyebrows at him.

"Bless you! You're not ill, are you, Fred?" He gave a wan smile, and shrugged, which was enough answer for her.

"I'll get a pot of tea on, then. Honestly, if you'd done it a week ago, you could have had Sally to look after you," she joked mildly, and Fred's smile widened a little.

"I know," he said, his voice still a little congested, "unlike yours, by tibing is…" he sniffed dramatically, "less than ibpeccable." Rosa shook her head at her invalid brother, before withdrawing her head and heading for the kitchen.

[allergyboy2001]

Very good!

[sprinkles287]

Well, this was certainly a lovely surprise! I had no idea there was a dramatization of those books! I used to read all of those when I was younger. And Fred was totally my favorite. Well, I did like Jim too, but Fred was the best, especially in the first book or two. And (now that I'm done rambling) your story was excellent! I loved the way you spelled the sneezes! Thanks for the wonderful read (and here's hoping for more!)

[Triosk1]

They had their tea at the kitchen table, and Rosa chattered on about the matinee performance. She played the romantic heroine, but unfortunately the man being her hero was less than reliable with his lines. More than once they had come out of sync in a scene together, but luckily they always seemed to manage to end at the right cue lines. As Fred sat and listened, he suddenly remembered that tonight was the night he was meant to come and see Rosa at the theatre. He always picked a night somewhere in the middle of the run to see her, and then came on the last night as well. Last nights were always great fun, but not the most reliable way of seeing his sister at her acting best: it was renowned that the actors, and indeed the backstage crew would play tricks on each other on the last night. Taking a sip of tea, and feeling it irritate his sore throat, Fred wished that he didn’t have to come, but couldn’t bring himself to mention it to Rosa.

“Anyway, you’ll see it all tonight,” Rosa was still happily talking, but their thoughts had obviously converged. She glanced at him sharply, “you are coming tonight, aren’t you?”

Fred smiled resignedly. “Of c-“ he began, but his voice was very hoarse, and he coughed to clear his throat. “Of course I’ll come, Ro. It’s not like I can afford to waste the ticket.” This was true; the play was on in quite a large theatre, and the ticket had not come cheap for Fred. If he was going to buy one for the last night as well, he couldn’t afford another night. He prepared to grit his teeth and bear it. A little of his actual stoicism obviously showed in his face, because Rosa’s gaze softened, and she reached out a hand to his.

“Don’t worry. Come tonight, and I’ll look after you ‘till Sally comes back.”

Right on cue, Fred felt the need to sneeze yet again, and held up hand to Rosa, his face already settling into a pre-sneeze frown. He looked for his handkerchief, but realised he must have left it in the dark room. Not wanting to sneeze near Rosa, who had another three weeks of the run left and would certainly not thank him for getting her ill in the middle of it, he cupped both hands over his face and turned to the side.

“Heh…heeh…Kah’TCHEEW!” He felt his nose running and, embarrassed, tried to surreptitiously wipe it on his hands as he drew it away. Rosa, sharply spotting this, shook her head, smiling, and handed across her handkerchief.

“Gesundheit, brother.” She sounded as though she was trying not to laugh. Fred took the linen gratefully, and blew his nose. When he lowered it, Rosa could see his pale nostrils already tinged with pink, and his cheeks were flushed feverishly. He went to hand it back and she pretended as though he was trying to hand her plague virus, leaning back with her hands upraised. “You keep it!” Fred grinned and pocketed the white cloth, picking up his tea and taking a mouthful.

“So,” he said, trying not to wince at how thick his voice sounded in his head, “do you think Billy will get it wrong tonight?” Billy was her partner-in-crime. Rosa raised her eyebrows and shrugged expansively.

“Oh, I expect so, somewhere. It’s going to be awful having to in the audience: you know the script too well.” This was true; Fred was always there to help Rosa learn her lines, and knew the scenes with Billy back to front and upside down, which was more than Billy did probably. Although most of the audience would not have a clue what was going wrong unless it went completely to pot and no longer made sense, Fred would know at once. However, Fred thought, with my head filled with cotton wool like it feels now, I probably won’t even follow the plot.

The rest of the afternoon passed quite companionably, and Fred was reminded of the time before Sally had joined their little family, when it had just been him and Rosa. Most of his recent memories of that time involved arguments. Sally had somehow managed to change all that, although perhaps it wasn’t so mysterious, as most of their arguments had been about money, and now the business had paid off all its debts and things were looking up. Fred found himself enjoying Rosa’s company again, as he had when they were both young and naïve about what it would take to set up a livelihood. The conversation drifted into idealism, as it always seemed to, but Fred found it difficult to concentrate. His headache had returned, and his nose was running a lot, so that it felt like every 5 minutes he was getting out Rosa’s handkerchief to wipe it, and still his voice was thick, not at all like his own.

Darkness fell, and Rosa lit the little oil lamps, placing one in the middle of the large scrubbed kitchen table. Smoke drifted up from the sheltered flame, and Fred watched it spiralling in the comfortably warm light. He smelt the smoke in the air too, not strongly, but it reminded him of home. Taking a deep breath, he looked around their little kitchen. He had barely glanced at the big range on the opposite wall, when his breath hitched, and he turned quickly away to sneeze into a hastily brought up fist.

“HAH…Kah’TCHEEW!! Kaaah’SHEEEW!! KSHEEWW!!!” The wet, harsh sneezes exploded over his hand, and his eyes watered at the force. He quickly took the handkerchief and blew his nose for several seconds. Rosa put her head around the door, her concerned face lit by the offending oil lamp.

“Bless you! You’d better get ready if you’re coming, Fred, we’ve got to go in a few minutes.” Fred nodded; his face still buried in her handkerchief, collecting his shaken thoughts together, and then went up to his room to change.

Ten minutes later, brother and sister walked arm in arm down the Victorian streets towards the theatre. It was barely a 15-minute walk, but Rosa had fussed over Fred, making sure he wore his overcoat and scarf.

“I’ve got a cold, Ro, not consumption!” He’d complained to her, as she forced him into the coat, but Fred was glad of the warmth now, as the icy winter wind looked for openings in his clothing.

They arrived safely, and Rosa hurried off backstage, leaving Fred to hand over his ticket and take his seat. It was a good seat: Row D in the middle and Fred took it proudly, looking round at the rest of the theatre. He was half an hour early: Rosa had to be early to get changed and made up for the start, but already it was almost half full. In the warmth of the theatre, so different from the freezing air outside, Fred found himself sniffing, and took out Rosa’s handkerchief (he had still left his own in the dark room) to blow his nose, which was beginning to feel a little sore from this treatment. He just hoped he would be able to control his sneezing during the show; it would be terribly embarrassing to have a fit in the middle of it, especially if Rosa was on. The last thing he wanted to do was put her off.

The next hour was a whirl of excitement, tension, and laughter for Fred, and most of the audience. The play was a fast-paced romance, and he was proud of his sister as she paraded up and down the stage, berating her love (Billy) for his infidelity, before they made up just in time for the interval. What was more, Billy seemed on fine form: Fred hadn’t noticed a single out of place line yet, although the scene he famously had trouble with had not yet arrived. Deciding to stay in his seat for the interval, Fred watched the majority of the audience leave, and return in time for the second half. He was happy with the show so far and, what was more, he had managed to control his sneezing. The only time he had felt the need to sneeze, he had furiously rubbed at his nose, and the feeling had subsided, although he had been left sniffing continually for several minutes afterwards.

The second half started, and after only 10 minutes the famous scene began. Fred concentrated hard: he knew that his sister would test him to see if he had noticed any of the dropped line. Almost at once he heard Billy falter, and then say something that was completely wrong. Rosa’s glance barely flickered, and Fred felt a surge of pride in his sister’s acting skills. They managed to get back on track, and Fred relaxed a little. As soon as he did so, he realized he’d been holding his breath. Sniffing to clear his nose, he felt it prickle uncomfortably. He rubbed at it quickly, but the itch refused to go away. His heart rate rising, Fred rubbed more vigorously, and itch seemed to increase. Suddenly his breath hitched audibly, and pulling out his handkerchief in panic, Fred leant forward.

“HAH…KSHEEW!” The wet sneeze bent him forward, and he breathed in deeply, but immediately knew that he wasn’t finished. Still leaning forward, he buried his nose in his handkerchief with one hand. “Heh…hah…KSHHHEW!! KSHEEW!!!” The sneezes were wet, but luckily this made them quieter. Fred sniffed, trying to see if he could sit up again, but, “Kih’SHEEW!!” This final sneeze burst from him, and Fred took several breaths, before blowing his nose and sitting back in his seat. The scene was just finishing. Very red in the face from embarrassment, he looked to his sister, and saw an answering blush in her cheeks. He hoped it was from the lights and not his sneezing fit.

Eventually, and without further incident, the play ended. It annoyed Fred that he had not paid as much attention to the second half, but he sped to the stage door and presented his card, “Frederick Garland, photographic artist”. The lad recognized the surname, and let him in to wait outside Rosa’s dressing room. After the sudden cold air outside, Fred once again retreated into the depths of Rosa’s handkerchief, and tried to discreetly blow his nose. Ten minutes later, Rosa swept out, back in her blue dress, and smiled regally at him.

“Well?” Fred smiled at her warmly, and the regal look vanished as she grinned. “Rather good, weren’t we?”

Her brother nodded. “You were magnificent. And Billy only messed up a little bit.”

Rosa returned his nod thoughtfully. Then she gave him a sharp glance. “It was you, sneezing, wasn’t it? I heard you.”

Fred looked down a little sheepishly, although he couldn’t have helped it. “Yes…sorry ‘bout that. I tried not to, but…yes. Didn’t put you o-“ For the second time that day, he broke off talking to her, and quickly held the handkerchief over his face where he sat. Rosa watched him, his ginger eyebrows creasing, his pale eyelids flickering, his chest heaving and quivering under the strain. “Hah…heeh….Kah’SHEEW!” He quickly blew his nose, and passed a hand over his watering eyes. Rosa reached over and put her arm through his, pulling him up.

“Bless you! Come on now, let’s get you home and in bed before you collapse, brother. You look ready to.”

Fred smiled weakly, and allowed his sister to lead him gently home. She left him to get ready for bed, and when he was ready she came in. She had a hot cup of tea in her hands. Fred smiled properly, and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead as she sat on the bed.

“You,” he said in a thickly congested voice, “are ad abasing actress. Ad a great durse.” She kissed him on the forehead, and left, wishing him a goodnight.

[The Sneezster]

I am enjoying this story. Thank you.

[vignette]

Sneezy Victorian men have to be one of my favourite things in sneezfics, so thank you so much for posting this! Of course, it's brilliantly written too, and I'm enjoying the brother/sister relationship as it's slightly more unusual to find it in fics, or writing in general for that matter.

[VoOs]

I'm a HUGE fan of "The ruby in the smoke", and reading this made me SO happy Fred's adorable, and I love the way you spell out his sneezes. *sighs happily*

Thank you for posting!!

[tma]

LOVE LOVE LOVE Victorian gents. I hadn't heard of this series before. This is Really cute.

The spellings are great, I'm a big fan of buildups- so I was very happy. Oh... and the brother/sister thing is just too cute. Thank you SO much!! *giddy grin* Oh.. and if you write more I will definately be more than happy to read it.

*Just re-read your opening paragraph* Pullman.... I Adored reading "His Dark Materials". I'll have to check out this series then.

[count tiszula]

Somehow I missed the telly version over Xtmas, but I gather they're doing several more episodes later in the year; anyway, I loved the buildups and the idea of him being unused to sneezing. And good to see that he hasn't got consumption.

BUT... yet again an obvious opportunity to get a character played by Billie Piper sneezinfg her head off has been not just missed but studiously avoided. I think I shall just have to discover a lost fragment of her autobiography.

[Guest Silver Pixie Dust]

Simply, but a bit lately put, WOW.

....Will there be more?

[Triosk1]

Thank you for all you lovely comments! There will probably be more, maybe at the weekend or a bit later as I'm busier than I had previously thought possible, but that'll all be over on Saturday (and you might get some fun obs so yeh, it's not all bad). You're all amazingly lovely

[Triosk1]

Fred, used to being up long before his thespian sister, was therefore surprised to be woken by a soft hand on his forehead. Although woken was a rather soft word; it felt more as though he was being dragged into a state of extreme clumsiness, where breathing required far more effort than should be expected of someone who had only recently regained consciousness. He opened his eyes vaguely and watched his sister, her bright hair catching the light from his window, as she put a cup of tea down by his bedside. She turned back to him, and he felt her fingers caress his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Fred considered this question, raising himself with not a little effort onto his elbows and suppressing the urge to cough. He shrugged and put the answer off further by taking a sip of the hot liquid.

“Alright, I suppose,” he mumbled thickly. He really didn’t feel like talking, especially not while his throat was painful. Rosa nodded, and went on in a more businesslike manner.

“Well, we’ve got two appointments today, but one’s Mrs Emmings, at 1. I can ask her to reschedule if you like.” Mrs Emmings was an elderly lady, who had recently decided to have a photo taken every year, so that when she died, her family would have a recent photo of her. So far she had had six done, as she liked to remind Fred every time she saw him, but only two had been at the Garlands’. Rosa continued, “I don’t know about the other. It’s at eleven, you took the appointment, a Mr and Mrs Silvermouth?”

Fred nodded despondently, “they’re newly-weds, I’m afraid. I can’t really put-“, he broke off for a moment to stifle a cough, “put them off. It’ll be fine, Ro, leave it. I’ll get up.” Rosa nodded and patted his head affectionately, although this only increased Fred’s headache, and left him to get dressed. Fred took his time getting dressed into his traditional attire of shirt and trousers with a bright waistcoat, avoiding his pale, emaciated reflection in the mirror. Already he was getting dark rings around his eyes from disturbed sleep (he had been awake several times from coughing), and his nose was pink around the nostrils. Patting his waistcoat pocket to check for a handkerchief, Fred reached to open the curtains with his other hand. Although not normally a photic sneezer, as the bright sunshine hit him, Fred felt his nose twinge sharply, and quickly had to pull out the handkerchief.

“Heh…hehh…Kaah’TSHEEW! Kaah’TCHEEW!! Hah…KSSHEEW!!” The sneezes threw his slim frame forwards, and Fred leant against the wall for several seconds before his temples ceased throbbing, one hand covering his eyes. He was unused to feeling so helpless within himself, and for a moment considered canceling the appointments anyway, but shook the feeling off. It would be admitting weakness: the best thing would be just to soldier on. Shivering slightly, he pulled on a jacked over his waistcoat and headed down to breakfast.

Fred spent most of the morning skulking in the dark room feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. He had come close to snapping at Rosa, and regretted it wholeheartedly, but it was beyond him how anyone could remain cheerful with a cold. He wanted nothing more than to hide until it went completely; everything seemed to take ten times as much effort and he was frequently pulling out his handkerchief to blow his nose, or cover his mouth as he coughed. It seemed that he had been in the dark room no time at all before the bell rang and Rosa called him to attend to Mr and Mrs Silvermouth.

The young couple (because neither were over 23), stood nervously smiling in the reception room. Fred noticed with his no-longer batchelor’s eye that the girl, Mrs Silvermouth, was very pretty: a slip of a girl, looking barely over 18, with silvery-blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Although Fred considered that she was nothing compared with his steadfast, beautiful and brave Sally, he couldn’t help but give the husband credit for his catch. The lucky man wasn’t bad himself, with a well sculpted, broad chin and thick brown hair, altogether the strong, masculine type. Fred led them into the photographic room, where he arranged them into the traditional girl seated, man standing composition, before adding a vibrant pot plant beside the chair, its pink petals setting off the girl’s complexion and lilac dress. He then asked Mr Silvermouth, who had barely spoken through all of Fred’s attempt at small talk, although the lady had chattered happily about her plans all the way through, to place one hand on the back of the chair, and look at him. He then put his head under the cloth of the camera and viewed the arrangement.

Bang! Smoke billowed from the camera, and Fred withdrew his head hurriedly, stifling his coughs at the fumes. The photograph had taken well, and he smiled sheepishly as the girl tittered and blushed.

“Right, that’s that one do-“ Fred quickly rubbed at his nose as the smoke irritated his sinuses, but it was too late. Pulling out his handkerchief he gestured to the couple to excuse me, and turned away as his body convulsed.

“KaaTCHEEW!....Kah’SHEEW!!....KSHEEWW!!” He took a breath and prepared to lower the handkerchief, but the smoke had not finished with him, “KiiSHEEW! KiiSHEEW! KSHEEEW!!!!” Finally he blew his nose and wiped his streaming eyes.

“I do..do beg your pardon,” he said very embarrassedly. The man made no response, in fact ignored the event completely, but the girl, still blushing, blessed him very sweetly, and said,

“I hope we have not caused you any trouble, Mr Garland”. Fred had no reply, and merely shook his head. A few moments later, after the man had paid Rosa at the reception, the couple were on their way down the road.

[tma]

I was SOOOO hoping that this was an update. YAY!! I'm loving this. Fred is just absolutely Too adorable and the solidering on thing. *grins a loopy grin* - I just Melt!

[The Sneezster]

Thanks. I'm enjoying this story.

[Triosk1]

Fred spent the next hour absentmindedly tidying his study which led off the dark room, and trying to ignore how ill he was feeling. He had tried to continue working, but had come frighteningly close to dropping a glass plate as he was overcome by another sneezing fit, and he had no wish to risk such an occurrence, not only because of the mess, but the plates were expensive. He’d rather just get on with some less important work, such as clearing out some of the boxes dotted around the room.

Not being the tidiest of men, Fred had no real idea where to start, and so pulled out the large box from under the table with a feeling of distinct apprehension, and placed on the wooden structure, brushing the accumulated dust off briskly. The dust billowed up in a cloud around him, catching in the light from the unshuttered windows, and Fred felt his sensitive sinuses tickling as he inhaled. I shan’t sneeze, he told himself, it’s too much, just too much. But as he leant over the box he felt his eyebrows tightening and eyelashes fluttering irresistibly. Fighting the urge, he rubbed furiously at his nose, and sniffed wetly, trying not to let his breath hitch. The tickle subsided at last, and Fred withdrew his hand from his face, making ready to open the box at last. Suddenly the tickle returned, and before he had time to do anything, Fred’s face contorted again.

“Kaa’TSHEEW! Heh..heh…hah…HAH…Ki’SHEEW! KiiSHEEW!!” He pulled out his handkerchief, and blew his nose resignedly, as the doorbell rang. Sighing, Fred glanced at the clock: it was barely noon, certainly Mrs Emmings couldn’t be that early. It must be a customer, booking a session. He waited, listening for Rosa’s cheery welcome in spite of himself. It didn’t come. Instead, he heard a muffled cry, and then a shuffling noise, and then he was almost certain he heard Rosa whispering, before the noises moved away into the kitchen. Thoroughly confused, Fred turned towards the door, not sure whether to go and investigate, but he didn’t feel like facing anyone at that moment. He turned back to the box, pulling out the first dusty notebook and glancing at it.

He had barely read the first lines, about his experiments with a few older chemicals, now long outdated, when he heard talking outside again, and then the door to his study opening. He turned round…and couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Sally!” There stood his love, Sally Lockhart, dressed in blue traveling clothes, and with her hat still in her hands, radiant in the crisp sunlight, her blonde hair curling elegantly over her shoulders, and her lips turned up in a sweet smile. Fred forgot all about his illness and took her in his arms, holding her close, smelling her sweet scent and feeling her familiar weight against his body. When they drew apart, Sally looked more closely at him.

“Rosa said you were ill. You’ve not been looking after yourself,” she said reprovingly, gazing at his drawn face and the dark shadows under his eyes, and reaching up to stroke his cheek with her gloved hand. Fred smiled, and reciprocated the action, cupping her chin with his right hand.

“Never mind that,” he said hoarsely. “Why are you home so soon?”

Sally smiled, “Oh, my Aunt was recovering when I got there, and I was told there was nothing I could do. They didn’t want me there, and of course I’d rather be here. So I came home.” Her gloved hand caressed his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, as though checking that he was the same Fred she had left, but her gentle touch made his nose itch again. Fred’s eyebrows drew together, and he pulled away from Sally, realizing that he’d left his handkerchief next to the box and notebook on the other side of the room. Raising his hands quickly, Fred’s breath hitched several times.

“Heeh…heh…Ka’TCHEEW!” The powerful sneeze jerked him forwards, and he swayed a little. Sally put a hand on his shoulders, steadying him gently. Fred raised his hands again. “Hah…Kii’SHEEW! Kii’SHEEW!! KSHEWW!!” The wet sneezes exploded into his hands, and he sniffed wetly, trying to compose himself. He could feel his nose running still, and it occurred to him how disgusting this would look to Sally. He had never been ill in front of her before, what might she think?

Sally forestalled this train of thought, pulling out her own handkerchief as soon as she realized his plight. “Come here,” she murmured, smiling at him, and pulled his hands away, wiping his face with her handkerchief. Fred grinned at her as she put it back in her pocket, looking like the man he was, and made to kiss his sweetheart, but pulled back. Sally stepped back, looking a little hurt at this halt.

“I don’t want to get you ill, sweet,” he said by way of explanation. Sally rolled her eyes at him willfully, and, leaning up, because Fred was many inches taller than her, even in her heeled traveling boots, and pulled his face down towards hers, kissing him deeply.

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered in his ear as they broke apart. Standing a little apart again, she straightened her jacket, and appraised him once more. “Now, shall I put the kettle on?” she asked practically. Fred nodded, and she moved back towards the door. As she was opening it, Fred, on the spur of the moment, called out.

“Marry me, darling?” Sally looked back, smiling coquettishly, her pretty face framed in the doorway.

“We’ll see,” was all she’d reply.

[Vetinari]

Fantastic, I was hoping this would be continued. I LOVE this story.

More, more , more.....

Actually I've now realised just how hard it is to write these fics so I can be very patient.

[Triosk1]

It was two days later, and six in the morning. Fred slept soundly, while Sally, who had never got out of her habit of waking early, was reading a book she had bought for the train journey to her aunt’s and not yet finished. Not that she had had the time over the last two days: she had been busily engaged in taking care of her sweetheart, whose cold had only just abated enough to give either of them a good night’s sleep. He was now recovering slowly, and Sally was careful not to wake him, turning the pages softly in the early morning light. Truth be told, she had been quite happy to have an opportunity to look after Fred: he was so manly, and seemed so strong, that it was nice to have the tables turned, and to baby him a little. Sally turned another page, glad to have a few moments of peace before the day had really started.

However, the peace didn’t last long. Fred started to stir beside Sally, and opened his eyes blearily, already rubbing at his sore nose. His cold was only really bothering him in the mornings and evenings, but already he could feel a sneeze coming on. He glanced over at the table by his bedside, but couldn’t see his handkerchief, even with his blurry vision without his glasses. Despairing, and wondering whether he might be able to be slightly more organized the next time he came down with a cold, he leaned over the side of the bed, and tried to muffle the noise as he sniffed. In his few moments of being awake, he hadn’t noticed that Sally was already awake beside him.

“Hah…Ka’NKT!” He stifled the sneeze, making an effort not to groan as tiny hammers pummeled his temples. Sally, who had felt him move and stir, looked around at his sneeze, and saw his handkerchief lying on the coverlet. Picking it up, she heard Fred’s breaths coming short in preparation for another sneeze. Putting an arm around his shoulder, she pulled him more upright, and as he sneezed, held out the handkerchief so that he sneezed into it.

“Heh…heh…Kaa’TCHEEW!! Kaa’TCHEWW!!” Fred had time to take a shaky breath, and put up a hand to relieve Sally of his handkerchief. She let go, but kept her hand on his back as his sinuses reacted again. “Hah…hah….” The sneeze fizzled out, and Fred sat back, sniffing as his nose filled. The sniffing brought it back ‘Kaa’SHEEW!!” he sneezed wetly, “Kaa’TCHEEW!! Ka’TCHEEW!! KSHEEWW!!” Finally the fit ended, and he blew his nose thoroughly. Sally rubbed his back comfortingly.

“Poor thing,” she murmured, reaching over and handing him his glasses. Fred put them on, gazing at her blurrily.

“You’re wonderful,” he whispered, still sleepily, and leant forward for a kiss, which Sally returned happily. But when they broke apart, he looked at her more closely and alertly. “And you’re pale. You were pale yesterday as well. You’re not coming down with this are you?”

Sally shook her head, smiling at Fred’s change from cared-for to caring. “No, I’m fine. Just tired.” In the back of her mind however, was a slightly sore throat as she swallowed, and a feeling of being hot which had dogged her all through the day before. Never mind, she thought, Fred doesn’t need to know.

After a while Fred got up to get dressed and sort himself out for the day ahead, and Sally got out of bed and went to the armoire to choose a dress. She stood in her nightdress, a little chilly now in the cool bedroom, and shivered once or twice as she surveyed her dresses. She had just decided on a dark green velvet, and was reaching out for it, when she drew her hands back and covered her face quickly.

“Hitcheew!!” Sally sniffed, surprised at herself. It was unlikely for her to sneeze. Then she brought her hands up sharply again. “Hitcheew!! Tcheew! Tcheew!!” The desperate-sounding sneezes rasped at her throat, reminding her that it was sore, but the tickle had abated. Pulling out her dress quickly, Sally put it on, and thought no more about the matter.

[count tiszula]

Hooray! Hooray!! A Billie Piper character sneezes at last! I think it's because I've been thinking of nothing else since seeing her on the Charlotte Church show the other day.

Anyway, the story is progressing wonderfully; mutual care taking must surely ensue...

[tma]

EEEEEEEEE!!!!!! SO happy!! This is just too cute. Love the characters and love the way that you write. Thank you SO much for continuing this. Lovely job!

[Triosk1]

Later that day, Fred set out for a trip along the Thames. It wasn’t a holiday from work; he was embarking on a project which Sally had come up with a few weeks back: picture postcards. He had decided to find a few landmarks and take some photographs, and then sell them in his studio for a few pence. Sally was already getting started on the cards, her neat handwriting perfect for drawing the lines, and writing on Fred’s name in the corners. Wrapping his coat around him, Fred picked up his equipment, which was bulky, but luckily quite light, and strode off in the direction of Westminster.

Sally bent over her work, glad to be busy again after her short trip. She had already caught up on the accounts, and had been bored the day before with little to do. She sat at the counter, and as Fred left, she shivered slightly, feeling the draught from the door. Then, dipping her pen in the ink bottle, she wrote in small handwriting, ‘photograph, Frederick Garland esq.’, before ruling several lines for an address, and a tiny rectangle for a stamp. Pausing for a moment to survey her work, Sally sniffed slightly. Although it was nearly an hour after she had got dressed, her nose was still aggravating her, tickling and running most annoyingly. Pulling out a delicate lace handkerchief, she wiped her nose and sniffed again, before returning to her work.

“Cup of tea, Sal?” Rosa called from the kitchen as she came down stairs an hour and a half later, and Sally called back in assent. A few minutes later, Rosa brought it round, her red hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, and a pretty blue dress showing off her figure. “Anyone come in?” she asked Sally as she put down the cup and saucer.

“No, no-one,” Sally replied, picking it up gratefully, and blowing it to cool. “But we’re pretty busy at the moment an-“, she broke off, as the steam she had inhaled irritated her nose. Putting down the tea quickly, Sally pulled out her handkerchief, her breath coming quickly, “heh…heh……heh…HitCHEWW!” Catching the feminine sneeze in her handkerchief, Sally sniffled and blew her nose. “Goodness, sorry Rosa,” she said quickly, smiling, but the older woman was looking at her shrewdly.

“Are you alright Sally? You haven’t caught Fred’s cold?”

Sally shook her head, still smiling, “oh no, of course not, I’m fine. It was just the steam.” Rosa looked far from convinced, but she didn’t press the matter, and just said, “call me if you need anything anyway.”

Sally continued with her work, pausing now and then to rub her delicate nose. She soon finished the stack of cards, and decided to finish the job that Fred had been putting off for a while: tidying out his office. No doubt Fred would not like this turn of affairs, but Sally was too strong-willed to mind that. Entering his study, she pulled out the first box from where it had been left, underneath the desk. Brushing the dust off, her nose tickled again, and Sally paused, as her breath shortened again. “Heh…heh…HEH-hitCHEEW! Tcheew! HitCHEEW!” She waited a few moments, her nose still itching, “heh..HiSHEEW!” Her nose stopped itching, and Sally sniffled wetly, feeling her throat sore again. It occurred to her at last that she might be coming down with something, but put it out of her mind. She was rarely ill, and surely if she was going to catch Fred’s cold, she would have done so days ago. It was just the dust, surely. Dust often made people sneeze. Pulling out the first notebook, and flicking through it, Sally absorbed herself in her work, glad to be busy.

Fred returned around lunchtime, while Sally was still in the office, having finished two more boxes, which would normally have filled her with pride. Despite this achievement however, Sally was starting to feel resigned to the fact that she was ill. She had had four more sneezing fits, and her nose refused to stop running and itching, especially in the now dusty office.

“I’m home,” called Fred, just as Sally sneezed yet again in the office. Hearing the noise, Fred went through, and found his sweetheart sitting in his chair, handkerchief in hand. “Sally!” he exclaimed softly, coming through into the room properly, and putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up through watery eyes, her small nose pink and sore, her cheeks flushed, and Fred felt his heart melt with sympathy and affection for her. He took her hands and helped her to her feet, holding her close.

“Oh Fred,” she whispered, “I feel dreadful. My head aches, and my throat hurts and I can’t stop sneezing…”

“Sshhh,” he whispered back, stroking her hair. “It’s no wonder you can’t, sitting in this dusty room. Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll take care of you.” He took her by the hand, and Sally, so strong-willed and fierce normally, followed him meekly. She got into her nightgown, and lay in bed. Fred came upstairs a few minutes later, with a fresh cup of tea.

“Here you are. Do you want any lunch?”

Sally shook her head. “I’m not hungry,” she answered, and then brought her handkerchief up to her face, “HitCHEEW! HiiTCHEEW!!” Moaning quietly, she blew her sore nose. Fred smoothed her hair back from her hot cheeks, smiling at her.

“Bless you. My poor Sally. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you. Do you want to sleep?” Sally nodded, managing a smile. Fred stood up and left. Sally lay back, glad that she had someone who cared for her as much as Fred, and tried to get to sleep.

[tma]

Awww!! So cute!

[count tiszula]

Triffic stuff! Good old Sally can finally enjoy herself with her feminine sneezes and lacy hankie! I expect her bodice heaves a bit too.

[The Sneezster]

Oh, thanks for continuing this. I am enjoying this story.