Work Text
Photos, some black and white, some sepia toned, others Polaroids, more still bright and colourful set in laminated pages. The pages crinkled softly as they were turned with careful, wrinkled hands.
A child no older than five stood on the front porch dressed in a dress shirt and bow tie.
“Mycroft’s first day of school,” Mrs. Holmes mused.
Mr. Holmes chuckled. “Who insisted he wear the tie?”
“He did.”
Their laughter mingled with each other as they turned the page.
Mr. Holmes stopped on another photo, this one of a curly-haired boy in a pirate’s outfit. “He lived in those clothes.”
“Even with the grass stains,” Mrs. Holmes added. “I never could get those out.”
Another page turn. Silence. A Christmas tree stood in the window behind a family of five, smiling for the camera. A plump teenaged boy stood between a grinning curly haired boy and a politely smiling pigtailed little girl. Behind them, were Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. The last Christmas they ever had together at Musgrave Hall.
Mr. Holmes squeezed his wife’s shoulder and gently continued through the album. School photos, birthdays, Halloween costumes, graduations. Each page was a chapter in their story, chapters that had brought them to where they were now. A life of joy, of sorrow, of grief, of accomplishment, but most of all, beauty.