Chapter 1 – by Jacqui Holmes aka Crazylittlecheezer
DISCLAIMER: All events, characters, and things related to the Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century show are not mine. Therefore – DO NOT SUE ME!
Just a quick note: I started this story several years ago on the Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century Website. A few days ago I re-discovered it and decided I would revise and edit – then repost it here on Hopefully the editing I have done will make the story much better then before. Also, I could not edit it completely because it would have changed the story quite a bit; GOD has my writing improved over the years. I suppose this is a good way to see the change in my writing even if the story isn't the best it could be. Any who…I hope you enjoy reading it, it is truly not that bad. Remember this is quite literally a multi-year fic.
"Watson, is the tea ready? My Baker Street Irregulars shall be here soon! It seems you've been boiling water for hours!" Sherlock Holmes shouted from his sitting room.
After waiting for a few moments and gaining no reply, he again called to his comrade, "Watson?" Though, like before, nothing was heard. A brief sense of anxiety struck the detective and soon he was up and out of his chair heading down the corridor toward his kitchen.
"Watson? I say, dear chap, where are...?"
However, he wasn't able to finish his sentence, for from behind him a heavy object stunned his voice to silence and his body to the floor. Everything in sight went blurry, although he was not yet unconscious. He then felt rough fists hitting him from all sides; he tried to fight back but soon found this action futile and simply waited for unconsciousness to take him into its soothing blackness. Soon enough, a sharp pain delivered his much wanted darkness and he was out like a light. His adversaries quickly lifted him up and carried him out of the house, leaving Watson on the kitchen floor and on their way out, the rest of Holmes' beautiful flat in total disarray.
Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade of New Scotland Yard had just come home from a hard day's work. All she wanted was some rest and relaxation; however, she would have sooner stayed out had she realized a crisis was on its way to her humble abode. It started when a very excited knock at her door.
"Great, just great!" she bitterly stood up and started towards her door, "I sit down to relax, and all I get is unexpected visitors!"
She quickly, yet regretfully opened her home to the unexpected and unwanted persons who had knocked. Though her expression quickly changed from an angry one to a soft and gentle one, for standing before her were Deidre and Wiggins, and of course Tennyson who was hovering in his chair. The Baker Street Irregulars were there, at her door bearing the grimmest faces she had ever seen. Lestrade quickly and quietly let them in and inquired as to why they had come. "What has happened?" Lestrade asked quizzically.
Wiggins was the only one who spoke up. However, he wasn't exactly making sense with what he was saying. "It's Mr. Holmes. We...he...and Watson...I...!"
"Calm down, calm down and tell me what happened," the Inspector spoke gently, which was not one of her normal habits especially when she was around the three teenagers.
"Well," the Wiggins continued, "you see, Deidre, Tennyson, and I – we all just came from Mr. Holmes' flat – he had told us to come and help him with his case, you know, street work and stuff, and, well, his home, it was totally wrecked!" Lestrade's response to the boy was only a gawk of incredulity.
Deidre continued, "Not only that, but Watson was totally at a malfunction – he just stuttered and made no sense whatsoever, and the worst part is Mr. Holmes – well, he was missing, and all we found was this!" Deidre handed the inspector a folded piece of paper. "We didn't read it, though; we just came straight here," Deidre finished as she and the others watched Lestrade open the piece of paper.
The baffled and angry inspector soon looked at the three of them with large eyes and horror on her face – only one word escaped her lips, "Moriarty!"