A/N: I made another multi-chapter fic! XD Don't worry, I won't abandon The Fox to His Hound. This idea came to me a month ago, I wrote it down and just had the time to publish it now because I was busy with my other fanfic. But, in case you guys don't want to wait for the other longer fanfic to update, I give you this one for a while. I think I can update this one faster since it's a shorter story. :D
I just HAD to write this!
Such a Scandal
March 22nd, 1888
He sat on his favorite chair by the fire on that spring evening. A pipe filled with shag tobacco was lit but lay unattended beside his hand on the side table, and beside that stood the newly acquired photograph of the lovely young woman.
Irene Adler… no, Irene Norton, nee Adler.
On his lap lay the letter. It was frayed and a bit crumpled now. He had reread it so many times that day.
'…and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, very truly yours…'
In his other hand, he turned a pink shell button between his fingers…
Mrs. Hudson had called a few times at his door announcing his dinner, but he paid no mind. Watson had stayed with him until late in the afternoon, worried that what just happened would put the detective in a fit of rage.
Thankfully that did not happen, so the doctor had to leave.
The quest he went through earlier today made him feel drained, although it had been a short day he felt all energy had left him, save a little to do trivial things. He didn't want to come out of his rooms, he wanted to brood and mull over the recent events.
He was outsmarted by a woman. Never in his entire life did he expect that to happen.
Holmes felt no shame, no, he did exactly as he had planned and he'd go around telling the world that his plans were always the best, flawless, unequaled and perfect. But she simply stepped on him like that, just like that.
Her and her dainty little satin boots. No, he felt no shame, he felt challenged in fact. But he was truly humbled.
A young singer, just married, undoubtedly a few years only since her social debut, had humbled the greatest detective known to man.
Lestrade was going to have a field day.
It was all too funny actually, very funny. He wondered if Watson, Mrs. Hudson and the entire Scotland Yard had been all in this to make a fool out of him. A joke was more likely, more acceptable for him. The sting of defeat, yes defeat, was simply too much for him. He'd accept it if it were a criminal mastermind that'd put all this into motion, but no…
It was a little woman in a lace bonnet.
This was the first time he had been defeated by the fairer sex. That was what he knew Watson believed. If he knew about what had happened in Holmes's youth then the detective will truly be ashamed.
Although the realization of loss over the case overpowered him, Holmes felt something else tugging at his memory.
Could it be? Could it be that The Woman…
He held her photograph in his right hand…
And The Girl…
His fist tightened around the small pink shell button…
Were one?
If Watson knew that, he'd put that all into writing, and it would get published. The world will know…
Such a scandal it would be…
A/N: That was chapter 1... please hang on for Chapter 2!
-Jacques Sparreaux
