Sherlock Holmes

~and the case of the floral token~

The first time is always the most interesting event, whereas the last is the most touching. This statement is not only valid regarding activities but in fact it goes for almost everything in life. This included the day when John Watson first met his future flat-mate, but also on another, more complicated day in their own little history.

1

Sherlock's eyes would most certainly have given him away, if John had just looked a little closer. John was not a dull man, on the contrary! He was very witty, but, it was true that observation and deduction were not two of his strengths. Because if it would have been so, John would have seen what was wrong. If Sherlock's recollections were right (which they almost always were) it had started three and a half months ago, during the case of the floral token.

Holmes paced up and down the living room of their Baker Street lodgings as often did, when he had nothing else to do. Dr. Watson seemed to enjoy the evening papers; but in truth he did not. He badly worried about this friend, knowing that, if he didn't find an adequate case soon, he would calm his buzzing nerves with a good dose of cocaine. It was indeed one of the first things the doctor ever truly knew about Sherlock Holmes.

"Please do not worry about me, my friend. Don't waste your thoughts on such unimportant a matter."

"For heaven's sake Holmes! You are not unimportant, when will you begin to understand! Even if you don't have a case." Holmes gave a short but loud laugh, before Watson continued after a lengthy silence. "But...I still wish to know how you deduced all this! These were exactly my thoughts!"

"It was the easiest to observe, Watson. Your face gave you away. I know that you worry about me, because your eyes constantly wander from your paper, of which you surely haven't read a single line yet, me and my desk, where, you know I keep my supplies of cocaine. I haven't planned on taking it today. This evening I will do with a good pipe or two, but no more." here Holmes smiled and indeed took some tobacco from his Persian slipper that hung aside the fireplace.

"I must admit that this pleases me. It is no good to poison your body as well as your unique brain, just to get some distraction. But I don't need to tell YOU this, Holmes, do I?"

"You do not indeed. But there are other reasons for my abstinence. It seems you drew the wrong conclusions from my behaviour. Again."

"Oooooch, Holmes! This is not fair! You know how hard I try!"

"And yet you still do not succeed very often, my friend."

"I still would like to know the reason..."

"Very well Watson: We are expecting a client; or other CLIENTS. They're on their way here. But to be true, I am a bit disappointed that you were not able to deduce this."

Seconds later, the door was to be heard and Mrs. Hudson opened the door. In this very moment, John was glad to live here, and he hoped that this house would never be empty.

The steps in the hallway came ever closer to the door, and though they were muffled by the carpet, it proved Holmes was right once more: it was more than one person.

"A couple...how unusual..." murmured Holmes. As the door opened, a man came in. His way of dressing gave away that he came from a good family, as well as his wife, for she wore a beautiful white dress made of excellent fabric. Their way of speaking also undermined the obvious.

"Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Felix McLeod, and this is my dear betrothed Anna." Mr. McLeod seemed to be very distressed, whereas his fiancée behaved exaggeratedly cool.

"We come in a matter which very much upsets us, and we hope that you can help us, Mr. Holmes."

"I cannot help you, Mr. McLeod, without knowing the nature of what troubles you so deeply." Holmes replied unimpressed.

"Ah yes, of course."

"Good, then please be seated, and prey commence your story."

Astonishingly for the detective and his biographer, the woman began to speak. Her voice was self-assured and strong but nonetheless beautiful.

"We are haunted by a series of very peculiar events, gentlemen. It began two days ago. First our servant, Brightsmith, showed strange behaviour-"

"We thought he might go mad!" Mr. McLeod chipped in.

"But now we have reasons to believe, that he was just terribly afraid and probably knew, or at least expected what was to come."

"He did not survive the last two days, I gather?" both clients looked at Holmes in a puzzled manner. Then Mrs. McLeod shook her head in amazement before she continued.

"However you deduce this, Mr. Holmes, but you are very right."

"Oh it was obvious to me, the very moment you spoke of him in the past. That you honour him with your words clearly shows that he didn't leave for a better post, but died." Once more silent amazement briefly filled the room.

"Well, as I was saying: Mr. Brightsmith began to develop a strange behaviour. One he had never shown before in all these five years he now lived with us, Mr. Holmes." It was now, that the lady seemed to notice Dr. Watson for the first time, although she had greeted him when she had come in.

"How exactly did the strange behaviour show?" asked Holmes.

"First it started with him forgetting orders or tasks, such as failing to make my tea, or serving my husband's brandy."

"How come...you are not married, and Mr. And Mrs. McLeod but you live together for more than five years, and you refer to him as your husband...?"

This time it was Mr. McLeod who spoke. "Anna's parents do not agree with our marriage. There is an old fight between our families, that doesn't want end! It seems they do not mind us being together, but neither my family nor Anna's would willingly agree with us being married."

Holmes nodded politely. "Are you sure this is the only reason for you not being married?" asked he. All the other people in the room were at least taken aback by this statement; even Dr. Watson, though one could believe that he of all persons should be used to Holmes' ways and means of investigation. Mr. McLeod rose to his feet, meaning to threaten his accuser, but the same rose just as quick.

"How dare you, Mr. Holmes!? My wife and I have come to seek your help and not to become victims of your repellent slander!" Holmes stayed calm, as was his manner. "Please sit back down, Mr. McLeod. I do not see any reason for your outburst, for I have asked a mere question to which we will have to return to now, or otherwise I will not be able to take this case on. Now is there any other reason, apart from your family's disagreement, that you are not a married couple yet?"

"No..." the client sighed heavily. "No, there is none."

"Good. Thank you. Now please go on telling what happened...without leaving any information out. That is also for you, Mrs. McLeod."

"As you wish..." the female client apparently gave in to something, before she went on recollecting. "Anyway, these sudden lapses of duty continued until the already mentioned date. You need to know, that Brightsmith occupied the largest of rooms in the north-wing of our house. This is the part where all our staff lives. It's the part that is farthest away from our own bed room. It was in the middle of the night, when we heard awful screams. And when we sent Holly, our maid, to look what was the matter, she returned crying and panicking and good ten minutes later only to tell us, that he wouldn't open his door, nor were there any signs of life to be found. We then woke Stanley, our gardener and stable lad, to force the door, for the key was stuck on the inside. There we found Brightsmith...murdered. It was horrible! There were feathers everywhere on the ground and in the bed. And our poor butler was...decorated...with violet lilies. As if his whole room were a coffin. There also was this smell! Good lord, it was dreadful how the smell of blood mingled with the sweet smell of flowers! I will never be able to smell lilies again!" she trailed off, finally giving way to the grief she had held back all this time. Her fiancée added "It seems he has been stabbed to death, for there were many wounds, covering his body, which looked like stab wounds. The oddest thing, beside the fact that he must have been placed on his bed, and deliberately covered in feathers and flowers, was that we found this on our late butler's right eye." He handed a piece of silver over to Holmes, who then examined it with the greatest care.

"Interesting..." muttered he. "This is very, very curious..."

"Have you seen this before, Holmes?" Watson asked.

"No, it is not familiar to me, but it is obvious that this is some kind of token" Holmes passed on the coin to his companion. The little silver coin had a blooming lily embossed in the very middle of both sides.

"A token of what?" Watson and both of the McLeod uttered simultaneously.

"It is a token of more to come."