Just a silly little back story inspired by a line in His Last Vow.
An industrial kitchen, late at night. The kitchen is outfitted with stainless steel countertops and appliances, but also contains a large wooden butcher's block, copper-bottom pans suspended from a rack, cabinets with leaded glass doors — touches that identify it as a kitchen in a very posh private home rather than the type one might find in a restaurant or reception hall. The room is dim and empty.
A handful of people are gathered in an large brightly lit alcove to one side of the kitchen. Four people are seated at a round wooden table situated in the middle of the alcove. Several others stand off to the side or lean against the walls close by. They mostly wear the uniforms of household staff; cook, maid, chauffeur, etc. All attention is focused on the poker game taking place at the table.
A small pile of cash occupies the middle of the table. Sherlock Holmes sits, fingers lightly tapping the table, awaiting the next move. A hand of cards is neatly placed face down in front of him.
To his left sits a middle-aged woman in chef's whites, missing the toque, who is acting as the dealer for this hand. On Sherlock's right is a stocky man in his thirties, wearing a blue sport jacket over a white dress shirt and shoulder holster, a security guard. He leans forward, resting one arm on the table as he surveys his cards.
Directly across from Sherlock is an older woman wearing a posh dressing gown over equally expensive flowered silk pajamas and fluffy house slippers. Her silvery hair is covered by a patterned silk scarf. A set of pearls adorns her wrinkled neck under the collar of her dressing gown. Underneath the table, a small dog sleeps at her feet. She glances down at the cards in her hands, eyes twinkling.
DEALER (nodding to the posh older woman): Your bet, Ma'am.
The lady surveys her cards again, then carefully places them face down in front of her. She reaches toward the substantial stack of bills next to her cards, picks it up in its entirety and places it in the middle of the table. One spectator gasps while several others chuckle knowingly.
The guard sucks a breath through his teeth in frustration. He quickly flicks through the bills next to him on the table and tosses his entire stack into the middle as well.
SHERLOCK (with a look of smug amusement): You're three-hundred quid short.
The man gives him a sidelong look through narrowed eyes, then grudgingly flips open the band that affixes a somewhat expensive looking gold watch to his wrist, pulls the watch off, and lays it on the table atop the pile of bills.
GUARD (grumbling under his breath): You're short too, mate. And you're bluffing.
Sherlock's mouth twists in a half smile. He pulls several bills from his pocket, adds them to the stack in front of him on the table and pushes it into the center. He also pulls a small card from his wallet.
SHERLOCK: I see the bet and raise it (adds the card to the pile with a flourish, giving it a final tap before pulling his hand back)...by a couple of kidneys.
At this, the same young man who gasped at the prior bet jerks to attention, eyes widening in disbelief. The woman standing next him, a maid, judging by her uniform, elbows him gently in the side. She calmly inclines her head towards his, never shifting her focus from the table.
MAID (whispering): Don't be daft, love. It's a joke. He bets body parts when he's low on dosh. Not to worry, he's never had to cover it. Not yet anyways...
DEALER (eyes tracking around to the other players at the table): Seriously?! That's that then, I'm done.
She tosses her cards face down into the center of the table and pushes back in her chair with a huff, arms crossed over her chest.
All eyes now turn to the older woman across from Sherlock. She fixes Sherlock with a placid, unperturbed look, then unfastens the string of pearls from around her throat and ads them to the pile on the table.
SHERLOCK (keeping his eyes carefully on the pearls and addressing no one in particular): A kidney fetches somewhere in the area of a hundred thousand pounds on the black market these days.
At this, the woman looks to an older gentleman wearing a dark three-piece suit who stands slightly behind the rest of the room's spectators. True to his profession, he's all but invisible until the moment he's summoned. The woman gives a small nod in his direction and he makes his way to her side, then leans down so she can whisper a quick instruction into his ear. He nods and swiftly departs the room. By mutual understanding, everyone in the room is silent and patient, waiting for the butler's return. Within no more than a minute, he reappears and hands a folded piece of paper along with a fob containing a key to his employer. She ads these items to the pile in the center of the table.
BUTLER (with an air of amused boredom): The deed to a property in Bayswater should suffice to match the value of your kidneys, sir.
SHERLOCK (smiles, nodding): That should do quite nicely.
GUARD: The drama queen here (inclining his head to indicate he means Sherlock) has made things too rich for my blood, no pun intended.
He places his cards face-down at arm's reach and pushes himself away from the table, shaking his head.
Sherlock looks back to his only remaining opponent and flips his cards over, revealing the eight, nine, ten, jack and queen of clubs — a straight flush.
The lady flips her own cards over to reveal three kings and two queens — a full house. She gives Sherlock a congratulatory nod, before rising from the table and making her way out of the kitchen, the dog following in her wake. Once she has departed, Sherlock reaches forward, pulling the pile of winnings toward himself. He quickly pockets the cash. The watch he slides back across the table toward the guard and with his other hand, he slides the pearls across to the dealer. They both look mildly surprised at his act of generosity.
SHERLOCK: I have no need of a watch. And pearls (raising an eyebrow), not my style. On the other hand... (Looking at the deed) Hmm...Leinster Gardens...I do find myself in need of a new residence.
Giving his gambling companions a smug smile, he slides the deed and key into his coat pocket and makes his own departure.
DEALER (runs the pearls across her front teeth, giggling): He's going to wish he'd kept these once he sees that place.
"Do you own this place?"
"I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal. Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a straight flush. Quite the gambler, that woman."
- BBC Sherlock, His Last Vow
Author's notes:
Guesses as to who the older woman is? Leave your thoughts in the comments... ;-)
This scene just kind of came to me and I love the idea of someone actually pulling one over on Sherlock for once.
I'm not much of a poker player myself, so if I got any of the details of the game wrong, please let me know.