Sherlock Holmes sat silently in his favorite armchair, tapping his long fingers together as John Watson closed the door as their most recent client departed. The case had been too easy, Sherlock thought, a mere case of forgery. A few simple handwriting tests had led him quickly to that conclusion. So simple it was hardly worth his time.
He watched as John returned and sat opposite him. In a quiet voice, Sherlock asked him, "Why is it you never tell me about the worthwhile cases?"
"What do you mean, worthwhile? You just helped that man recover most of his life's savings!" John protested.
Without looking up from his fingers, Sherlock replied calmly, "Yes but it was a simple matter, my skills were hardly required. A police detective could have managed it, perhaps not quite as quickly or competently, but nevertheless would have gotten the job done."
Watson hesitated then said slowly, "Right... Well now since you've got no case to work on, you've got no excuse not take Kat to the costume party."
"She's your cousin. That should be reason enough not to go out with her. Why is it you insist on setting me up with your friends and family?" As John was about to open his mouth, Sherlock quickly added, "No don't answer that."
Sherlock didn't necessarily have anything against Katherine Watson; it was more the principle of the thing. Actually, he'd never even met the woman. And a costume party, of all things! He couldn't imagine himself at a party, let alone one where he had to wear a costume. It was nonsensical. He'd left the choosing of a costume up to John, and had no desire to see what he had come up with.
With the party only a couple hours away, Sherlock stood up and wandered into his bedroom and saw the costume John had hung on the closet door. Brown trousers, brown tweed cloak with a pipe sticking out of a pocket, and a deerstalker hat. He put one hand to his forehead and let out a small groan.
Katherine Watson paced around her bedroom working on the final touches to her Halloween costume. She finished curling her brown hair and adding a dash of makeup to her pale skin so her brown eyes would pop out. She gazed at herself in the mirror. Maybe she should have gone with a different costume than an angel, but the alternative they had at the store was a panda, this was definitely better. She was wearing a white tank top dress that went to her knees, she had on sparkly white wings, a gold hair band and white high heels.
Her cousin, John Watson, called her a few hours earlier to see if she could help him. He asked her if she would go to a costume party with his partner Sherlock Holmes. At first she was skeptical because he only called her a few times a year and now he was asking her to go with his partner to a party. She and John went to school together and always hung out. However, as they got older, they drifted apart, but still stayed in contact. Why did she agree to go to this party? She finished getting ready and left her apartment locking the door behind her.
Katherine walked out of her building and down the street. It was a chilly October night. Luckily she brought a jacket. She promised her cousin she would go on this semi blind date because he told her she wasn't getting any younger. God she had heard this so many times from her mom. She walked down one street and down the steps that led to the underground. She got on the tube and sat down. She played with the hem on her costume. She got off after three stops and left back up to the street above.
She was just a block away from the house when she received a text from her cousin. She took her phone out and read the message, "Sherlock is wearing brown trousers, brown tweed cloak, a deerstalker hat and he has a pipe. Enjoy Kat."
Katherine sighed and walked up the driveway to the house. It was a large Victorian house with red bricks and shutter windows. A black cat sat looking out the window. Several jack o lanterns lined the walkway to the house. Katherine opened the door and walked inside. She saw many people in costumes dancing. Music blared from the various speakers in the house. She walked around and finally found the man she hoped was Sherlock. She walked up to him and boldly tapped him on the shoulder.
In the mansion where the party was happening, Sherlock stood off to the side in Victorian-style parlor. He was twirling the costume pipe between his fingers and staring at the gigantic mantle over the blazing fireplace. It was elaborately decorated for the party, with candelabras draped in cobwebs and small pumpkins scattered across it. In the middle, sat a glass dish full of shimmering fire opals. The hostess, Mrs. Oliver, dressed in a silk and lace gown that matched the color of the opals, had told him about those special gems. She told him that opals as clear and orange and big as these were extremely rare, and after the Halloween party they were to be given as a gift to the Queen.
Then he turned around at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. A pretty woman- he couldn't believe he thought a woman pretty, especially having just laid eyes on her- stood there with her hand still raised. She was dressed as an angel, and she could have easily been a real one, with that elegant dress and brown curls and glistening eyes. He tilted his head to one side and said slowly, "Katherine Watson, I assume?"
She nodded, the wings on the back of her costume bobbing slightly.
Good lord, now what? he thought, What do I talk about with her? He looked about at the other guests for a quick moment, taking in the wide range of costumes. Mrs. Oliver was across the room, talking to a man dressed as a university professor. He spied a handful of witches, a pirate, a couple vampires, a sexy nurse, and a superhero among other things.
As Sherlock turned back to Katherine, deciding to ask if he could get her a drink, suddenly the lights flickered. He grabbed her arm just as they went out. He could hear the guests thudding into the furniture, and the occasional cry as someone got their foot trodden on. Then a shriek broke through the hubbub, piercing the air.
A few moments passed, Sherlock holding onto Katherine as everyone bumped around in the dark. When the lights came back on, the screams started. Lying sprawled on the plush sofa was Mrs. Oliver, blood from a gash on her head mixing with her gray hair.
"Don't anybody move!" Sherlock directed as he crossed the room in only a couple strides. Kneeling by the sofa, he put a hand to their hostess's neck. Looking up, he announced to the shocked room, "She's dead."
Katherine looked at Sherlock as he spoke to her. She just nodded when he said her name. When he was staring at her she felt slightly self-conscious. Maybe she should have gone with a different costume. Her insecurities came forward as they stood in silence, neither speaking. She took a deep breath and looked at him again. He was rather dashing, now that she thought of that. Maybe this wouldn't be bad at all. Maybe it would actually be a nice night.
She looked around the room and saw everyone dressed in their costumes. She even caught a glance at the hostess, or at least she thought so. She heard someone say behind her, "The family is rich. They own some jewelry business. I heard the glass dish with all the opals in there is a gift for the Queen of England." She glanced back and saw a tall man in a dark suit talking with a woman wearing a sparkly pink dress with matching heels.
The woman behind her said in response to the man, "I heard all those opals are worth a few million pounds." The two chuckled slightly as they sipped their drinks.
Katherine turned her attention back to Sherlock. She was about to ask him something when the light flickered and went out. She felt soft hands grab her and pull her close. Her heart beat quickly like a pounding drum.
She stumbled back slightly as she heard others around her running into the furniture and pushing against the various people in the room. Suddenly she heard an earth breaking shriek. She jumped slightly.
The lights flickered on. She looked at Sherlock who was still holding her. Her eyes moved from him to the middle of the room where lying on the couch where the hostess. Her hands went to her face in utter shock and horror. She felt Sherlock move away from her. She stumbled forward following Sherlock. She stopped and gripped the back of a chair as Sherlock shouted, "Don't anybody move and she's dead."
Her heart stopped. She felt herself begin to panic. She did not sign up for this. Someone has been killed. What do I do? Well yes stay and let the police know what I saw, which was nothing. But what else can I do? Maybe I should leave after I talk to the police.
She then looked where the opals were a few minutes ago when and saw they were gone. She walked over to Sherlock still shaking slightly and whispered in his ear, "The opals are missing."
Sherlock cursed under his breath when Katherine whispered to him that the opals had disappeared from their dish. A murder and a theft! Sherlock felt almost giddy. This was certainly more his type of crime than that silly forgery earlier in the day was, but solving such a crime and attempting to make sure Katherine had a good time? Even that was pushing his limits. Actually, anything involving a woman was pushing his limits.
He turned around to Katherine and asked her, "Can you call the police?" Without waiting for her response, he turned back to face Mrs. Oliver as he addressed the room at large, "Nobody go anywhere. The police will want to question everyone, as do I." At his words, Mrs. Oliver's butler closed the door to the room and stood in front of it, crossing his arms as if daring anyone to try to leave.
Examining Mrs. Oliver, Sherlock could immediately tell that she'd been hit over the head- and hit hard- with something very heavy and somewhat sharp. He glanced around at the furnishings in the room, checking to see if anything was missing or had been moved. The candelabras on it caught his eye, and he noticed that they were unsymmetrical. The one to the left of the opal bowl had been shifted and turned around. Sherlock quickly crossed over to examine it. He searched his pockets, looking for a handkerchief. Finding it, he placed it over his hand and, touching it as little as possible, turned the candelabra around. At the base he saw a drying spot of blood.
Then Sherlock turned to make a quick survey of the guests, most of whom were watching him. After a moment, one of the vampires asked gruffly, "And who are you, to think you have the authority to take control? Just because you come to a party dressed as a detective makes you one? Let the police handle it when they get here."
Sherlock spun to face him. "My dear sir, I am a detective, a consulting detective. And I've occasionally been called on by Scotland Yard. So yes, I think I do have the authority."
"All right, then," The vampire raised his hands in surrender, "Do your thing. I guess we'll have to cooperate."
Sherlock then surveyed the group again. Besides the annoyed vampire, a few of the witches looked scared, the superhero appeared to have lost his superpowers, the pirate just stared with an open mouth, and the butler stared sadly at his former employer.
Katherine turned and walked away from Sherlock to the next room. She glanced back as she dialed the police. The operator answered in a dreary voice, "London police how may I help you?"
"Hello a woman has been killed at the Oliver house. The woman killed was Mrs. Oliver," she said shakily.
"What's the address?" asked the operator.
"Seven Dead Lane," she replied softly. Her heart was beating faster again. She hoped Sherlock knew what he was doing. Everything she saw in the papers and what she heard from her cousin, she knew if anyone was to solve this heinous murder and find the jewels, it would be him.
"Ma'am are you joking? Calling on Halloween? Do you think we are stupid? Go prank someone else," the operator stated in a haughty tone and then hung up. She brushed the hair out of her eyes in frustration. Really the police believe she was prank calling them? Just because it is Halloween doesn't mean every call is a prank. However, it makes sense for them not to believe since this holiday brings out all the crazies. She dialed the police again and got a different operator, "Hello, London police how may I help you?"
She answered angrily, "Before you hang up and say I am prank calling you just listen. There has been a murder at the Oliver house. This house is located on Seven Dead Lane, yes ironic I know. You need to come now. Sherlock Holmes is beginning the investigation, but I doubt he can interview all the guests here. The fire opals that are supposed to be delivered to the Queen by the Olivers have been stolen! So please come now!"
"Y..Yes… yes right away ma'am," stuttered the operator, "It will be ten to fifteen minutes."
"Thank you!" she huffed as she hung the phone up. She walked back into the room. She stated to the room at large, "The cops will be here in fifteen minutes."
She looked around and saw the pair who was discussing the opals before the lights went out sneak out of the room. Without thinking, she followed slowly behind. She was curious to see if they would lead her to the opals.
Sherlock deeply hoped that Katherine had found a phone, not because he wanted assistance from bumbling, incompetent officers, but because he wanted to be able to focus on the crime at hand without the guests getting in the way. He'd expected Katherine to come back after placing the call, but even after examining Mrs. Oliver, the candelabra, and Mrs. Oliver again, she still hadn't returned. Brief concern flickered through his mind, hoping nothing had happened to her.
After a few more moments of surveying the room and the people in it, Sherlock finally heard the police sirens and saw the lights flashing outside the front window. He nodded to the butler, "Can you show them in?"
The man lowered his head slightly and quickly ducked out the door, closing it behind him. Sherlock looked around at the guests again. "If all of you could just step over here and cooperate with the officers?" He gestured to a spot as far from the mantle and Mrs. Oliver as possible.
Presently the butler returned and repositioned himself in front of the closed door after leading in two police officers, and a detective with a giant floppy mustache who looked around in confusion. The detective eyed Sherlock, as he was standing apart from the rest of the group. "Is this some sort of joke?" he asked gruffly and his mustache wiggled, "Costume party where two of the guests are dressed as a detective and a murder victim?" He glanced at Mrs. Oliver on the sofa, "Can't say it's the most ingenious thing I've ever seen." Then he turned as if to leave, gesturing to his officers to follow.
"I assure you, sir, this is no hoax. This dear woman was killed within the past half hour. I am Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. Now, you can either assist me in solving this heinous act," he paused to gesture at the guests, most of whom were staring in amazement, "or get out of my way."
The detective sighed and his mustache lofted up and down, "Right… Well then, I guess we help. Officers, get statements from these people." Then he addressed Sherlock, "Did anyone leave after the incident?"
Sherlock shook his head, "Only the woman who phoned and she was next to me the whole time, she didn't do it." The officers and detective began questioning people and investigating around the room. Sherlock watched and thought, attempting to put the pieces together.
Katherine glanced back at Sherlock before leaving behind the two. Her heels made a tap tap on the floor. She stopped and pulled them off and dumped them on a dusty wooden chair. She stopped and took off her angel wings as well before she continued down the hall. She saw them enter one room. She kneeled down and crept in and hid behind a chair next to the door.
She was inside a dimly lit room. Bookcases lined the walls and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. An old record player was on the table next to a large four poster bed. The bed had maroon hangings with round pillows splayed all over. Several drawers lined another wall. The song, "Life could be a dream by The Coasters," was playing softly from the record player.
The woman was pulling the drawers out and flinging the contents on the floor. A loud clang made the man, who was by the bookcase, turn around and hiss, "Be quiet!"
"I am," the woman retorted back.
"The opals must be somewhere in this house," said the man angrily.
"Thank you for that deduction, Captain Obvious!" exclaimed the woman, "They aren't in here let's move."
Katherine held her hand over her mouth and hid more behind the chair, hoping they didn't notice her. Maybe this was a bad idea. They could be the murderer's for heaven sakes. If she didn't get out of here, her only regret was that she never found the one.
The two left the room quickly and went down the hall again. Katherine breathed again. What should she do? Should she go back and wait for the police or should she continue on? It was a no brainer. She must find out if they stole the opals or not. Her curious mind over powered her sense of what she should do in this kind of situation.
Sherlock looked around. Where the devil had Katherine gone, he thought as he rubbed the side of his nose. The police had arrived, so obviously she'd made the phone call, but why hadn't she come back? There wasn't anything going on in the rest of the house, unless-
Sherlock froze with his finger raised mid-tap. A quick glance around showed him that everyone else was busy with the officers. So before anybody turned their attention back to him, Sherlock ducked out of the room, past the butler, who winked at him.
He didn't see Katherine in the hall, nor was she in the room across the hallway where the telephone stood on a table. Glancing farther down the hall, he saw a pair of heels sitting on a chair, Katherine's shoes. He went to investigate.
Farther down the hall, he saw an open door, and went to take a peek. Before he reached it, Sherlock heard voices, a man and a woman, arguing. He peered through the door, which was open a jar.
"The opals must be somewhere in this house," the man said.
"Thank you for that deduction!" The woman sounded angry, "They're not in here!"
Sherlock quickly ducked through the closest door, in an effort not to be seen. The man and woman hurried past, and went into yet another room somewhere in the hallway. He saw they'd been a couple in the parlor earlier, mostly keeping to themselves. How could he have been so stupid to notice they'd disappeared? He cursed his own stupidity.
And then he saw Katherine sneak past, as well. He longed to get her attention, to find out what she'd been up to, what she might have heard or seen, but feared he would only startle her and risk her shrieking. When he was sure all three of them had gone into some room or other, Sherlock crept out of his hiding place to once again go look for Katherine.
Katherine followed them down the hall to the next room. She peeked inside the room through the open door. It was a large room with wooden paneling. The room was filled with cases filled with antique guns, animal heads lined the walls throughout the room, there was a large armchair next to a fireplace, other chairs and desks were spread sporadically in the room. A large carpet rug was at the entrance and a long bear rug was on the floor next to the fireplace. The room had a musky smell to it.
Katherine glanced in the room again. She saw the man and woman searching the new room. The man said in a frustrated voice, "It we don't find the opals we will be in serious trouble. We had ONE JOB." He enunciated the last bit.
"Stop yelling at me," the woman retorted back, "They won't fire us if we lose the opals."
"I clearly remember the Captain state, 'if you mess this up don't bother coming back to work,'" the man shot back annoyed.
"We could just tell that Sherlock bloke who we are," suggested the woman.
"No... I won't give him the satisfaction," replied the man.
Katherine shifted where she was crouching causing the floor board outside of the room to creak.
The man heard the creak and swiftly walked out of the room. Katherine didn't have a chance to move before they pulled her into the room and shut the door. They pushed her into a chair and glared at her.
"What are you doing?" asked the man.
"More importantly, how much did you hear?" questioned the woman.
"Not that much," stuttered Katherine. Oh man... How was she supposed to get out of this one? "Just that you're looking for the opals and your boss may fire you because you had one job and that was to keep them safe."
"Who are you?" began the woman before the lights went out.
Sherlock crept down the hall once again. He'd heard some ruckus and the couple and Katherine had completely disappeared. Not a good sign, he thought. He saw a closed door that he was pretty sure hadn't been that way earlier. Putting his ear to it, he heard raised voices, the man and woman again. It was hard for him to keep from smacking his forehead. Maybe this was why he hated going on dates so much- something was always bound to go wrong, be it awkward dinner conversation or a murder.
Judging from the sounds, all three were in the room, and Katherine had been discovered. Hesitating slightly, Sherlock came to the conclusion he had to burst in and find out what was going on. He owed it to John to at the very least keep his cousin safe.
But suddenly the lights flickered. Sherlock spun around on the off chance someone was messing with the switch at the other end of the hall, but no one was there.
Suddenly, they went out. Sherlock tried groping for the doorknob, but in a split second he'd been looking around, he'd lost track of its location in the darkness. All he could do was stand there and wait, and try not to become more disoriented in the pitch black, so black not even shadows could penetrate it.
Then something swooshed past him, in the direction he knew the door to be. A door opened, and a moment later, the swoosh passed him again. Of course, even on Halloween there were no such thing as ghosts. Somebody was up to something, and Sherlock was more determined than ever to uncover what it was…
The lights went out and eerie silence encased the room.
Katherine's eyes darted around quickly, as if to attempt to see what was going on in the dark. In horror movies the light's turning off suddenly was never a good sign. Earlier this evening proved the same theory. Katherine's hands gripped her chair handles, turning slightly white from the pressure she was applying. To her left she could hear the woman fumble slightly in the darkness as she moved around. A soft creak could be heard, as if from a door opening from somewhere. A second later, Katherine felt a small SWOOSH and then thump. Once again, the same creak was heard as if a door was closing. A minute later the lights flickered on.
Katherine blinked quickly trying to adjust to the lights on once more. She surveyed the room. The man was by the fireplace gripping onto the back of one of the armchairs. However, the woman was nowhere in sight.
Katherine looked down at the floor. She saw the woman sprawled on the floor. A dart was lodged in her neck on the left hand side. Forever frozen was terror and fear. Katherine jumped up and screamed loudly. Her hand went to her mouth as she backed into one of the cases behind her.
The man jumped into action and ran over to find his partner. He knelt and felt her pulse, "SHE'S NOT BREATHING." He practically screamed. He looked at Katherine for a second before he strode over to where she stood, "YOU KILLED HER!" Katherine stuttered and sank to the floor, "I did no such thing. I was in the chair." She pointed to where she had previously occupied a few seconds ago. "Besides it looks like a dart hit her." The man turned back to his friend and knelt next to her. He examined the body as Katherine walked closer slowly.
The man looked at her, she stopped, "What's your name sweetheart?"
"Katherine Watson," she replied, "Yours?"
"Detective Jack Spookey," replied the man.
Shortly after the second swoosh passed him, the lights returned and Sherlock heard a scream. His eyes adjusting to the light, he spied the door of interest only a few feet to his left. He was fairly sure that was from where the scream had originated. Whatever had happened, he hoped that Katherine was okay.
He burst through the door and quickly took in the contents of the room. The animal heads and wood reminded him of a hunting lodge. Katherine was kneeling on the floor, near the body of the mystery woman. The mystery man stood over both of them.
Sherlock lunged towards the man, "What did you do to her?" He pointed to the woman on the floor.
The man put up his hands and took a step backwards. "I didn't touch her. And you are…?"
"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. And in an attempt to solve one murder, you've seemed to have created trouble and your actions have led to a second! Who are you?" he ended with a bark.
The man puffed out his chest, "Jack Spookey, detective."
"Why on earth is there a detective at this party?" Sherlock asked the room at random.
"Uh...do you want me to answer that?"
Sherlock's eyes grew wide, "Of course I do!"
Katherine watched from the floor.
The detective explained, "My partner and I are- were- here to keep watch on Mrs. Oliver's opals. I trust you know the value of them?"
"I can easily guess," Sherlock nodded, "Continue."
"And when they disappeared, we left the room to try to figure out what to do. This woman," he pointed at Katherine, "followed us, and the next thing we knew the lights went out. When they came back," his words caught in his throat, "my partner was dead."
Sherlock took a brief moment to let the words sink into his mind, mixing with all his other thoughts from the evening. Then he turned to Katherine, "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
Katherine stayed where she was kneeling next to Detective Casper Crow. She listened to Sherlock question Detective Jack Spookey. So many thoughts ran through her head. The events of this night made her want to take a nice long vacation.
Two murders and they were struggling to figure out who was the killer. It was obvious the whole charade was because the killer wanted the opals. Who wouldn't want millions of pounds worth of opals?
She stood up and looked at Sherlock when he asked her if she was "okay" and "not hurt."
"I'm fine, Sherlock," stated Katherine, "My head just hurts. Physically, I am fine. Mentally, I feel like I should be put in a loony bin."
She turned and walked away from the scene breathing heavily. This was not how the evening was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a fun party, a chance to get out and do something out of the ordinary.
She turned to look at Sherlock and Detective Spookey, "What do we do now?" She rubbed her eyes and forehead. "Now we have two murders on our hand and the opals are missing. Everything makes no sense." Then she added more to herself and the other two, "This was supposed to be JUST a party. I didn't sign up for a murder, let alone two!"
Sherlock watched as Katherine stood up and walked over to stand in the doorway. He shook his head. Women, he thought, he was sure he was never going to understand them.
Then the police chief burst in past Katherine, "Holmes, there you are!"
Sherlock spun around on his heel, "What is it, sir?"
"One of my officers found this stashed in that giant plant, in the hallway, just inside the front door." He held out a small, brown paper sack to Sherlock. Sherlock took it, and opening it, peered inside to see all of the fire opals. The beautiful, clear opals that shone even in the dim light of the bag. He breathed deeply at the sight of something so wondrous and priceless.
Then the police chief added, "Any idea how they might have gotten there?"
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as he thought and felt the three pairs of eyes watching him. So the opals had ended up stashed away in the front hall, had they? Which meant someone would have had to leave the room to do that. He asked, "No one has left the parlor, have they?"
"No one except the five of us in here," he replied, indicating himself, Sherlock, Katherine, and detectives Spookey and Crow.
Sherlock thought again. The police chief hadn't even been in the house during the crime. He himself certainly hadn't done it, and Katherine had been right next to him. As much as he was reluctant to trust the two detectives, he was inclined to, as the woman had been killed and her partner seemed genuinely distraught because of it. Just say if none of the five of them stole the opals, then someone else had to have done it. It may be Halloween night, but things needed an explanation just like every other night of the year.
The butler.
The butler had left the room to let the cops in. He walked out of the room, right past that plant, unwatched.
Sherlock spun around, facing everyone in the room, "I know who did it," he pointed his finger out the door and in the direction of the party and took a lunging step, "Everyone to the parlor!"
Katherine turned when she saw the police chief enter. She listened intently as the chief spoke. When she heard the opals were found, she turned slowly and stared at the bag the chief was holding. Her eyes darted from the bag of opals to the police chief to Sherlock. "They were in the hallway this whole time?" she thought. "An obvious place…."
Then the police chief spoke up again as Katherine turned around the room again asking if anyone left the parlor. Katherine was about to speak up when Sherlock answered the police chief's question.
Katherine knew it couldn't have been Sherlock or the two detectives or herself. They all had been in the parlor during the murder and they were too far from the opals to have gotten them. Sherlock had a hold on her, besides why would she need opals? Who else could have moved them to the hallway?
Katherine thought more trying to piece together everything that happened that night. She looked at Sherlock and Detective Spookey again.
Finally, Sherlock broke her train of thought by saying, "Everyone to the parlor." Katherine snapped back into action and followed everyone back to the parlor. The other guests were still waiting in the room.
A man dressed as a mummy asked as they walked into the room, "What's going on? When can we leave?" The rest of the guest muttered the same.
Katherine looked at Sherlock and asked, "What's going on Sherlock?"
Back in the parlor, Sherlock surveyed the clearly annoyed party guests. One of the cops had had enough decency to put a sheet over Mrs. Oliver's body. He spied the butler standing in the corner nearest the door, and made eye contact with him. The butler quickly averted his eyes, pretending to gaze around at the disgruntled guests.
Sherlock nodded at the police chief, who slowly made his way over to the butler. Swiftly grabbing the man's arm, the chief said, "We're going to need to ask you a few questions."
Sherlock saw the panic flood into the butler's eyes before he managed to recompose himself, "I- Of course, whatever you need to know. I've worked for Mrs. Oliver for years."
The police chief nodded gruffly, "Start talking." The guests perked up a little, displaying interest in the bit of excitement.
"I was paid to steal the opals. But I never meant to kill Mrs. Oliver, only knock her out, create a small distraction. None of the rest of this was supposed to happen. And those other detectives, how was I to know Mrs. Oliver wanted extra protection around? That wasn't planned, but I had to do something about them as well."
Quietly, Sherlock asked, "Who hired you?
"I don't know!" the butler stammered, "I really don't know!" Then he slowly added, "But I can tell you who paid me the money. And she is standing in this room."
He raised his arm and pointed a stubby finger directly at Katherine.
Katherine listen to the butler explain what happened. Droplets of sweat fell from her brow as he talked. She bit her nails as she listened to the butler from the back of the crowd of guests.
When Sherlock asked the butler who hired him, her heart stopped as the butler pointed a finger at her. Now she was angry as she glared at the butler and darted her eyes around the room.
"You had one job," yelled Katherine as she pointed at the butler, "You were supposed to take the opals and hide them and then while everyone was searching for them you would give them to me and I would be off. You weren't supposed to kill her and then because of your stupid mistake, you had to kill the detective because they were there to keep the opals safe. BUT YOU! You only got one? How do you miss a simple shot?" She paced back and forth.
"Who are you working for?" asked the police chief confused, "Any why the charades. Why do you need the opals?"
"My employer found me months ago. I was struggling and I owed several thousand pounds to some pretty nasty people. He offered me a job to help repay the debt. I began to work for him and in a week I paid off my debt to the people and I had lots more. My employer found me to be a valuable asset and asked me to help steal the opals," Katherine answered. "I found out the butler was struggling to make ends meet. His wife is in the hospital with a serious illness and he didn't have money to get her treatment or pay for her medical expenses. I offered him half a million pounds to help steal the opals. He took it right away. Imagine that?"
"You didn't answer the question!" yelled the chief. "Who hired you?"
Katherine smirked and looked at Sherlock, "Why Moriarty of course. Wonderful man, I must say." She turned and smiled at Sherlock, "Why do you think I planted the whole party in my cousin's head? He originally was supposed to be with me, but he backed out which I didn't expect. So I improvised."
She stopped next to a hidden light switch. "Now I must disappear." The police officers in the room started to walk towards Katherine, but then a second later the lights went out. She rushed over to the detective with the opals and immediately knocked him down. She grabbed the bag of opals and snuck out the window. She ran quickly down the street and out of sight.
At the same time the police chief yelled out, "Who hired you?" Sherlock said, "Who are you?" but more to himself than Katherine and no one heard him.
As Katherine talked, Sherlock felt as though he were slowly freezing as the meaning of her words sank it. Katherine Watson, working for Moriarty? Although he'd never met the woman before this night, he couldn't believe a relative of John's could be involved with a man like that. He knew he should do something, grab her to keep her from trying to flee, yell and interrogate her, anything. But he just stood there, shocked.
Before anyone reacted, Katherine flipped the lights off. Something crashed and a few things bumped together. Sherlock groped his way towards the spot where Katherine had been standing moments before. Reaching out his hand and brushing it along the wall, he felt the light switch and pushed it.
It was too late. Katherine had vanished, out the window most likely, as the curtains were swaying back and forth a little too rapidly. The cop who had been holding the bag of opals now lay sprawled on the floor, with empty hands and a look of confusion on his face. Sherlock swore loudly.
The police chief glanced around. "Well, I suppose you can all go now," he addressed the guests, "We just need to stay and take care of...these bodies." The other policeman, who was still on his feet, handcuffed the butler, arresting him for his role in the scheme. The guests quickly filed out, anxious to get away from that house as quickly as possible. The chief nodded to Sherlock, "You can go too."
Sherlock slowly left the room, reluctant to leave a crime, particularly one articulated by James Moriarty, unfinished. Katherine had gotten away, the opals had been stolen after all. Moriarty was out there somewhere, gloating over his success.
But, Sherlock thought, Moriarty hadn't won, not entirely. He may have gotten the upper hand in this round, but the game wasn't over, not yet. And it wouldn't be as long as Sherlock had the opportunity to stop him. Moriarty was out there somewhere, and Sherlock was coming for him.
In the meantime, he thought, what the hell was he going to tell John?