A/N: So, here it is, my take on the probably most famous of Watson's "lost" cases. Those following me on livejournal will have seen it already, but I finally decided to post it here as well. I will be posting chapters regularly, and am looking forward to hearing your reactions. :) And now, without further ado, I give you:

The Shocking Affair of the Dutch Steamship Friesland

an unpublished account by Dr John H. Watson

by Jaelijn

I. A Case Presents Itself

Of the numerous cases in which my friend Mr Sherlock Holmes was involved, there are a great number which I have never chronicled. Often, it was because they held little interest to anyone but the criminal expert, or because they were so unremarkable in their features that it seemed inappropriate to include them in these collections of most singular affairs. Some, however, I have been forced to withhold because they were so delicate of nature that they had to be handled with the utmost secrecy.

One of these cases I am only now able to reveal is the shocking affair of the Dutch steamship Friesland, of which I have previously spoken in the affair recorded as The Norwood Builder. At that time, the political uproar with which this case was concerned was too intimately associated with foreign politics to be safely revealed to the public without distorting the facts. However, now that the officials associated with the affair have passed on, and the public focus has very much changed in the wake of the Great War, Holmes and I agree that it is safe to recount for the first time what transpired on board of the steamer Friesland.

It was not long after Holmes's return to London, a gloomy Wednesday, as I remember, when the case was brought before us. While Holmes had taken every precaution to keep his return a secret from the press and forbidden me to publish any account of his apparent resurrection, shunning the fame that he had once sought, the word of his return had spread through our fair city, and, dare I say, beyond. I had no doubt that the fact that the windows of 221B Baker Street were once again brightly lit had something to do with the matter.

As for myself, Holmes had asked me to return to Baker Street with him, selling my house and Kensington practice to become once again his chronicler, even though he entreated me in the most stringent terms not to publish any of the accounts I wrote up. Naturally, I enquired how I should possibly pay my part of the rent if all the paid work I was to do was stepping in if one of my colleagues were to fall ill, but Holmes seemed unconcerned. He convinced me that the proceeds I would gain by selling my practice would be enough to sustain me for some time. I learned later that I, too, received quite generous monthly payments from an anonymous source, whom I could only assume to be Holmes himself – more than enough to pay my share of the rent.

As I have reported elsewhere, I was, with a little diplomacy on Holmes's part, able to sell my practice to a more than satisfying price, but at the time of this case, I was still living at the house that now held hardly anything other than the memory of my own sad bereavement and the three years of grieving for my friend. Unwilling to remain in the decidedly depressing lodgings any longer than decency required, it was often that I would spend many long hours in our old flat, once more enjoying the company of my dear friend.

Often, we would merely go about our own business in the companionable silence that befits two men who know each other so well as Holmes and I, but sometimes – and such an occasion was that day – we would sit by the fireplace and talk about whatever topic was on our minds.

That morning, Holmes had given his violin the most careful polish, and was now idly plucking the strings. "I have often wished I had taken the instrument with me on my travels, Watson, but it was hardly practical. My life was so erratic that it would likely have been destroyed. In fact, I lost all my belongings in a snowdrift in the Himalayas, and had to impose upon the generosity of the Tibetan monks."

"Couldn't you have bought a violin in the East? Surely, in India you would have found such an instrument, if not of the same quality as your own."

Holmes chuckled humorously. "I doubt it would have amused anyone but myself. No, it is for the best that only upon my return to London I should be reunited with the things I hold dearest. Hello, what's that?"

A quite energetic jingle sounded from our doorbell. Holmes jumped up from his seat and walked to the window, glancing out onto the street. "A telegram, I should think. Curious that the boy should ring so agitatedly. Mrs Hudson has asked him in – well, we shall see what causes such a young fellow to be so very disturbed."

There was a curt knock at our door, and Holmes bid the person enter. It was indeed a young messenger boy, tightly gripping a single telegram. His eyes darted from myself to Holmes and it was clear to me that the boy must have run a great way to be as out of breath as he was.

Holmes had lain down his violin in its case perched on the windowsill and now stood before the boy, hands clasped behind his back. "Now, compose yourself, young friend. What brings you here?"

"Telegram for Mr Sherlock Holmes, sir," the boy said between gasps for breath. "I was told to deliver it as speedily as possible and only to the hands of Mr Holmes himself. Are you he, sir?"

"I am." Holmes accepted the telegram and handed the boy a coin for his troubles before turning away to open the missive.

"Much obliged, sir," the boy said and left, his small feet clattering on the steps before we could hear the distinct sound of our front door closing.

"What is it, Holmes? A case?"

"Brother Mycroft. He wishes to engage my services in a matter so delicate that he does not dare to reveal anything in this telegram. How very curious." Holmes fell silent, his keen eyes intently fixed on the missive, his lips pressed together. I knew from this expression that he was deep in thought and dared not interrupt him. After a while, he folded the telegram and placed it in his pocket before turning to me. "I will go down to Whitehall immediately. Would you care to accompany me, Watson?"

"Certainly!"

Soon, we were seated side by side in a cab speeding to Whitehall. I had no doubt that it was an urgent matter indeed if Mycroft Holmes had chosen to call upon his brother from his offices rather than from his club, where he seemed to spend most of his time.

Holmes seemed to share my view, for he had lapsed into a brooding mood, reading and re-reading the telegram as if its meagre contents could hold information that had gone unnoticed when he had first received it.

When the cab rolled to a stop, however, he put the missive away with a frustrated sigh. "There is nothing for it. We shall have to wait and hear what brother mine has to say."

To my surprise, Holmes seemed to know his way around the governmental buildings with the same ease he navigated the most unfriendly areas of our fair city. To my knowledge, he had never before been called to Whitehall on a case – governmental officials often preferred the anonymity of coming to Baker Street – however, I assumed that he had visited his brother in his office on several occasions which had remained unnoticed by me.

Indeed, Holmes seemed to be known to the guards, which allowed him to pass unchallenged. Quickly we found ourselves in the ante-room of one of the offices, where we were welcomed by a middle-aged, well-dressed gentleman. His back was slightly bent from long hours of writing, and indeed there were several smudges of ink on his shirt-cuff, but he bore himself proudly and confidently. "Mr Holmes, good to see you. And Dr Watson, I presume."

"Quite", said my companion, "Watson, this is Mr Harding, who has been working with my brother on several occasions."

"I have had the honour, indeed." Harding shook hands with me, and then turned back to Holmes. "Mr Holmes, your brother has been called away on urgent business, but he has asked me to await you and hand you this envelope. I have been told it contains all the information you will need. Unfortunately, your brother has been pressed for time of late – if there is anything else you should require, you would do best to forward your requests to me."

"You have been told of this affair, then?"

"Not a word, Doctor. If there is a crucial matter you wish to discuss with Mycroft Holmes, I suggest you send a telegram, and I will see what can be done. I am sure, Mr Holmes, you understand that the affair has to be handled delicately and with the utmost secrecy."

Holmes accepted the large, brown envelope with a nod. "I will look into it. Good-day, Mr Harding."

Naturally, my curiosity regarding the contents of the envelope was piqued, however, Holmes stowed it away under his coat, where it could not be noticed by anyone who might cross our path, and showed no intention of even taking a closer look at it ere we arrived at Baker Street. His eyes, however, were gleaming, and he had the energetic air about him that came always over him at the beginning of a new case.

At Baker Street, he rushed ahead of me, bounding up the stairs to our sitting room while at the same time removing the envelope from its hiding place. When I had followed him, he was engaged in drawing the blinds, although it was still early.

"Turn up the gas, Watson, if you'd be so kind. Excellent! Now, let's see what brother Mycroft has in store for us." He fetched the jackknife from the mantle and slid the envelope open, taking great care not to disturb the contents. Then, he carefully removed a stack of papers of various sizes and quality from it, spreading them out on the floor before the hearth, where the light was brightest.

"Well, what do you make of that?"

I glanced at the papers. "A most curious assortment. This seems to be a map of the sea – the Atlantic, if I'm not much mistaken, with red markings on it. This line seems to be a shipping route – and here an island is marked."

"Yes, quite. This is the island of Curaçao, a dependency of the Netherlands, which has only thirty years ago gained a certain degree of independence."

"And these – travelling tickets! The Dutch steamship Friesland, scheduled to arrive in London to-morrow, and to depart for Curaçao in a fortnight."

"Yes, very interesting. This seems to be a letter from my brother, shall we see what he has to tell us about the matter?"

Holmes picked up the two remaining papers, and read them in silence, occasionally murmuring to himself. Seeing my curiosity, he then read the letter out to me.

"My dear Sherlock,

I would have preferred to speak to you about this affair in person, as it is a most delicate matter, but current political affairs in our own country leave me with little time and even less patience. I hope Mr Harding carried out my instructions to the letter and you are now in possession of this letter and the included papers, as well as being aware of the delicacy with which they must be handled.

You know, I am sure, that Curaçao was a former British colony, which explains our interest in the matter. Naturally, our government has not taken it kindly that the Dutch have established a stable rule there after the Napoleonic Wars. However, the few that remember that transition and are still alive have long passed beyond political influence, and I dare say that our relationship with the Netherlands is an amiable one, highlighted by sea trade and our permission for Dutch vessels to use our ports to buy provisions.

Still, there are those that presume that the loss of those Caribbean isles was a heavy one for the Empire, and that Curaçao could be of equal importance to us as India (which, frankly, is politically nonsense). In 1863, slavery was abolished by the Dutch, and around the same time, Curaçao was given certain rights of government. It is questionable if that abolition is followed diligently, but at the very least the isle is no longer involved in slave trade.

It has reached our attention, however, that a syndicate of politically motivated criminals have taken it upon themselves to implicate the Curaçao government of slave trading, which would doubtlessly worsen the relationships with the Netherlands, and then, in turn, present an opportunity for British forces to advance upon the weakened Curaçao. I do not know how influential those men are in political circles, but there is no doubt that our Colonial Office would very much like to see another jewel in the crown of the Empire, and you know well how easily the human mind can be twisted and manipulated. Should we attempt to seize Curaçao, our relationship with the Netherlands would come to an end, and we would be facing possible war. Also, a war between the Netherlands and Great Britain would destabilize the political balance of all Europe, if not the world. It is in all our interests if that were prevented.

I therefore ask you to look into the matter and stop those men ere the damage can be done. I have no doubt that they operate from passenger vessels that travel to Curaçao via London – that is the reason why I have found you and Dr Watson a place on the next vessel, the steamer Friesland.

I trust that you will be able to resolve the matter.

Yours,

Mycroft"

Holmes lowered the papers and rose to fetch his pipe. Lighting it, he looked at me. "Well, what do you think of the affair, Watson?"

"If war is the possible outcome, you have to do your utmost to prevent it! Also, think of the unfortunate men involved in a slave trade."

Holmes hummed, biting the stem of his pipe. "There is the possibility that they are associated with the crime syndicate, but you are correct. Those criminals have to be stopped before they can cause any damage. It is a very dangerous and complicated affair, and we best approach it with caution. But, it is a fortnight before the Friesland departs, and maybe that time will suffice to discover the identity of our culprits, and put an end to their endeavour."

"But what of the tickets? Surely your brother doesn't expect us to travel to Curaçao! It's a month's journey."

"If we cannot stop those men in time, there will be not choice but to board the ship. You know me well enough, Watson, to understand that I cannot allow a criminal to escape, especially not after Mycroft has nearly done all the work for us. No, Watson, if needs be, I will be a passenger on that steamer, although I understand if you are unwilling to accompany me."

"I shan't abandon you, Holmes!"

"Then all is settled. I will go down to the docks to-morrow. Until then, Watson, let's spend the evening with something more pleasurable than colonies and ships."