Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction
"Hey Sherlock, come and look at this. Jackson Turner was released from prison a week ago. Huh, how peculiar. Well, he is probably going to make better life choices now." said John Watson as he watched the news on TV and drank his daily morning coffee.
"Oh please Watson, people don't change. We all are the way we always are. Jackson was a criminal going in, Jackson is still a criminal coming out." Sherlock responded while he stared out the window, always was thinking about something, anything, "but he was never a good criminal so if he tries anything again he'll be back in behind bars in no time."
John Watson looked at him and smiled, knowing that in Sherlock's eyes probably no one was a good criminal except his long time enemy James Moriarty who was killed by Sherlock Holmes himself during a battle 4 years ago and Sherlock called it "The Painful Farewell." because Sherlock knew that despite all the stress and danger Moriarty gave to him, Sherlock still liked the duels between them.
"Come on Watson, let's get to work. It's time to finish this case once and for all." Sherlock said to Watson as he puts on his black trench coat. They were working on a small robbery case where a museum artifact was stolen, a Scythian Gold sculpture to be exact.
After they arrived at the office base where they did all the detecting, Sherlock and John began looking at the camera footage.
"It's him, he was the one." Sherlock said confidently to the police, "I can't believe you guys didn't figure that out on your own. Normal people"
The police officer was a bit surprised and responded, "Well, how do you know, Mr. Holmes?"
Sherlock looked at the officer and chuckled, he cleared his throat and began his lecture, "You can clearly see here, the man walks into the museum with the black coat that's slightly wrinkled on the sleeves, the shoulders and the collars meaning when he left he grabbed the coat violently and left his home in a hurry. His head leaning forward and shoulders shrugged like he trying to make himself look as small as possible because of what he was about to do next, obviously that wasn't working. About thirty minutes and twenty-three seconds later when that part of the museum is quite empty, he nervously and quickly looks to his three o'clock, his nine o'clock and his six o'clock to check his surroundings. You might say he's just looking around like any other museum tourists but you can see his hands in his pocket, and thanks to this camera that's more advanced than other cameras in other buildings, you can see small light reflections of his sweat on his head as a sign of nervousness, that room isn't hot since there are quite a few air conditioners."
Sherlock paused to let the police officer take in all the information he just poured out, "are you with me, officer…Weston?"
Officer Weston blinked a few times like he just focused again after zoning out during Sherlock's lecture, "Uh…yea I'm here, go on."
Sherlock looked at him and looked back at the footage, "not much to go on for, Mr. Weston. I've explained most of it already, after he nervously checks around he went to the artifact which was where the cameras could not capture and then there he goes. His plan executed. See you later, thank you very much, you guys can take the rest."
With that being said, Sherlock left his seat and went home with John following him behind.
That night, Sherlock and John got a call from Officer Weston as a report to the case.
"You were right Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It was the man in the black coat, David Hills: thirty-two years old, white male and he's also…" Officer Weston mysteriously stopped talking and the phone started having some static noises. "Hello? Mr. Weston?" asked Sherlock as he realized something was strange was happening.
John Watson noticed the sudden confusion and went over to Sherlock's phone, "What's wrong?"
Sherlock simply shook his head and said, "Not exactly sure. Connection lost, he dropped his phone or…"
As Sherlock went on, the phone came back to voice but this time, the voice wasn't from the person.
"Hello, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Remember me?" said the creepy, low-toned voice. Sherlock immediately puts the phone on speaker so Watson could hear.
"Who is this?"
There was a chuckle. "It doesn't matter right now, what matters is your friend Sean Weston's life here, if you want to save him, you'll have to play a game; my game."
"Keep talking."
"You want to know more? You'll just have to wait and see."
Then the voice hung up, gone. Sherlock looked at Watson as if he was speaking to him through their minds. "What are we going to do?" asked Watson.
"You've heard him, we'll wait and see. Nothing is happening now so let's not make something happen." Sherlock said and he lies back down on his couch like nothing ever happened.
"So you're just going to lie there and wait while Officer Weston's life is in danger?" Watson anxiously asked.
"Yes, now leave me alone and good night my dear John Watson."
The next morning arrived with a beautiful sunrise, the dazzling glitter rushing through the window curtains. "Morning Watson, let's get to work." Sherlock said as he ripped open the curtains in Watson's bedroom.
"What work?" Watson groaned out as he tried to get back to consciousness.
"Mystery voice work."
"Oh, well did anything happen yet?"
"See for yourself."
Watson stared out the window with Sherlock and what Watson saw shocked them; on the wall of the building that stood on the other side of the street printed a graffiti. The graffiti said "... -.- -.. . / .-. .- .-. -.-". Watson looked confused, "What is that? Just lines and dots. Why would that be connected to the mystery person?"
"Well, because this isn't that simple. These lines showing up this specific morning on the walls pointing directly at us, it's too much to be a coincidence. The person is trying to tell us something. Like he said, the games begin," Sherlock said as he began his thinking again, he started pacing around the room looking for an answer.
"Could it be some kind of substitute language for English?" Watson suddenly burst out.
"Substitute language, hmm…If only I've seen this before somewhere. Which I have!" Sherlock exclaimed, "This is a type of code language!"
Then, the pacing stopped. He went silence and started starting out the window at the graffiti drawing. All of a sudden with a snap of his fingers, he said, "Morse."
"What?" asked Watson.
"Morse code, it's a simple Morse code. Ah hah! Yes it is! He can't fool me!" Sherlock gradually raised the volume of his voice as he realized he was once again correct.
"So um, What does it say, Sherlock?"
"Well, if we play this code onto a computer…" Sherlock said as he started typing this code onto a computer for it to translate, "it should say, Hyde Park. Of course, the park that's couple minutes away, this silly person wants us to meet with him there, or her. Who knows what kind of crazy, mind-twisted, psycho maniac this person is. We've seen worse kinds before. Anyways, let's get going my dear Watson." Sherlock continued as he grabbed his black trench coat and this time he grabbed one more thing, the object that helped him eliminated James Moriarty and haven't been used since; and that was his gun that sat in his drawer. Whenever Watson saw Sherlock grabbed that before heading out, he knew something was about to get really bad.
As Watson and Sherlock arrived at the park, they didn't see anything unusual at first, then Sherlock's cell phone rang. "What do you want?" Sherlock immediately picked up and fiercely said to the voice.
"Very nice, Sherlock Holmes. Turn to your seven o'clock."
Sherlock and Watson looked to the direction that would be there seven o'clock and they saw it. A man tall and fit, he had a scar running down the left side of his face, he was bald and had a little beard. Standing in front of the man was Officer Weston, wearing a brown coat and blue jeans. Sherlock looked at the situation between Weston and the man, then he looked around the scan the surroundings in case anything got out of hands, the surroundings were pretty clear with only about fifteen people walking around as tourists. Although officer Weston wasn't like the stereotypical hostages where they get their mouths shut with tape or handcuffed, he still looked very nervous. Sherlock and Watson slowly started walking towards the mysterious man. As they walked Sherlock continued speaking into the phone, "Who are you?"
"About two years ago, we had a little meeting. You saw me and you ignored me, you said I was too normal and wasn't good enough to work with you. All I wanted was to be a detective who could work with the great Sherlock Holmes but now this Sean Weston that I have in my arms replaced me. You chose him two years ago over me, now let's see what you choose." The man replied in the phone with anger.
"Two years ago? You're…Jackson Turner. Of course, the fool who was released from jail."
"Don't call me a fool!" Jackson Turner yelled into the phone, loud enough for them to not use a phone anymore, "you either end his life in front of me, or I end your's. Your choice, Sherlock"
There they were, a red dot on Sherlock's chest and a red dot on Watson's chest. "Snipers." Watson whispered into Sherlock's ears.
"Yeah, you don't say, my friend." Sherlock whispered back, "let me think what I'm going to do."
Not too long as passed, "Alright, Mr. Turner! As you wish, Weston's a dead man." Sherlock yelled out, then he secretly passed Watson his other handgun that he brought.
"What are you doing?" Watson confusingly asked.
"Do you trust me my friend?" Sherlock asked as he looked right into Watson's eyes, "it's three against two, I know where the two snipers are. Two o'clock building third floor and fifth window to our left, and ten o'clock building fifth floor seventh window to the right. John Watson you are my dearest friend and I love you."
John Watson looked at him, he knew what Sherlock was trying to say. "Sherlock Holmes, I'd die with you. You're my dearest friend I've ever had and I'd trust you till the end of times."
Sherlock nodded as he turned back towards Jackson, "Jackson! Weston is a dead man." He raised his gun, pointed straight at Weston. BANG! BANG! BANG! The silence and peace that filled the park was broken.
All legends comes to an end. That day, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson became legends. Sherlock turned his gun at the last moment towards Jackson and created the first bang. John immediately turned to the three o'clock building after the first shot went off and created the second bang ending the sniper's lives. Sherlock ended the second sniper's lives but he ended it too late. The sniper had already had two shots off before he was killed. The shots landed on the chests of the two legends; Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.
My name is Sean Jay Weston and I am the survivor, I'm here to spread the stories about the heroic legends that lived and saved countless of lives, including mine. They were more than just detectives, they were heroes.
By: Eddie Wang