"It's broken, Holmes."
"Ah, no, it's not broken, it's simply... disagreeable."
"One part of it is in your hand, and the other is across the room. When we got it, it was all one piece."
"I can assure you, Watson, that it is supposed to do that."
"Just like how it's acceptable to have one's leg approximately six feet away from the rest of the body?"
"Don't be silly. If one's leg is that far away from one's body, clearly they are in need of medical assistance. That is all."
"Just like that object in your hands. It needs medical assistance."
"Watson! I am not stupid, I've dealt with the likes of this before. It just needs--"
"Holmes, it's broken."
"Capital."
Holmes threw down the small metal object in disgust.
"Why ever did we purchase such a thing? I already have a burglar's lamp, this one was nothing more than a heartache! " I smiled as my friend sunk heavily into his chair, swinging his legs over the side, and collapsing. "How on Earth did you manage to separate the cone from the body anyway, Watson?" he asked in a bored voice.
"How did I? If I remember correctly, Holmes, it was you who snapped it off." He groaned at my answer, as he knew I was right.
"It's of minimal importance. I shall have it destroyed for the trouble it's caused me."
"You shall do no such thing, I bought it!" My friend regarded me through half-lidded eyes before turning away from me.
"Be that as it may, that insufferable contraption will be gone by the morrow. Should you happen to find it in my fireplace--" A sudden knock at our door cut him off. We both jumped at the sound as neither of us had heard the approaching footsteps through our arguing.
We glanced at one another briefly before Holmes smiled and called out, "Come in!"
The door opened hesitantly at first, so I had suspected that a young girl had come to inquire our aid. But much to my surprise, there stood a very handsome fellow, well dressed and clean, with inquisitive hazel eyes. As he stepped in, I noticed that he was rather short and thin as stick. Had it not been for the smart mustache upon his lip, I would have sworn he was a nothing more than a young boy. He greeted us with an excited smile and graciously removed his hat and bowed.
"Wonderful door you have here, gentlemen! It swings most beautifully on it's hinges."
I laughed.
"You can thank our land lady Mrs Hudson for that!" said I.
"Brilliant!" he sang. I chanced a look at Holmes; he looked nothing less than amussed. Our client continued, "I am very glad you have decided to see me, for you see--" our client broke off suddenly and stood frozen as he looked round our sitting room. But with a quick smile, his attentions returned and he happily stated, "My name is Boris Darley!" he had extended a hand to the two of us. Holmes and I accepted his greeting with a smile, as this man's energy lifted the dreary morning mood instantly.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes! I hold much love for those eyes of yours, yes! I know it's an odd thing to admire, but one must consider all that they have done for both you and our wonderful people. Beautiful colour. Ahh and Dr. Watson! Your trousers always look nicer on you than they do on me, I can assure you." I was greatly disturbed by this, but found within my capabilities the power to ignore it.
"I see you have quite an observant eye, Mr. Darley," Holmes offered. "I chance to say that you dabble in the arts?"
"Why yes, I do! But onto other things," here, I saw Holmes' face drop a bit at the lack of acknowledgment our guest gave his deduction. I'd have to ask him how he came to it once we were alone again, as I failed to see the connection. Darley continued, "Mr. Holmes, gentlemen, I came to you to tell of a very queer occurrence which had decided to bless it's self upon my life."
Holmes gestured to an empty chair. "Pray, have a seat and tell me all about it, Mr. Darley, and I shall see to it that I do everything within my power to alleviate you of your problem." Should it prove to be of some interest, I added mentally.
Upon sitting down in the chair indicated, our client's jovial mood instantly adapted into one of business.
"The thing is, gentlemen, I have only recently moved to my current residence and already I'm a bit skeptical. I'd love to talk this matter over with a few close friends, however, I am by myself. You see, I don't have time to go out at night galavanting with the local women or spending precious hours at a gentlemen's club, so I hope you can see why it is I come to you?" He paused his narrative and looked at Holmes, waiting for confirmation.
My friend looked at Darley, expecting him to continute. When he did not, Holmes sighed and waved his hand. "Go on, Mr. Darley."
"Yes, of course. I had returned home last night, maybe round 11 or so, and was struck dumb at the sight of my sitting room furniture in disarray. The sofa was shoved against the wall, the side table knocked askew, and a dead man sprawled in front of the fire place! I can only thank the heavens that the maids left the fire off, else I'd've had a roasted constable on my floor. I've always liked the police, but I never expected to find one dead in my rooms."
"What was his expression?" Holmes asked.
"I don't rightly know, the man was still sporting his fine piece of head-ware when I saw him, couldn't get a good look from where I stood."
"I see. And have you alerted anyone to your findings before you came to me?"
He shrugged his shoulders and regarded Holmes with an indifferent expression. "I didn't see why the men at Scotland Yard wouldn't want their boy back, so I sent a telly to them before coming to meet you and your friend."
"Then the police should have it all under control, as I'm sure Lestrade will put a smidgen of effort since it is one of his own lads. So tell me, Mr. Darley, what exactly have you come to seek from Dr Watson and myself?"
Boris Darley smiled at this. "Clever man, mister Holmes! You must excuse me, but I didn't want to tell too much to any one man. But you asked the right question, you did! The truth is, the constable I found on my floor was actually an old friend of mine. I know I said I was quite alone in this city, but when I made a little investigation of the unfortunate man, I saw that is was none other than my old mate Anthony Strong. I'm a bit untrusting of the police, if I can be honest, which is why I came to you. I know you work differently than they do and aren't afraid to do whatever's necessary."
"And what is this... deniable necessity?" Holmes asked, sitting up a bit straighter.
Darley grinned and sat back in his chair, looking like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He clasped both hands over his face and started to chuckle. "Mister Holmes! Doctor Watson! There is nothing to withhold from the police which they will not find themselves, nothing I am afraid to ask of them! I just... well, Scotland Yard is missing what I need most. To be more accurate, it is missing you two."
"Us?" I asked.
"Exactly so, Dr. Watson! You see, the police will come round to my place, examine the body, do whatever it is they do," I heard Holmes mutter a sort of agreement at this. "and everything will be just so... by the book, if you know what I'm getting at. But no, I am not interested in who the murderer is--" Darley had broken mid-sentace and once again covered his face. I hadn't noticed that he'd been holding back tears. "This man... he was my friend, you see? I-I don't want this to simply be another corpse in the Scotland Yard records--"
He turned sharply to me, clasped his hands upon the armrest and leaned in my direction. In a sinister voice, he asked, "Doctor Watson, what would you do if you found mister Holmes dead upon your floors? Blood pooled round his chest from a missing heart, throat ripped to shreds and a face showing horror like you've never imagined possible?" I stared at this estranged client of ours, every word of his twisting my stomach in unease. To my horror, he continued. "To stare, into the eyes which knew so much life and are now dull as a child's painted toy? To look upon the body and know you could have done nothing? That you failed to save him?" his voice was rising in intensity and I shouted for him to stop. "That he will no longer utter his or another's name ever again?! Never! Never shall he walk these rooms and drink your tea because he is dead and nothing will remedy that!!" I found myself shaking my head, denying such a thing possible. I tried to brush off his words, but the images were forced into my mind. "Please, Dr. Watson, what would you do in my position?! My best mate is dead in my home, and I have no idea why this has happened-- surely you must understand the pains this causes me!"
Darley's piercing eyes bore into my soul, it would seem, and the sheer horror at discovering his dead friend was so perfectly stamped onto my own feelings. For a brief moment, I pictured Holmes is the mangled state Darley had just described. A shutter shot down my spin as my chest felt hollow. I found that I couldn't look at the man before me a moment longer.
It did not lessen his overpowering remarks nor did it ease my mind.
"I understand." Holmes' voice broke the trance upon the two of us as we both turn to look at him. He'd been watching me the entire time.
"Believe me, Mr. Darley, I know what you are requesting." he now looks to the distraught man before us, his voice calm and gentle. "Rest assured, I will not take this case lightly. Now, can you describe the state of your friend Anthony, or would that be too painful?" There's a kindness in the way he looks upon the client, waiting patiently to allow Darley to answer when ready. The man in question looks down at his feet, brows knitting together and nibbling at his thumb.
"I'd appreciate you looking at the scene yourself. I'm not too emotionally disturbed, it's just that I wouldn't be able to find the words." He goes silent before once again turning towards me. "You have my sincerest apologies, Dr. Watson... I didn't mean to imply what I did. I'm simply a bit stressed at the moment." I smiled at him to show that all was forgiven. He returned the smile, then turned back to Holmes.
"If you'll meet me at the station tomorrow, I'd be glad take you to my rooms."
"A sooner examination of the scene would be preferable. I would never dream of keeping the body there any longer than necessary."
"Oh, alright. I shall send a cab for you at noon, I'm afraid I have a few more things to do before I can fully devote my time to this."
Holmes had offered him a brandy, which he declined. Standing up, shaking each of our hands, Mr. Darley quickly made his way to the door. He had stopped to pick up his hat, but paused when it was in his hands. He looked at it lovingly before turning back to Holmes and myself.
"I didn't have much time to introduce myself, so I'll leave this here. I know how much you gents enjoy figuring a person out."
Holmes nodded at his decision, and then he was gone.
We sat, the two of us, in silence. I looked upon the door and imagined the man who walked through it for the first time not more than ten minutes ago. I was still a bit shaken by his words, but I didn't allow it to be evident in my expression.
"Well now, what do you make of that?" Holmes mutters to himself. I didn't intend to dwell on the strange little man too much, so offered that perhaps he wasn't the type to take the death of a friend well.
"I'd be afraid of the man who didn't feel at least a little remorse at the loss of a dear friend." my companion remarked.
"Boris Darley frightens me. Did you observe the way his eyes burned as he... said all that?"
"No, I hardly noticed. But you, my dear Watson, you must learn to guard yourself better. That is how many a great man falls." He now resumed his seat and lit his pipe. The smoke of the burning tobacco rising and curling in the air, obscuring my view of his face. I wasn't satisfied.
"You must excuse me in my asking this, Holmes, but why--"
"Because he sees us as fellow men while he views the police as mere puppets. Mr. Darley has come to us in hopes that with our friendship in mind, we would be able to sympathize with his losses. Though why that is necessary, I do not yet know. Do me a favor and hand me his hat, if you please?"
I was not surprised that Holmes was able to answer my question before I could ask it, so I handed him the hat with no delay.
"This is the second hat with which we shall use to fully meet our client," he remarked as he turned said object every which way in his hands. As before, I expected him to hand it to me so that I may try my hand at deducing our client, but Holmes had decided to skip the lesson this time.
"This hat is not very extraordinary, to be honest. No scuffs, hardly a days worth of dust, no proper engravings as to identity... it doesn't even appear local."
"How so?" I asked.
"This is a brand I don't recognize. Probably American, judging by subtle style differences." He now set the hat over his knee, extending and retracting his leg to see how the hat fell and rose with the movement.
"And what does that prove?" the question was out of my mouth before I could stop it.
"Oh, it proves nothing. I am merely thinking." He continued the odd movements for a few moments before removing the hat and placing it on his own head. I watched in silence, secretly wishing he'd let me have a look at the black hat which now resided atop his head. I recounted the facts.
"So this Darley person, what can you conclude about him?"
"Oh, not much. I firmly believe that Darley is a man of decent wealth, he is not American nor has he been there within the past year, he has no family, no affairs, self-employed, uncomfortable around horses, and is an overall sturdy gentleman who is uninfluenced by his surroundings."
I sunk backed and barked a laugh. "My dear Holmes, I would lose an entire nights sleep if you would decide not to tell me how on God's Earth you deduced all that!"
He smiled at this and leaned forward. "I would hate to deprive you of your sleep tonight, doctor, so I shall explain it. You needn't hear my explanation of his good fortune, I hope? Wonderful! Now, despite this fine hat being American made, you will notice that Darley has neither the accent nor the style of an American man. He is as every bit English as you or me. Also, I should bring to light the fact that I do not believe this hat belongs to him. It fits me just fine, but would be at least a quarter of an inch too large for his head. You could take into account that perhaps it is simply to his likings, but if one were to pay for a hat such as this, it would be a mistake to purposely commit yourself to one which would blow away on a windy day. Therefor, he could not be the original owner of this hat."
"Sounds reasonable." I mutter.
"Quite so. As for the family, you will notice the unconventional way in which he both entered our rooms and greeted us. This will also prove him correct in stating that he has no affairs nor is he a social man, for if he were, his appearance here this morning would have been much more conventional. Inviting himself up our stairs without being led by Mrs. Hudson nor sending some sort of notification ahead of time points to the fact that he is unused to situations such as this. I say that he has no family not only because he told us he was alone, but also by the way he displayed such awkwardness in emotional releases. Perhaps if he wasn't alone at such an early age, he'd've been more keen on traditional expressions."
"You are referring, of course, to his outburst?"
"Indeed, that is my connection. Have I left anything out?"
"Err... his self employment?"
"Ah, yes. We've already concluded that this man is a novice in social behaviors. No associates? No friends from the work place? I am sure you'll find it hard to believe that any man would remain so friendless should not the opportunity of a work buddy be presented. The only reasonable conclusion, therefor, would be that he has none."
I thought that was a bit of a stretch, but I didn't question it. "This fellow seems to lead a lonely life." I remarked instead.
"It would appear so. However, loneliness doesn't unwind everyman. He obviously finds solace in his abilities to do whatever he likes whenever he likes without being encumbered by relations. I can't say our trains of thought differ too greatly, Mr. Darley and myself."
"You're not as socially inept as you like to believe you are, Holmes. You just fail to acknowledge the people around you."
Now was his turn to laugh. "Oh, Watson, you are endearing! I suppose you are right, though now is hardly the time to dwell on my relationships. Do you wish to know about his aversion to horses?"
"Perhaps a later time, I think the crime scene is more important than how you looked at his boots and magically came to that conclusion."
Holmes smiled at this. "Not his boots, Watson, but his trouser legs."
"Yes, well ah... don't you think it was a bit strange that he was withholding information from the police? It'll be difficult discerning truth from fiction from this man, I think."
"It would seem so, though I can see his reasons. I'm not sure if I would trust them with everything, anyhow. Come along now, doctor, I think we have just enough time to lunch before being pulled into this new adventure."
LOOK HOW CLEVER I AM, I ENDED THE CHAPTER LIKE DOYLE HIMSELF!! Yes, I know, but for lack of a better ending, it'll have to do.