Note: I am a Sherlock Homes fan to the end, however, as all fan fiction
goes, the Sherlock Homes you will read below, is my take of the man. Just
thought you should know.
Chapter One
Ginger
221b Baker St.
5th of December 1900
Mr. Sherlock Holmes who had a habit of disregarding time when it came to mornings, surprised me when I arose and ventured from my room for a spot of breakfast. This particular morning, not unlike any other in weather for this season, was morose and full of snow, thus I had expected him to of donned his usual dressing gown, however he was fully dressed and waiting calmly for me at the dining table.
"Good Morning Watson!" he chimed cheerfully.
"Good Morning Holmes." I replied, watching him suspiciously. "Are we expected somewhere urgent this early morning?"
"Hm, quite." he nodded. "But first breakfast. Mrs. Hudson, if you please?" he called, stressing the word 'please' as if she was slow and feeble of mind.
We ate in silence, not an unusual phenomenon, but to my credit I knew something was amiss. At precisely seven thirty, we departed Baker Street and rode in carriage to Great Russell Street. Holmes had eluded answering all my questions regarding our destination, but it all became clear to me, when I found myself staring at the entrance to the British Museum.
"Really Holmes, I think it is about time you told me why we are venturing out this early in the morning. The Museum will not open for another hour or two." I pressed.
"The British Museum had a recent acquisition of an Egyptian mummy. An old friend of mine is on the board of trustees and has agreed to allow me to view the mummy before anyone else." he said in an offhand way that made me suspect hey was hiding something.
"The Pre-dynastic mummy?" I ventured.
He glanced quickly at me out of the corner of his eye, "The very same." I wondered silently at his sudden interest in this mummy. "I know my actions are seeming erratic, but-"
"When are you not erratic?" I mumbled.
He chuckled and went on, "This mummy dates back to the Naqada II period somewhere between 4500 to 3100 BC. The curators at the Museum have delightfully named it 'Ginger'. I am merrily interested in a piece that was found with the said mummy."
"Ah, Mr. Holmes." a short pudgy man, graying in years who wore thick glasses appeared from behind a large white sheet. "You're early, I apologize for the mess," he stammered looking around at what seemed to be, a highly organized and tidy room.
"Tis nothing to worry yourself about Mr. Gregory, I would like to introduce you to my dear friend Dr. John Watson." he gestured towards me. Mr. Gregory did not produce his hand or really acknowledge my presence at all. Instead he busied himself by dusting non-existent dust from several worktables. "The mummy, Mr. Gregory, I do believe I was given permission to view it this morning." Holmes nudged. The short man looked up startled for a moment and the briskly nodded, mumbled is "profuse apologies" and then led us to a small room off to the left. There sitting delicately on a worktable was the definite remains of long since dead individual.
The body was curled into a tight fetus position. The skin was dry and parched with a dark brownish color. Remarkably, where I had suspected to smell a strong scent of rot and decay, I instead was pleasantly surprise to find it had light smell of sand and sun to it. "We, ah, named him Ginger. Ah, because of his hair." the little man informed us, pointing the long strand of pale amber-colored hair. Holmes stood staring at the man expectantly, then he coughed politely, which was unusual for Mr. Holmes, then gestured for the man to leave.
"He's a bit odd," I commented when Mr. Gregory had left the room.
"Yes, I agree. I suspect he is stealing objects from the Museum." Holmes replied. When I asked him why, he merrily replied, "It's all elementary my dear Watson. He's agitated, highly agitated. Several times he tried, and with out much success I dare say, to distract our attentions from the white sheet. Underneath, I suspect, is his 'loot'" the rolled the last word off his tongue in a sing song way as he examined the body.
"But is it not rash to say he is stealing from the Museum?" I asked bewildered.
Holmes smiled softly while picking at the mummy's skin. "No, quite the contrary, several objects have been disappearing from this museum for years and most in the antiquities department."
"Why if that were true it would surely be in the post. Where did you come across this information Holmes?"
"Gossip my dear Watson, gossip. Ah, here we are." suddenly from beneath the mummy's skin which covered the area where the skull meets the spine, Holmes pulled out a magnificent object of dark jade. Upon my look of bewilderment, mingled with disgust I'm sure, Holmes elaborated, "A fortnight ago Mr. Roger Cunningham, my friend of the board of trustees, came to me to solve a mystery. Several of the Museums oldest members and curators have been found dead. Their deaths were similar. All deaths were unexplained. There were no sign of a use of a weapon or poison."
"Why do they suspect murder?" I interrupted.
"I was getting there," he replied tartly. "There were markings however that suggested murder. Two puncture wounds here above the bridge of the nose." he gestured to his forehead. "There was also objects, similar to this one, found with each victim. However, they were of different colors. But all were undoubtedly snakes, like this one," he handed me the small jade idol. Indeed it was a snake, a finally carved one with small ruby eyes. "Their colors were; blue, yellow, gold, silver and black."
"Besides these little-um-snakes here, how does the mummy come into all of this?" I asked.
"I'm not quite sure yet. However, all of the deceased had had some contact with this mummy." he took back the jade snake and put it in his jacket pocket.
"Holmes!" I cried at his apparent thievery.
"Really Watson, do you believe me a thief? I have strict orders from Cunningham and Lestrade to guard this precocious object until further notice. It's all in writing so you really mustn't worry." he shrugged. "Lestrade is expecting us, so I believe we should leave." As we exited the small room where the mummy was being housed, I realized, Mr. Gregory was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he had over heard our earlier conversation and whether or not we would be seeing him any time in the near future.
Chapter One
Ginger
221b Baker St.
5th of December 1900
Mr. Sherlock Holmes who had a habit of disregarding time when it came to mornings, surprised me when I arose and ventured from my room for a spot of breakfast. This particular morning, not unlike any other in weather for this season, was morose and full of snow, thus I had expected him to of donned his usual dressing gown, however he was fully dressed and waiting calmly for me at the dining table.
"Good Morning Watson!" he chimed cheerfully.
"Good Morning Holmes." I replied, watching him suspiciously. "Are we expected somewhere urgent this early morning?"
"Hm, quite." he nodded. "But first breakfast. Mrs. Hudson, if you please?" he called, stressing the word 'please' as if she was slow and feeble of mind.
We ate in silence, not an unusual phenomenon, but to my credit I knew something was amiss. At precisely seven thirty, we departed Baker Street and rode in carriage to Great Russell Street. Holmes had eluded answering all my questions regarding our destination, but it all became clear to me, when I found myself staring at the entrance to the British Museum.
"Really Holmes, I think it is about time you told me why we are venturing out this early in the morning. The Museum will not open for another hour or two." I pressed.
"The British Museum had a recent acquisition of an Egyptian mummy. An old friend of mine is on the board of trustees and has agreed to allow me to view the mummy before anyone else." he said in an offhand way that made me suspect hey was hiding something.
"The Pre-dynastic mummy?" I ventured.
He glanced quickly at me out of the corner of his eye, "The very same." I wondered silently at his sudden interest in this mummy. "I know my actions are seeming erratic, but-"
"When are you not erratic?" I mumbled.
He chuckled and went on, "This mummy dates back to the Naqada II period somewhere between 4500 to 3100 BC. The curators at the Museum have delightfully named it 'Ginger'. I am merrily interested in a piece that was found with the said mummy."
"Ah, Mr. Holmes." a short pudgy man, graying in years who wore thick glasses appeared from behind a large white sheet. "You're early, I apologize for the mess," he stammered looking around at what seemed to be, a highly organized and tidy room.
"Tis nothing to worry yourself about Mr. Gregory, I would like to introduce you to my dear friend Dr. John Watson." he gestured towards me. Mr. Gregory did not produce his hand or really acknowledge my presence at all. Instead he busied himself by dusting non-existent dust from several worktables. "The mummy, Mr. Gregory, I do believe I was given permission to view it this morning." Holmes nudged. The short man looked up startled for a moment and the briskly nodded, mumbled is "profuse apologies" and then led us to a small room off to the left. There sitting delicately on a worktable was the definite remains of long since dead individual.
The body was curled into a tight fetus position. The skin was dry and parched with a dark brownish color. Remarkably, where I had suspected to smell a strong scent of rot and decay, I instead was pleasantly surprise to find it had light smell of sand and sun to it. "We, ah, named him Ginger. Ah, because of his hair." the little man informed us, pointing the long strand of pale amber-colored hair. Holmes stood staring at the man expectantly, then he coughed politely, which was unusual for Mr. Holmes, then gestured for the man to leave.
"He's a bit odd," I commented when Mr. Gregory had left the room.
"Yes, I agree. I suspect he is stealing objects from the Museum." Holmes replied. When I asked him why, he merrily replied, "It's all elementary my dear Watson. He's agitated, highly agitated. Several times he tried, and with out much success I dare say, to distract our attentions from the white sheet. Underneath, I suspect, is his 'loot'" the rolled the last word off his tongue in a sing song way as he examined the body.
"But is it not rash to say he is stealing from the Museum?" I asked bewildered.
Holmes smiled softly while picking at the mummy's skin. "No, quite the contrary, several objects have been disappearing from this museum for years and most in the antiquities department."
"Why if that were true it would surely be in the post. Where did you come across this information Holmes?"
"Gossip my dear Watson, gossip. Ah, here we are." suddenly from beneath the mummy's skin which covered the area where the skull meets the spine, Holmes pulled out a magnificent object of dark jade. Upon my look of bewilderment, mingled with disgust I'm sure, Holmes elaborated, "A fortnight ago Mr. Roger Cunningham, my friend of the board of trustees, came to me to solve a mystery. Several of the Museums oldest members and curators have been found dead. Their deaths were similar. All deaths were unexplained. There were no sign of a use of a weapon or poison."
"Why do they suspect murder?" I interrupted.
"I was getting there," he replied tartly. "There were markings however that suggested murder. Two puncture wounds here above the bridge of the nose." he gestured to his forehead. "There was also objects, similar to this one, found with each victim. However, they were of different colors. But all were undoubtedly snakes, like this one," he handed me the small jade idol. Indeed it was a snake, a finally carved one with small ruby eyes. "Their colors were; blue, yellow, gold, silver and black."
"Besides these little-um-snakes here, how does the mummy come into all of this?" I asked.
"I'm not quite sure yet. However, all of the deceased had had some contact with this mummy." he took back the jade snake and put it in his jacket pocket.
"Holmes!" I cried at his apparent thievery.
"Really Watson, do you believe me a thief? I have strict orders from Cunningham and Lestrade to guard this precocious object until further notice. It's all in writing so you really mustn't worry." he shrugged. "Lestrade is expecting us, so I believe we should leave." As we exited the small room where the mummy was being housed, I realized, Mr. Gregory was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he had over heard our earlier conversation and whether or not we would be seeing him any time in the near future.