Introduction
The newspaper rustled rather loudly as its holder flipped through the pages.
A grunt came from behind it. News was such an uninteresting thing nowadays.
Especially if you were a Detective/Private Investigator/eccentric/world-class genius.
~][~
Sherlock Holmes read and reread the paper enough times to make anyone sick. With another grunt, this one of disgust, he threw the paper into a nearby chair. "Sometimes I wonder if I am the odd one." He mused to himself.
It was then that the door to the sitting room he was in opened.
In walked his very best friend, Dr. John Watson. Dr. Watson had accompanied Holmes on so many cases, the most recent involving a Lord Henry Blackwood. At this point, Watson walked in smartly, closing the door shut behind him, walking over to the drapes, and opening them, revealing the splendid industrialism of London City.
"We've discussed you sitting in on such a lovely day, Holmes." He said in an annoyed tone.
"We've also discussed wearing that jacket. It looks hideous on you." Replied Holmes.
"Looks better on me than you." Countered Watson.
"Compared to what?" was Holmes' answer.
A clearing of a throat caused them both to stop arguing and turn their heads.
A young man, in his mid-20's by the looks of it, peeked his head in to the room. "I was told this was where I could find Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" asked the man in a slightly effeminate British accent. "You've found him, but how was your train ride into town?" asked Holmes, barely looking at him. "How did-?" asked the man in shock. "You have mud on the right elbow of your waistcoat, inferring that you were sitting in a window seat on the 8:30 train into London, with your arm rested on the open windowsill." Replied Holmes, further baffling the young man. Watson, however, was so used to Holmes' oddities that he noticed nothing odd about the deduction.
"Absolutely correct, and I can gather now that you are indeed Mr. Holmes?" said the young man, shaking Holmes' hand. "Yes, I am…but what do you need of me? I am rather busy." Asked Holmes, walking over to a house of cards and adding another card. "Um…he's…not as busy as he makes himself out to be." Added Watson, giving Holmes a stern look. "Well, I…uh…I am an ambassador…from a very faraway land." Started the man, but Holmes rushed over and put a finger on his lips. "Hush now…do you hear that?" Holmes cocked his head. "Oh, Lord…here we go again…" moaned Watson, putting his head in his hands. "Hear what? I hear nothing." Said the man, muffled by Holmes' finger. "That…is the sound…of peace and quiet," explained Holmes, zooming over to his chair, getting on it in a kneeled position, and starting to tune his violin. "And I would much appreciate it staying that way." "He…does…this a lot." Added Watson, sighing deeply. "I understand…I was told to be careful of the eccentricities of Sherlock Holmes, and now I realize just what my master meant." Chuckled the man.
The man went to depart, but he stopped, took in a breath, and turned on his heel. "By the by, Mr. Holmes…my name is Scolita Havelock, and if you do not want to listen to me, then just read this telegram at your earliest convenience." He said, depositing said letter on a nearby table, then leaving.
Watson turned to Holmes. "You know, you could've been a little warmer to the lad." He scolded.
"I don't have time for warmth, Watson…I am busy trying to make a house of cards in the likeness of Parliament." Shot back Holmes coldly, abandoning the violin and doing just that.
Watson sighed again, and he stood up, walked over, and knocked down the house of cards with his walking stick. Holmes made no motion to shout at Watson, but merely slinking into a chair. "Watson…you love to spoil my fun." Noted Holmes in mock sorrow. "What you consider fun…is not this, usually." Observed Watson. Looking around, he noticed a bottle marked "Flu Vaccination Liquid". He also looked on in mild horror as Holmes walked over and poured himself a glass of it, and inhaled it in one deep gulp. "You're drinking something that is meant to vaccinate, not be drunk like a scotch." Noted Watson with trepidation. "Ooh, yes…they say a healthy body equals a healthy mind, so why not put a down payment on never getting the flu?" asked Holmes with great eccentricity. "Oh, God…" Watson rolled his eyes and straightened himself up promptly. "You need to get a life, Holmes…either that or find a new case…" he scowled.
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Holmes stared after him for a couple of moments, then began to build his house of cards again…
~][~
Meanwhile…
Scolita hurried down the dirty cobblestone streets of London. Constantly looking behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed, Scolita began to head for the rail station.
Little did he know that he was being followed by someone.
A figure lurked in the shadows of alleyways, following Scolita down towards the rail station. When Scolita arrived, he hurriedly paid for his ticket, fumbling on some loose change, and then promptly boarding the train headed for…
…the figure looked for a destination indicator, but there was none. This puzzled the figure. Who boards a train headed to nowhere?
The figure quickly bought a ticket as well and boarded the same train just as it was about to leave the station.
The figure's employer wanted to know where Scolita was going, and she was determined to not let him get away…
~][~
A horse and carriage barreled down a street not far from the train station. The horses ran as if being chased, and every time the cart rounded a corner, it tipped something horrid, almost going sideways several times.
In the carriage was another figure, who was not enjoying the ride. He peeked his head out of the window, making sure to keep his face still hidden in shadow, and he watched as they zoomed past the train station. It was then that he saw the train to nowhere. "Driver!" he shouted to the man in front. "Follow that train! Go off the road if you need to!"
The driver followed the train out of London and into the countryside. At this point, Scolita looked out the window and saw the carriage. Crying out in panic, he stood up, but the female figure in the train with him also stood, and shoved him back down. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Havelock…smart going to Holmes, but not smart enough, because we saw you go in…" she smiled a rather malicious smile.
Scolita's day just went from bad to worse, and there was no one to help him now…
CHAPTER I:
MEET MS. ADLER
Meanwhile, back on Baker Street…
Holmes finished his house of cards again just as Watson walked back in. "Well, Mary's in a right state," he said, not looking at Holmes as he took off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall, then sitting down. "She's complaining to me about how I'm spending too much time with you and not enough time with her…and—you built it again, seriously?"
"Watson…before you knock it down, I have to tell you something." Said Holmes, holding up his hands to stop Watson from grabbing his cane. "I've read that telegram from that Havelock fellow, and I think I may have found a case that we can do at last." He said, as if he'd just discovered Atlantis. "A case that you can do at last." Watson amended sternly. "I think you know full well that when you say 'you', you mean 'you and me', not just you." Scoffed Holmes in a snarky tone, walking over and rummaging through Watson's coat pockets, then pulling out some money. "Hey! Mary gave that to me so that we could eat for a couple days more, not for you to go out and spend on alcohol!" reprimanded Watson, yanking the bills out of Holmes' hand. "Yes, but we have to eat, no?" retorted Holmes, taking the bills back. This quickly evolved into another argument:
"We have to eat, which is why I am taking this money to go buy groceries."
"Well, I was planning on buying you a new coat to replace the grotesque sloth hanging on our coat hook."
"We need food more than I need a new coat."
"Watson…have you happened upon a mirror, perchance?"
"What…do you have against the coat?"
"Nothing. I'd never put any part of me against that thing."
"Holmes…you are really trying my patience."
"Trying? What, it didn't work?"
With that, Watson took several deep breaths before saying; "Look…Holmes…as a friend and as your doctor…I truly believe you should concentrate on this new case instead of my coat…it's unhealthy."
Upon saying that, Watson grabbed his coat, and he left the apartment again.
Holmes knelt down to a dog sitting lazily in the corner of the room. "Oh, Gladstone…I guess it's just you and me again…" sighed Holmes, patting the dog on the head. Gladstone whimpered. Holmes liked to use him as a test subject for various antidotes, anesthetics, and goodness knows what else, and for that, the dog was not looking forward to the next few hours…
But it was then that Holmes noticed a second note pinned under the initial telegram. This one bore a strange "I.A" symbol on it. Holmes gritted his teeth. How had he not seen this before? But he had seen the symbol before…quite recently, in fact. And wherever that symbol appeared, trouble was sure to follow. "Irene Adler…we meet again." He sighed heavily, detaching the second note from the first.
~][~
Scolita Havelock was very unhappy.
The train chugged along the tracks, its engines wheezing from old age and industry. "So, Mr. Havelock…" said the female figure, sitting next to him. "You've been to Sherlock Holmes…but now you have to deal with us." "I am fully aware, Ms. Adler…" stuttered Scolita. "I know your employer has been looking for me for almost 3 years now, but I am afraid he'll be looking a bit longer." "What are you talking about?" asked Adler. "Have you heard of the word 'smokescreen'?" asked Scolita.
Standing up suddenly, he pulled what looked like a flawless diamond out of his pocket, and threw it at the ground. Instantly, black smoke filled the train cabin. When it cleared, Adler looked around. Scolita was nowhere to be found. But, on his seat was a letter. Adler quickly snatched it up. It read a simple sentence:
You might want to abandon the train, as it is about to go off a cliff.
Looking up, Adler noticed that the train was indeed headed for a cliff. Picking up her travel dossier, Adler rushed to the door, yanked it open, and leapt just as the train plummeted off the train into the frigid Atlantic Ocean below, exploding on impact.
Standing up and dusting herself off, Adler breathed a sigh of relief. Within a couple of minutes, the carriage from before pulled up next to her, and the male figure leaned out of the window. "Are you alright, Ms. Adler?" he asked seriously. "A bit shaken, but stirred nonetheless." She said, smiling. "This is no time for jokes, Ms. Adler. Scolita has gotten away, and you need to go after him." Said the figure, pointing a crooked finger at Adler. "I already plan on it, but first…I must return to London and confront Mr. Holmes…find out what that telegram says." Adler put on her hat and climbed into the carriage, and it bounded off back towards London.
~][~
Sherlock Holmes had finally read both pieces of the letter and he finally understood what it was Mr. Havelock was asking of him. Yet again, Watson came back in and hung his coat on the rack. "Not…a word." He warned, as Holmes was about to open his mouth. "I'm not planning on lampooning that awful coat, but I have something else to talk to you about, Watson…" said Holmes, throwing in a thinly veiled insult to the coat anyways as Watson poured himself some tea. "What is it then, old boy?" he asked, sitting down.
Holmes threw the telegram and letter onto Watson's lap.
"So, Ms. Adler is involved in this…how come I am not surprised in the least?" asked Watson after he'd finished reading. "This Havelock fellow is asking me to meet him at Scotland Yard, and to bring you with me." Stated Holmes, reclining in his chair. "Yes, and we've already discussed my involvement in your cases…not anymore." Replied Watson, flipping open the paper. "Hmm…" he added, peering closer at an article in particular. "It says here that an unmarked train went off a cliff outside of London, and that the tracks led right to the cliff's edge." "Well, that's not right, is it?" asked Holmes, peering at a dot on the wooden ceiling.
Suddenly, a knock at the door, and Inspector Lestrade, top officer at Scotland Yard, came in. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Holmes." He said. "But there's someone at the Yard asking for you." "Yes, I know…I was just on my way there, actually." Said Holmes, putting on his jacket.
Just as him and Lestrade were about to walk out the door, however, Watson gasped. "What is it, old cock?" asked Holmes, leaning over and reading where Watson was pointing with his finger. Holmes read:
"…and eyewitness accounts state having seen the train's 1st-class cabin fill up with smoke, and a young woman leaping from the train seconds before it went off the cliff. A carriage pulled up, picked her up, and headed back towards London, but the description of the woman matches world-class criminal Ms. Irene Adler, who is wanted in 28 countries for a large variety of heinous crimes. If anyone has any information regarding Ms. Adler, Scotland Yard advises that they come forward…"
Holmes made a 'tsk' noise with his mouth. "Irene…why can't you stay out of trouble for one day?" he asked himself quietly. Thankfully, Lestrade didn't hear him. "I…see that you've discovered a lead on Irene Adler." Watson looked at Lestrade. "Yes…are you implying that you know anything about her?" asked Lestrade sharply. "No, no…nothing at all." Amended Watson hurriedly. "Then come with me, gentlemen…and we'll go to the Yard." Lestrade held the door open as Holmes and Watson walked through it, then walking through himself. Silently, Watson cursed himself that he had once more been pulled into Holmes' case.
~][~
Scolita stood at the entrance to Scotland Yard, checking his pocket watch. It was now 1:30 in the afternoon, and time was running short. If Holmes didn't get here soon…well, Irene would find Scolita again, and so would her employer, as he could guess they were travelling together now.
No sooner had he finished mulling this thought over that Holmes and Watson pulled up in a carriage, accompanied by Lestrade and Clarkie, one of Lestrade's personal officers. "Ah, Mr. Holmes! It's so good to see you, you have no idea!" Scolita shook Holmes' hand fervently. "Alright, Mr. Havelock…you have pulled me from the comfort of my apartment, and you have my time…what is it you need?" asked Holmes shortly. "I need to discuss it without prying eyes." Stated Scolita, glancing at Clarkie and Lestrade, who took their leave.
"Alright, Mr. Holmes…" said Scolita in low tones, pulling Holmes and Watson into a nearby alleyway. "It's time you found out everything about my master's problem." "Then out with it." Said Watson.
Scolita took a deep breath, and began his speech.
"I am scribe and friend to Mykel Linden, King of a land across the sea called Sanaria. It doesn't appear on any modern map, as it is protected with a barrier that prevents any who don't know about it from finding it." "Let me guess; It's held together with faeries, pixie dust, and friendship." sighed Holmes. "You don't believe me?" asked Scolita. "I just disproved a theory of magic here not too long ago, Mr. Havelock, so stop wasting my time…" groaned Holmes, rubbing his forehead. "Then let me prove it to you." Scolita took a step back, and he held out his hand, and in it, a ball of fire appeared, causing Holmes and Watson to both jump back, startled. "Where I come from, magic does exist…but, err…no one else…knows about it, and my master would prefer it stay that way."
Letting the fireball go out, Scolita resumed. "This barrier is magical, yes…but to my problem. My problem is my master's problem. Mykel is currently on the hunt for a girl named Irene Adler, and she is on the hunt for him, if that makes sense to you." Seeing Holmes and Watson's confused looks, Scolita rolled his eyes, sighed, and elaborated. "Ms. Adler stole something from Mykel, and he stole something from her, so they are seeking each other, but avoiding each other at the same time."
Seeing that Holmes and Watson still weren't getting it, Scolita sighed in frustration. "Ms. Adler stole the Crown Jewels of Sanaria, and Mykel wants them back." This caused Holmes to make a weird squeaking noise in his throat. Holmes and Irene were once VERY close. Quite recently VERY close. "Mykel is now trying to locate Irene to get the Linden Family Jewels back, but he doesn't want to meet Irene…at all, if I can put it that way." Said Scolita, straightening up. "I wish she'd just give them back…"
"She won't. She's too into herself to do that." Said Holmes, walking to the end of the alley and looking down, counting the street's cobblestones. "So sure of yourself?" asked Watson pointedly. "Yes, Watson…don't be foolish." Replied Holmes, sounding unsure. Scolita sighed once again, and he turned to Watson. "You and Holmes will help, won't you? Mykel is ever so worried I won't make it back alive." He asked. "What do you mean 'won't make it back alive'?" questioned Watson, disturbed by the notion. "Not long after I left you and Mr. Holmes, I boarded a train…yes, the same train that crashed." Said Scolita, seeing the look on Watson's face magnify tenfold. "But anyway…I was beset upon by Ms. Adler, who was waiting for me. I managed to escape, but I also made sure Ms. Adler escaped as well, shortly before the train took its tumble."
Holmes finally turned to face Scolita directly, and Scolita could see determination in his eyes. "Watson," he said triumphantly. "I've found my next case. The game…is aloof! Or is it 'afoot'? I can never remember…"
CHAPTER II:
GOD SAVE ANYONE WHO MEETS THE QUEEN
Meanwhile, a couple of days later…
Holmes and Watson had boarded a special fishing boat operated by a young man whom Scolita had put them in touch with.
When they had arrived, the man was fixing a broken railing on the side of the boat, and he looked up, and said; "Aye! Scolita be a tellin' me about you two…the in-famous Shirley Homes and Joan Whatson!" Clearing his throat, Watson replied; "Actually, his name is Sherlock Holmes…and mine is John Watson." "Don't be a sourpuss, Joan…get in the boat." Said Holmes, unamused. "Of course…Shirley." Answered Watson, knowing that that would get Holmes' goat badly. "Don't…call me Shirley." He said roughly as the boat started to separate from its moorings, and it began to drift lazily down the Thames…
…which is where the story continues.
"So, lads…where you be goin', eh?" asked the young man. "Umm…didn't Mr. Havelock inform you as to our destination?" asked Watson, alarmed. "Aye! That he did…but I was just makin' sure you young'uns knew what youse getting yourselves into!" The man laughed raucously as the boat picked up speed and began to depart London.
In such a case, Watson was leaning against the intact part of the railing, and his walking stick was next to him. It was then that the boat began to pass a large rock formation. "You know, Holmes…" said Watson, picking up his stick and aiming it right in front of Holmes. "That rock formation looks almost like your brother Mycroft." "Get that thing out of my face." Said Holmes.
"Here we go again…" thought Watson.
"It's not in your face. It's in my hand." He replied sharply.
"Well, get what's in your hand out of my face." Shot back Holmes.
"Or you could move your face out of what's in my hand." Watson decided to continue the charade.
"Why should I? My face was here first." Countered Holmes smoothly.
"Yes, but in rock, cane, face my cane would take an eye out." Smirked Watson.
"Then perhaps my face and your cane can come to an agreement." Said Holmes gravely.
"Well, my cane always points wherever it wants." Replied Watson, then cursing silently for opening a door for Holmes.
"Oh, and I am sure Mary would know all about that." Scoffed Holmes, not looking at Watson now.
"You leave Mary out of this!" said Watson firmly, dropping the stick.
"Oh, good…now what was in your hand is out of my face, so let's drop it, much like you just did, yes?" smiled Holmes.
Watson seethed. Holmes had won that round.
It was a tough time, travelling with Sherlock Holmes…and Watson once thought he was used to it, but now he realized: You can never get used to Holmes.
~][~
Irene Adler arrived at 231B Baker Street, and knocked on the door. It was answered by the landlady. "Can I help you, ma'am?" she asked. "Yes…I am looking for Sherlock Holmes…is he around?" asked Adler, peering past the landlady into the foyer of the apartment building. "He's not, and thank the Lord for that." Said the landlady, peering up as if she were actually speaking to the Lord himself. "Oh? Why?" asked Adler, pretending to be interested. "Have you not truly met him, ma'am?" asked the landlady, a look of shock on her face. "He's up there, shooting holes in the wall at all hours of the night, and he kills the dog…too many times to count! I say good riddance, and I hope he never comes back!" "That's a shame…" intoned Adler in mock disappointment. "You didn't happen to catch where he was going, do you?" "He said something about a man named Mykel, and he left. He also took his friend, John Watson with him." Answered the landlady. "Naturally." Smiled Adler. "Thank you kindly, ma'am."
With that, the landlady closed the door. As soon as she did, Irene gritted her teeth. Holmes was now under Mykel's eye, and it would make it nearly impossible to contact or meet Holmes under any circumstances. She was going to have to find a way to get him away from Watson and Mykel…at any cost…
~][~
Many days had passed, and Holmes and Watson had been seasick for most of the ride.
Holmes staggered up on deck, saw the churning waves of the ocean, and said; "Still not strong enough." And he ducked back below decks to vomit into a trash can.
It took almost a full hour for Holmes and Watson to practically crawl from the boat's bedroom like skeletons from the Earth, and emerge on deck. The sailor looked at them and cackled, his laughter echoing across the nearby ocean.
"You boys took yer time gettin' up har!" he laughed. "Why…must you kick a man while he's down?" asked Watson weakly, grasping the rail for support. "Oh, I'd not be doin' that…you'd die if I kicked ye!" The sailor laughed even harder. Holmes laughed a humorless laugh. "While we'd all fancy giving Watson a good kick where it counts…how far are we?" inquired Holmes, managing to stand next to the sailor. "Ah, it'll be another half an 'our or so." Replied the sailor, checking his compass to make sure they were headed in the right direction. Holmes groaned, and clutching his stomach, he fell against the rail next to Watson. "Watson dear man…remind me next time to come here by way of a passenger pigeon. It'd be less painful." He gasped. "For you, maybe…but that poor pigeon." Watson managed a sarcastic smile. "You taunt me in my hour of grief even! You are a far more malicious doctor than I'd ever imagined. I am sure you'd make an excellent mortician." Noted Holmes. This time, Watson did smile. "I am a mortician, Holmes…to everybody you've ever examined." He chuckled faintly. "True that." Holmes said thoughtfully.
Finally, the boat came to a stop in the middle of nowhere. "So, where is this barrier Mr. Havelock spoke of?" asked Watson, starting to poke thin air around the edges of the boat, causing the sailor to let out an uncontrolled laughing fit. "They-a-be tellin' me that you Londoners were smart folk…whosoever "they" was, they was stupider than a drunk kitty cat!" howled the sailor, slapping his thigh. "Oh. My condolences to your cat." Said Holmes absently, staring straight ahead.
Suddenly, a massive translucent wall started to rise up from the water, stretching towards the skies. A hole perfectly fitting to the boat appeared in front of them, and the sailor started up the boat again. "Here we go, boys! Hang on!" warned the sailor.
As they passed through the wall, Holmes and Watson were greeted with an incredible sight.
An entire landmass, seemingly bigger than all of Britain, was laid out before them. They were at a loss for words. "You'll be-a dockin' in Teles Skopos. Michelle Lindy will be-a seein' you-a there." "Is this man an Italian country man?" whispered Holmes to Watson. "Never mind that, Holmes…look!" said Watson, pointing to a massive town rising up against a nearby cliff face.
It seemed as if the buildings themselves were carved into the mountain itself. The buildings all looked like they were thousands of years old, for they resembled mud huts found in Greece and environs. "Welcome, lads…to Sanaria's capital, Teles Skopos!" announced the sailor proudly, carefully guiding the boat to the closest mooring.
Upon setting foot on land, Holmes began to kiss the ground, and Watson had to look down at him and feel embarrassed to be his friend.
It was at that point that a woman began walking towards them. She was dressed in ceremonial armor resembling a medieval knight's armor, but fitted to a female body. Her long brown cape flowed behind her almost the same way her waist-length hair of the same color did. Her eyes were sharp, allowing Holmes to deduce that she was a very high-ranking officer in the Army. "You are Holmes, are you not?" she asked, her voice more severe than the look on her face. "And here I thought Lestrade had a problem being nice." Muttered Holmes coyly. Another guard who was near gasped. "You stand in the presence of Her Majesty Jenna Campbell, Queen of Ianex, and Second Meytator of the Tribunal of Terra Firma!" boomed the guard, causing Holmes to shudder. "You two will come with me to meet the King." Snapped Jenna, beckoning for them to follow. Holmes and Watson did follow, making extra sure to not tread on Jenna's cape as she walked.
As they went through the town, Holmes began to make assumptions. "This town has a distinctly Italian feel to it." He noted as they walked past the local five-star eatery. "The townspeople are terrified of Queen Campbell…why, heaven help me, I don't know." Intoned Holmes very sarcastically, causing Jenna to shoot him a vicious look. "Or maybe it's that she is perpetually ill-tempered." Pointed out Watson as they walked. "Perhaps…or maybe she's having a lady moment?" Holmes looked at Watson. "A lady moment? What are you—oh! Holmes, you are the most insensitive and coarse man I have ever met!" hissed Watson. "That is private business! We have no business knowing hers!" "I was merely stating the obvious." Stuttered Holmes apologetically. Jenna looked back and saw them trailing behind her. "KEEP UP!" she yelled, causing Holmes and Watson to jump. "God help me." Said Watson faintly. "I swear, are there any bears around? They'd be a good indicator." Noted Holmes. "Would you bloody well drop it?!" Watson gave Holmes the look of death. "Oh, mercy…now you're turning on me too, Watson…what has this land done to you so soon? Asked Holmes innocently. Watson started to fume. Someday, Sherlock Holmes was going to drive Watson into the madhouse, and Watson felt that the time of reckoning for him was not far off.
Eventually, they came to the top of a hill, and Jenna turned to them, pulling out two burlap sacks. "Sorry, boys…" she said, not sounding truly sorry. "But this is for the safety of the King and Country." Upon saying that, she slammed the two bags on Holmes and Watson and shoved them into a nearby carriage, which rumbled off towards a fateful meeting with King Linden. "Ah…another bag put on my head," muttered Holmes to Watson. "This happens entirely too often…"
CHAPTER III:
THE FAMILY JEWELS…AS IT WERE
After a while of driving, Holmes and Watson were forcibly yanked from the cart and shoved up a flight of what Holmes identified by the way his shoes clacked along them as marble stairs, and jostled along marble flooring.
It was after about seven minutes or so that Holmes and Watson had their bags removed from their heads. Holmes quickly scanned for possible exits. Watson was too anxious to do the same.
A couple of minutes later and Jenna walked in. "You will STAND!" she barked, causing Holmes and Watson to jump, a remarkable feat considering they were sitting in ornate wooden chairs. "Standing, ma'am." Said Watson, standing promptly, Holmes following suit. "King Linden is about to make his entrance…" stated Jenna grandly, waving her hand to a balcony above the room.
Mykel Linden emerged at the top of his balcony, so much material enrobing him that he looked like a pile of laundry than a monarch. Covering his eyes were two cucumbers, and he had streaks of facial cream on his face. Stumbling on the stairs, Mykel called out; "Is there someone there, Jenna m'dear?" he asked. "We have Mr. Holmes, and Mr. Watson from London, England!" her voice was so high in tone, it was practically an ululating shout now. "Oh, come in gentlemen!" said Mykel warmly, holding out a hand for Holmes and Watson to shake, but not realizing there were still five more stairs.
With a mighty *CRASH*, Mykel landed on the marble floor, his cucumbers finally coming off. When he stood up, he began scrutinizing Holmes and Watson, as if nothing had happened. "So, you're the great Sherlock Holmes…" he said gravely. Looking to Watson, he scoffed. "Boy, did I have you figured wrong." Watson, having had enough of the stupidity, pulled a thin sword out of his cane and held it to Mykel's neck.
The stupidity stopped, alright. Before Watson's blade had even gotten halfway up to Mykel's neck, Jenna's blade was at Watson's neck. "I could kill you now for threatening His Majesty. But, you are summoned, so you're lucky." Hissed Jenna. Holmes' eyes widened, seeing the situation deteriorating, and wishing to keep things warm, extended a hand and carefully shoved Watson's sword down. "We are…very sorry that my assistant has to, so to speak, 'jump the gun' every so often…" said Holmes apologetically, which, as Watson calculated, was very unlike him.
What did Holmes know that Watson didn't?
Suddenly sniffing the air, Holmes made a deduction, mostly just to display his skills to Mykel and Jenna personally, showing that their faith was not misplaced. "You…are wearing a vanilla, Aloe Vera, earl grey extract, and lemon facial cream…be careful, that lemon expired three days ago." Said Holmes, starting to examine the room. "Late Edwardian in nature…more marble than a block of cheese…chairs that should be in the King of Thailand's throne room…and a mark…a mark…"
Holmes knelt down and examined the maker's mark on a chair leg. "Belonging to the King of Thailand, but made in China…I foresee everything being made there sooner or later…" Standing up, Holmes began to inspect the cutlery and plates and bowls on the banquet table on the room's left side. "Supposed to be owned by the Sultan of Dubai, these bowls. The plates…small chinks in the corners, from extended use…these are your favorite dishes to use…and they are from the court of the Pharaoh of Egypt. The silverware…a unique "Jubilee Edition" for the Queen Mother herself, apparently in your court.
Mykel had not spoken, mostly out of amusement as opposed to guilt. He always enjoyed reading about Holmes' ridiculous, but true deductions…to see one in person was a gift few ever witnessed, and even those who witnessed it never realized how much of an honor it was to watch Holmes at work.
The only thing left was getting on all fours with a magnifying glass.
Finishing his deduction, Holmes turned to look at Mykel with a mixture of shock and wanting to strangle Mykel. "You got all of these from Irene Adler." He stated boldly, causing the room to go silent. No one's breathing was heard. Finally, Mykel spoke up. "Yes…I did. We have, err, had a business deal," explained Mykel, no guilt evident in his voice. "In exchange for all of these wonderfully valuable trinkets, more of which are scattered through my castle, I was to pay Ms. Adler twice their worth. About a month ago, I realized I was short on money when Ms. Adler brought me the incredibly rare Spoon of Horripilation from the east coast of the Shuddering Isles. (At this, Holmes looked genuinely confused, but Mykel ignored him) I told her I would give her three times its worth if she could wait one month for me to pay. She disagreed, and before she left, broke into my vault and made off with seven of my most precious gems (mine originally, not bought), which belonged to seven of my oldest ancestors. Ms. Adler does not realize that Sanaria's fate is tied to those gems."
Watson intervened here, having listened with rapt attention. "What happens if those seven gems are destroyed?" he asked. "I was getting to that." Said Mykel irritably. At this, Watson remained silent as Mykel concluded his explanation of events leading up to now:
"Whether the seven gems be destroyed, melted, even sold to someone who has never been to Sanaria…if anything should happen to the seven gems, the sin that each gem represents will take over Sanaria and slowly plunge it into a state of madness and darkness." "What are the gems' sins?" asked Watson. Mykel began to count them off, one by one:
"The Ruby of Gluttony, the Sapphire of Lust, the Emerald of Envy, the Diamond of Greed, the Pearl of Sloth, the Jade of Wrath, and the Garnet of Pride." Mykel sat upon his throne, quite put out. "I do not want to see my land fall into darkness. I have maintained its purity and purpose for my whole life, as I became King at age 10 when my father died. I would hate for it to deteriorate in my lifetime." "Fear not, dear man…" said Holmes triumphantly, turning one of the chairs upside-down and examining the nails in it. "Watson and I are on the case…aren't we, Watson?" Watson simply shook his head. "You've dragged me to God knows where, and you've put me through Hell and back…so yes…yes, I suppose I don't have a choice." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. A migraine was coming on, he could feel it.
"My, you certainly don't mince words, do you?" asked Mykel, staring at Watson with some scorn. "No…the only thing he minces is my ability to be intelligent." Sneered Holmes, causing Watson to scowl. "Well, I believe the key to this entire mystery is Ms. Adler, who had the gems in the first place." Intoned Jenna, speaking up. "Perhaps it would be best to find her." "Oh, don't worry Ms. Campbell…knowing Irene, she's likely already on her way here. The only thing to do now is wait…" smirked Holmes.
He knew something Watson, Mykel and Jenna did not. He knew Irene would come to him, but she would only do it when Mykel wasn't around, so Holmes knew now what he had to do.
Get away from Mykel and company long enough to question Irene…alone.
"Well…may I use your bathroom?" asked Holmes innocently. "Yes, certainly…it's down the hall, sixth door to the left." Pointed out Mykel. Just before he left, Holmes made a quick notation to Mykel. "Mr. Linden? Deals are like pearls. They're lovely…but they fall apart all the time."
Throwing everyone a joyous smile, Holmes walked down the hall and entered the bathroom.
Inside, he splashed some water on his face, and he dried his face on some high quality towels.
Suddenly, he heard a door creak open behind him…which wasn't the door into the bathroom. It was a wooden stall door, and behind it was none other than Irene Adler herself. "We meet again, Sherlock…" she said sweetly. "Darling!" Holmes whipped around and clutched the bathroom counter quickly.
Shocked as he was, Holmes knew his plan had worked. Irene had come to him. Now the only thing left was to discover the location of the gems.
CHAPTER IV:
IRENE'S SECRET
Holmes smiled a knowing smile. "I deduce that the only question with which to grace you with is 'Where are Mykel's gems'?" he asked smoothly. "Somewhere where you won't find them." She smiled back, but Holmes saw a flash of steel in her eyes. "Well, I was planning on finding out exactly how Mr. Linden coerced you emotionally, as it stuns me to think that a ponce such as he would ever land a woman like—" Here he paused, catching himself from saying; "A woman like you." It showed weakness in him.
But Adler pressed him. "A woman like what, Sherlock? I want to hear it, just to know you still care about me." Irene walked over to a mirror and started putting on lipstick, a deep, crimson red. When she was finished, she went to reach into her bag for something else, but Holmes, moving quick as lightning, grabbed her arm before her red glove disappeared into the depths of her purse. "Sherlock…I'm starting to develop welts on my arm from you handling me so needlessly…be careful not to kill yourself with this lethal bottle." Irene pulled out a bottle full of a very dark blue liquid. It sloshed in the bottle as if it were mud. Holmes unstopped it and took a whiff, and quickly put the cork back in, grimacing. "What is it?" he asked, trying to retain pleasant features on his face. "It's alkaline, but don't worry," said Irene as Holmes quickly put the bottle on the bathroom counter. "It's not going to break. My employer has perfected a glass that is impervious to the acidity of alkaline." "Now, Irene…I know you better than that…you wouldn't carry something as conspicuous as alkaline around in your purse." Reprimanded Holmes, examining the glass.
Irene swiped it up, her smile fading. "You didn't guess what it was." She said curtly. "You didn't notice my foreplay." Countered Holmes without missing a beat. "I did. I chose not to act on it." She responded. "But you're acting on it now by acknowledging it." Reiterated Holmes, sounding quite as a smart-ass. "Acknowledging only the past, and looking to the future." Stated Irene with finality. Defeated, Holmes sat on a radiator and glanced up at Irene. "Why are you really here?" he asked.
Sitting next to him, a feat considering the size of her dress, Irene sighed. "I'm being watched…" she announced solemnly. "I've taken Mr. Linden's gems and I plan to sell them to my employer, who is willing to give me enough money for them that I won't have to live this kind of life ever again…I'll be financially assured for the rest of my life." Holmes got closer to her. "You do not understand the gravity of what you have done, Irene…" cautioned Holmes in a stage whisper in her ear. "Oh, that old wives' tale about Sanaria going to pieces because the gems aren't in the hands of royalty? You don't believe that, do you? I know you better than that, Sherlock…" sighed Irene, standing up.
Also standing, Holmes gave her a cold look. "I assure you, I will find those gems and return them to Sanaria…you can count on it, Irene…" he muttered. "And I will be waiting for you, as will my employer." Irene gave one last smile to Holmes, and walked out the door.
Holmes waited a few moments, and followed, heading in the opposite direction, back towards where Watson, Jenna and Mykel were.
Upon arriving, Holmes grabbed Watson and said quickly to Mykel; "Well, it's been a lovely dinner, but we have to go. Good-bye, au revoir, sayonara, ta-ta, all that bit."
Watson noticed Holmes slide past the table and pour something in a cup as he went by, of which Mykel and Jenna didn't notice. Watson frowned. He still couldn't figure out what he was missing.
Leaving a dumbstruck Mykel and Jenna in his wake, Holmes steered Watson out of the castle.
After they had gotten a ways from the castle, albeit with no sacks on their heads, Holmes pulled Watson into a bush. "Holmes, err-what are you doing?" asked Watson, stuttering more from apprehension. "I had a run-in with Ms. Adler in the washroom." Stated Holmes. "Oh, and I am sure she was pleased to see you again." Said Watson cryptically. "Marginally, but that's not the point. The point is, she wouldn't give up the location of the gems, but I managed to take this without her knowing." Throwing Watson a snide look, Holmes reached into his pocket and pulled out a schedule. "It's Irene Adler's schedule for meetings with…Professor James Moriarty." Watson rolled his eyes. "First he was involved in the case with Blackwood, and now this." "I tell you, Watson…it's the case any detective dreams of…two completely unrelated cases, but all tracing back to the same man…a man who has hidden his involvement exceedingly well." Holmes grinned, and Watson started to see a bit of Holmes' old eccentricity returning to him, and he groaned inwardly.
"We have to get back to London and begin our search, but how do we get back?" asked Watson, climbing out of the bush. "I believe I can help you there." Said a voice, causing Watson to whirl around. Holmes couldn't look, as he was disentangling himself from the thorny lap of a rose bush.
Mykel and Jenna were walking down the path. "Whatever you have discovered, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson, I pray it leads to my jewels. I can help you return to London through teleportation." Said Mykel knowingly. "Not more magic mumbo-jumbo…haven't we had enough non-reality for one day?" asked Holmes in a mildly whiny voice. "Will it hurt?" asked Watson. "If you go in head-first, yes…" replied Mykel, veiling his sarcasm.
Holding up his hands, Mykel chanted in an unknown language under his breath, and Holmes and Watson were enveloped with a bright blue light. When it cleared, they were gone…
When the light cleared for Holmes and Watson, they were back in Holmes' study.
"Ah…good to be somewhere where everything is normal for me again…" said Holmes, sounding as if he'd been away from his study for years. Running his hands over his desk as if caressing a lover, Holmes let out a blissful sigh. "To be back…in musty, dusty, moldy, dingy old study…" he mused to himself.
Watson walked over to a stack of blank papers, and planted them on the desk, fetching ink and a quill at the same time. "Well, I do believe it is time for you to do what you do best…Detective Holmes." Smiled Watson.
Holmes smiled for once. Now that was a name he could get used to…
CHAPTER V:
SAVING SHERLOCK
Holmes and Watson spent the day going through their case and making notes, only pausing for the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, to bring them food. On one such occurrence, Mrs. Hudson deposited the tray of sandwiches as usual, but Holmes interrupted her.
"Dear landlady…those sandwiches smell different…did you put something different in them?" "Of course not, Mr. Holmes." She replied in her usual, cold manner before sweeping off. As soon as she had left, Holmes slid over and began sniffing the sandwiches. "I'm sure you'll actually feel full from eating them." Scorned Watson, taking a sandwich and putting it next to him. "Don't hurry me, Watson…I detected an odor I can't quite put my finger on…and I am trying to deduce it." Said Holmes curtly. "Well, deduce this. I think I may have found out where Irene is." Watson showed Holmes a map of the London Underground. "According to Ms. Adler's habits, which you have been more than happy to provide me with on numerous occasion, and according to a list of all of the illegal pawnbrokers of stolen merchandise in the Underground, I think Irene would be meeting Moriarty here." So saying, Watson pointed to what the map marked as an unused access corridor in a corner near the sewers. "Well, Watson…you've done well, but…I…need to…see…some…"
Holmes quite suddenly collapsed to the floor, flattening an end table in the process. "Holmes?!" Watson leapt up and put his skills as a doctor to use. Checking his pulse and his heartbeat, Watson was confused. Nothing seemed wrong there. Opening Holmes' mouth, Watson sniffed his breath and detected something amongst the ordinary odors…he detected a hint of ricin.
Ricin was a very lethal toxin extracted from a plant of the same name, and it usually killed almost instantly. In a panic, Watson began searching Holmes' study. His medical suitcase didn't contain anything to combat such an uncommon toxin, and he hoped that Holmes had something.
Turns out, he didn't. All the while he searched, Watson pondered as to how Holmes could've come into contact with ricin. He knew that ricin could absorb through the skin through sweat, but when did Holmes physically strain himself recently?
Part of the answer occurred to him. Ricin, as an experimental method, could also be injected through an airborne toxin, meaning that Watson himself could be exposed as well. He knew that if he succumbed, there would be nothing to do for Holmes.
Within a moment, his fear was confirmed as he felt like his stomach was on fire, the first sign of the toxin working its way through his system. Frantically now, he scrabbled into his medical suitcase. He had an antidote for something else in there, but it could slow the poison long enough for him to get Holmes and himself to a hospital.
Quickly putting it into a syringe, Watson immunized himself, then Holmes.
Swinging Holmes' body over his shoulder, Watson yelled; "MRS. HUDSON!"
Quick as a flash, the door opened and Mrs. Hudson entered. She gave a small scream and cupped her hand to her mouth when she saw Holmes draped over Watson like a coat. "Start up the automobile now! We must take Holmes to a hospital!" "Right away, Doctor!" Mrs. Hudson rushed from the room, Watson close behind. Someone had managed to almost kill Holmes and himself, and frankly, all's Watson could do was point the finger at either Mrs. Hudson, Irene Adler, or Moriarty himself…
The automobile rumbled down London's cobblestone streets. Watson kept checking Holmes, and noticed he was developing a severe fever, an advanced sign of the toxin. Suddenly, Holmes' eyes fluttered open. "Holmes!" Watson leaned close as Holmes beckoned him closer. Drawing close to Watson's ear, Holmes managed to mutter a couple of words, then pass out again.
Watson had heard exactly what Holmes said, and he leaned over to shout to Mrs. Hudson. "Mrs. Hudson!" he cried. "Turn the mobile around and take us to 66 Kaleshire Street, and fast!" "Are you sure, Doctor?" she asked. "I'm sure, go!" he replied, returning to Holmes' care.
The vehicle did a very sharp U-turn, almost overturning, and began to blaze back up the road…
~][~
Irene Adler gingerly stepped through the access corridor. It was done.
While she and Holmes were talking, Irene had pulled out a lipstick, and put it on her lips. A chemical in the lipstick had poisoned Holmes without him even realizing it…and everyone he came in contact with. Despite putting it on her lips, Irene had already been given the antidote, so that she wouldn't perish from the ricin. She sighed as she walked. Doctor Watson would be poisoned as well, but her employer had once told her: "The law of celestial mechanics dictate that when two objects collide, there is bound to be damage of a collateral nature."
Watson and Holmes were both the collateral.
Because Holmes had been near Mykel Linden and spoken directly to him, Mykel would be feeling the effects of the poison as well. It was a pity, Irene told herself as she descended further underground to her meeting spot that Holmes would die, for she did love him…sometimes.
After a short walk more, Irene came to a large sewer grating. Water slid through and soaked the bottom of her dress, but it mattered not. She grabbed the grating with her gloved hands and gingerly slid it out of the way and proceeded into another access tunnel.
Up the tunnel a bit, she saw a light coming from a corridor. Upon reaching it, she saw her meeting place. A makeshift campsite where her employer hid whenever he needed to be away from the law…and the public eye.
"It's always a pleasure meeting you here…" she said with an air of someone just told they had to eat human feces off of a plate, which, Irene thought, wasn't so far from the truth at this point. "Likewise, Ms. Adler…please, take a seat." Said her employer, offering a stool.
His face was hidden in shadow even here, and Irene wondered what his face looked like for the thousandth time.
Irene sat, and she looked at where she imagined her employer's eyes would be. "It's done. Mykel Linden is poisoned. He will die." "Very good, Ms. Adler…do you have the rest of the antidote?" asked her employer. "Yes…I told Mr. Holmes it was alkaline, and that you had developed a bottle that would not shatter from it, and he believed me, so I…" Irene reached into her purse, and a frown crossed her face. Even though she couldn't see it, her employer scowled.
That was the "Holmes-Stole-The-Bottle-While-Romancing-Me" look.
And sure enough, Irene hissed under her breath. She thought back to her meeting with Holmes earlier.
"You didn't guess what it was."
"You didn't notice my foreplay."
"I did. I chose not to act on it."
"But you're acting on it now by acknowledging it."
"Acknowledging the past, and looking to the future."
Of course! She hadn't noticed then, but while Sherlock was flirting with her, his hand had slid very stealthily into her purse and he'd taken the bottle of antidote and slid it into his jacket pocket. And she'd fallen for that poker face…again.
Not daring to look at her employer, Irene sighed heavily and said; "No. I don't have it." "Oh? And what happened to it, dare I ask?" seethed her employer, his fingernails digging into his palms from making balled fists. He already knew the answer. "It…was taken. By Holmes." Irene breathed. "Is that so? Mr. Holmes has botched my plans once again…" her employer sneered. Picking up a bag and handing it to her, Irene's employer's face finally came into view for the first time.
Weathered. With a hint of youth, but also a hint of a true criminal genius. Hair greying in some places, Professor Moriarty gave Irene a cold, hard look. "Do not fail me again…Ms. Adler. If you do, and pray to whatever God you believe in that you do not…I am afraid the consequences…will be dire."
Leaning back into the shadows, Moriarty lit up a pipe and began to smoke it. Irene stood up with the bag and hurried from the room, mostly to retreat from her angry employer…
~][~
Holmes was barely breathing. Watson's vision was blurring. The vehicle pulled up to 66 Kaleshire Street, and Watson bashed in the front door, as it was vacant.
It was old and dusty in the apartment, but Watson didn't care. All's he cared about was the trunk sitting in a corner. Yanking it open, Watson was relieved to find a bottle of purple liquid in the trunk. Unstopping it and taking a drink, Watson found his sight returning to him.
Rushing outside, he poured some down Holmes's throat. Almost immediately, his breathing returned to normal, and his fever subsided.
Holmes' eyes flickered open once more, this time permanent, and he gave Watson a sly look and said;
"Watson…I have knocked upon the Devil's door, and I heard him just about to answer it when you told me I had the wrong house and brought me here."
Watson breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately went to business while Mrs. Hudson began to drive the mobile back to Baker Street. "Holmes…what did you smell in those sandwiches?" he asked. "The antidote. Someone was trying to avert our deaths by giving us the antidote." Replied Holmes, cracking his neck a bit. "How did you figure out it was the antidote, that liquid?" asked Watson. "It's actually quite simple." Said Holmes, sitting up. "With you, when you say something's simple, it usually isn't for anyone else on the planet…" mocked Watson. "It's actually quite simple." Repeated Holmes, for he hated being interrupted.
"When I saw the liquid and sniffed it, I put on a display that I didn't know what it was…I knew the smell as a combination of liquid mint distilled in tea leaves and blended with a mix of aloe and finely ground cayenne pepper. I knew that as being the as-yet experimental cure for ricin poisoning, and I immediately smelled the ricin on Irene's lipstick, so I knew she'd drunk the antidote already. So, while I was romancing Irene, I swiped the bottle and put it in my jacket pocket. When we were leaving, I poured the antidote into the pitcher that Mykel and Jenna both drink from, saving them from an untimely death. I also knew ricin could be airborne, so I knew talking to any of you three would infect you as well, hence my sudden hurry to leave. Lastly…I apologize for not giving you the antidote, dear fellow…I was going to have us both drink it in a couple of hours, but I momentarily forgot how fast-acting ricin is."
"Holmes…you never fail to amaze me." Watson grinned, and Holmes smirked proudly.
The vehicle clattered along the road, and Holmes and Watson knew what they had to do now. They had to find Moriarty and put an end to his schemes…permanently.
CHAPTER VI
THE KING'S GAMBIT
Meanwhile…
Mykel Linden slipped out of bed, and into his slippers. It was the middle of the night, and not a soul in Sanaria was stirring, save himself.
His night robe billowed behind him like a parasol as he walked silently but quickly down Casa Teles Skopos' many hallways, eventually stopping at a portrait of a man who looked like him, but was older, and had more grizzled features. This was Mykel's father, Jamieng. Looking behind, Mykel pressed a secret button and the wall next to the portrait slid away and allowed Mykel to pass through.
The wall closing behind him, Mykel found himself in a very dusty study, where he liked to go when he wanted to be alone.
Except this time, he wasn't alone. He detected a presence as soon as he entered. Drawing a sword from a nearby bassinet, Mykel held it aloft and scanned the dark room.
He was focusing so hard, he leapt terribly when a voice said; "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Show yourself!" Mykel commanded, lighting a nearby torch, which illuminated the whole room. When he saw who it was, he dropped the sword.
It was Professor Moriarty.
"You…" Mykel breathed. "We meet again, Mykel Linden…at last." Moriarty seemed to revel in the impact he'd left on Mykel. "How…do you know about my room?" Mykel finally asked, his voice quivering a bit. "Oh, I've seen you coming and going." Replied Moriarty simply. "Is that so? That's impossible, then." Said Mykel, regaining some of his composure. "You should be in London." "I was…until Ms. Adler failed to kill you." Stated Moriarty boldly, scanning Mykel's face for a reaction. He was amused to see Mykel struggle not to react to the news. "You sent Irene…to kill me?" Mykel leaned closer to Moriarty, shock starting to give way to anger. "Why, yes…but you should be thanking Mr. Holmes, for he saved your life." Moriarty seemed thoroughly unhappy at this notion.
Mykel's hands wrapped around Moriarty's throat, partly surprising Moriarty. Moriarty, having been the Junior Boxing Champion at Cambridge, managed to break out of Mykel's grasp, grab his arm, and dislocate it. Gasping in pain, Mykel collapsed to his knees. Leaning in close, Moriarty smiled. He had Mykel right where he needed him to. "If you had listened, I came here offering for us to settle our past…indifferences…again, if you had listened."
Going on, Moriarty said; "Given that you are alive and well, save a dislocated arm, I offer you a choice. Your kingdom is very behind in the times. I see your people struggling in poverty…and I'd like to help them." "You have less kindness in you than a paper cut." Snarled Mykel, wincing as his arm throbbed in pain. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, My Lord…" smirked Moriarty. Leaning away from Mykel and walking over to one of his bookshelves, Moriarty continued; "If you want to make it out of this room alive, then you will elect me as your heir. You will sign over half of your kingdom to me, and I shall get the other half when you die…of old age, of course."
This shocked Mykel. "You've been trying to kill me just to get my kingdom?! I thought the rest of the world abhorred magic!" spat Mykel. "You see…I have other uses for your kingdom…I don't intend to rule it. I intend to liquidate all of its assets. As you might imagine, money has become the driving force behind our world…and I intend to possess as much of it as possible, so that when man goes to war over it, I will be there…with the bullets…and the bandages."
"I will never turn my kingdom over to you! You'll have to return to London empty-handed, Professor, because you're not getting Sanaria." Said Mykel through gritted teeth.
Moriarty turned, and Mykel saw a look on his face that showed someone who was immensely enjoying this moment, but trying not to show it. "Oh, but you see Mykel Linden…you don't have a choice." Said Moriarty. "In fact, you just finished signing over your entire kingdom to me almost…seven minutes ago." This shocked Mykel to his core. "How?" he breathed. "Oh…while we were talking, Ms. Adler broke into your vault and put your jewels back. But she took every paper she could find in there." "Put my jewels back? What—"Mykel was dumbfounded, but Moriarty didn't stop there. "I knew you were going to say no. Ms. Adler stealing your gems from you was just a diversion designed to stress you out so much that you would come to your secret room and attempt to get away from it all. I had intended to have you killed when Ms. Adler poisoned Holmes with ricin directly from Sanaria. He breathing on you would've transmitted the poison to you…but Holmes stole the antidote from Ms. Adler and poured it into your pitcher."
Without missing a beat, Moriarty continued; "Mr. Holmes, using the rest of the antidote, and with the help of his friend, Dr. Watson…managed to survive the poison. I gave her one more chance…I gave her the gems back in a bag, and she knew what I meant to do, so she carried out my orders without a word…and here we are."
Mykel couldn't say a word. All this time, Moriarty had been playing him for a fool. He'd tricked Mykel into leaving his royal ownership papers unprotected, allowing Irene to steal them.
Holding out his arm, a small-caliber gun extended out of the arm of his black riding coat. It was on a contraption that looked far ahead of its time, and the gun itself was smaller than any Mykel had seen, and he knew now who the bullet was intended for.
"You mean to kill me now…now that you have ownership of Sanaria…for what…do you need her King?" stuttered Mykel, abandoning all formalities now. "Correction, Mr. Linden…former…King."
And that was the last word Mykel ever heard before his world went dark. The last noise…was not a gunshot, however, for the weapon was silenced.
And soon enough, so was he.
And so ended the life of Sanaria's King.
~][~
Holmes and Watson were traveling through the sewers, Watson holding a cloth to his nose and mouth to try to mask the awful stench, but Holmes was walking jovially as if they were in Kensington Garden. "How…can you stand this?" asked Watson, his voice muffled by the cloth. "My dear fellow, when you have been in my profession as long as I have, you learn to live with such odors…" muttered Holmes just loud enough for Watson to hear. "Is your profession 'sewage worker'…?" Watson asked sarcastically under his breath as they went.
Holmes and Watson eventually came upon an open sewage grating. Sniffing the air, Holmes deduced; "Irene's been here. Her perfume is stronger than any odor here…"
Stepping through, Holmes and Watson soon came to a makeshift camp. Watson immediately began poking around with his cane, but Holmes' eyes were on one of the two stools.
A note sat upon it, with a chess piece resembling a king laying with it.
Picking up the note, Holmes read it.
Good evening, Sherlock Holmes.
I believe this is the first time we have corresponded since you were involved in the case of Lord Henry Blackwood. I consider it a small victory for you to have him killed. I watched from a vantage point. Know this, Mr. Holmes…
I have brought an end to the life of our mutual monarch, and now control his kingdom. You did well, surviving my attempt on your life, but know your efforts have been in vain.
Mykel Linden is dead, and in a job like this…
There can be no loose ends.
No. Loose. Ends.
M
Holmes reread the note four times, with Watson over his shoulder for the last two times, and Watson looked to Holmes in shock. "Moriarty." Watson said. "He's been one step ahead of us this whole game…" He quickly stopped when he noticed Holmes actually laughing. "What…could you possibly be laughing about?" he snapped. Holmes calmed himself, and he said; "Watson…you truly don't get it, do you?" "Get what?" asked Watson in annoyance. "I'll tell you when we get out of here." Without another word, Holmes turned and walked away. Watson stood in stunned silence, then ran after Holmes…
When Holmes and Watson emerged, they were near the Diogenes Club. Walking over to the waterfront, Holmes looked out over it with a smile on his face. "Holmes…tell me what it is." Said Watson firmly. "It's not from Moriarty, Watson…it's from my brother, Mycroft." Smirked Holmes. "What-?! Where did that grand assumption…come from?" "Firstly, Moriarty would never have left a note that could have been brought straight to the police, even though they'd think we had a rung loose…and second, it's a double encryption, Watson…if the first letter of the first word is a consonant, what follows is the mirrored truth…this means that Mykel Linden is alive."
CHAPTER VII
THE GAME OF SHADOWS BEGINS…
No sooner had Holmes finished speaking than a large man walked out from the shadows. "All too correct, Sherly…and with impeccable timing, too!" he said happily. "Mycie…you've always been a step ahead of me." Smiled Holmes as his older brother, Mycroft, shook his hand. "Mycroft?!" Watson was astonished. "Why…did you write a letter in Moriarty's voice?" "I knew you and Sherly would be poking around the sewers…I've followed your case against the Professor with rapt interest." Explained Mycroft. Sherlock looked amused that Watson had not gotten it. "Mycroft's powers of deduction are equal to, if not better than my own…" said Sherlock, smiling at Mycroft.
Watson rolled his eyes. Now he was surrounded by two self-flaunting geniuses, both named Holmes.
"I knew you were looking for Moriarty. I also happened to see a man resembling him entering the sewers, and I knew of the unused access tunnel under my beloved Diogenes Club, and deduced that that was where Moriarty was going."
"If it hadn't been for your note, we'd be chasing a shadow, Mycie." Thanked Sherlock with a grim smile. "It's no issue at all…it gets me away from my duties to the Foreign Office…"
With that, Mycroft vanished into the Diogenes Club, leaving Sherlock and Watson alone.
"Well…where to next?" asked Watson, looking out over the Thames, which glittered like silver glass…dirty…silver glass in the moonlight. "Well, if whoever Moriarty killed was an imposter, as I gather from the note…then how…did he come to look like a twin of Mykel?" Holmes began to pace. It took Watson a minute, but suddenly, he snapped his finger, and shouted "Aha!" causing Holmes to jump. "What is it, dear fellow?" he asked, panting slightly. "Dr. Hoffmenstahl." Said Watson with a knowing grin. "Who is he?" Holmes gave Watson a curious look. "He's the foremost mind when it comes to medical innovation. He has been known to do things medically that few others can do, and it's made him very famous in the medical world." Explained Watson. "He…could be the man we're looking for."
"Then let us return to the study, Watson…and make heads or tails of this otherwise dead-ended case…" Holmes tilted his bowler hat and began to strut down the wet cobblestone road towards Baker Street, with Watson behind him…
A few hours later, Holmes was in Watson's old office, pinning newspaper clippings to the wall and attaching them with string. Watson had left to go see Mary Morstan, his fiancée. Before leaving, Watson had reminded Holmes that his stag party was in a couple of weeks. Knowing himself all too well, Holmes would likely forget, as he had far more important things on his mind.
As he pinned a clipping of the death of a Chinese opium trader, he thought of Irene, and how she had gotten herself far deeper into this game than he had hoped.
As he pinned a clipping of a steel magnate in America, he thought of Moriarty, and how he had nearly been outsmarted several times in this case already.
As he pinned a picture of Moriarty himself under all of the other clippings, he thought of Watson, and how he had proved an invaluable companion always…and would forevermore, as Watson could never resist joining Holmes on his cases…he was Holmes's biographer, after all.
Holding up a spool of dark-colored string, Holmes began to weave strands of it between all of his pictures. A "spider's web" is what he would name it.
And it all made sense to him.
Just as he finished placing the last strand, a knock came at the door. Holmes dropped the spool, grabbed his revolver from a nearby table, and he cautiously opened the door.
Irene Adler walked in. "So, you've come again…to tug at my heartstrings more than you already have, woman." Holmes spat on the last word, which surprised Irene. She was used to Holmes not being able to be aggressive in the presence of her flirting. "Sherlock…you know…I would never have killed you on purpose." Irene smiled, trying to wave off the fact that she almost did kill him as if she mistook the weather. "Oh, by the way, I wanted to say thank you…for…something."
For once, Irene actually looked rather shy. This confused Holmes. Just how many games was he going to have to put up with this woman?!
"Sherlock, I…" she began to speak, but Holmes suddenly understood. And without a word, he pulled her into a passionate, longing kiss. When they broke apart, Holmes looked…almost at peace with himself. "Irene…you still have time…get out of this game…before you get burned." Pleaded Holmes. "I know you're concerned, but you needn't worry. I can handle myself." Irene said somewhat stubbornly.
Turning to walk away, she paused for a brief moment. "Sherlock…" she took a deep breath, but couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
She walked down the stairs and out the front door of the building.
Rushing over to the window, Holmes looked out, and saw a man dressed in black with a top hat hand Irene a suspicious package. Suspicious packages always contain suspicious objects, Holmes gathered, so it was only natural that he try to stop Irene.
Dashing like mad all around his room, Holmes assembled a quick disguise to make himself look vaguely Asian, as he knew Irene was headed towards the market, where many Asian people peddled wares from their home countries. Dashing down the stairs, he was stopped by Watson, who had just come in the front door of the building. "Again?" he asked with a sigh. "Again." Replied Holmes bluntly, dashing out the door and running off in the opposite direction of Irene.
Eventually, he circled the block and found two wooden boxes. Laying on them and pretending to sleep, Holmes kept one eye slightly open and watched Irene walk by him, giving him a suspicious glance.
When Irene had moved far enough off, Holmes put various pepper seeds in the pockets of his shabby robe and began to trail Irene through London City.
As he went, he noticed three men also following Irene, their motives…highly unsavory.
Eventually, Irene came down a set of stairs in the market, and Holmes whistled to draw her attention away from the box she was carrying. Swiftly and silently, Holmes picked up a loaf of bread from a nearby baker's table and slid it into Irene's arm, while sliding the box out.
She quickly turned around. "That was you back there." She said, realizing she had seen what she thought she saw. "Shame your activities have landed you in the gutter."
Holmes gave a quick smile. "A curious parcel. Who's the intended recipient?" he asked quickly. Irene gave him a playful smile. "Hmm…why don't we discuss that over a meal?" she said coyly. "I'm free for lunch." Holmes' expression brightened. "Hm. I'm not." Replied Irene simply. "How about dinner, the Savoy, eight o' clock?" she asked. "Good." Was all Holmes managed to say before he yanked her aside.
Whispering, Holmes said to Irene; "Three men have been following you for the past half mile…their motives…highly unsavory."
Irene looked back, and saw them. A look of mild panic spread across her face. "No…" she said, and she led Holmes down an alleyway.
A few steps, and a massive brute of a man, with more scars than a lion trainer, appeared before them. Irene gasped in mock astonishment. "Oh, and they're not chasing me…they're escorting me…and instead of three, there seems to be…four." She said, another smile crossing her face.
Holmes gave a half-hearted smile. He knew what was coming. "Now, be careful with the face boys…we have a dinner date tonight." Irene have a wink to Holmes and took the box from his hands and gave him the bread back.
"Try not to fill up on bread." She whispered in a somewhat fore playing manner. "Steady hands with that, Irene." Holmes warned, as he had a good idea of what the parcel was.
"Ooh, I don't think it's my hands you have to worry about." She squeezed Holmes' cheek slightly and sauntered off, her dress dragging on the dirt behind her.
The brute walked up to Holmes until he was gazing down at him. Holmes gave a humorless smirk.
Then, much to Holmes' surprise, the man began to whistle Serenade No. 13, one of Mozart's most well-known compositions, a difficult feat in itself.
Holmes quickly began to follow along, and so did the three men behind him. As they whistled, Holmes began to take off all of the pieces of his outfit, minus his moustache, which was torn off by one of the men. This caused Holmes to almost stop whistling, but he did soon enough, as he looked at the brute and said; "I forgot the rest."
Grabbing Holmes by the throat, the brute shoved him up against a wall. "Oh, it's coming back to me now." Said Holmes with a ghost of a smile.
This was shaping up to be an interesting day…
CONTINUED IN GUY RITCHIE'S FILM "SHERLOCK HOLMES: A GAME OF SHADOWS"…