Okay, so this story…Well. You'll just have to read it. I got a bit carried away, to say the least. *hehe*
I actually began this a very, very, very long time ago (like, right after Guy Ritchie's movie came out), but I never actually got around to finishing it until today (er…yesterday, since it's two o'clock in the morning now). It's a little friendship, a little action, and a lot nonsense.
Disclaimer: The original Sherlock Holmes was Arthur Conan Doyle's, and I do not own Granada's series, the thirty-nine episodes by Mill Creek Entertainment, the movie by Guy Ritchie, "Sherlock" from BBC1, "The Great Mouse Detective," or Captain Jack Sparrow (I wish). I do, however, own Rin, since it is that through some roundabout writer's way, she is, in fact, me.
So the challenge here for you as the readers is to see how many Holmeses and Watsons you can identify without looking at the footnotes. I did, however, stick the references here and there, in the places I thought it would be hard for you to recognize which one I was referring to. Which also leads me to say that I kept the adjectives the same for clarification….You'll understand when you read. If anyone's still confused at one part of another, feel free to ask.
Also, the story was originally a long one-shot, but I had to break it off into four chapters, so if any of the footnotes are wrong, that's why. Just let me know. Updates will be once every day/two days. Oh, and one last thing: This story was written for my entertainment alone, so if you find you don't like it, just don't read it. I won't be offended unless you try to tell me how I should change it. Thanks!
The Many Faces of Sherlock Holmes
Chapter I
The hall clock struck midnight as Sherlock Holmes slowly opened the door to his sitting room; the hinges squeaked, sounding much louder than was usual in the utter silence. As they did, a voice spoke from inside the room, and he was certainly surprised that it belonged to neither Watson nor Mrs. Hudson. He was also suspicious when he realized the voice - which sounded oddly entertained and amused - was directed not at himself, but at another in the room.
"That would be him, I presume."
He did not know whether to be alarmed, angered, or relieved that he did recognize the young, female voice that answered.
"Yeah, that's him. Took him longer than I thought to find the evidence at the docks. Tough case, I guess."
Narrowing his eyes for good measure, he swung open the door and was preparing to direct (yet another) lecture on privacy in the girl's direction when his eyes fell upon the other person present - or rather, six other people.
Seven sets of eyes watched with varying expressions as his usually composed demeanor melted into a look of mixed emotions, mainly shock and annoyance. His eyes roamed the room, taking in the fresh bullet holes in walls and slashes in the cushions and things strewn everywhere.
"What in heaven's name have you done?" he demanded fiercely.
The girl stood from where she had been sitting cross-legged in the midst of the floor; this was not such an abnormal occurrence (she usually preferred the rug to the settee), yet he noted that every seat in the room was taken by the group of gentlemen who had apparently made themselves quite comfortable in his sitting room at midnight. She held her hands out defensively and addressed him in a nervously calming voice, as the aforementioned men remained wisely silent.
"I know what you're thinking, but I can honestly say I have a good reason for this."
He ignored her for a long moment, his eyes scrutinizing the faces about the room, and he had the uncomfortable revelation that each of them possessed suspiciously similar characteristics.
"Please, Miss Rin, do share your 'good reason.' It is fascinating, I'm sure," he stated at last, and the ice in his tone was enough to make the girl wince.
"Well..." she began nervously.
"Do go on. It's frightfully interesting so far."
She shot him a withering look, the timidity dropping from her features and spirit hastily taking its place. "I'll have you know, Mister Holmes, that the reason they" - she gestured to the men behind her - "are here was to keep you and Doctor Watson from suffering slow and agonizing deaths at the mercy of several heartless villains."
"Is that so?" he droned in unconcealed skepticism. "Tell me, who are these villains you speak of, girl?"
"Professor James Moriarty," one of the others answered in her place, a raven-haired man who held his head high, with piercing eyes and a very distinguishable, strident, and pronounced voice. (1)
"John Henry Norton," piped up a second man, this one somewhat thinner, with a sort of easy charm mixed with the odd humour on his face. Wait...was it the dim light, or was this man lacking any color other than gray in his hair, skin, and clothes...? (2)
"Lord Henry Blackwood," interjected another, quieter voice, this one's physical appearance rather poorly, with trousers and a shirt that appeared too large for his small frame, and unruly black locks the same colour as the stubble peppering his jaw. (3)
"I have never heard any of those names," declared Holmes, removing the cloth cap that had been a part of his sailor disguise.
"And the only one you ever will hear his Moriarty's," responded Rin informingly, "but that won't be until years from now, after Watson is married."
Holmes gave no reaction to this statement; he was more than used to such things coming from the girl's mouth. "I am still waiting for a decent explanation, for all I have heard as of yet are names I do not know from faces I do not recognise."
Rin opened her mouth to begin her narrative, when suddenly the door through which he had just entered swung open, and he made a flustered sound in his throat as a broad-shouldered man unsteadily balancing a tray of mismatched teacups staggered past him to the breakfast table, where he set it down with an immense sigh of relief that tickled his blonde mustache.
To be continued
(1) Rest in peace, Jeremy Brett.
(2) Ronald Howard played Holmes in the '50s, and John Henry Norton was a mass-murderer who tried to kill him in The Christmas Pudding. Yes, he is black-and-white. It was the fifties.
(3) Amazingly talented and ruggedly handsome Robert Downey, Junior…as if that wasn't obvious.
The action is coming, people—I promise.