A/N: Special thanks to verityburns for allowing me to use the title for this fic. This is a short blog-fic of John's recollection of "The Adventure of the Purple Pitchfork". (By the way, don't think to hard on what names/places were blacked out. Half of them I just made up!) Enjoy!
1st November
The Purple Pitchfork
Last night, 31 October, Sherlock and I were invited to a Halloween party by a mutual friend of ours. It was to be held in an old Victorian mansion outside of London. Seemed interesting enough, though I practically had to pry Sherlock from his experiments in the kitchen to get him to come along. The other issue was trying to get costumes together. Neither one of us was quite sure of what to go as, so I just said that we could pick a time period and go with that. I was thinking something like the sixties. Sherlock said he was, too. Thing is, he meant the eighteen-sixties. So, Victorian it was.
We arrived at ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ Hall late that night. We were greeted by some of our friends from work, Molly, ▓▓▓▓▓, and ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓, and a few others I didn't recognise that were coworkers of Mike, the host. Mike led us around the Hall, sort of giving us a grand tour. When we got to the back, we found that there was something in the yard. At first, it was thought to be a prop. But one look at Mike's face, and I could tell it wasn't.
There was a dead man in the yard.
Thankfully, we had at least three doctors (counting myself), two Yarders, and one consulting detective among us. Sherlock was the first one to look at the body. There was a dark-coloured pitchfork sticking out of his back. It was plastic. After prying it out, we found that it had been sharpened somehow. Sherlock figured it was due to melting and reshaping the plastic thanks to some inconsistency with the seam of the plastic or something. Mike told us that the man was another fellow teacher at Barts, ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓.
While Mike's friends and Molly took ▓▓▓▓▓'s body back to Barts for examination, the rest of us stayed at the Hall to look around. Sherlock interrogated Mike about why anyone would have anything against ▓▓▓▓▓ for any reason. Mike said he had no idea. So, Sherlock started dragging me around the Hall trying to solve another case.
We started in the study. Sherlock found that someone had been writing recently thanks to the ink well having been hastily closed and the pen still wet. Yes, you read that right. Ink well. Like I said, Victorian. Anyways, he looked at the writing and saw that the paper was fairly new, just stained with coffee to make it look older. Written on it was what I thought was a code of some kind. A series of letters either in pairs or by themselves. If it was a pair, the second letter was lower case. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but leave it to Sherlock to immediately know they were elements off the periodic table. But, he did note that I could be right about the code part. He took the paper with him and we headed to another room.
We then moved to the dining hall. In there, we found that there was a wine glass on the table that had been knocked over. I figured that it was probably poisoned and that our victim drank from it. Sherlock smelled the stain left on the tablecloth. He said it was some sort of narcotic, used to knock out our victim, or at least render him defenseless.
He wanted to look in the kitchen to see if there were any other traces of the poison, but I suggested we go to the cellar. Sherlock said he'd go to the kitchen and if I wanted to go to the cellar, I could. So, I did. In the cellar, I found a wine bottle that had supposedly been untouched, but I could tell had been opened and about one glass worth was poured from it. I then noticed that beneath the bottle was a series of numbers. I took a photograph of it with my phone in case someone was going to erase it as soon as I left (after The Blind Banker, I couldn't be too careful) and ran up to the kitchen to tell Sherlock.
Once I found him, he told me he'd found the vial the poison was in. He also noticed that on the backside of the label were a series of numbers. I then showed the numbers I found in the cellar. I thought they were kind of odd, what with there being single digit numbers, some in the twenties, and one up in the nineties for some reason. Then Sherlock got that look of an epiphany again. Then he pulled the paper from his pocket.
The atomic symbols.
Each symbol was matched with its atomic number. Each symbol, being a letter, could be used to spell out words. If we were to match the numbers with the letters, we could figure out what they were saying. The one Sherlock found read 4-74-18: Be W Ar. He said to just fill in the missing 'e' and it'd spell out the word 'beware.' As Sherlock was bemoaning the cliche of it all, I decoded mine. It was a bit longer.
75-23-7-32. Re V N Ge. "Revenge".
We took the notes to Mike who told us he had no idea who'd want revenge on ▓▓▓▓▓. We went into the parlor where our friends were supposedly waiting for us. I say supposedly because once we got inside, there was no one there. And the door slammed behind us. And the candles went out. It was pitch-black in there. I think I held my breath, wondering if the killer was going to spring us in the room. Sherlock, however, made a kind of scoffing noise and pulled out his mobile, shining its light to the front of us. He said he wasn't a fan of surprises or fake cases.
Then the lights turned on. All the other guests, including our supposed dead man, were standing among us. I couldn't believe it. Apparently, neither could they since Mike immediately asked how he knew. He said seventy five was why. Turns out, element 75, Rhenium, hadn't been discovered in the Victorian era. Leave it to bloody brilliant Sherlock Holmes to know that. Mike admitted that the whole 'case' was thought up by them as a fun way to occupy the evening. Sherlock wasn't amused, as usual, but commended Molly on faking the dead body so well. She was the only one who'd worked in the mortuary long enough to know how to do that. I dunno whether that's impressive or scary.
Anyway, the rest of the evening went without a hitch, and we finished the evening with food and drink. It was a happy Halloween after all.
13 Comments
Yeah, that was pretty fun. Leave it to Sherlock to ruin it for a second though, eh?
Mike Stamford 1 November 13:32
That sounded like fun! God, Sherlock's hilarious! :)
Harry Watson 1 November 13:41
Yes, well, he's practical. And a bit annoying. But brilliant all the same. And, don't use smilies. You're not getting any younger...
John Watson 1 November 13:42
Oh, come now. Again with the theatrics. This isn't some novel you're writing. It's supposed to be analytical. And really, 'Purple Pitchfork'? The pitchfork didn't play a significant role in the case, so you can't use that excuse again. And where did the purple come from? No one was wearing purple. The body wasn't purple. The bloody SKY wasn't even purple. You were just trying to go with that colour theme again, weren't you? This wasn't even a real case!
Sherlock Holmes 1 November 14:02
Yes, the pitchfork was purple. Come on, Molly explained it at dinner. It was an old prop she'd had when she was a kid. It used to be red, but it faded. Do you ever pay attention?
John Watson 1 November 14:04
Either way, this nonsense didn't have to be posted. It's nonsensical whimsical drivel. I didn't even want to attend. You know how I hate holiday do's. A perfectly good evening of experimentation was ruined thanks to you dragging me along.
Sherlock Holmes 1 November 14:06
Figured it was only fair, what with how often you drag me around.
John Watson 1 November 14:06
Haha! This was brilliant. Nice writing, John! Too bad it was so short-lived, right? And thanks for the compliment!
Molly Hooper 1 November 14:06
I do not drag you around anywhere! You come voluntarily.
Sherlock Holmes 1 November 14:07
That's what he said! LOL!
Harry Watson 1 November 14:08
Um, no. Don't even. No. Harry? NO. And stop using LOL. Seriously, you're too old for that.
John Watson 1 November 14:10
What does she mean by that, John? Was that supposed to be an insult?
Sherlock Holmes 1 November 14:11
Don't think so, but you should still be offended. And, don't worry about what she meant by that. Just ignore her.
John Watson 1 November 14:12