A Feminine Influence
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. I do however, quite literally own 'Jemima'. Her picture should shortly be up on my profile, if you're curious. :)
FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN H. WATSON, M.D.
It was in the first year of my marriage to Mary Morstan that the event I am about to record took place, when my friend Sherlock Holmes, he who had once sneered at the emotional nature of women, and who distanced himself in bachelorhood from them in order to preserve the precise and analytical mind with which he had been gifted, fell under the feminine influence of a singular character which caused me endless amusement and he much chagrin.
It was drawing close to Christmas, and it seemed to me all of London was swarming about the streets as I approached my friend's lodgings one evening. On the pavement people hurried with brightly coloured packages, calling greetings to each other, all so caught up in the season of goodwill that I felt a smile come to my face, and I alighted at the end of Baker Street, that I might walk along and observe the activity about me. Seeing a newspaper stand, I purchased an edition, of a mind to see if there was any article of some sensational crime in which Holmes' considerable gifts might have been employed.
In my rapid scanning of the headlines I saw nothing, and as I arrived in front of that familiar pile I fervently hoped that such a period of inactivity had not driven my friend into one of his black moods, and the inevitable use of the cocaine-bottle. Nothing upset me more than the notion of that great mind disintegrating in the abyss of that infernal drug, and so it was in some haste that I ascended the stairs towards our sitting room, having greeted Mrs Hudson at the door and answered her inquiries as to my wife's health and our married life as swiftly as was tactful.
My fears were unfounded however, for upon entering the sitting room I was thrust out again instantly by my friend at a terrific pace. I have mentioned before how much Holmes was transformed when the working fit fell upon him, and he half-dragged me down the stairs in his eagerness. In the blink of an eye I found myself upon the pavement I had left but a few moments before, with Holmes bellowing for a cab beside me in between a series of rapid-fire questions and observations as to my person and recent doings.
"Cab! Watson, I was going to come by and knock you up. I thought you might want to be present at the end of this little problem, and I would be glad of some company on my visit to Robinson's. Two men, I think, might succeed in forcing his co-operation more promptly and with less danger than one, for he is not a small man. He was a suspect in the assault upon John Lyon not six months back, but thanks to Lestrade and his merry gang of police, and their combined ability to completely destroy a crime scene, now there is nothing to be done. How is Mrs Watson doing? I perceive that married life is treating you well Watson, although I would suggest not leaving your bag in reach of children when you attend a house call, for you fairly reek of antiseptic. Ah, CAB!"
No sooner had I gained the cab that we were off, and Holmes lapsed into a watchful silence, his eyes darting keenly over the Christmas shoppers that thronged the streets, allowing me the chance to construct a reply.
"Mary is very well, thank you Holmes, and I had not realised the smell was so strong, although you are perfectly correct in assuming that it was a child. I was looking in on a patient who was having complications with her pregnancy, and when I turned my back her eldest, who is a perfect little brat, had gone through my bag and succeeded in smashing several bottles. But I had no idea you were on a case! What is it?"
He gave me that half-smile peculiar to him, the swift quirk of his mouth which indicated amusement, or in most cases, professional satisfaction.
"It is a simple enough case, the theft of a family heirloom essential to a coming marriage, taken, I have no doubt, by one of the household staff. The butler had a particularly sinister look when I made inquiries amongst the servants. The only true problem lay in finding where the necklace was taken. Over the past few days I must have passed the doors of twenty or more pawn shops and disreputable jewelers seeking it. Ah, you can stop here!"
We alighted at the mouth of Swandam Lane, a dank place where I would wager all the filth of the city seethed, and where, in the gathering dusk, suspicious eyes glanced at us from the dim openings of opium dens and cheap taverns. Holmes strode unerringly through the crowd, and I followed swiftly upon his heels until we reached a looming store front, its windows edged with mildew and streaked with dust. 'Robinsons'' was splayed in peeling letters on the sign above the door, and as we entered a bell jangled harshly.
The man who glowered at us from behind the counter must have stood at least two inches higher than my companion, and his shoulders were bulky and strained from beneath the brown jacket he wore. Surrounding us were display cases and boxes full of wares, but as I looked about I could see little in the way of jewellery, or anything at all expensive or obviously stolen. Holmes did not hesitate, but planted himself firmly opposite to the giant, and fixed him with a hard glare.
"You remember me, Robinson. I called here this morning."
Robinson's sullen face turned to me as I stepped up beside Holmes, and I stared him down, defying the silent threat of his body language.
"You have the item that I requested?"
Robinsons' brows tangled and lowered, until his face looked positively bestial, but his expression twisted until it was quite similar to that of the sulky child I had encountered that afternoon, and at once I knew we had the advantage of him.
"I have it. But why shouldn' you pay for it? I come by it legal, and law says ye have tae pay me what is owed. Why shan't ye pay me what I'm owed?"
Holmes' hand sliced the air like a blade, silencing his protests.
"The only thing you are owed is a prison cell. I have evidence against you in the string of recent robberies. You cannot hide your connections to the Irishman O'Reilly, and his criminal dealings. And I know you were the culprit in the Lyons case. You will co-operate with me, or I shall serve you with a noose!"
The savage tones of his voice quite cowed the larger man, and he handed over a small cloth bag which Holmes at once swept up. I followed him from the shop, and we paused upon the threshold. He looked swiftly around us.
"We should be away from here quickly, Watson. My bluff as to his crimes will not hold him for long. No doubt that brute has some friends that he means to introduce us to, and it is growing dark. Come!"
I was glad indeed to leave those dangerous alleys and return to the cheerful and busy doings of the public as quickly as possible, and I noticed Holmes himself did not relax until we were back at his rooms. He invited me round the next evening, that I might be present at the return of the heirloom to the anxious bride, and I agreed eagerly before rattling off towards home and wife, mind full of the evening's events.
The next evening I arrived at the appointed time, and as we traveled to the Hotel Grande, Holmes told me of the family for whom he had been employed. The Lady Dupont and her daughter Charlotte had recently come to England from France in order for the younger woman to marry into a distinguished and titled English family. They were staying at a hotel for the period of the engagement, and the bridgegroom had given Charlotte one of his family heirlooms, a necklace studded with precious gems, to bind her to her promise, and to wear on the day of her wedding. The theft of the prized necklace had placed the young lady in a precarious position as to her marriage, and its return would in fact ensure her future.
Both women were very persistent and emotional in their gratitude, and the few servants they had brought from France were called in to join the celebration. The sinister butler Holmes had described was not present, I noted, but the rest were most joyous, and joined in a drink to the successful find. I noticed, with no little amusement, how the Lady Charlotte had backed my friend into a corner with several of the staff flanking her and forced him to recount the tale of the heirloom's recovery, which he did with much fidgeting, and every other sign of distress I had observed during our period of sharing rooms.
I stifled a chuckle, and pointedly ignored the way his gaze slide to me every so often in a silent plea for help, turning away to find the Lady Dupont smiling behind me. Her accent was strong, but she spoke English very well, and her manner was worldly and kind. Indicating my friend, she asked, "Your friend, Monsieur Holmes, does he have a feminine influence in his life?"
I was quite taken aback at the question, and, taking my silence as misunderstanding her question, she shook her elegant head, and rephrased. "Does he have a wife? Or a fiancée?"
"Ah, no. He is a bachelor."
Lady Dupont gave me a secretive smile.
"It shows, no? Maybe he should find one, and perhaps you would find him a changed man?"
I felt most awkward having this conversation, and I kept one eye on Holmes, who was seeking to extract himself from the Lady Charlotte's attentions, and that of her maids, and sidle across the room towards me.
"I am sure that he would be, Lady Dupont, but he has no interest as far as matters of the heart go. His work is his life, and he wants no other."
As Holmes reached me, the lady gave both of us a wide smile, which charged her face with a fresh youth.
"That is no whole life, Doctor Watson! Monsieur Holmes, my daughter and I am most gratified for the services you've extended to us. If there is any way in which we may repay you.."
But my friend declined, the family having already paid the expenses of his investigations, and thus, with Holmes practically radiating impatience at my side, we paid our respects and wished our client the season's greetings. Upon reaching the road, I was surprised to see a layer of snow blanketing the ground, which our shoes crunched loudly in, and a few flakes falling from the sky.
I was most excited, having always enjoyed white Christmases as a youth, the pain in my leg from the cold easily brushed aside in my exuberance, and I remarked to Holmes how much the snow complimented the season.
He gave me a look of horror.
"But it's freezing, Watson!"
I could not say I was put off by his reaction. During our years in Baker Street he had always shown a profound indifference to the festive season, and a loathing for the extended crowds and the assorted paraphernalia of the traditions. Nevertheless, I determined there and then to visit him on Christmas Eve and perhaps persuade him at least to join in a meal with me, or indulge in the harmless and charming tradition of the Yuletide Log.
However, as I studied the sharp lines of his face studying the people around us, and the way he huddled against the cold while he looked for a cab, I did not dare to hope for much.
He had once remarked that he hated Christmas almost as much as he did his illustrations in the stories I published for the Strand, meaning that his loathing of the holiday could not possibly be overestimated.
Author's Note: My first Sherlock Holmes story! Yay!!!
I'm having difficulty with the line breaks, so my author's note is down here.
I meant this to be a series of drabbles, but I just couldn't stop writing, so this first chapter is very long. No doubt it will thwart me again and every chapter will be of this length. Sigh.
Anyway, I meant to introduce the character Jemima in this chapter, but it wasn't meant to be, so for those who were horrified at the mention of a feminine influence over Holmes, it's NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.
No doubt, everyone's probably guessed her identity from the Disclaimer already. :)
Any reviews or concrit will be welcomed.
I'd like to know what you think of my characterisation. I do have the 'The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes' which I am currently re-reading for the 4th or so time, and I am an avid fan of Granada, but this is the first time I've tried my hand at this particular genre, and I'd really like to be as enjoyable and accurate as possible, especially so because of the high quality of writers in this fandom, so please send me suggestions.
Thanks, Taluliaka