Good day to the merry readers of Fanfiction! This is a story I had to write for English, so if you have any corrections, or things you wanna add, just toss it in a review! It would be much appreciated. These characters, by the way, belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. They're not mine.
It was a few days after Christmas, a day when Holmes and I were relaxing before the inevitable rush of business that would come in the next couple days, when Mr. Jonathan Lavins came to our chambers at 221B Baker Street. It was a frozen, blustery day, when the crowds dared not to venture out into the street of London. The snow floated down from the heavy clouds that covered our view of the sun, and it was the sort of snow that would merely sit upon your jacket and hat until you returned indoors, to which it would immediately melt, soaking everything from your boots to your hair. So was the day that Holmes hadn't changed out of his dressing gown, though it was about lunch, and the two of us sat in our chairs, smoking and reading the Times. There had been neither a word nor a sound, baring the usual ruffles of a turning page or a cough, from either of us for some time, when Holmes suddenly broke free from the mold we had been imprisoned in by speaking.
"Watson, would you mind getting the door?" He asked.
I looked up from my paper in surprise. "Why Holmes," I declared, "I had thought it was your intentions to remain in your chair the whole day."
"It was Watson." He sighed, "But someone had disrupted those plans. And they seem quite desperate. I'd loath to turn him away."
I threw a glance out the window and saw that Holmes had been saying was true. A man was waiting outside our door; his black hair covered in snow, so much so that it appeared that his hair was silver, and shivering in the brisk breeze that swept thought the streets.
I exited our rooms and descended the stairs to the front entrance. Mrs. Hudson had come down with a rather persistent cold, and though she did still cook for us, I had insisted that she rest as much as possible, which meant that Holmes and I were left to our own devices for things like opening the door.
Upon releasing the bolt on the door, the man all but collapsed into the apartments, ice-covered as he was.
"Sir!" I cried, catching him. His lips were nearing blue and he had nothing to cover his hands, of which the tips of the fingers, like his ears, were white. Mild frostbite was sure to have set in, and though not all of the effects were reversible at this point, if I got him up to the fire, he would be able to keep his effected bits. Holmes, who had heard my shouts, came rushing down to my level and helped me maneuver the poor fellow to our rooms. He was promptly placed in the chair close to the fire, and a blanket was provided. Mrs. Hudson, who had also heard the commotion, broke her duties to her health and came to see what was the matter. She gasped when she saw the man and rushed to the kitchen to make some tea.
"Are you alright my good fellow?" I asked, once the fuss had calmed. Though the man was still shivering, the fire and blanket were undoubtedly helping, and by the time his tea was ready, he would have recovered fully.
'Yes, yes." He insisted in a light, nervous voice. "I thank you for this warmth. I do not know how much farther I really could have gone."
"That was to be my next question!" I cried. "How could you have left your house without dressing properly for the cold?"
"He had to leave before his wife returned." Holmes interjected. The detective had gone back to his chair and reading after helping me. "She didn't want him out of the house."
The man stopped shivering momentarily to gape at my companion. "That's correct sir. I am to suppose then, that you are Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective?"
"You suppose correctly." Holmes nodded from behind his paper.
"But how did you know that my wife didn't want me out of the house?" Was his query.
"I will tell you as soon as Mrs. Hudson delivers your tea." The detective paused, and a knock on the door filled the momentary silence.
"Tea, for the guest Sir." Mrs. Hudson said as she entered our rooms. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, that will be all." I thanked. "Now, please, go back and rest."
Our landlady nodded and left. I heard her coughs as she descended the stairs.
"Now, please Mr. Holmes." Our guest begged. "Tell me how you knew." He had taken out his pocket watch and was examining the hour. "I have little time left…"
"…Before your wife returns from work, yes I understand." Finished my roommate.
That set off another pause in which the man was staring silently at the consulting detective. His tea was steaming, untouched in his hand, the moisture of the steam condensing on his wire-frame glasses. The pocket watch was forgotten, dangling from his long, crooked fingers. The snow in his hair had melted, turning the dark brown hair that flopped across his fore head, turning it a shade darker, and the melted water dripped of the end of his nose. All in all, he looked the part of a street beggar, albeit a well dressed one. It would have been a witty scene to be watching, if only I hadn't been so stupefied myself.
There were times that the reactions of the citizens that came for the help of the detective were quite comical, but those times were only when I myself could, using the methods Holmes always applied, figure out how Holmes had deduced what he had. This was not one of those times, and I too was left with a similar reaction. The detective's head was still buried deep in his copy of The Times, and hadn't moved, nor looked up, since the fellow had been carried in.
"Your name is Jonathan Lavins. It says so on the collar of your coat, which I noticed as I was helping the doctor here carry you. I also noticed, in that instant, that you are married, not so long ago, to a charming young woman named Katherine." Holmes set about folding up his paper, continuing to speak calmly, as if these facts were written clearly across the man's forehead. "Her name is written on the inner part of the wedding ring on your left finger. The ring is not at all scratched, which allows me to deduce that the marriage was recently sealed. She works for a watchmaker, her father, which is how you got the one in your hand. It was a wedding gift, from her brother. I saw the inscription in the reflection of your glasses when you look at your watch." Holmes stopped as he put the dailies, properly folded back on the table. "Anything else?"
"I think not." Lavins sputtered. "How on earth did you notice such minuet details so quickly?"
The detective shrugged his slight shoulders and clasped his hands together. "It is my business to know what others do not. How else would I find such details if I were to not notice them?"
"Yes, yes," Lavins mumbled shakily, "Of course. How silly of me." He wasn't the first to frightened by Holmes' abilities. Some when so far as to call him a 'Devil worshiper', and that he had 'made a pact with Satan.' Those were all ridiculous notions, of course, but Holmes didn't put his foot down for the rumors to be stopped.
"Now, are you going to tell me the rest of your story?" Holmes inquired coldly. The detective was more than happy to exhibit his skills, but not without a purpose. The tall, thin man stood and, hands clasped behind his back, looked out the window. "I'm afraid that the exact nature of your problems is beyond even what I can deduce."
The sudden cold manner of which he was suddenly being treated shocked Lavins slightly, and the man sat up straighter in his chair and began his narrative.
"Yes, you gave some basics of my life. My wife's name is indeed Katherine, and we were married some three months ago. The engagement wasn't long, though it was her who wanted to be married. She also insisted that the dowry wasn't a large sum of money, nor an expensive house. But, I need not bore you with-"
"What did she want then Mr. Lavins?" Holmes interrupted briskly.
Our guest frowned at the detective's back. The poor fellow seemed to be at the end of his patience. I must admit, I would have been too; Holmes certainly was getting down to his work with this chap.
"She wanted the old workshop that belonged to my grandfather. He was a blacksmith before he died. It had fallen to a rather sad state from lack of use, for my father was-"
"He was a train conductor, and you are a locksmith, yes." Holmes interjected. "Please continue."
Lavins gave a thin, exasperated smile. "Very well. Now where was I? Oh yes." He cleared his throat and sipped some of his tea, his intent no doubt, to antagonize the detective. I coughed lightly, and shook my head when the locksmith looked my way. He sighed, and persisted with his story.
"My wife works as a governess with a local family, and at the end of November, she had asked me if I wouldn't mind her going on a trip to the country home with the family of the boy she looks after. She and the family are rather close, so I readily agreed. She was gone for a fore night with the family."
"Where is this home?" Holmes asked sharply.
The man shook his head. "I was never informed as to its exact location, but I know that it's very close to a North Rail station. I do believe it's neighbouring Lord Daniel Morrson's country home though, as I had gotten letters from Kate while she was gone and one of them spoke of Lady Morrson and her sons."
"Thank you." Holmes murmured. He had started to pace in the room behind my chair, a sure sign that were was more to this mystery then it might first have appeared.
"Well, when she returned, her mannerisms had changed. Before the trip, and for the entire time I had known her, she had possessed a very calm temperament, and would rarely raise her voice." The affection for his wife was clear as day in the fellow's words. "But after this little trip, she started to be very short with everyone. You couldn't make a single comment without fear of her retaliation. And she detested when I brought home a friend from work without informing her first, or when someone went into her study. She even fired one of the maids for trying to unlock the door of the study to clean the place! This little trip will cost me dearly if she returns home before I do."
The locksmith had gotten very animated with his descriptions of the goings-on, punctuating all of his point with a sweeping arm gesture. I admit I was enamored with his style of speaking; if he ever needed to give up his profession as a locksmith, he most definitively could make his living off telling stories. Enthralled as I was- leaning forward on my chair and hanging off the fellow's every word- I hadn't noticed that Holmes had stopped pacing and was glaring at the story-teller.
"Sir," He spoke slowly and heatedly, "I do not know what you've been told, but I can assure you I am not here to alleviate your marriage problems."
Lavins quickly threw up his hands defensively and shook his head. "Oh no! That's not why I've come! You see, on Christmas, Kate gave me a rather nice pair of cuff links. They appeared to be most expensive- they had a sapphire and emerald in them each, and made out of pure silver. But as I was opening the gift, Kate had the most queer reaction." At this, Holmes snapped his attention to the man, and locked his intensive detective's regard on the locksmith. "She blanched whiter then I had ever seen anyone and nearly fainted. I had her retire to bed for I was most sure that she was coming down with the horrible flu that is going around- the same one your landlady has, I should think. Her queerness started up again as well the day after; she simply refused to let the fire in the den be put out, and had become suspicious again. The following day, Kate and I were going to go out to a friend's place for the evening, and I planned on wearing the cuff links that Kate gave me. But they-"
"-Were gone." Holmes finished grimly.
"Yes!" Lavins cried. "If Kate were to find out, she would be heartbroken; I cannot imagine how long she must have been saving her money for to buy me those!"
Holmes turned around to face his drawer of Persons of Interest. He flipped through some papers for a few moments, muttering to himself. Finally, he pulled a single newspaper clipping out. "There it is!" He murmured, turning back to his client. "Now, Mr. Lavins, does these here resemble the ones Kate gave you?"
Lavins and I both leaned closer to the old worn paper. There were no colors, but the differences between the two stones were clear. It was a picture of a pair of cuff links under the heading of 'Famous French Prince's Cuff Links Auctioned Off For Charity'. The clipping was dated for mid-August.
'Yes!" Lavins exclaimed, "Those are them!" He peered closer. "Only mine didn't have the scratchs on the band here."
Holmes pulled the paper back and slipped it into his pocket. "Well, Mr. Lavins, I do think I can shed some light on the mysterious nature of your wife and the missing links." He took a piece of paper from the mantle and wrote something on it. "I shall call on you if I have any news tomorrow." He handed the slip of paper to me. "Here, Watson. If you'll be so kind as to sign this, the poor man will have a valid reason to be out. A doctor's note should convince your wife."
I signed the paper and handed it to the locksmith, who was beginning to display a rather nervous energy.
"Is something that matter?" I asked as I handed him the note.
"What do you think to find Mr. Holmes?" He inquired uneasily.
The detective frowned slightly. "Whatever there is to be found." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Now, I have no intentions of being rude, thought I must get to work. Good day Mr. Lavins."
Our now disgruntled guest stood, finished his tea, and gave us both a polite nod before exiting.
"Holmes wh-"
The detective held up a hand sharply. "Shh doctor!"
I held my silence and waiting for Holmes to start talking. Footsteps down the stairs were heard, along with the slamming of the front door. As soon as the noise faded, Holmes rushed into action.
"Quick! Doctor, grab your coat, hat and gloves. Something old; we might run into some trouble." He cried as he rushed into his rooms and came out, sans dressing gown, with what looked to be a false nose and a pair of glasses. I rapidly pulled on one of my coats that I saved for when Holmes and I went out for work, and tugged on my bowler. Holmes, in his top hat and long overcoat, coupled with his bird-like features and upright posture, was quite sinister.
"Hurry now Watson! We must follow him!"
"Let me finish this note to Mrs. Hudson. We can't let her be all alone with no notice."
"Very well! But we must get out there before his footprints disappear in the snow!"
I finished the note and we flew from our apartments. The wind nearly stopped us in our tracks, but we put our heads down and rammed through it.
'Holmes, there!" I yelled over the noise of the gusts. "His foot prints!"
The detective nodded and we took off after the man. It seemed as if Lavins was lost, as he changed directions quite a few times, and even broke off into two paths. One of the two paths was completely obliterated, and Holmes decided to follow the clearer prints.
"It appears, doctor," Holmes shouted at one particularly baffling alteration in direction, "That our prey was warned not to be followed."
"Indeed. But Holmes, what this?" I cried, "The foot prints simply stop here!"We had made it a dozen or so blocks before the tracks discontinued. "It's as if he took flight!"
My companion bent down and examined the prints, taking out a small measuring tool. He made a few rapid calculations, and stood.
"No, not flight my dear Watson. Merely backtracking."
"The split path! He walked backwards and went a different direction?"
"Precisely. Come, we must get back on the proper path!" We turned and made our way back to the second path. "Our prey is more informed in loosing a tail then I would have imagined. We may have taken on more of a case then it seems."
We followed the second path down allies and through the less savory parts of London for another twelve blocks when suddenly, we arrived at our destination. A modest house on our left as we exited an alley was the end of the prints. The detective and I crept up to the two-story home, picturesque, though slightly under kept, making a honest effort to keep to the footprints made earlier by our man. No lights were on, though a small shed-like structure was lit up from the inside behind the house. The foot prints bypassed the front door of the house entirely, and made their way to the shed at the back instead.
"I'll bet that's grandfather's old shop." Holmes said, pointing towards the building. "Let's go have a look around the house."
We made our way to the front door, and peered in the windows adjacent, Holmes on the right and I, on the left. Through my window I could see a small den containing a baby grand piano and a harp. The entire room was lined with shelves and books, though it seemed to me that a small layer of dust blanketed the whole room. Curiously, there was a fire burning in the corner fireplace.
"What do you see Watson?" Holmes called from his side.
"A den." I replied quietly. "Though I do perceive a layer of dust over everything Holmes. The only thing out of place is the fire."
'Fire?" My companion said, coming over to my side. "That's odd." The detective tapped his chin, pulling out the false nose and glasses. "Would you mind perhaps doing a small task doctor?"
"Not at all." I replied. "What do you need?"
"Here, put these on. I need you to pretend to be looking for a locksmith. Try and keep the lady in this room if possible."
"Lady? Holmes, I see no one."
"But she is here." He pointed to the top floor. "A light in the attic. That is no doubt where her study is."
"How do you know it is her and not him?"
"Simple, Watson. The prints lead to the smithy without first coming here, and they are perfect enough to suggest that he didn't come here first and walk backwards like before."
"Right. What will you be doing then?"
"I shall be out here. When the lady comes down, do your best to bring her in front of this window. When you hear something thrown against the door, you will know that it is your cue to leave the den."
"I understand thus far."
"Once you leave the den, try and bring her somewhere else in the house and get the window unlocked. I'll need to access that room. The second time something is thrown against the door is your signal to leave. Are my instruction clear?"
"Very clear."
He nodded. "Good. Now I will be around the corner of the house, so do not be alarmed if you do not see me." He gestured to the door. "Best get cracking."
I nodded and put on the nose and glasses, also switching my bowler for Holmes' top hat.
"There!" The detective laughed. "You look quite like an aristocrat Watson, if you don't mind me saying! Now go, before either of them come out and see us!"
I knocked loudly on the door with the knocker. The noise reverberated in the cold air, and I found myself longing for the fire I had seen after such a long walk. My jacket was caked in snow, as was Holmes' hat. The snow was even landing on the small frames of the glasses.
After a few moments passed, the lady opened the door. She was dressed in a simple gown, one that prevented much skin to be seen, and a knit shall. Though her dress matched that of a rather elderly lady, she was much young and radiant then her clothes suggested.
"Yes?" She asked coldly.
She had only opened the door a fraction, I suppose to keep heat in, and more likely then not, to keep me out.
"I've been told that a locksmith lives here." I invented. "I have dealings to be done with him, if this is his place."
"It is indeed." She replied stiffly. "I will go fetch him. Would you like to sit in the den? You must be cold, Sir!"
"That would be most appreciated." I replied with a slight bow. "I must say, you have a lovely home here!"
And indeed it was. There were candles burning on many surfaces, the shadows casting intricate patterns on the walls that weren't furnished with tapestries and paintings. Bouquets of dried flowers were bundled in vases on quaint end tables, releasing a subtle scent as we walked through.
'Why thank you." My host was warming up to me, and I felt a small pain of regret that I was deceiving her. The lady was quite lovely herself. Though petite and delicate, her eyes held a rather strong sense of character that many men found to be off putting, though I myself rather liked. She took minute steps with no small amount of grace. I completely understood why Mr. Lavins spoke with such infatuation when he was telling us of the woman. I certainly would have been attracted under different circumstances.
"Well, this is the den. There is brandy on the bar there, you may help yourself." She offered politely as we entered the room I had seen from the window. I thanked her and she turned to leave, without entering the room far enough that she could have been seen from the window.
"Wait! What's this?" I ejaculated.
The lady stopped and turned back to me, her pretty face clouded with confusion. "What's what Sir?"
I rushed over to the glass and placed both hands on the panes. "Locks like these ones on the window here! This is exactly what I need!" I invented, hoping my excited manner would draw Kate over to me.
Mrs. Lavins came over just as I wanted, standing beside me close enough that I could smell her perfume.
"Locks on the window? That's what you need?" She asked, surprised.
"Indeed! My servants keep unlocking a window in my study and no matter how much I tell them not never open it, it is always open after they leave!"
The lady gave a short, shaky laugh. "Well, that does seem to be quite the problem. Shall I go fetch my husband to see if he can help you?"
"Yes, please."
She smiled. "Very well. Do you want any brandy or tea before I go get him?"
There had been no thump on the door, so I assumed that Holmes needed more time. "Brandy would be lovely."
I stayed by the glass as she went to the cabinet and poured me some in a snifter. The snow had increased- perhaps that was why Holmes hadn't made the signal: he hadn't been able to see.
"Isn't the snow beautiful?" She asked as she handed me the snifter. I shifted over a bit so that she was in optimum position to been seen.
"Yes, indeed. It had been a long time indeed since London saw such lovely flakes."
We stood in silence for a moment as we watched the falling snow. It was a rather queer moment, as we both said nothing, us two strangers, and the only noise was that from the fire.
"I haven't played in the snow since I was young." She murmured wistfully. "Oh, how I'd love to do such a thing again!"
"Well, let us catch a few flakes from inside then." I offered, and opened the window to stick my hand out.
It was slightly after opening the pane that a loud thump sounded. It was without a doubt Holmes' signal. The lady jumped slightly, knocking my brandy onto my jacket and on my shoes.
"Oh no!" She gasped. "Sir, I am so sorry! That noise was simply so unexpected!"
"It's no problem my dear lady." I tried to sooth her nerves. 'It must have been a young rascal throwing a snowball, don't you think?"
"Yes, yes." She muttered. "Here, follow me and I shall get you a towel for your jacket."
The opportunity was perfect. I praised Holmes for his superior planning, and followed the lady out of the den, the window still open.
After cleaning up the brandy on my jacket and shoes, I waited in the kitchen for the lady to fetch her husband. I hoped Holmes was getting what he needed from the den, for I wasn't sure how much long I could hold up my pretenses. While I lingered in the kitchen, I snooped for anything out of the ordinary. But, after nearly ten minutes of searching, the only thing that I found curious was that lack of staff coming in or out of the room. Lavins had said his wife had dismissed one of the maids, but what about the rest of them?
"Pardon me for making you wait so long. You asked for a locksmith?" Lavins asked as he came in. The fellow's entrance strained my already on-edge nerves and I had to cough to cover my surprise.
"Oh, yes! I need locks for my windows, like the ones you have."
"Very well. I shall have to come over to your place to see what sort of windows I will be dealing with, but it should pose to much of a problem." The locksmith paused and peered closer. "Do I know you Sir?"
"I do not think we have met." I was starting to lose my cool slightly. I needed an escape. Holmes, I thought to myself, Hurry up!
"If you insist." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Anything else Sir?"
"No, I do believe that was al I needed." I stalled. "How much do you predict it will cost?"
" I'm afraid I will have to give you prediction when I see how much work will need to be done. It will very on- What the devil was that?" He cried.
"More children throwing snowballs, I'd say." I said with relief.
"Children these days!" He tutted.
"Indeed." I concurred. "But, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. My wife is most likely sending out the police to look for me by now."
Lavins laughed uneasily. "Yes, I know that feeling."
"I shall call some time in the next few days, I should think. Thank you for your time."
He showed me out, and I walked off away from the alley Holmes and I had used. I crunched through the snow, hoping Holmes would find me in this blizzard.
"Doctor!" I heard the detective shout from behind me. "Doctor, this way!"
I turned back and follow the sound his voice. Holmes' flare for the dramatic certainly helped in this situation- he knew how to project his voice over great distanced.
"Watson, you are an actor in the making, I must say!" He cried when I had arrived by his side.
"Don't be silly Holmes. " I laughed, "You are a tenfold better than I! Did you get what you needed?"
"Yes. Now, let us forge a way back to Baker Street. This is a blizzard if I have ever seen one, and I'd hate to be lost in such a fierce storm!"
By the time we had gotten back to the rooms, it was past tea, and the two of us were sufficiently frozen. Mrs. Hudson, when she heard us come in, scolded us for going out in such weather, but nonetheless made us large, steaming cups of tea.
"I must say Watson, that was indeed the coldest of our adventures!" Holmes laughed.
We were both wrapped tightly in blankets and our chairs were as close to the fire as we could manage. Holmes had put his dressing gown on again as had I. A full on blizzard was raging outside of the wall of the apartments, and nothing could be seen from the windows.
"Let's hope it stays this way; any colder and I fear I could become a human icicle." I chuckled. "But, Holmes, what exactly did you find?"
"Ah," He smiled, his eyes gleaming, "I was counting down the time until you asked me that Watson. Do you remember clipping of the cuff links I showed you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you mind describing them for me?"
"Let's see… There were silver, with an emerald and sapphire set off center to the outside. There were a few marks on the bands, with an especially large scratch band of the left one."
"Good, good! I might make you into a detective yet Watson! Anything else?"
I thought, remember best I could the picture I had been shown. "No, I do believe that's all."
'Then, would you say, Watson, that these," He pulled two small objects from his pocket, "Are the cuff links from the picture?"
I gasped. In Holmes' hand, were similar links. "Holmes, my dear fellow! How did you get those? But those aren't the ones from the picture."
"They were in the fire place, hidden in the flue. And you are correct; they aren't. I shall address the matter of these fake links in a moment."
"But how did you know they were hidden there? "
"Because Mr. Lavins good as told me so. He mentioned that his wife told me that she didn't like it when someone put out the fire in the den after giving him the cuff links. Then, when he mentioned that they were gone, I deduced that she had hidden them in the chimney flue, and wanted it to stay burning so that no one would look up there and find them."
I shook my head. "It always seems so simple after you explain your methods Holmes." Then, a thought came to me. "But Holmes, why did you have to see Kate before going inside?"
"Very good Watson! I see you are beginning to realize there are methods to my madness.
"I needed to see Lady Kate first, because what she looked like depended on whether or not the cuff links would be in the flue. I was quite sure I knew who Lady Kate really was as Lavins was talking but I had to be positive before I would break into her home."
"What ever do you mean Holmes?" I demanded. 'How could her appearance change where she hid her things?"
Holmes laughed again and passed me the cover page of last week's Times. "Take a look at this Watson, and see if you can't deduce something from it."
I looked down at the page and knew immediately what Holmes wanted me to see. In big bold letters, blazoned across the front, it was written 'Charity Links Stolen'. I read further to discover that Lord Daniel Morrson was the one who had won the cuff links earlier in the year in a charity auction, but someone had pilfered them from his home. Holmes then passed me the cover page of today's Times. I scanned the page and found the second bit of information: 'Cuff Links Mailed to Scotland Yard'.
"Lord Daniel? Wasn't his home near the county home that Kate had visited?" I asked, "And how did Kate get the real ones?"
"I shall give you one more clue Watson." Holmes chuckled. "Try and use my methods, please. Everything you need is in these three articles."
He handed me a third paper, this time it was a picture of a young lady. The lady was dressed all in black, though she was wearing pants, a scarf over the lower half of her face and a long jacket. The picture looked as if it was taken without the subject's knowledge. Something in the lady's stance was familiar. I turned the photograph over and an article containing the lady's name: K. Donovann, 'The Unbolting Woman'. According to the information of the back of the picture, she had involved with over ten thievery crimes to date, though her involvement couldn't be sufficiently proven to the police. She was called The Unbolting Woman for her skill with getting past whatever locks were put in her way.
"Holmes, who is this-" Suddenly, it dawned on me. The woman in the photograph was Kate Lavins. "Kate is The Unbolting Woman?"
"Well done! What else do you know?"
"She stole the cuff links from Lord Morrson, and then gave them to her husband?"
"Yes Watson!" Holmes applauded me, "Anything else?"
"Not that I can find." I shrugged.
"Shall I tell you everything then?"
"Please. There are still some details that have no relation in my mind."
"That is to be expected. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
"Now, Kate Donovann, or The Unbolt Woman, made a rather high-risk steal last year, stealing a diamond out of one of the Queen's own cargo ships, and she had left enough evidence for the police to apprehend her. So, she had to choose between Scotland Yard, or stop thieving, especially with all the other cases she has been suspected to be involved in. Kate chose stop thieving, and faked her own death, wanting to start again. Our friends at Scotland Yard, being the buffoons they are, were convinced by her fake death, and stopped searching for her.
"To secure a life, she decided that she would get married and to never thieve again. But, when she saw those cuff links, she couldn't resist. She started to court Lavins because of his skills as a locksmith, and for a dowry, she asked for the workshop so she could fix and create more lock picks. She took up work as a governess, making sure that the family she would be working for had a home near the location of the cuff links. The fake ones were made by her as to replace the fake ones with when she stole the real ones. When the family went away, she broke into Lord Daniel's home, stole the cuff links, mailed the ones she had made to Scotland Yard. Or so she thought.
"When she came back home, she was very suspicious because she knew if anyone found the real ones, or the molds or plans to make the fake ones, she would be apprehended and all her work for naught. She wrapped up the links and gave them to her husband for Christmas. But, when he opened them, she noticed that they weren't, in fact, the real ones. She had accidentally mailed the real ones to Scotland Yard and had kept the fake ones!"
"Which is why she was so upset when Lavins opened his gift!" I gasped.
"Indeed. After she realized her mistake, she hid the fake ones from her husband…"
"…And he came to us today asking for our help in finding them." I finished. "But why was Lavins acting so wary when he was leaving this morning?"
Holmes shrugged. "He most likely didn't want us to know about his side business of making lock picks."
"My dear Holmes!" I ejaculated. "Why would you say that?"
"I had a look into his workshop. His lock picks were the reason he and Kate met."
"Well, Holmes, I must saw, I am impressed." I finished off the last of my tea. "What to do now though. It won't cause any harm in letting her keep the fake ones. The only reason why she stole them was to give them as a gift to her husband."
"Quite true Doctor, but who knows what else she may try and steal? Now, if you don't mind, I will much like to go back to relaxing."
The next day, the front page of the Times was emblazoned with 'The Unbolting Woman Caught And Missing Links Mystery Solved!"
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