Chapter One: A Break In of Beige

19th Century, London, England. 221-B Baker Street.

"Watson, you shall never understand the science of my craft if your mind is forever locked into one frame of understanding. You must be open to all, and every, possible and impossible possibility of every situation if you are expecting to succeed in the endeavors that you so heartily have decided to join me in exploring."

My flat-mate prefered to hear his own mouth rattle on than others, I had come to realize. But I didn't mind so much of his shortcomings at this point on our partnership. I had just asked the man if he was so inclined to have me as his pupil, teaching me in the ways of deduction... now that I look back on that moment, I am not completely sure if I had asked in true inquisitiveness or sarcasm, as I could easily remember that he had near to no ability to understand the differences between the two.

"Do you realize that not even half of your arguments even make half sense to me, Cooper? Not to show the weakness of my education, but please summarize, for sanity's sake!"

He spoke nonchalantly, "Benjamin, you are a Doctor. Yes, one of Medical experience instead one of philosophical knowledge, but even so, you understand that I must use such a dialect to my superiors. Why else do you believe I have been speaking in such a manner?"

I rolled my eyes at his cynicism, "My first deduction was that you were trying to drive me mad."

He grinned at me, "And that is your first lesson in the sciences of deduction, friend. You have only known me for a small window of time, and yet you tell when I jest. Good! Jolly good..."

You may already by questioning the fact of Sherlock's many names that I have addressed him by; even I must admit, I am still not so sure of his true name. I knew that his crest was of the Coopers, an ancient bloodline dating back from the ages of Egypt's hierarchy. I also knew that the name that he was most used to was Sylvester, or 'Sly' as friends and acquaintances (of which, sadly he had few) had come to call him. I even knew that he was a direct descendant of England's own member of the Cooper Clan, a Sir Galleth Cooper, whom started a ring of knights and squires to banish the tyranny of his time. He jested on occasion of his childhood desire to start the Knights again, but even he regarded it as a childhood fantasy built on bricks of air.

Even with my desire to be in the know of deductive sciences, I was quite a skeptic. "Sly, I have questioned you time and time again for an example of your prowess in the field, and the only one you have given me is of our first meeting."

He spoke without looking from his violin, "And that was not enough to curb your inquisition? Ah... Very well then. What is your bidding? I shall deduce whatever you wish, from whomever you wish."

I rose from my seat with a smile, grabbed the stick I had fashioned for a cane, and hobbled over to the window looking over Baker Street. I had peered out into the crowds of passers, of children and of old men, of the cabs and of those infernal horseless carriages, when I found a perfect target for my friend to give insight for. I heard him walk up beside me, and told him to cast his gave to a young man crossing the street, possibly 200 yards from the flat. All I could deduce from him was that he was in his mid twenties, possibly thirties. It was high time to see what my friend could do.

"Well, for one thing, this man is of the navy. You can tell from the Anchor Tattoo that has just shown itself from under his shoulder. Another is that he was wounded in battle, buckshot to the right shoulder-blade, and a questionable impact from something in his eye. Possibly from a fist fight he had at the Bakers Pub last night, when he had... yes, a Whiskey and seltzer, of which a shard is still caught in his jacket, which could mean that he is still feeling the effects of his night." He glanced down at him one last time, and went back to his lounging.

"Ha!" I exclaimed to my companion. "Yes, you hold information of the man, but how can you expect to prove this?"

He smiled at me. "Why, because he is coming here, of course!"

Before I could object, of which I was prepared to, a knock came at the door. I had a puzzled look on my face, but Sylvester yelled for the person at the door to come up. I turned to shock, as the man who came through was the very one on the street!

"Yes, is this were I find a man by the name of Sherlock Holmes?" The man had a gruff voice, and he had been right; the man had been drinking whiskey as of late.

Sly chuckled. "That is one of the names used to call me, but yes. I am he. You're here to ask Dr. Watson and my aid in the burglary of your home, and of the prized artifact stolen there, correct Lieutenant?"

If I had been considered shocked when my friend told me of this man's information, then he was numb with surprise. "How did you... have we met beforehand?"

He looked at him sternly, "No, and I don't mean to be short, but we have little time; not nearly enough as to explain to you why I knew such facts. Now!" He swooped up to the rafters of out loft from a library ladder, took a golden-tipped cane from behind a support beam, and sprinted to the rack to grab his coat and had. Both myself and the navy man were gawking at my friend, in which he just tapped his foot impatiently. "Well? We have a burglary to solve, friends! Come!" As the man followed him, he shouted to me. "Watson, are you privy to join us? You just might be quite useful in the investigation of this pilfering."

I was both intrigued and confused at the same time, but I snatched my coat from the rack, and limped lightly down the stairs. We passed out landlady, Mrs. Hudson, on our descent. "Mrs. Hudson, at Five O' Clock, prepare a kettle of tea for us. Have yourself a cup, if you desire, or if we are too late to join you."

Just as we were walking out the door, the young cat turned to us. "I'm not your maid, Sherlock, and you're not in the position to treat me as-" Sherlock slammed the door before she could finish.

We had made our way to the man's home rather quickly, I was surprised why we hadn't taken a stroll there instead. The place did not look so burglarized from the outside, no window was open or broken, the door had remained in tact, everything was in order as I could see it. As I told Sly of my observations, he made a sound of agreement. "Yes, but we should never jump to conclusions before our observations, now should we?"

But, in fact, the inner of the home looked no worse for the wear. The miniscule amount of furniture of the apartment had been left untouched, it seemed, as had the bookshelves and tables of the apartment. To be truthful, I was doubting if he had pulled a ruse on the two of us."

Sly was just walking around, mumbling to himself, as he inspected certain details of the home. As he peered to the floor, I noticed scuff marks leading both to and from the doorway, and around the archway into the dining room, ending at a small nook of the room.

"Well, why would a trail leave off here? It looks like nothing of importance lays here, or ever did."

He looked at me with grim eyes. "Do not look, Watson, see. Man," he turned to the nameless sea explorer, "Could you please lift the veil over the secret panel in this wall? And of the artifact that was actually stolen?"

He seemed to be used to the surprise now, as his eyes had only widened, then receded back to their original size. He pulled a chain from his jacket pocket, on the end of which was a key. Then he slid a section of the wall, revealing a small panel and keyhole. As he turned the key, the panel twisted open, revealing a bronze stand without its occupant.

"Hmm. Guess this means I have more to respect of your talents, 'Sherlock'."

He grimaced. He absolutely hated that name, yet it seemed to have been the only one that had stuck with him. "What was originally in this, sir?"

"A copy of plans to Britain's secret weapon against the Dutch. I was the only man entrusted to have the last copy of the plans, being part of the engineers to create the device originally. Realize that I can not truly discuss to you the facts of the plans. Even with the war at a close, if one slips the information to any government, even those fools in America, the balance of power could shift to terrible results."

Sly turned from the panel, and stepped around the home. In a matter of seconds, he had stepped into the lounge of the flat, and set himself in the wooden rocking chair placed inside it.

"Sir, why aren't you... you know, investigating my case? You understand that time is of the essence, of course. You even said so just as we left your home!"

He spoke with his eyes closed. "Yes, I did, didn't I? Well, I may be resting because I know who has done this!"

We looked at him expectantly, but he just rocked in the chair peacefully. Eventually, one eye flicked open, to see us glaring at him. He sighed, and put his arms behind his head. "Watson, if you would, look in the back right corner of the pannel. You will find a small shard of some light blue substance."

I did as I was told, and sure enough a shard of blue was in the corner.

"That is a clip of nail, which tells us that it was a woman. Can you tell me any plausible reason why, or how, this chip of nail could possibly be in this area?"

Silence.

He sighed. "Because it was meant to be dropped. Gentleman, I know exactly whom we seek to find this missing document, though why she would steal such an unimportant document is far from me."

The navy man scoffed at Sly, "Unimportant? The plans to build that device are so world-changing that it could spell victory, even world domination, for anyone who's hands it have into contact with. Tell to me that doesn't sound like the littlest of importance."

Now was Sherlock's turn to scoff at him. "I apologize; I meant to question why she would involve herself with military information. If I'm right, and I'm always right, the wonam we seek has only one other time stolen a piece of importance to the military, and she personally told me that wasn't to her liking, endangering so many people with such a theft. Her name is Irene Fox. But that is of no importance to you, as we are the ones who shall be investigating." He muttered under his breath to the man, "And believe me, if you have involved yourself with her, then you should let us handle her. Trust me."

"Come along Watson!" he called to me as he walked briskly out the door. I tipped my hat to the man, and sped after my companion. Unknown to me, this would be the begining of something much greater. Bigger than I could have possibly imagined.

Thoughts? If you can, review about what you liked, didn't like, etc. Should I continue this? Where should the story go from here? Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed reading!