Ok, this is my new story. It is (hopefully) going to be the first in series of Sherlock Holmes stories, all concerning an OC character. In this one I have tried to write as close to Watson's style as possible, but any others I write will probably be from a 3rd person perspective.

NOTE: Reviews and constructive critisism are appreciated.

I might come back and re-upload this chapter once I have a beta to help me tidy it up. I also want to change the title, because I don't actually like it. Any suggestions?


Chapter 1 - Introductions

Of the numerous and varied cases that have been submitted to me and my friend, Sherlock Holmes, probably the strangest and most interesting was the case of Emma Roxburgh.

It started, for us at least, on a cold and blustery October morning in '95, just after breakfast. Holmes and I were comfortably ensconced in our living room at Baker Street, he perusing a letter, and I writing down the details of one of our most recent triumphs. I had not seen Holmes for some time, due to my work at the practice, so I was not surprised to hear the rattle of carriage wheels outside and to discover that he had already embarked upon a new case.

"Nothing too dramatic, Watson," he said, raising his eyes from the letter to look in the direction of the noise. "A simple yet intriguing affair. Normally I would leave a case such as this to Scotland Yard, but given the distance my client has traveled to consult me, I resolved to at least have a look."

I nodded, about to ask for particulars, but was cut short by a knock at the door. An extraordinary woman was then shown into the room and seated herself on our couch. She was short, although her large hairstyle added a full three inches to her height, and stout like a bulldog. Her face was heavy and her expression was one that suggested a firm resolve and toughness that I was sure couldn't be found anywhere else in England. This strength of spirit was further expressed in her hard brown eyes and thin lips, these last permanently set in a frown. I found that I had to physically stop myself from shrinking back in my seat, so powerful was the aura of disapproval that surrounded her. She greeted Holmes curtly and, after the proper introductions, gripped my hand in a firm handshake.

"I received your letter, Mrs Roxburgh," said Holmes, never one to beat about the bush. "And I must say there doesn't seem to be much I can do for you."

"Oh, we have heard of your powers even as far away as Africa, Mr Holmes. I can think of no one better to help me." she said, nodding her head firmly, daring us to argue with her. Holmes' only recourse was to smile and ask her to tell her story.

"Before I begin I should inform you, Mr Holmes, that I have never set foot in England before and neither has my daughter. I have lived my whole life in Cape Town and am not familiar with your British ways. However I do know how to spot a charlatan and, mark my words, I will not tolerate being made a fool of." The lady increased her frown and stared hard at us. My friend merely nodded and said,

"I assure you, Mrs. Roxburgh, I have no intention of taking advantage of you."

She nodded, seemingly placated, and began.

"As I stipulated in my letter, sir, my daughter has gone missing. She was traveling over here, aboard The Lueewkop, to live with her aunt, my husband's sister and, hopefully, find a husband. When she failed to arrive at her aunt's house the police were notified and the captain of the ship questioned. According to him the girl had disembarked safely and been put in a cab with all her luggage, yet no such cab arrived at the house."

"Ah, so I assume the police are still looking for her?" I asked. I was given a sharp glance and a short reply,

"The police say they are looking but so far have turned up nothing." She turned back to Holmes and waited for him to say something. He had assumed an expression of polite concern but I could see his interest was already waning.

"I see. Was no maid sent with your daughter? No personal servant or chaperone?"

"We didn't think it necessary. The captain is a good friend of my husbands and was charged with looking after her on the passage over. And as for a maid, the girl that used to tend to my daughter handed in her notice a week before the voyage. It was determined that a new one would be employed for her when she arrived in London."

"What was the condition of her home life like?" said he. "Forgive my seeming impertinance, but it is necessary that i have a full account of the girl's character and circumstances if I am to find her."

"Well, my husband is a retired army doctor, though of course now he just treats regular patients." I noticed Holmes' eyes flick to me before going back to our guest. "We are reasonably well off, on account of a large inheritance I received from my parents, both English colonials from respectable families. Besides Emma, my daughter that is, I have two sons. Both have left home and entered into professions of their own. Klaus, the eldest, is training to be a barrister and Albert is considering entering the navy. It was intended that Emma should marry a doctor so he could take over the practice once my husband retires."

"And lastly, Mrs Roxburgh, can you think of any possible reason why your daughter would run away?" Immediately the lady bristled.

"I will tell you as I told the police. My daughter was kidnapped and did not run away!"

"I see," Holmes said again, rising from his chair by the fire. "Then I am afraid I cannot help you, Lady Roxburgh. The police have far more man-power, time and resources than I. I can do nothing but urge you to place your trust in them."

"The police! I have not traveled all this way just to talk to the police, Mr Holmes!" She rose too and stared at him incredulously. Suddenly it seemed as if all the energy and vigor had drained from her, leaving a tired, middle-aged woman who had lost a daughter, instead of the fire-breathing dragoness that had entered an hour before.

"I'm afraid there is nothing more I can do," Holmes said at last, ushering her out. He held the door open for a maid that had come to set the lunch things and returned to his seat. There was a pause between us during which I stared pointedly at him.

"You should take the case," I said finally. It was not often that I gave my opinion so bluntly, so his look of surprise was not exactly unwarranted.

"My dear Watson, why ever should I? I see no point in wasting my time on a case that has nothing of interest in it whatsoever. A motive at least would've been nice."

"It will keep you busy," said I. This was only half of the reason I wanted him to take on this case. I had noticed him looking with increasing longing at the drawer containing his supply of heroin and morphne, and wished him to have something to distract him from the habit. I watched his face carefully and suppressed my joy when it took on the look of dogged determination I recognised so well.

"Very well, Watson. If it will keep you happy," he conceded. My moment of victory was spoiled a moment after by a muffled thud and a whispered exclamation of pain. Peering over the sofa, which was placed in front of the dinner table, Holmes and I saw the maid crouched between the legs of the table attempting to retrieve a butter knife.

"Sorry, sir," she said, standing and brushing dust off her skirt. It occurred to me that I had never seen her before. She was remarkably pretty, although a foot shorter than Holmes and I, with auburn hair piled in a loose bun atop her head and the neat, hourglass figure so prized by women nowadays. Her large brown eyes were currently directed at the floor, and a large red welt was already visible on her forehead where she had presumably bumped it on the roof of the table.

"The new maid," Holmes explained. "No, don't bother with bringing a new one up. I see you've brought two." This last was to the maid who had been about to fetch a clean knife. Her face flushed pink and she muttered an embarrassed apology before backing out the door.

"Poor girl," I remarked as we sat down to eat. "Has she been here long?"

"Undoubtably so, Watson," Holmes said as he reached for a bread roll. "I can only come to that conclusion as she's managed to get the knives and forks the wrong way round."

We turned our conversation then towards other matters, such as my paper on Post-Surgical Patient Anomalies that I was considering for publication, and Holmes' latest foray into the world of chemistry.

Directly after lunch Holmes instructed me to send a telegram to the address Lady Roxburgh had given in her letter, informing her of Holmes' change of mind and asking her to call on us at seven tomorrow morning. He, meanwhile, disappeared into his room to concoct a new alias, one that he was going to test down at the docks where Emma Roxburgh had last been seen.

"I just want to make absolutely sure that the girl did not go of her own accord," was all he said before closing the door behind him.


Well, that was chapter 1.

I hope you liked it, and remember, I am open to any suggestions for a new title and ways in which I can make my story better.