Hey y'all! It's my first story, and I'm dying to know if you like it/ what
you think about it! Any comments are welcome, but please keep flames down
to a low smolder, and include helpful advice- or turn to your therapist.
Chapter One: Dining Alone.
The inside of a hanson cab is not very comfortable. Contrary to popular belief in the future, it is sincerely the roughest way to travel. I can totally understand why a person with the means should own their own carriage- so they can pad it well, I expect. My name is Evelyn Demarcier, and I am, or so I have been called by friends, an anomaly.
I sit, at this moment, in a cab, heading for Simpson's, that, to the uninitiated, means dinner. I am reasonably well off, with my jobs as a concert violinist and a highly selective music teacher bringing in a reasonable salary that allows me to indulge a few of my highly unusual whims.
These comprise of my liking to cook for myself, and 'invent' new dishes, I adore Italian, although find it impossible to learn without a teacher, and I love to surprise people. I arrived in London, not quite poor, with only a small reticule, a dog named Duke and my violin.
I was lucky enough to meet Giorgio De Ifaalussi, a famous concert master at my third audition, who recognised what skill I had, and gave me an immediate position as fourth violin, with a salary I wasn't stupid enough to even think about refusing. Giorgio has been a firm friend through my troubles, and has been as a brother to me. I thought at one point he might have feelings for me, but soon discovered I wasn't his type. Tall, dark and male fitted the profile more accurately.
Also, he had a weakness for spaniels like Duke.
~ Person Change! ~
Evelyn descended from the cab, and having paid, hurried into the warmth of Simpson's, before her hair was too ruffled by the cold wind. It was up in a stylish French twist, without a hat, for she loathed the things. A garçon immediately saw her to a table, and she perused the menu before choosing pasta, a recent, although not unfamiliar addition to the menu, to the lady. She calmly ordered white wine to go with her meal, and then sat back in her chair and subtly began to examine her fellow diners.
Nearby, a couple gazed into each others eyes. He was short and handsome, with a handlebar moustache she found intensely unattractive. He was also clearly a banker, with plenty of money, judging by the quality of his cigar, and the bankers' emblem on his briefcase. She was known to Evelyn as Miss N. le Brun, the first Clarinet, a stuck up society girl, who was trying to rise into higher social circles.
A single girl, who seemed to be reading voraciously while eating soup, occupied the next table, her page turning caused her to look up frequently, and sigh quietly, before returning to her book. On her right was a married couple, laughing merrily with each other, the husband telling an amusing anecdote, which was clearly hilarious to his spouse. By them was a single man, dressed plainly, with a sullen look, as if his rare steak was not to his liking? He sat with his profile to Evelyn, and his shoulders hunched towards the table of the banker and Miss le Brun.
Near him was a table of two businessmen, obviously negotiating a deal of some sort, by the ingratiating smiles and liberal pouring of wine. On the other side of Evelyn were two elderly ladies, having dessert, who looked to be old friends.
Evelyn took her meal quietly, while watching her fellow guests, and when she had finished, she rose to go. As she did so, the banker and Miss le Brun also went to leave. The evening show was to start in twenty minutes at the Apollo, and quite a few of the diners were also trying to get to the famous theatre in time. Evelyn enjoyed her evening, meeting a few friends at the Apollo, and went home straight after the show, to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Later on. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, she was awoken by her landlady knocking on her door. "Evie dear, Evie! There are some men here to see you; a mister Sherlock Holmes, a Doctor Watson and Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard. They want to see you urgently!"
I got up, neatly and quickly washed and dressed, and swept down the hallway to the sitting room within ten minutes of Mrs Jackson's call. "Good Morning, gentlemen, how may I help you?"
They had risen at my entry, and sat down as I sat on the sofa next to a man of about my own age, with broad shoulders and a kindly face. Another man, short and fair, with an inquisitive expression I took to be Inspector Lestrade. A tall man, smartly dressed, who gave off such charisma and energy that I had addressed the question to him instead of Inspector Lestrade, stood by the fireplace and fixed me with a penetrating stare.
"You are Miss Evelyn Demarcier, who dined at Simpson's last night?"
The Inspector began. This was going to be tiresome, I could tell by the monotone he spoke in. "Why gentlemen, you wear such grave expressions! Who has been murdered?" Surely it was obvious. I loved to surprise people- the looks on their faces mixed suspicion with interest.
"I am Sherlock Holmes. A Miss Nancy le Brun and a Mister Edward St Albans have been poisoned. We know you were at Simpson's until twenty to seven, whereupon you left to go to the Apollo. Did you enjoy the Pirates of Penzance? What was the quality of the violin playing, may I enquire?"
I was a little flustered by the questions, and his cold, fast way of speaking, but I remained as calm as I could.
"The violins were excellent, and I enjoyed it very much. You also play the violin; a good make?" He had forgotten, when waxing the bow, that he had wax on his hand, and accidentally rubbed wax onto the opposite sleeve- I only recognized it because I had done it myself the other day.
"Bravo, Miss Demarcier, Holmes, she has challenged you." Watson, as he must be, applauded happily. So Holmes wasn't often challenged, eh? It must be so, for Watson to chortle so at my words
. "A Stradivarius, as your own violin is also, I believe. Your pasta was enjoyable, also?" This man was good. How did he know I had eaten pasta? I searched his appearance for clues to my next comeback.
"You left home in a hurry this morning, Mr Holmes." He frowned, and then noticed what I had- his laced shoes were laced in the most lop sided manner I have ever seen on such a fanatically neat man. "Touché, my dear Miss Demarcier." His grey eyes held a glint of interest; but I was only allowed a seconds sight of it, before it was filed away. Then he became all business, as Lestrade complained "Can we stop the battle of wits, please? I have a murder investigation to persue".
"Miss Demarcier, we have come here to ask you about your observations last night- particularly any suspicious actions, but mainly to ask if you remember the other diners that were in the vicinity of the deceased." He spoke in a mechanical way, plainly regurgitating someone's words- from Lestrade's smug look; I thought he was the culprit.
"Actually, Mr Holmes, I can describe a few of them in great detail. Or sketch them." He was less than surprised, and very unimpressed. Men that think they've seen it all bug me. "That would be excellent." Just as I thought he was going to be interesting, as well. Typical. Men feel threatened: they resort to business mode.
________________Later that Day ____________________________________
"So, Holmes, Miss Demarcier has been very useful, you agree?" Watson was walking alongside his old friend with a smirk carefully concealed by his interest in passing trivia. Holmes did not reply, only strode out the more fervently. As they came to a halt, forced by a cab passing, Holmes threw a glance at his friend who was busy feigning a lack of interest.
"Yes Watson. It is quite unusual for a single woman to be so intelligent and to notice with such detail." "Really, Holmes! You must not think so. It is very bad of you." Watson laughingly chided his taciturn companion. They were once again walking, and Watson could swear that Holmes was getting faster in an effort to quiet him.
"It is bad of me, Watson, but it has been a habit of mine to believe only what I have seen with my own eyes, in regard to the feminine sex- the more lovely, the more dangerous, and in some cases, the more lovely, the more unintelligent and weak. And they are almost always frivolous." Holmes was speaking in a quiet voice, which was lucky, as Watson was sure any lady in the vicinity would care to challenge his friend on that statement.
"So is Miss Demarcier unintelligent and weak or dangerous and frivolous?" Watson enquired quizzically. Holmes avoided the question by entering the house and retiring to his bedroom, but both knew that Evelyn Demarcier was none of the above. Only as dangerous as any of her sex- which, as Holmes would point out, is a very ambiguous statement.
Well, that's it for chapter one, what did y'all think? I know its not very impressive cannon-wise, but the only way I'll ever improve is if you help me! It's my first Holmes fic, but I've been busy researching romance fics (by reading BST and its own fanfic, along with Nako-Chan's which I also love!), and Holmes' character, by reading the canon, but I still need loads of help!
If I've reviewed you, make me happy by pressing the button, and If I haven't then I'm sure to if you leave me a note! Chapter 2 up soon!
Normal Normal Default Paragraph Font Default Paragraph Font Williams5C:\WINDOWS\Profiles\sherry\My Documents\Diaries I.doc Williams5C:\WINDOWS\Profiles\sherry\My Documents\Diaries I.doc Williams2C:\windows\TEMP\AutoRecovery save of Diaries I.asdÿ??\?\?8 Times New Roman Times New Roman Symbol Symbol ZEwFhEwF Williams Williams Williams Williams Williams Normal Williams Microsoft Word 8.0 Dell Computer Corporation _PID_GUID {A1C85220-AD83-11D7-9B43-A00851C10000} {A1C85220-AD83-11D7-9B43-A00851C10000} Root Entry Microsoft ADPCM auCo Microsoft ADPCM auCo os1Table os1Table CM audio data. CM audio data. WordDocument WordDocument SummaryInformation SummaryInformation DocumentSummaryInformation DocumentSummaryInformation CompObj CompObj ObjectPool ObjectPool Microsoft Word Document MSWordDoc Word.Document.8
Chapter One: Dining Alone.
The inside of a hanson cab is not very comfortable. Contrary to popular belief in the future, it is sincerely the roughest way to travel. I can totally understand why a person with the means should own their own carriage- so they can pad it well, I expect. My name is Evelyn Demarcier, and I am, or so I have been called by friends, an anomaly.
I sit, at this moment, in a cab, heading for Simpson's, that, to the uninitiated, means dinner. I am reasonably well off, with my jobs as a concert violinist and a highly selective music teacher bringing in a reasonable salary that allows me to indulge a few of my highly unusual whims.
These comprise of my liking to cook for myself, and 'invent' new dishes, I adore Italian, although find it impossible to learn without a teacher, and I love to surprise people. I arrived in London, not quite poor, with only a small reticule, a dog named Duke and my violin.
I was lucky enough to meet Giorgio De Ifaalussi, a famous concert master at my third audition, who recognised what skill I had, and gave me an immediate position as fourth violin, with a salary I wasn't stupid enough to even think about refusing. Giorgio has been a firm friend through my troubles, and has been as a brother to me. I thought at one point he might have feelings for me, but soon discovered I wasn't his type. Tall, dark and male fitted the profile more accurately.
Also, he had a weakness for spaniels like Duke.
~ Person Change! ~
Evelyn descended from the cab, and having paid, hurried into the warmth of Simpson's, before her hair was too ruffled by the cold wind. It was up in a stylish French twist, without a hat, for she loathed the things. A garçon immediately saw her to a table, and she perused the menu before choosing pasta, a recent, although not unfamiliar addition to the menu, to the lady. She calmly ordered white wine to go with her meal, and then sat back in her chair and subtly began to examine her fellow diners.
Nearby, a couple gazed into each others eyes. He was short and handsome, with a handlebar moustache she found intensely unattractive. He was also clearly a banker, with plenty of money, judging by the quality of his cigar, and the bankers' emblem on his briefcase. She was known to Evelyn as Miss N. le Brun, the first Clarinet, a stuck up society girl, who was trying to rise into higher social circles.
A single girl, who seemed to be reading voraciously while eating soup, occupied the next table, her page turning caused her to look up frequently, and sigh quietly, before returning to her book. On her right was a married couple, laughing merrily with each other, the husband telling an amusing anecdote, which was clearly hilarious to his spouse. By them was a single man, dressed plainly, with a sullen look, as if his rare steak was not to his liking? He sat with his profile to Evelyn, and his shoulders hunched towards the table of the banker and Miss le Brun.
Near him was a table of two businessmen, obviously negotiating a deal of some sort, by the ingratiating smiles and liberal pouring of wine. On the other side of Evelyn were two elderly ladies, having dessert, who looked to be old friends.
Evelyn took her meal quietly, while watching her fellow guests, and when she had finished, she rose to go. As she did so, the banker and Miss le Brun also went to leave. The evening show was to start in twenty minutes at the Apollo, and quite a few of the diners were also trying to get to the famous theatre in time. Evelyn enjoyed her evening, meeting a few friends at the Apollo, and went home straight after the show, to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Later on. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, she was awoken by her landlady knocking on her door. "Evie dear, Evie! There are some men here to see you; a mister Sherlock Holmes, a Doctor Watson and Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard. They want to see you urgently!"
I got up, neatly and quickly washed and dressed, and swept down the hallway to the sitting room within ten minutes of Mrs Jackson's call. "Good Morning, gentlemen, how may I help you?"
They had risen at my entry, and sat down as I sat on the sofa next to a man of about my own age, with broad shoulders and a kindly face. Another man, short and fair, with an inquisitive expression I took to be Inspector Lestrade. A tall man, smartly dressed, who gave off such charisma and energy that I had addressed the question to him instead of Inspector Lestrade, stood by the fireplace and fixed me with a penetrating stare.
"You are Miss Evelyn Demarcier, who dined at Simpson's last night?"
The Inspector began. This was going to be tiresome, I could tell by the monotone he spoke in. "Why gentlemen, you wear such grave expressions! Who has been murdered?" Surely it was obvious. I loved to surprise people- the looks on their faces mixed suspicion with interest.
"I am Sherlock Holmes. A Miss Nancy le Brun and a Mister Edward St Albans have been poisoned. We know you were at Simpson's until twenty to seven, whereupon you left to go to the Apollo. Did you enjoy the Pirates of Penzance? What was the quality of the violin playing, may I enquire?"
I was a little flustered by the questions, and his cold, fast way of speaking, but I remained as calm as I could.
"The violins were excellent, and I enjoyed it very much. You also play the violin; a good make?" He had forgotten, when waxing the bow, that he had wax on his hand, and accidentally rubbed wax onto the opposite sleeve- I only recognized it because I had done it myself the other day.
"Bravo, Miss Demarcier, Holmes, she has challenged you." Watson, as he must be, applauded happily. So Holmes wasn't often challenged, eh? It must be so, for Watson to chortle so at my words
. "A Stradivarius, as your own violin is also, I believe. Your pasta was enjoyable, also?" This man was good. How did he know I had eaten pasta? I searched his appearance for clues to my next comeback.
"You left home in a hurry this morning, Mr Holmes." He frowned, and then noticed what I had- his laced shoes were laced in the most lop sided manner I have ever seen on such a fanatically neat man. "Touché, my dear Miss Demarcier." His grey eyes held a glint of interest; but I was only allowed a seconds sight of it, before it was filed away. Then he became all business, as Lestrade complained "Can we stop the battle of wits, please? I have a murder investigation to persue".
"Miss Demarcier, we have come here to ask you about your observations last night- particularly any suspicious actions, but mainly to ask if you remember the other diners that were in the vicinity of the deceased." He spoke in a mechanical way, plainly regurgitating someone's words- from Lestrade's smug look; I thought he was the culprit.
"Actually, Mr Holmes, I can describe a few of them in great detail. Or sketch them." He was less than surprised, and very unimpressed. Men that think they've seen it all bug me. "That would be excellent." Just as I thought he was going to be interesting, as well. Typical. Men feel threatened: they resort to business mode.
________________Later that Day ____________________________________
"So, Holmes, Miss Demarcier has been very useful, you agree?" Watson was walking alongside his old friend with a smirk carefully concealed by his interest in passing trivia. Holmes did not reply, only strode out the more fervently. As they came to a halt, forced by a cab passing, Holmes threw a glance at his friend who was busy feigning a lack of interest.
"Yes Watson. It is quite unusual for a single woman to be so intelligent and to notice with such detail." "Really, Holmes! You must not think so. It is very bad of you." Watson laughingly chided his taciturn companion. They were once again walking, and Watson could swear that Holmes was getting faster in an effort to quiet him.
"It is bad of me, Watson, but it has been a habit of mine to believe only what I have seen with my own eyes, in regard to the feminine sex- the more lovely, the more dangerous, and in some cases, the more lovely, the more unintelligent and weak. And they are almost always frivolous." Holmes was speaking in a quiet voice, which was lucky, as Watson was sure any lady in the vicinity would care to challenge his friend on that statement.
"So is Miss Demarcier unintelligent and weak or dangerous and frivolous?" Watson enquired quizzically. Holmes avoided the question by entering the house and retiring to his bedroom, but both knew that Evelyn Demarcier was none of the above. Only as dangerous as any of her sex- which, as Holmes would point out, is a very ambiguous statement.
Well, that's it for chapter one, what did y'all think? I know its not very impressive cannon-wise, but the only way I'll ever improve is if you help me! It's my first Holmes fic, but I've been busy researching romance fics (by reading BST and its own fanfic, along with Nako-Chan's which I also love!), and Holmes' character, by reading the canon, but I still need loads of help!
If I've reviewed you, make me happy by pressing the button, and If I haven't then I'm sure to if you leave me a note! Chapter 2 up soon!
Normal Normal Default Paragraph Font Default Paragraph Font Williams5C:\WINDOWS\Profiles\sherry\My Documents\Diaries I.doc Williams5C:\WINDOWS\Profiles\sherry\My Documents\Diaries I.doc Williams2C:\windows\TEMP\AutoRecovery save of Diaries I.asdÿ??\?\?8 Times New Roman Times New Roman Symbol Symbol ZEwFhEwF Williams Williams Williams Williams Williams Normal Williams Microsoft Word 8.0 Dell Computer Corporation _PID_GUID {A1C85220-AD83-11D7-9B43-A00851C10000} {A1C85220-AD83-11D7-9B43-A00851C10000} Root Entry Microsoft ADPCM auCo Microsoft ADPCM auCo os1Table os1Table CM audio data. CM audio data. WordDocument WordDocument SummaryInformation SummaryInformation DocumentSummaryInformation DocumentSummaryInformation CompObj CompObj ObjectPool ObjectPool Microsoft Word Document MSWordDoc Word.Document.8