Disclaimer: not mine.
The Emerald
Chapter One
"Holmes, where are we going?" a man in his mid thirties called from within a room.
"A concert, Watson! A concert! There is a new instrumentalist whose skills are praised by the Queen herself!" a very tall, dark man called back.
"Which concert hall is this at?" Watson shouted, jogging out of the room and down the stairs.
"The Royal Concert Hall," Holmes said, pulling his coat about his shoulders.
"What is his name, this musician?" Watson asked, hurriedly shouldering his own coat.
"Her name is Gwendolyn de Bohun," Holmes said, opening the door and walking out to the cab.
"A woman?" Watson asked, surprised. He quickly followed Holmes out.
The two of them sat in the cab, and Holmes waved for the cabby to drive. As soon as they were moving, Holmes continued by saying, "This is her first performance in England, aside from just for the Queen and her attendants."
"What does she play?" Watson asked. Holmes did not answer for a few seconds. "Holmes? Holmes!"
"What is it, Watson?" the hawk-nosed man snapped.
"What instrument does Miss de Bohun play?" Watson asked, somewhat annoyed.
"I don't know," Holmes said bluntly. He said nothing more until they arrived at the theatre.
"Come, Watson! We need to get to our seats!" Holmes suddenly said quite energetically.
Watson sighed and followed his friend up the steps and into the theatre. They hurried to their seats, sitting down just before the performance started.
Holmes looked up to the stage. A grand piano was in the middle of the stage as well as a chair and a music stand.
Not five seconds later, the lights dimmed and a young woman in a beautiful, white dress with green trim walked on stage. A large emerald rested on her breast bone. Her hair was pure white, and her eyes shone a dark crimson, like blood, in the light of the chandelier's candles. Her skin was flawless and translucent, though almost sickly in its paleness. She appeared to be in her twenties. She was short, only about five feet tall. Through the dress, everyone could tell that she was very slender, but she still had graceful curves. Her fingers were short, an oddity among musicians, but they were very elegant and just as slender as the rest of her.
She sat by the piano and began to play. The dark, haunting notes drifting through the music hall subtly from the bass end of the piano. The entire audience unconsciously leaned forward, straining to hear the soft notes. As the song progressed, people shifted and fidgeted less and less until the song ended. The hall was silent and still in shock.
Holmes listened with rapt attention. Her musicality was nearly unparalleled. She was a technical genius, but that was common enough in these times. Her music swelled and faded in waves of beautiful sound, absolutely incomparable to anyone or anything he had ever heard.
Watson, on the other hand, was far from a connoisseur of music. He only understood what good music was in general. He hardly knew anything of the finer and more precise nuances of music. Despite these inadequacies, the doctor was still quite enraptured by this music. It stirred emotions deep within him, emotions of sadness, joyfulness, longing, content, and many more.
This trance-like state was broken by the end of the song. Holmes and Watson stood and applauded vigorously, as did everyone else in the now filled concert hall. Miss de Bohun stood and curtsied once before turning on her toe and walking off the stage.
The rest of the concert progressed much the same with Miss de Bohun taking part in a woodwind quartet, a woodwind trio, and a rendition of 'Queen of the Night' accompanied by a pianist. At the end of each piece, she received a standing ovation, for each part was just as astounding, emotional, and haunting as the first. She smiled brightly at the end of the final piece and curtsied once before exiting the stage.
Only then did everyone begin to file out the doors, avidly discussing the performance. Watson and Holmes took their time more than many people did.
Right around the time the two men had just exited the building, they saw a woman in white walk past them. It was that wonderful musician. She was even more beautiful up close, not that Holmes would notice. After all, Watson was the one that had experience with the 'fairer-sex'.
As she gracefully wove through the crowd, Holmes hurried forward to intercept her. Watson followed quickly, just as eager to meet her. The detective sped a little to make it appear as though he was busy. Then, he purposely bumped into her, making it look like an accident. "Oh, my apologies, Miss de Bohun," he said sincerely.
"Everything is fine, Mr.?" Miss de Bohun said, asking for his name.
"Sherlock Holmes, at your service," he said, holding his hand out for her to shake.
"Did you enjoy the concert, Monsieur Holmes?" she asked politely.
He smiled and said, "It was most outstanding. Tell me, for how long have you been a musician?"
"I have been involved with music for my entire life."
"That is remarkable!" Watson said.
"What about you two gentlemen? What brings you to this concert?" she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.
"The Queen announced that she had found a most singular musician who would be coming here to perform. Naturally, Holmes was curious as to the skill of a musician that could catch the Queen's eye."
"Well now that you have heard me, were you disappointed?" she asked slyly.
"Quite the opposite, Miss de Bohun. Your skills are nearly unparalleled," Holmes said quite honesty and bluntly.
"Thank you, Monsieur Holmes," she said, grateful for his honesty. She glanced over to the street, and her eyes locked on a black carriage.
"If you two gentlemen will excuse me, I must be leaving now," she said, nodding her head to them both.
"Certainly, Miss de Bohun. I look forward to your future performances," Holmes said.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss de Bohun," Watson said, echoing the sentiments.
"Au revoir," she said with a smile before turning and walking to the carriage. Both of them watched her until the carriage turned a corner.
"What a charming, young lady," Watson observed, turning to his friend.
"Watson, did you observe the heraldic design on the door of the carriage?" Holmes said, turning his grey eyes, alight with curiosity, to his colleague.
"This is hardly the time for an investigation, Holmes!" Watson exclaimed.
"The design was a red fleur-de-lis on a white background, the coat of arms for the Grand Duchy of Tuscany."
"She's connected to the Grand Dukes of Tuscany?" Watson exclaimed.
"She most likely knows the children of the last Grand Duke, Ferndinand IV," Holmes explained.