From Wordwielder: Bath
This prompt is an unusual one for me- it's based on a real life murder case that took place in Glasgow, in December 1908, an 83 year old spinster named Marion Gilchrist bludgeoned, and a valuable diamond brooch stolen. A German Jew named Oscar Slater was accused of the robbery and murder. However, our dear Mr Arthur Conan Doyle employed his famous detective's methods to the case and he pleaded on behalf of Slater's innocence.
This story is based on that crime, with some creative liberties taken with it. I only own the Tears of St Peter and the Heart of Gabriel. Enjoy!
...
"Are you sure you can help me, Mr 'Olmes?" A Cockney accent pleads my friend and colleague in the depths of one of our armchairs near a roaring fire. He eyes it nervously, as if he has a moral obligation to avoid any associations with the Devil.
"Now, I am positive I will be able to solve this case for you, Mr Stracker." A smooth, calm voice replies in an assuring fashion, smoke wafting from a beech wood pipe hanging idly from his lips.
"But if they find me guilty, Mr 'Olmes, I'm a dead man! I'll be hung from the gallows!" The client pleads, shrinking further still into the armchair's fabric.
"I am aware of the law and its punishments, thank you. But, nonetheless, you have my word as a gentleman that I will help you."
"Oh, fhank ye, Mr 'Olmes, and God bless ye!" The man exclaims in relief, wiping perspiration off his shining, flushed forehead.
"Now, now, there is no need for that. I shall start the investigation promptly." MY companion reinforces politely, as he rises to shake Mr Stracker's hand.
Once our client had gone, I began to wonder what would happen on our next adventure. It had been too long since either of us had had anything of interest to do.
"Watson, I trust you have nothing planned this afternoon?" He asks.
"No, certainly not." I answer. "I have not anything planned for nearly two weeks, Holmes."
"Good, because I need you at my side, as always." He shoots me a wry smile. "We are due to go into Bath via the 10.45 train from Paddington Station this morning, so be sharp, Watson."
"Shall I bring my revolver?" I question, dutifully. There had been several occasions I had brought it with me, and yet have nothing happen; and once, when I made the mistake of not bringing it with me, Holmes and I were held prisoner for three days, along with Inspector Stanley Hopkins, Holmes' mentee.
Holmes considers the question thoughtfully.
"Bring your bag." He answers evasively.
I deduce from that statement that Holmes is anticipating something happening in Bath, so I decide to take his answer as a yes. I grab both items and we set out.
...
Once we had arrived at Paddington Station by cab, embarked the train and set off to Bath Spa Train Station about approximately two hours away from London, Holmes sits with his pipe, smoking thoughtfully. I stare at my friend, hoping that he had had some idea of the grisly business we were dealing with.
"Well, do you have any ideas, Holmes?" I ask, hopefully.
"I do not use ideas, Watson- I use logic and deductive reasoning." He reminds me, sternly. "However, I shall recount the facts of this case, Watson. Firstly, at 3 o' clock in the afternoon, we have Hattie Parker, the maid of the wealthy and affluent Mary Christion; leave the room to answer the door. Only, the person who rang the bell was absent when she arrived. When she returned, she found Mrs Christion dead on the floor. She had been strangled and beaten, and within nine days the police arrest our client, Mr Henry Stracker."
"Yes, I have this written down." I answer.
"Mr Stracker denied his involvement in the murder, as he was out of town at that time." Holmes continues. "So far, there has been no evidence to say that he did not commit the crime- however, there is something else I am concerned about." He continues.
"Yes, Holmes?"
"Have you ever heard of the Heart of Gabriel?" He asks me, to which I shake my head.
"I'll explain the matter to you later." He tells me, after which we descend into a customary silence, and he does not speak one word to me until we disembark at Bath over two hours later, when he announces our next destination.
"We are going to ..." He informs me. "We are to meet a relative of Miss Christion who shall tell us all about her, and then, at quarter past three, I hear that Wilma Norman-Neruda is due to play a concert at the Theatre Royal."
...
After speaking to Miss Christion's relative- a son of a cousin she knew in her younger years, named Matthew McCrystal. He explained to us that Miss Christion was very wealthy, and owned many precious and expensive items of jewellery, including the Heart of Gabriel, and the Tears of St Peter. Once we conclude our discussion, Holmes and I catch a cab, where he immediately lets out an infernal sound.
"It appears my suspicions were correct, Watson. I am afraid that the possession of those stones has led her to an inevitable break in- and fatally, her death."
"But what would a thief want with a diamond brooch and sapphire earrings?" I ask.
"Why else, Watson?" He retorts, chewing on his pipe in thought.
"Money?" I venture.
"Possibly. But we must do some further investigating before we start piecing this mysterious little affair together."
I hope we could grab some lunch first, as I am feeling rather famished- but Holmes is not the sort of man to concern with feasting during cases.
Unfortunately, Holmes is quick to notice we are running late for the concert, and so we hurry towards the Theatre Royal by cab.
In that case, another large supper for me. But I am curious as to find out whom is the culprit behind this affair...
