Roses Have Thorns- Chapter 7- In Which Sherlock's Boredom Comes to an End
There was another, quieter, knock on the door.
"Come in!" I yelled while taking a seat next to the window. Watson also took the seat beside of me, leaving the love seat in front of us open to the visitor. The door hesitantly opened leaving a crack at first but then opening to reveal a woman of her mid 40s. She wore a plain black dress for mourning one's death, and her graying blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun with strands of curls falling here and there. No makeup had been applied to her face, leaving a tired, wrinkled look. Her eyes were a light blue but they were swollen and red from crying. My eyes shot down to her hands, where she was nervously playing with a diamond engagement ring on her hand.
Her husband had died.
"M-Mr. Holmes," she asked toward Watson.
I gently smiled and got up to shake her hand, "I am Sherlock Holmes."
She casted her eyes downward and extended a shaky hand, "I-I'm sorry. I'm Emma Clemmons."
I shook her extremely cold hand, then offered her a seat. She gratefully took it and politely sat down.
"I would be very thankful if you could take my case Mr. Holmes," she pleaded while still fiddled with the ring on her finger. She paused, unsure of what to say.
"Please feel free to present your case whenever you feel comfortable."
On the back of Ms. Clemmons' wrists were very light marks of where a typewriter had been pushed up against them. Even though she was dressed in modest black they had been bought in Burge's, a high class women's clothing store. Most government workers shopped there.
She shifted in the seat. "My husband was.." she closed her eyes and her lip quivered, "he was-" She choked on her words and dug her face into her hands. I felt only a tad bit of compassion for the Ms. Clemmons, but at this pace it would take forever
"Murdered," I plainly said. She numbly nodded. "Ms. Clemmons. If you wish to continue this you must get a hold of yourself and your emotions or I can't help you." I lounged in the chair and waited for her to respond.
The chokes of crying slowly stopped and she lifted her sunken eyes. "I found him yesterday morning in h-his study. 'e was lying on his work desk and I thought he had fallen asleep so I put his coat around him...but.. I touched him," she sobbed again, "He was solid cold. I shook him and flipped him over and his eyes were wide like he had-"
"saw something," Watson began. "Or someone," I added.
She nodded. "I immediately called the police and they sweeped the place but, nothing was found. Not even a single finger print."
"What was he like? A business man I presume?"
"Thats why I came to you. I can't see any reason why anyone would want to kill him." She casted her eyes downward, gently smiling, "He was kind to everyone, a gentle man... We weren't even rich."
"No workers who envied his happiness?"
She looked up, surprised. "Well. I never thought of that. He didn't really have any friends though. It was just me and him. Together in life." She began to break down again.
I leaned forward in contemplation, placing my elbows on my knees and placing my hands together. This was a simple case. But often the most elementary cases turn out to be much more. Possibilities clouded my mind. As my brain argued the all the choices until finally settling on one.
"When could you arrange a time for us to come have a look?"
Her sadness wavered as she smiled, happy that someone could finally help her. "Tomorrow at noon would be fine. Oh thank you Mister Holmes. You don't know how much this means to me."
I smirked. Although my emotions had been drowned out I still felt some type of good when I helped people like her. "We'll be there. Do you mind if I bring along my 2 partners?" Watson shot me a look.
"If it will help."
Watson had now put his hand to his face. "In some way or another," I said, smiling. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and headed for the door. "Thank you very much Mister Holmes." Tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. Unable to make out anything other than choked noise, she just nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her.
I slouched in the chair, relaxing for a bit before grabbing my violin and plucking at a few strings. Watson's heavy gaze drifted across the room. "I don't understand a single thing you do anymore," he finally said, breaking the silence.
It quickly grew silent again except for the random notes coming from the old violin. I thought of the case and how to execute a proper investigation of the crime scene, but for some reason or another Black Rose and Watson kept squirming there way into my thoughts. Should I take them? I'm certain Watson will eventually agree if I ask him. But the Black Rose... What to do with him. Surely I could use him for much more than simple experiments.
While in this dilemma I failed to hear a knock on the door, so, as expected, Watson got up to open it. As he edged toward the door I realized something.
3 knocks?... oh no.
He had reached the door by now and was midway in turning the knob. "Watson No!" It was too late the door had been opened and there entered Miss Wendy Wilson. The tall, skinny, girl with fair skin. Her curled hair put neatly in a bun with 2 perfect cork screw pieces falling in front of her heart shaped face. Dramatically, she strode into the room failing her arms everywhere and crying out, "Look how dirty it is in here! I'm gone for a week and just look what you've done with the place!"
I placed my hand on my forehead, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I've only returned it to it's prior glory-"
"Glory?" She swiftly ran a finger along the mantel piece, "This place is filthy! I don't know how you bring clients in here! No wonder that lady left with tears in her eyes."
She continued to ramble on while fetching her cleaning supplies. Watson, completely bewildered at this point, walked back over to me and whispered in my ear, "who is she?"
"She. Is Wendy Wilson. A maid whom is Mrs. Hudson's niece. When you left, Mrs. Hudson began a childish worriment of me and my... cleanliness. Her niece had been visiting and so Mrs. Hudson gave her the challenge of keeping my apartment decent."
Watson stifled a laugh.
"Well I guess I'll start with the bedroom. I just need a broom and then get started," her voice wandered into the other room.
"Can't you just- did she just go into the bedroom?" Watson asked. My eyes widened and we both sprinted into the bedroom. Wendy had began to open the closet, but turned when she saw us. The closet door was still cracked.
"What is it Mister Holmes?"
"It would be best for you to start in the living room. It's much dirtier than in there," I lied.
"Oh no. I think it would be best for me to start in the back and make my way out to the front." She eased the closet door open a tad more. Inside Rose's unconsciousness self could be seen leaning against the door.
"I really think you should start in the living room," Watson chimed in.
"Really boys, I think I know what I'm do-" She continued to open the door despite their objection.
And there fell the body. Right on her foot. It was all silent for a moment before put her hands up to her face and let out a terrifying scream that bounced off all the walls. Watson covered his ears and a crash could be heard from downstairs. I flinched at the ear shattering shriek and as she took a breath I walked over to her putting a hand up.
"You must understand-"
"THERE'S A DEAD MAN IN YOUR CLOSET! HOW CAN I POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND!"
I cleared my throat, "He is not dead, merely knocked out." She shook the body off her foot and backed away a few steps. Her face was in pure confusion and misunderstanding, still trying to decide what was happening.
I made my move. "This is Mr. Thorn. He is one of my close friends who helps me out with cases," she looked toward him, "but unfortunately has a bad alcohol problem since his girlfriend died. Watson and I are both trying to help him but he doesn't seem to want any guidance at all. Every once in awhile though when he's stone drunk he'll come to us so that he doesn't get in trouble." She nodded, eyes becoming less frightful.
I bent down to pick up Rose off the floor and continued, "He came to us this morning, from drinking all night, and passed out on the carpet," I set him in the chair, "I couldn't leave him and I also had a client coming over when he decided to 'visit'. So naturally, I wanted to hide him so my client she would not be upset."
She pouted and looked toward the man. Worry in her eyes. "It is very simple. I mean, It wasn't like you were experimenting like a mad scientist or anything."
Watson sarcastically answered for me, "Of course no. He would never do anything like that."
Mental note. Next time Watson decides to be sarcastic put drugs in his tea.
We all stared at Rose for a minute before tears welled in Wendy's eyes and she rushed right over, giving Rose's body a hug. His face in her breasts she swung him back and forth.
"Oh you poor man! Lover gone and no one to share your sorrow and passion with! Oh, how your agony reaches to me!" She tightly embraced him.
Watson put his hand to his face and I chuckled at the sight. Wendy, from experience, had taking a liking in me quite recently when she was hired. She was over emotional, with strange fetishes in men, and exasperated all of her movements.
While Wendy intensely hugged Rose the motion must have woken him from the drug.
Mental Note. Concoction only lasts 20 minutes.
A/N I'm so sorry! This took sooo longgg. Procrastination got the better of me I guess. I really shouldn't make any excuses. I just send my sincerest apologies to everyone. I wish I could hug all of you like Mary! XD Mary is a character that I had a lot of fun creating. Tee-he. But anywho.
I'm really disappointed in my work. I went back and looked at it and it's written terribly. So short with no feeling. I'm really trying harder but if you guys want to give some pointers feel free to send me a message or put in a review. Your reviews are awesome. They really help me out when encouraging me to start writing and everything. Thank you so much if your still following! Peace out!
Another A/N
I fixed the Wendy Mary thing. Sorry for the confusion.
