Watson

I had never been to a nobleperson's funeral before, so was surprised to find it so poorly attended. Holmes had been, and assured me the amount of people was perfectly ordinary. Five mourners and the priest were the only audience besides Holmes and myself. This hampered our ability to blend in to the crowd. The others must have been family and close friends, and shot us some dubious looks throughout the ceremony, but no one approached us, and Holmes dismissed the priest's question with a slick explanation that we were old school friends of Glover's. The family, thank heavens, accepted the cover easily enough.

Soon Holmes had begun a conversation with who I assumed was Glover's wife. It struck me odd that he could be the most solitary and unsociable fellow in normal times, but for the sake of a case he would ramble on for hours with a complete stranger just to acquire that one piece of information.

I tagged along behind Holmes, not really knowing what he was looking for, and trying not to say too much. Holmes had always said my prevaricating skills were horrid, and I did not want to be the one to blow our cover.

The woman, though clearly grievous, attempted to make ample conversation with Holmes.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir, though I'm afraid in most unpleasant circumstances. I am Margaret Glover. How did you know Harland? I do not believe I recognize you."

"Indeed, Mrs. Glover. I am Henry Hunter, and this is my associate Mr. Hobbs. As to my relation to your husband, you do not recognize me because we have never met. Your husband and I met some many years ago.

Holmes spun out his thread as easily as if he were telling of his own life. "My friend and I," He began, gesturing towards me, "Were chums of old Harland in school. We were quite the group, along with Bertram Cole."

The woman's eyes lit up in surprise at the name. Her face probably mimicked my own, for the mention of this man was out of the blue.

"Why, Mr. Hunter, I knew Bertram Cole when I first met Harland. He courted me before Harland did. They were great friends, I remember, but I'm afraid they drifted apart when I took to Harland instead of Bertram. The poor man was heartbroken. I wonder, Mr. Hunter, why I did not see you at the time. Surely you were all still friends."

Holmes had been listening raptly to the woman's narrative with peaked ears and sharp eyes, but now slipped into his character once again.

"Ah, yes. After school, Mr. Hobbs and I pursued careers in the armed forces, and our correspondence with Harland and Bertram was limited. I'm sorry to hear they were estranged."

"A shame." Mrs. Glover said, and the conversation flowed into other channels.

The official ceremony began not long after. I felt somberness for the death of this man whom his family talked so warmly of. Disposal of human life was always a terrible thing to me.

As soon as the talking had ceased and the eyes of the audience were elsewhere, Holmes snuck up to the casket. I followed after a sideways glance at the family.

The ceremony was open casket, but I doubt a closed one would have stopped Holmes in his investigation. To my horror, he approached the corpse and began prodding and poking it.

"Notice, Watson," he murmured under his breath, "the distinct reddish tinge to the skin that is tell-tale of cyanide poisoning*." He moved the head, lifting the closed eyelids. He suddenly gave a loud, short burst of laughter.

"Here, Watson, pupil dilation and reddened eyes as well!"

I didn't respond more than a nervous gulp, for the whole of the funeral party had turned upon Holmes and I with various shades of disdain and outrage written on their faces. Holmes seemed entirely unaffected by their angry scrutinizing, but I dug my hand under my collar.

Holmes grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the building. I had no qualms about beating a hasty retreat. I was profusely grateful there had not been of the official force around, for I was sure that if tampering with a corpse was not illegal it was at least suspicious activity.

We walked at a quick pace away from the building, but slowed once it was out of sight. Holmes seemed in an extremely jovial mood, especially after just attending a funeral.

"The threads begin to weave together, Watson. You see what this latest excursion has showed us?"

I saw only the obvious, but I was sure Holmes had miraculously deduced some nearly impossible but brilliant theory out of it all.

"You seem to think that the poison used was cyanide. I cannot deduce anything more from it."

Holmes raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Perhaps, Watson, I have the advantage here. You do not know who Bertram Cole is?"

"I cannot say I do."

"That explains much. Cole, in addition to being on of the young Mrs. Glover's suitors, is the owner of McDermott and Cole, rival spice distributor to Miramaw."

This development did brighten some things for me. "Then- why, Holmes, you think Bertram Cole is the perpetrator of all this?"

"We can adopt that as a working hypothesis. But we still have some noticeable holes in our theory."

Something had just struck me. "You don't really think he would have killed Glover just because Glover married Mrs. Margaret instead of him?"

Holmes frowned. "I think, Watson, that man has committed wickeder crimes for lesser offences before, and it is certainly possible that he has killed Harland Glover, if he has, for just that reason."

"But what offense does he have against the sailor?" I asked. "Was it he who shot at us in the factory? How does he even figure into the equation if it is Miramaw who has been accused of the poisonings?"

"Have you noticed, Watson, that the main accuser is McDermott and Cole? You have summed up the difficulties nicely. We have only to find the missing pieces now."


A/N: It seems the only time I'm able to write for this is on the weekends. :(

A note on researches:

"Among the aristocracy when a person dies, unless he is some great general or other public character, no one attends the funeral except the immediate family of the deceased."- From 'The Victorian Dictionary'.

If you've never been to that site, I'd advise you to check it out. Talk about wealth of information. It's

*I'm fairly sure cyanide was around at the time, though I couldn't find a definite date of discovery. Hydrogen cyanide certainly was. Cyanide makes the body turn a reddish pinkish tinge after death, and noticeable symptoms are pupil dilation and red-rimmed eyes. We can speculate that Holmes, who was "well up in…poisons generally" might know this.