AN: omfg okay it's been SOOOOOOOO long since I updated anything on here and I am so sorry. I lost all sorts of muse, my life has been a complete mess but hopefully writing this up gives me my muse back for all of my stories. fingers crossed anyway. this is a continue of One, Over the finish line. Which of course I have renamed to I'm Only Human; After all.
Enjoy.
THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE PART 1
1884,
The woman walked along the pavement, her parasol above her head minding her own business of course until she almost knocked over another man. Usually she was so embarrased; especially when noticing that the man was walking with a cane. He almost tumbled onto his backside and her gloved hands go out and steady him. His blue eyes were wide with the contact and immediately Miss Bennett withdrew her hands.
"Many apologies sir-" she began her apology but the man simply smiled.
"Not needed, ma'am." he promised, a friendly smile on his face.
Being so forward with people wasn't exactly the way she would usually go; especially not with frowns and glares she would usually get from others. woman were to talk when spoken too but a simple smile graced her lips and she spoke to him anyway. "would you mind accompanying me for some tea, sir?" The man visibly swallowed; however nodded his head and without a word the two began walking side by side and passing by others. The two walked in a comfortable silence until Miss Bennett spoke to him again.
"I'm Victoria Bennett." her accent was thick, which meant she wasn't from around here.
The man looked at her. "Doctor John Watson, pleasure to meet you Miss Bennett."
"and you." she nodded her head.
"Where are you from, may I ask?" Watson asked, his attention on her.
"Glasgow, sir." She mused.
"That's a far way to travel from." His brows were furrowed trying to come up with a reason as to why she would be so far from home.
"London simply caught my Attention, many a good reason to be here, Doctor Watson." she smiled and they finally walked in silence again until a voice called out "Watson." the two looked at each other and turned their heads in the direction once it was called out again, stopping when a man did in front of them.
"Stamford, remember?"
Doctor Watson did nothing but stare at the man blankly, no recollection of him coming to mind.
"We were at barts together."
"Yes, of course." he shook hands with Stamford. "Stamford."
"and this is.." Stamford trailed off.
"Miss Bennett." Doctor Watson nodded and Mike took hold of her hand pressing a kiss to the top of her glove, which she curtsied too. Stamford's attention went back to Watson.
"Good lord, where have you been? you're as thin as a rake!"
A short while after the three stood, Miss Bennett allowing them to have their conversation and keeping to herself not comfortable with interrupting but she did listen intently to their conversation.
"I made it home. Many weren't so lucky." Watson spoke.
"So what now?" Stamford asked him.
"Hmm? I need a place to live, somewhere decent, and an affordable price. It's not easy."
"Miss Bennett?" Stamford asked, her blue orbs twinkling as she looked over at him with a smile.
"I'm looking for a place of my own."
"No husband?"
Watson looked at her then, both eyes on her. "No sir, recently widowed."
"So young too." Stamford frowned and Miss Bennett gave a shrug, unsure of what else to say looking back to Watson he smiled and pointed. "You know you're both the second and third to say that to me today."
"Hmm? Who was the first?" Watson asked, Miss Bennett only quirking a brow.
It didn't take them all very long but they reached an underground mortuary, looking through the window both Watson and Miss Bennett gasped in surprise at the sight. A man with his back to them was continuously beating a dead body with a walking stick.
"Good Lord!" Watson said.
"It's an experiment, apparently. Beating corpses to establish how long after death bruising is possible." Stamford explained.
Miss Bennett watched curiously through the window as the man continued to beat the corpse and she turned following Watson until he stopped walking. "Is there a medical point to that?" he asked.
"Not sure." Stamford said.
"Neither am I." John sighed. "So where's this friend of yours then?"
Miss Bennett watched curiously as Stamford turned towards the door. "I do believe the man beating the corpse is the roommate, Doctor Watson." he looked at her in surprise and she smiled following Stamford in, Doctor Watson following after her.
"Excuse me!" Stamford called, causing the man only to go faster with beating.
"I do hope we're not interrupting." Doctor Watson made his voice loud, and with one final violent blow to the corpse the man stopped and he turned around. His eyes first landed on Doctor Watson, looking him up and down, of course when his eyes landed on Miss Bennett he refrained from doing so.
"You've been in Afghanistan, and you are recently from Glasgow, I perceive." the man stated as if it were obvious and turned away looking at his pocket watch. Both Watson and Miss Bennett stared at him.
"Doctor Watson, Miss Bennett.. Mr. Sherlock.." Stamford trailed off.
The man threw the walking stick and Watson caught it. "Excellent reflexes." Mr. Sherlock smiled falsely. "You'll both do."
"I'm sorry?" "Pardon?" both Watson and Miss Bennett spoke at the same time.
"I have my eye on a suite of rooms near Regent's Park. Between the three of us, we could afford them."
"Rooms?" Watson asked looking at Miss Bennett who shrugged her shoulders, and then at Stamford. "Who said anything about rooms?"
"I did. I mentioned to Stamford this morning I was in need of a fellow lodger. Now he appears after lunch in the company of a man of military aspect with a tan and recent injury both suggestive of the campaign in Afghanistan and an enforced departure form it; along with a young woman recently widowed and with no where to go." Holmes let out a breath. "The conclusion seemed inescapable." a small proud smile on his face. "We'll finalise the details tomorrow evening. " he took the walking stick from Watson as he passed him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hanging in Wandsworth and I'd hate them to start without me."
"A hanging?" Watson asked.
"I take a professional interest. I also play the violin and smoke a pipe. I presume that's not a problem with either of you?"
"Er, no, well.." Watson trialed as Miss Bennett simply shook her head.
"And you're both clearly acclimatised to never speaking or getting to the end of a sentence. We'll all get along splendidly. Tommorow evening, seven o'clock then." Holmes stated and turned away before turning back. "Oh, and the name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is two hundred and twenty one B Baker Street." he said and he turned, walking away.
Both Watson and Miss Bennett looked to Stamford. "Yes. He's always been like that."
The cab pulled up and slowed down near the News Vendor, Miss Bennett watching as Doctor Watson leaned out and spoke her blue orbs glancing at Mr. Holmes.
"Papers! Papers!"
"here." Watson called and the cab finally stopped. " How's 'The Blue Carbuncle' doing?"
"Very popular, Doctor Watson. Is there gonna be a proper murder next time?"
"I'll have a word with the criminal classes." Watson said.
"If you wouldn't mind." The vendor pointed. "is that 'im? Is 'e in there?" He pointed to the figure next to Watson.
Holmes, who was mostly obscured from the vendor's view, kicked Watson and he grunted.
"No. No, no, not at all." Watson tipped his hat. "Ah, good day to you."
"Walk on." The cabbie said and the horse set off again.
"Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes!" the three heard him call.
Finally the cab pulled up to Baker Street; Watson and Holmes stepping out, Holmes with a pipe in one hand and helping Miss Bennett with the other.
"Mr Holmes, I do wish you'd let me know when you're planning to come home." The older woman stopped. A small boy running out from the house towards them all.
"I hardly knew myself, Mrs Hudson. That's the trouble with dismembered country squires – they're notoriously difficult to schedule." Holmes turned to pay the cabbie with the pipe clamped between his teeth.
"What's in there?" Billy asked.
"Never mind." Watson spoke.
Holmes thanked the cabbie, as Billy took the bags in.
" Did you catch a murderer, Mr Holmes?" Billy asked over his shoulder.
"Caught the murderer; still looking for the legs. Think we'll call it a draw." Holmes called back.
Mrs Hudson turned to both Miss Bennett and Doctor Watson. "And I notice you've published another of your stories, Doctor Watson."
" Yes. Did you enjoy it?" Doctor Watson asked.
"No." Mrs. Hudson said after only a second.
Miss Bennett chuckled as her arm looped with Doctor Watsons. "Oh?" Watson asked.
"I never enjoy them."
"Why not?" Watson asked pushing the door closed.
Miss Bennett quietly observed Holmes as he walked further into the hall. "Well, I never say anything, do I? According to you, I just show people up the stairs and serve you breakfasts.
Watson hung up his coat, followed by Miss Bennett's parasol, coat and hat. "Well, within the narrative, that is – broadly speaking – your function."
" My what?!" Mrs. Hudson demanded.
"I enjoy your stories, Watson." Miss Bennett told him, giving his arm a squeeze only for him to smile at her.
"Don't feel singled out, Mrs Hudson. I'm hardly in the dog one."
""The dog one"?!" Watson asked.
" I'm your landlady, not a plot device." Mrs Hudson said.
" I do think he means the hound of baskerville, Watson." Miss Bennett smiled, following Holmes up the stairs.
" And you make the room so drab and dingy." Mrs Hudson said.
"Oh, blame it on the illustrator. He's out of control. I've had to grow this moustache just so people'll recognise me." Watson said, Following Miss Bennett and Holmes up the stairs.
Holmes has gone up the stairs into the first floor sitting room. Glancing briefly towards the fire, he walked across the room to the right-hand window and pulls back the closed curtains, revealing a stag's head hung on the wall between the two windows. The mounted head has a full set of antlers, upon which an ear trumpet hangs. As Holmes walked across the room to the left-hand window, a knife was stabbed into some letters on the mantelpiece. Watson has brought one of the bags upstairs, taken it to the room behind the sitting room and put it on the table. Letting the bag go, he flexed the fingers of his left hand, then turns towards the sitting room where Holmes was pushing open the curtains of the left window as Miss Bennett occupied herself in a seat. As more light floods into the room, a figure is revealed standing in front of the fire. Dressed in black mourning clothes and with a black veil over the face, the figure, apparently a woman, stands facing the fire with her hands clasped behind her back.
"Good Lord!" Watson cried.
The figure turned to face them all, Miss Bennett's eyes widened. " Mrs Hudson, there is a woman in my sitting room! Is it intentional?" Sherlock called.
"She's a client! Said you were out; insisted on waiting." Mrs. Hudson called up to them. Holmes grimaced, Miss Bennett crossed her hands on her lap while Watson picked up a chair near the table and turns to put it down in front of the woman.
"Would you, er, care to sit down?" Watson asked.
The woman doesn't move or respond to him and Miss Bennett smiled.
" Didn't you ask her what she wanted?" Holmes called.
"You ask her!" Mrs Hudson shouted.
"Well, why didn't you ask her?"
" How could I, what with me not talking and everything?" the older woman responded.
Holmes rolls his eyes and sighs. He turned and walks back into the sitting room glancing at Miss Bennett. "Oh, for God's sake. Give her some lines. She's perfectly capable of starving us."
Holmes walked towards the woman, with a smile and Miss Bennett sat with nothing but a simple smile on her lips, knowing that the woman in front of them was already very well acquainted with them.
" Good afternoon. I'm Sherlock Holmes. These are my friends and colleagues, Doctor Watson and Miss Bennett. You may speak freely in front of Doctor Watson, as he rarely understands a word. Miss Bennett is capable of understanding some."
Miss Bennett rolled her eyes. "Holmes." Watson warned.
"However, before you do, allow me to make some trifling observations." Holmes said and circled around the standing woman. " You have an impish sense of humour which currently you're deploying to ease a degree of personal anguish." Holmes then walked around Watson, still talking. "You have recently married a man of a seemingly kindly disposition who has now abandoned you for an unsavoury companion of dubious morals. You have come to this agency as a last resort in the hope that reconciliation may still be possible."
"Mr. Holmes.." Miss Bennett trailed off.
"Good Lord, Holmes!" John huffed.
"All of this is, of course, perfectly evident from your perfume." Holmes said.
"Her perfume?" Watson asked.
" Yes, her perfume, which brings insight to me and disaster to you." He pointed at Watson.
"How so?" Watson asked.
"Because I recognised it and you did not." Holmes moved the veil to reveal Mary and Watson instantly recognized her.
"Mary!"
"John." She smiled.
"Why, in God's name, are you pretending to be a client?" Watson asked.
"Because I could think of no other way to see my husband, Husband." Mary said.
"It's good to see you, Mary." Miss Bennett stood up moving over to the woman, who nodded.
"And you, Victoria."
Not long afterwards, Holmes had taken off his jacket and put on a camel coloured dressing gown over his clothes. Holding his violin and standing facing the right-hand window, he played a tune the wedding waltz. Mary still stood near the fireplace and Watson paced nearby as Miss Bennett stood near the other window, looking out but Watson now turned back to his wife and spoke angrily to her.
"It was an affair of international intrigue." Watson stated.
"It was a murdered country squire." Mrs. Watson argued.
"Nevertheless, matters were pressing."
"I don't mind you going, my darling. I mind you leaving me behind!"
"But what could you do?!" Watson asked.
"Excuse me, woman are of great help, Doctor Watson or I wouldn't be there." Miss Bennett spoke, a hint of anger lacing her tone. Watson gave her nothing but a small apologetic look.
" Oh, what do you do except wander round, taking notes, looking surprised ..."
Holmes angrily lowered his violin. "Enough!" The room fell silent and he turned around as they stared at him. "The stage is set, and the curtain rises. We are ready to begin."
" Begin what?" "Pardon?" Mrs Watson and Miss Bennett asked.
"Sometimes, to solve a case, one must first solve another." Holmes said.
"Oh, you have a case, then, a new one?" Watson asked.
" An old one. Very old. I shall have to go deep." Holmes said.
"Deep, sir?" Miss Bennett asked. "Into what?"
"Myself." Holmes replied. "Lestrade! Do stop loitering by the door and come in." He said while gazing out the window. The door to the sitting room opens and Inspector Lestrade came in, breathing heavily and looked anxious. He glances towards the table in between the windows before looking towards the people near the fireplace.
"How did you know it was me?" Lestrade asked.
Holmes moved to his chair and sat. "The regulation tread is unmistakeable; lighter than Jones, heavier than Gregson."
" I-I-I just came up. Mrs Hudson didn't seem to be talking." Lestrade stuttered.
" I fear she's branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It is a distressing trend in the modern landlady. What brings you here in your off-duty hours?" Holmes said rolling his eyes.
"How'd you know I'm off-duty?" Lestrade asked.
"Well, since your arrival you've addressed over forty percent of your remarks to my decanter." Holmes said pointing between the windows. "Watson, give the inspector what he so clearly wants."
Watson walked across the room while Lestrade took off his hat. Watson picks up the decanter and pours a drink.
"So, Lestrade, what can we do for you?" Watson asked.
"Oh, I'm not here on business. I just thought I'd ... drop by."
Watson handed the glass to him. "Social call?"
" Yeah, of course, just to wish you the compliments of the season."
Holmes took his pipe from his mouth and looked pointedly at the inspector. Lestrade looked at him a little nervously and then raises his glass, looking across to Miss Bennett and Mrs. Watson.
"Merry Christmas." Everyone said.
"Thank God that's over. Now, Inspector, what strange happening compels you to my door but embarrasses you to relate?" Holmes said.
Lestrade has taken a long drink from his glass and now closed his eyes before shaking his head and opening his eyes again.
"Who said anything happened?"
"You did, by every means short of actual speech."
Lestrade drank deeply and then sighs with relief.
" Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, Holmes? You have misdiagnosed." Watson said.
Holmes smiled. "Then correct me, Doctor."
"He didn't want a drink ..." he took the glass from Lestrade and turns it upside down to show that it is empty "... he needed one. He's not embarrassed; he's afraid."
Lestrade looked down, moving his gloved hand to his mouth.
"My Boswells are learning. They do grow up so fast." Holmes said. He looked to Miss Bennett and then to Mrs. Watson. "Watson, restore the courage of Scotland Yard."
Watson took the glass back to the table. "Inspector, do please be seated." Miss Bennett spoke to him softly her hands on the back of the chair.
He gestured to the dining chair with his pipe and picked up a match.
Lestrade did and faced the chair more towards Holmes. "I'm-I'm not afraid, exactly."
"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of." Holmes said.
Watson brought over the refilled glass and gave it to Lestrade.
"Thank you."
"From the beginning, then." Holmes said.
Once Lestrade began a few moments later, Holmes raised a hand. "a moment." he said. "When was this?"
"Yesterday morning."
"The bride's face. How was it described?"
Lestrade opened his notebook and looked at his notes.
"White as death ... mouth like a crimson wound." Lestrade trailed.
" Poetry or truth?" Holmes asked.
" Many would say they're the same thing." Lestrade said.
"Yes, idiots. Poetry or truth?" Holmes asked.
" I saw her face myself. Afterwards." Lestrade said.
Holmes turned to look. "After what?"
Lestrade began to decribe more, telling them what happened.
Holmes sighed in exhasperation. " Really, Lestrade. " he said walking back to his chair. "A woman blows her own brains out in public and you need help identifying the guilty party. I fear Scotland Yard has reached a new low."
" That's not why I'm here." Lestrade said.
" I surmise." Holmes said.
"the bride, Her name, Lestrade do you know it?" Miss Bennett asked softly.
"Emelia Ricoletti. Yesterday was her wedding anniversary. The police, of course, were called, and her body taken to the morgue."
" Standard procedure. Why are you telling us what may be presumed?" Holmes asked.
" Because of what happened next." "Limehouse, just a few hours later." Lestrade said. "Thomas Ricoletti, Emelia Ricoletti's husband."
" Presumably on his way to the morgue to identify her remains." Holmes stated.
Lestrade downed some more of his drink. "As it turned out, he was saved the trip."
He continued on, Holmes staring impassively at the floor and then he spoke. "'Til death us do part. Twice, in this case." He smiled at Lestrade.
"Extraordinary." Watson grinned.
"Amazing." Miss Bennett shook her head.
"Impossible." Mrs. Watson stated.
Holmes stood. "Superb! Suicide as street theatre; murder by corpse. Lestrade, you're spoiling us. Watson, Miss Bennett, your hats and coats." he said walking towards the door. Miss Bennett followed, as Watson stood up.
"Where are we going?" Watson asked.
"To the morgue. There's not a moment to lose." He took his dressing gown off and replaced it with his jacket. "which one can so rarely say of a morgue."
"And am I just to sit here?" Mrs Watson asked.
Miss Bennett went to speak as Watson interrupted. "Not at all, my dear." Watson said, leaning down and chucked her under the chin. "We'll be hungry later."
"Watson you're utterly absurd." Miss Bennett spoke, her tone lacing with more disapproval. to her, if she was allowed such pleasures then so should Mrs. Watson. Doctor Watson only threw her a look.
"Holmes, just one thing?" Watson asked. "Tweeds, in a morgue?"
"Needs must when the devil drives, Watson."
They all hurried down the stairs. Lestrade looks at Mary as he starts to follow them.)
On the streets, the men are in a hansom cab, Holmes, and Watson sitting side by side facing forward and Lestrade and Miss Bennett sitting facing Holmes and Watson. Holmes looked at the inspector.
"Who's on mortuary duty?"
"You know who." Lestrade sighed.
"Always him." Holmes said.
Shortly afterwards, Holmes opened the door to the underground mortuary room and leads in the other three. They walked across to the nearest table on which is a body covered with a sheet.
"Please tell me which idiot did this!" Holmes cried.
Anderson turned and walked towards them. "It's for everyone's safety."
Watson pulled back the cover from the corpse's head, revealing the face of Emelia Ricoletti.
"This woman is dead. Half her head is missing! She's not a threat to anyone!" Watson said.
"Tell that to her husband." Anderson pointed "He's under a sheet over there."
" Whatever happened in Limehouse last night, I think we can safely assume it wasn't the work of a dead woman."
"Stranger things have happened." Anderson stated.
"Such as?" Holmes asked, Miss Bennett glanced towards the womans body with a frown.
" Well ... strange things." Anderson hesitated.
"You're speaking like a child." Watson stated.
"It's quite clearly a mans work." Tory pointed, getting disapproved look from Anderson and she glared heatedly in return.
After a few moments, another man walked in looking straight to Miss Bennett, who had to try and hide her smile. "Holmes." the voice was deeper and in disguise.
"Hooper."
Hooper walked in further, and looked pointedly at Anderson. "You – back to work."
Anderson nodnded nervously and turned away. Hooper walked to one side of the table and looked across it at Holmes.
"So, come to astonish us with your magic tricks, I suppose."
" Is there anything to which you would like to draw my attention?" Holmes asked.
"Nothing at all, Mr Holmes. You may leave any time you like." Hooper stated.
"Doctor Hooper, I asked Mr Holmes to come here. Co-operate. That's an order."
Please, Hooper." Miss Bennett smiled.
(Hooper sucked in a breath. " There are two 'features of interest,' as you are always saying in Doctor Watson's stories."
"I never say that." Holmes said.
"You do, actually, quite a lot." Watson said nodding.
"He's right, Holmes." Miss Bennett inquired. Holmes narrowed his eyes at the two of them.
"First of all, this is definitely Emelia Ricoletti. She has been categorically identified. Beyond a doubt it is her."
"Then who was that in Limehouse last night?" Watson asked.
"That was also Emelia Ricoletti." Hooper said.
" It can't have been. She was dead. She was here." Watson argued.
Holmes took out a small magnifying glass and bent down to look more closely at the Bride's face, Miss Bennett watching him.
"She was positively identified by her own husband seconds before he died. He had no reason to lie. He could hardly be mistaken." Hooper said.
" The cabbie knew her too. There's no question it's her." Lestrade was now the one to speak up.
"But she can't have been in two places at the same time, can she?" Watson asked.
Holmes straightened up. "No, Watson. One place is strictly the limit for the recently deceased."
Watson clicked his fingers and pointed to his friend.
"Holmes, could it have been twins?"
"No."
"Why not?" Watson asked.
"It's never twins, Doctor Watson." Miss Bennett said.
"Emelia was not a twin, nor did she have any sisters. She had one older brother who died four years ago." Holmes said.
Watson wasn't yet prepared to let go of the idea and shook his head, humming. "Maybe it was a secret twin."
Holmes looked at him as if staggered by his idiocy.
"A what?" he asked incredulously.
"A secret twin?" Watson nodded, Holmes just continued to stare. "Hmm? You know? A twin that nobody knows about? This whole thing could have been planned.
" Since the moment of conception? How breathtakingly prescient of her! It is never twins, Watson." Holmes snapped.
"Do you have a theory, Holmes?" Miss Bennett asked, not wanting to witness yet another argument with the two.
"More to the point, what's your problem?" Holmes asked turning away turning to Lestrade.
" I-I don't understand. What ..."
"Why were you so frightened? Nothing so far has justified your assault on my decanter, and why have you allowed a dead woman to be placed under arrest?" Holmes asked.
"Ah. That would be the other feature of interest." Hooper spoke.
Hooper lifts the right hand of the corpse, showing her index finger. Holmes, Miss Bennett and Watson bent down for a closer look.
"Ah. A smear of blood on her finger. That could have happened any number of ways." Watson said.
"Indeed." Hooper nodded and looked sternly at Holmes. " There's one other thing. It wasn't there earlier."
Holmes straightened up. "And neither was that." Lestrade pointed.
He walked towards the wall and picks up a lantern to illuminate it more clearly. Watson and Miss Bennett walked around the table and followed Holmes go over to the wall. In the light from the lantern, a single word can be seen painted on the wall, apparently in blood:
YOU.
"Holmes!" Watson called.
"Gun in the mouth; a bullet through the brain; back of the head blown clean off. How could he survive?"
Confused, Watson looked to Miss Bennett who only shook her head; and the two looked around the mortuary and then turned back to Holmes.
"Don't you mean, she?" Miss Bennett asked.
"I'm sorry?" Holmes asked.
"Not "he," "she." Watson said.
"Yes, yes, of course." Holmes breathed.
He stared at the wall for another moment, apparently lost in thought, then jumped and comes back to himself. "Well, thank you all for a fascinating case. I'll send you a telegram when I've solved it. Miss Bennett? Watson?
He walked away and leaves the room, Miss Bennett behind him just a bit slower. Watson, however, turned back to Hooper and pointed down at the body.
"Er, the gunshot wound was obviously the cause of death, but there are clear indicators of consumption. Might be worth a post mortem. We need all the information we can get" .
"Oh, isn't he observant now that Daddy's gone?" Hooper asked, Miss Bennett stopped turning with a glare.
Watson stopped. Hooper quietly smirked, but it faded ever so slightly. After a moment, Watson turns back and walked closer to the table again.
"I believe that Doctor Watson is observant, neither of us resemble Mr. Holmes."
"I am observant in some ways, just as Holmes is quite blind in others."
Hooper spoke sarcastically. "Really?"
" Yes. Really." Watson said, pointedly. "Amazing what one has to do to get ahead in a man's world."
Hooper stared at him. Watson doffs his hat to him, then put it back on his head. He glanced across to Anderson, then turned and walked away with Miss Bennett beside him.
"Well, Holmes? Surely you must have some theory." Watson asked, Miss Bennett in her own mind staring out into the street.
" Not yet. These are deep waters, Watson. Deep waters. And I shall have to go deeper still." Holmes said, looking out the window.
In 221B, Holmes – wearing a dark blue dressing gown over his clothes was pacing back and forth beside the table of the room behind the sitting room, reading a book. Lestrade sitting not to far away.
" Five of them now, all the same, every one of 'em."
"Hush, please. This is a matter of supreme importance." Holmes sighed.
"What is?" Lestrade asked, dumbfounded.
"The obliquity of the ecliptic. I have to understand it."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. I'm still trying to understand it."
" I thought you understood everything."
"Not everything, sir." Miss Bennett said coming into the sitting room.
Holmes glared at her. "Of course not. That would be an appalling waste of brain space. I specialise."
" Then what's so important about this?" Lestrade asked.
Holmes looked at Lestrade angrily. "What's so important about five boring murders?"
"They're not boring! Five men dead! Murdered in their own homes; rice on the floor, like at a wedding; and the word "YOU" written in blood on the wall!"
He pointed angrily towards the opposite wall. Holmes continued to pace and read his book.
"Uh, it's-it's her! It's-it's the Bride. Somehow she's risen again!"
"Tea Mr. Holmes?" Miss Bennett asked, only to be ignored and she rolled her eyes.
" Solved it."
"You can't have solved it!" Lestrade cried agrily.
" Of course I've solved it. It's perfectly simple. The Incident of the Mysterious Mrs Ricoletti, the Killer from Beyond the Grave, has been widely reported in the popular press. Now people are disguising their own dull little murders as the work of a ghost to confuse the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard. There you are: solved." Sherlock said. "Pay Mrs Hudson a visit on your way out. She likes to feel involved."
"You sure?" Lestrade asked.
"Certainly. Go away." Sherlock turned. "Bennett, Watson! I'm ready. Get your hats and boots. We have an important appointment."
"Oh Mr. Holmes, Watson moved out a few months ago." Miss Bennett sighed.
Lestrade looked between the two as Sherlock spoke. "He did, didn't he? Who have I been talking to all this time?"
"Me." Miss Bennett rolled her eyes again. "When I choose to listen."
"Well, speaking on behalf of the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard, that chair is definitely empty."
"It is, isn't it? Works surprisingly well, though. I actually thought he was improving." Holmes said and Miss Bennett and Lestrade shared glanced.
He looked through some paperwork on the table and then walked off in the direction of his bedroom with Lestrade leaving the room and Miss Bennett cleaned up.
The cab was silent with the three friends sitting, absentmindedly until Watson spoke. "the what of the what?"
"The obliquity of the ecliptic." Holmes started.
" "Come at once," you said. I assumed it was important." Watson sighed.
"It is. It's the inclination of the Earth's equator to the path of the sun on the celestial plane."
Watson scoffed. "Have you been swotting up?"
"Why would I do that?" Holmes asked.
WATSON: To sound clever.
" I am clever." Holmes said as it was obvious.
"Oh I see."
Miss Bennett rolled her eyes, with a sigh passing her lips.
"You see what?"
"I deduce we're on our way to see someone cleverer than you."
" Shut up."
"We're off to see Mycroft, if it wasn't obvious before, it is now." Miss Bennett said.
Holmes looked at her with narrowed eyes and she shrugged innocently, looking back out the window to the street.
A little later, the three of them approached a building. . Inside, a glass sign hangs above the reception desk stating, "ABSOLUTE SILENCE". Holmes, Bennett and Watson walked in and approach the desk, and Holmes smiled at the elderly uniformed gentleman standing behind it, who raises an acknowledging finger to him. Holmes put his gloves into his coat pocket, then used sign language to communicate with the receptionist, signing:
Good morning, Wilder. Is my brother in?
Wilder nodded, signing back.
Naturally sir. It's breakfast time.
Holmes signed back. The Stranger's Room?
Wilder nodded. Yes, sir.
Holmes gestured towards Watson and Miss Bennett, then signed again. This Lady and gentleman are my guests.
Wilder looked at them both and nodded. Ah of course! Doctor Watson and Miss Bennett.
Miss Bennett signed first; Pleasure to meet you, sir.
John was next; Enjoyed 'The Blue Carbuncle', sir.
Miss Bennett and Holmes looked towards Watson and Holmes rolled his eyes, then elbowing him and nodded as Watson signed again nervously.
Thank you. I...am...glad ...you...liked it. You are very...ugly.
Holmes did a double-take in his direction, then looked at Miss Bennett as if to ask what Watson was doing and Wilder frowned and signs. I beg your pardon?
Watson signed again. Ugly. What you said about 'The Blue Fishmonger'. Very ugly...I am glad you liked my potato.
Wilder looked a little bewildered and threw a nervous glance at Holmes and Miss Bennett, who both smiled ruefully at Watson and Holmes signed to him:
Yes. Needs work, Watson. Too much time spent on dancing lessons.
MissBennett had to refrain from letting out a giggle and she pursed her lips. "Sorry, what?" Watson asked, and Miss Bennett turned away Rolling his eyes, Holmes turned and walked away, Miss Bennett right beside him. Watson looked awkwardly at Wilder. "Oh" .
They walked into the room, as Watson finally followed closing the door over.
"To anyone who wishes to study mankind, this is the spot." Mycroft Holmes, sat with a table full of food, cakes and whatever else.
"Handy, really, as your ever-expanding backside is permanently glued to it. Good morning, brother mine."
"Sherlock. Doctor Watson. Miss Bennett." Mycroft stated with his mouth full.
Watson, now standing at Holmes' other side, stared in horror at all the food surrounding Mycroft, but then noticed that he is holding out his very pudgy hand to him. He took Mycrofts hand and shook it, as did Miss Bennett.
"You look ... well, sir." Watson stammered.
"Really? I rather thought I looked enormous." Mycroft said as he picked his glass up and took a drink.
"Well, now you mention it, this level of consumption is incredibly injurious to your health. Your heart ..."
"They're already counting the score, Watson." Miss Bennett murmured to him.
"Yes, no need to worry on that score, Watson." Holmes nodded.
"No?"
"There's only a large cavity where that organ should reside."
"It's a family trait." Mycroft said.
"Oh, I wasn't being critical."
"If you continue like this, sir, I give you five years at the most."
"Three." Miss Bennett shook her head and looked around.
"Yes, like miss Bennett said, We thought three, did we not, Sherlock?"
"I'm still inclined to four."
"I agree with Mycroft." Miss Bennett said and Mycroft smiled.
"As ever, you see but you do not observe. Note the discolouration in the whites of my eyes, the visible rings of fat around the corneas"
" Yes, you're right. I'm changing my bet to three years, four months and eleven days." Holmes stated.
" A bet?!" Watson asked.
"Of course they're betting, Watson." Miss Bennett said patting his arm.
" I understand your disapproval, Watson, but if he's feeling competitive it is perfectly within his power to die early."
"That's a risk you'll have to take."
"You're gambling with your own life?" Watson asked.
" Why not? It's so much more exciting than gambling with others'." Mycroft said.
"Three years flat if you eat that plum pudding."
"Holmes." Miss Bennett scoffed.
"Done!"
"Mycroft!" She started and he just smiled. Licking his lips, he reached over to the table, pickicking up the large stodgy pudding on a plate, opened his mouth wide and lifted the pudding towards it.
A little later Holmes and Watson are sitting side by side on chairs facing Mycroft, Miss Bennett standing behind Watson's chair. Holmes was holding one up and saucer and has just taken a drink from his black coffee.
"I expected to see you a few days ago about the Manor House case. I thought you might be a little out of your depth there." Mycroft said.
"No. I solved it." Holmes said.
"It was Adams, of course." Mycroft said.
" Yes, it was Adams."
Mycroft looked to Miss Bennett and Doctor Watson. "Murderous jealousy. He'd written a paper for the Royal Astronomical Society on the obliquity of the ecliptic, and then read another that seemed to surpass it."
"I know. I read it." Holmes said.
"Did you understand it?"
" Yes, of course I understood it. It was perfectly simple."
" No – did you understand the murderous jealousy? It is no easy thing for a great mind to contemplate a still greater one."
Holmes sighed but then smiled slightly at his brother. "Did you summon me here just to humiliate me?"
"Yes." Mycroft stated. Holmes stood up, angrily and Mycroft chuckled. "Of course not, but it is by far the greater pleasure."
"Then would you mind explaining exactly why you did summon.."
Mycroft spoke over him. "Our way of life is under threat from an invisible enemy, one that hovers at our elbow on a daily basis. These enemies are everywhere, undetected and unstoppable."
"Socialists?" Watson asked.
"Not socialists, Doctor, no." Mycroft shook his head.
"Anarchists?"
"No."
"The French? The suffragists?"
" Is there any large body of people you're not concerned about?"
"Doctor Watson is endlessly vigilant. Elaborate." Holmes said looking from Watson to Mycroft.
" No. Investigate. This is a conjecture of mine and I need you to confirm it. I'm sending you a case."
Miss Bennett stared impassively as Watson frowned thoughtfully having no other idea.
"The Scots?" Watson asked.
"Scots?!" Holmes demanded.
"Oh, Watson." Miss Bennett sighed.
"Are you aware of recent theories concerning what is known as 'paranoia'?" Mycroft asked.
"Ooh, sounds Serbian." Watson said.
Holmes rolled his eyes and looked back at Mycroft. " A woman will call on you – Lady Carmichael. I want you to take her case."
"The enemies Mycroft, how does one defeat them if we know nothing about them?" Miss Bennett asked.
"We don't defeat them. We must certainly lose to them." Mycroft said.
"Why?" John asked.
"Because they are right, and we are wrong."
"Lady Carmichael's case – what is it?" Holmes asked.
"Oh, rest assured, it has features of interest." Mycroft said.
"You really do." Watson said.
"And you've solved it already, I assume?" Holmes asked.
" Only in my head. I need you for the, er ... legwork." Mycroft grimaced.
"Why not just tell us your solution?" Watson asked.
"Where would be the sport in that? Will you do it, Sherlock? I can promise you a superior distraction."
"On one condition. Have another plum pudding." Holmes pointed.
"Mycroft, please don't." Miss Bennett sighed.
" There's one on the way."
"Two years, eleven months and four days." Holmes said buttoning his coat and began walking.
"Absolutely terrible, I've never met men like you two before." Miss Bennett said rolling her eye.s
Mycroft laughed. "It's getting exciting now." Watson followed after Holmes and Miss Bennett with Mycroft wiggling his fingers.
"Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock."