Prompt: Another famous detective tries to poach Watson as their own sidekick, from Michael JG Meathook
It was an overcast, cool day in the autumn of 1895 when a telegram arrived for my friend, summoning him to the scene of a murder in Whitechapel.
"It is not even signed. Lestrade must be desperate indeed," Holmes remarked. "Come, Watson, we must go at once." The gleam of the chase was again in his eye, and I took up my hat and stick to follow.
"I had heard of no crime in the papers this morning," I said as we hailed a cab. "It must have just occurred. In broad daylight!"
"Hardly broad, Watson," Holmes remarked, looking up at the sky. "Between the clouds and the fog, in the narrow streets of Whitechapel it must seem as if it is the darkest night already. Driver, hurry!" He rapped on the ceiling of the hansom we had flagged down and we lurched forward. "An enterprising criminal may use even the daylight to his advantage. At least this case may be an improvement over the latest batch of cases I have had to settle for." Holmes had indeed been most disparaging of the quality of criminal that he had faced this year.
When we arrived at our destination, however, it was not Lestrade who greeted us, but a short, stocky, official detective with a bushy beard who looked vaguely familiar despite our never having worked with him before. Though behind him, I saw our old friend Bradstreet, who smiled in welcome.
"You are Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" the unknown officer asked, shaking my friend's hand. "I don't usually hold with amatuer detectives but Bradstreet said you are the best of the amateurs and his division is accustomed to calling for you if they have need."
Bradstreet and I exchanged looks but if Holmes rankled at having his own words flung back at him he did not let on. "You must then be Inspector Edmund Reid. This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson."
It was then that I realized why Inspector Reid looked so familiar. "You are the detective who was in charge of the Ripper case," I said. His picture had been on the front page of every newspaper every few weeks for the entirety of those four years, as reporters interviewed him for updates on the case, which had never been solved.
"Indeed I was," Reid said. "Come, let us not waste more time. You have come to see the victim." He led us down the street towards where a body lay covered in a sheet.
Holmes made a pleased hum. "I am glad to see you have left the scene as you found it."
"I am hardly an amatuer, sir," Inspector Reid said indignantly.
"As I have never had the pleasure of working with you before, I could not be sure," Holmes said. "Often the Yarders are little better. Bradstreet here will tell you of how many times I had to insist before they learned not to move things around until I arrived."
Reid puffed himself up mightily and was about to retort when I hurried forward to examine the body. I have kept the peace between Holmes and the Yard's detectives on many occasions, though it was rare for one to take against him so strongly so quickly. By this time in his career, Holmes's methods were assured and Yarders, and indeed, police forces farther out from the city who did not know him, were eager to step aside for him. Not Inspector Reid, so it seemed.
The victim was a young man with coal-blackened hands and strong arms. Aside from a vicious slash across his throat, he was not injured. "My superiors were most anxious to ensure this is not a new Ripper murder," Reid said, a little defensively, thus explaining why Holmes had been summoned. He had not had the chance to test his skills on that case, for none of our familiar Yard detectives had been involved and Holmes was not so well-known then. This had not stopped him from attempting to solve the case on his own, and I believe it was a great cause of chagrin that he had fared no better than the official force.
"I would doubt it," I said, before glancing up at Holmes, who gave me an amused look.
"Why is that, Watson?" he asked.
"Well, the Ripper worked under cover of darkness, for one," I said. "For another, his victims were all women, and much more violently killed than this man was." Those murders were among the most violent I had ever seen. I had come to know one of the police surgeons who had worked on that case in my own time on the force and he had said each of the Ripper's murders were the worst scenes he had ever seen in his career. "This bears no resemblance to his murders," I finished.
"Excellent, Watson," Holmes said. "It is exactly what I would have said. Still, there is much of interest here. This fellow undoubtedly has just returned from a ship. Take note of his well-developed muscles and the coal stains on his hands. A stoker, undoubtedly, just returned."
"Why just returned?" Bradstreet asked.
Holmes pointed to similar coal stains on the man's shirt. "You will see these are fresh. Had he been ashore longer, he would certainly have changed his clothes. If you check his pockets you will find his pay. No doubt he was on his way to the nearest public house."
"Perhaps he might have been a victim of a crime of passion?" I said. "A disagreement from aboard ship, perhaps? Or a robbery? Someone who knows when the ships come in, looking for men newly paid to target?"
Reid nodded thoughtfully, as if he liked my ideas, though Holmes simply shook his head. "You know it is a capital mistake to theorize without facts, Watson. We must find out who this man was and where he worked to trace what happened to him."
"Well, the attack was not expected," I said, laying the sheet back over the man's face. "He would have fought back had he seen his assailant. There are no other wounds to indicate that he did so."
"Yes, I think we can safely conclude he was taken unawares. However, that does not provide us anything useful," Holmes said. He turned to examining the alleyway the man was found in. "We should start with the nearest shipping company here and see if they have reported a man missing. It may take several days before they notice. Do find out which company it is, Reid."
Inspector Reid looked quite disgruntled at being ordered about by an amateur. "I shall go," I said. "We are not far from the river; it should not be difficult to find."
"I cannot let a civilian go into Whitechapel alone!" Reid said, his eyes widening. "This is my investigation, after all. I shall accompany you. It is not as if I am much use here." He gave my friend another annoyed look before setting off next to me. "Still, I am surprised, Dr. Watson. I have read those stories you published. You are quite better at detective work than you let on."
I smiled. "I have had the benefit of learning from the master," I said. "I also served as a police surgeon for a few years. I only recently gave it up."
Reid glanced at me, surprised. "Well, now, you know the Yard is always looking for good men, and background is no object! Look at me, I came to the force after having failed at several careers. A doctor and a soldier, you would be most welcome. I could even put in a word for you to join my force here. I could certainly use someone like you."
I did not know what to say. I had hardly expected to be offered a position on the police force. I shook my head. "I am not a detective," I said. "What little I have learned is due entirely to Holmes. I am quite content to remain as I am."
Reid seemed as if he wanted to say something else, yet did not. I had no doubt heard what he would have said before. Many of the Yarders, in the early days of my association with Holmes, whispered among themselves about how I was able to tolerate him on a near-constant basis. I well knew that most of society found him trying at the best of times. Yet I could not help but believe I had found my place in life, and was content to remain there. After the losses of the previous few years, it may have seemed like little enough, but it was enough.
"You seemed to get along with Inspector Reid," Holmes said later, as we returned to Baker Street. "I no longer find it difficult to imagine how he did not solve the Ripper case. It is more difficult to imagine him solving any."
I smiled. "You did not solve the Ripper case either, Holmes," I reminded him. "He was not so bad. He even offered me a position on his force, if you can believe it!"
"He did?" Holmes asked. He appeared surprised, then returned to his usual state of sardonic cynicism. "Well, I am not surprised. After assisting me for so long, you are undoubtedly better than any Yarder could hope to be!"
I am not sure if that was a compliment or not - Holmes is devilishly bad at giving them even when he intends to, and it is more likely than not that he intended more to disparage the Yard than compliment me - but I smiled anyway. No, I was quite content where I was.
A/N: I hope this counts as "famous." Edmund Reid was the detective in charge of the Jack the Ripper case, and at the time apparently was pretty heavily featured in newspapers, so I took a guess that the public would at least recognize the name, especially if they were Holmes and Watson and paid attention to criminal news.