Prompt from goodpenmanship: Murder at the brothel.
Apparently, dollymop, harlot, and night flower were all words used for prostitutes in this era!
The young woman knocked on the doorframe, then entered the room without waiting for an invitation. "You're Mr Sherlock Holmes, ain't you?"
"Yes," my friend answered. Unlike myself, who had been distracted with a new novel, he had clearly heard her footsteps on the stairs and was not surprised by our sudden guest.
"I'm Bette, a friend of Sadie. You remember her, doctor." Her frank brown eyes fixed on me. "She said you were nice to her, and didn't even try any funny business. She was just a dollymop, not a proper harlot like me, but she said you didn't even ask."
I did remember Sadie. I had met her in one of the clinics I volunteered at in the poorer part of town, where she had come in with a mysterious stomachache. She was very quiet, saying only that a friend had insisted she come, and answering my questions in a whisper.
Holmes took her in with a single glance, and I knew that from that glance he had likely learned more about Bette than I would in an hour's conversation. "Sadie is dead, and you believe she was murdered," he said.
Bette grinned, her yellowed teeth flashing. "Sadie said you were s'posed to be able to see things no one should be able to. Yeah, I do. I think she was poisoned."
"Are you sure it was not a disease?" I asked. "There are many common to women who..." I hesitated, as I did not know what description would be most appropriate to a young woman like Bette, "are in your profession."
"You can say it like you see it, doc. Some of the girls prefer being called night flowers, but I'm honest enough to admit I'm a harlot, and I ain't gonna pretend I'm ashamed of what I do," Bette said fiercely. "I know it ain't respectable, but at least I earn my own money for it. And no, it weren't a disease. Sadie was murdered."
I believed her. Despite her ragged clothes and unwashed hair, she spoke with such conviction I could not help but believe. My own memories of Sadie convinced me further, as she had not seemed to be suffering from anything beyond the mysterious stomachache when I had seen her not two weeks ago, and there were many poisons that could have caused the stomachache.
Apparently seeing she had me convinced, she looked at Holmes. "Please, Mr Holmes. Sadie deserved better, and the coppers don't care." She snorted. "Half of them are scared we'll mention them, and the other half think it's better we're dead than we keep working."
Holmes relaxed back against the chair, closing his eyes ne steeling his fingers in front of him, and I knew he would accept her request. "Tell me about the case."
Bette looked at me, clearly unsure, and I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. Turning back to Holmes, she started to speak.
