Consulting Detective Taylor Hebert (Worm/ Sherlock Holmes)

The Adventure Of The Dragon Man Part I

Permit me to introduce myself to you, dear readers. My name is Aisha, and as I write this I am a young woman of terrible character just shy of sixteen years. It was during this period of my life that I found myself forcibly lodged with the most peculiar of women, and found the course of my life so dramatically altered that I myself can scarce believe it. Thus, I have taken pen to paper, or fingers to typewriter, to make a record of these events. This document can then be read through and signed by persons of authority, thereby stopping anyone from simply dismissing this as a fanciful tale.

Allow me to begin the tale properly. I was born in a village whose sole reason for existing was sheep farming, and was blessed, or cursed, with a brother and two parents. My brother was a strapping lad and quite kind to me, while my parents were intolerable. My father was a pugilist when he wasn't a sheep farmer, and he only came home to sleep. The rest of his time was spent in the village fighting pit (quite illegal) or with the sheep (quite dull). My mother was a drunkard, plain and simple. She spent most of her time either drinking or in a drunken sleep. Needless to say, with a pair like this as our parents we were the laughing stock of the village. My brother threw his fists around and quieted anyone who dared to insult us openly (A skill he learned from our otherwise useless father), but that didn't stop the village folk from talking behind our backs. Even at that young age, I knew that my prospects were good and ruined if I stayed in that wretched village. That was why I decided to leave. The only thing I cared for in the entirety of that place was my beloved brother, and he could look after himself. As for my parents, I couldn't care less what became of them.

So it was that when I was barely fourteen years of age, I smuggled myself abroad a train bound for the city by concealing myself among the bales of wool that the village produced every year. It was such an easy task that I ask myself to this day why I didn't do this things sooner. Regardless, after an uneventful journey on the wool train I found myself in the great city of Brockton Bay. It was a port city and a major center a trade for the entire world, with ships coming from the world over to fill the city markets with exotic goods from lands as far away as China, and bearing away good manufactured in the massive factories that dotted the city. Thousands of people from all ages, all walks of life and all the kingdoms of the world filled her streets at all hours. And I fell in love the moment I set foot in the city.

I wasn't long in the city before I understood that everyone residing in the city needed a trade, a means of living that enabled one to pay one's rent and buy one's food. So, naturally, I picked thieving as my trade of choice. It was an activity that I enjoyed immensely and have no regrets taking part in, despite what happened in the end. But that is for later. Suffice it to say that entirely self thought, I became quite a successful dipper and kept myself in reasonable comfort for almost two full years. I was even considering moving up in the world and becoming a cracksman when misfortune knocked on my door and I was finally caught by the lawmen. The bunglers never would have gotten to me in the ordinary course of things, but I was suffering from the most dreadful of colds that day and I sneezed just as my hand dipped into the old gents pocket. The end result? Me in chains.

Now, in the normal course of things I would have ended up in prison, but a group of old busybodies running a charity of some sort, I still don't understand all the particulars, convinced the magistrate that I should be given a chance at reform on account of my tender years, I told them I was fourteen, which resulted in me being dragged from my cell, given a through scrubbing that involved lye and soap, and dropped off at the rooms of some lady of their acquaintance who would teach me a respectable trade and make me into a respectable woman (Their words, not mine). It was also explained to me that if I squandered this chance that I had been given, it was off to a nunnery with me, and so I resolved to at least tolerate things until I could make good my escape.

And that was how I met the most remarkable woman I have ever set my eye on.

The two old busybodies escorting me, one lawman and one of woman from the charity, grabbed me by the arms and marched me past the front door of a domicile whose address was 122B Doughnut Street despite my most vigorous protests that I could go on my own. Straight up the stairs we went, until we ended up at a door with a knocker shaped like an owls head, which the lawman proceeded to rap against the door.

A voice from within bade us enter, and we did.

We ended up in the most peculiar of rooms, not that I had been in many houses such as this to have a standard to measure against. Still, even I knew that this wasn't normal. A bookshelf stood against one wall, filled to bursting with files and papers. Above the bookshelf there was a massive framed map of some sort that I was almost certain was of the city we were in. Next to the bookshelf was a small writing desk with a typewriter atop it, and above the writing desk the wall was fully covered in hundreds of sketches and photographs, all of them pinned to the wall by pins, needles and even daggers. The wall opposite had a huge wooden table that took up the full length of the room pushed up against it, and on top of this table there was the most incredible array of glassware. Tubes and bulbs and spirals and just ordinary glass bottles. Most of the glass bottles were full of a assortment of liquids in all the colors of the rainbow, and even at that ignorant juncture I knew that drinking any of them was folly. They had a sickly tint to their color that I instinctively disliked, and later learned denoted most dangerous chemicals. A fireplace was located just to the left of the door we entered by, and two large and comfortable looking chairs lay in front of it. Atop the fireplace was mounted the head of a giant shark, its snarling snout facing the room and making it look like it was about to burst into the room through the wall.

A young woman stood in the center of this strange room, a tall woman with her brunette hair gathered into a bun and dressed in a starch white blouse gathered at her throat with a most peculiar jeweled pin and a dark skirt that fell in straight lines from her waist to her toes. The only part of her not covered was her hands, stained with what I later learned were chemicals, and her face, that was clear skinned and housed the sharpest pair of eyes I ever saw. Those same eyes were now watching me intently from behind a pair of black rimmed round spectacles.

"You are sixteen years of age, from a sheep farming village that trades with the city, One of your parents was a drunk, both of them were useless and you have at least one sibling. You ran away from home and came to the city, and have since been making your way picking pockets until you were caught five days ago."

"Huh?"

End Chapter

There you have it. My first attempt at writing consistently and well. It took a lot of time to work up the courage to post this, but it was pointed out to me that if I wanted to to be a writer, I would have to share my work with the world eventually. Do tell me what you think of it. I'm prepared for the worst!