Okay so I realize the first chapter had some POV issues. I thought that I
could fix it but that I would also try and explain what I was trying to do
with said POV, seeing as sometimes I assume everyone can hear what the
voices in my head I assume are muses are saying. The whole thing was
supposed to be in Mrs. Hudson's POV hence all the characters were being
referred to in the third person, and then when she spoke of herself it was
supposed to be in first person. Rereading the previous chapter I see how
mistakes I made (I only chose that idea after most of the story was written
in third person) make it confusing. I think I'll just announce whoever is
talking.
Next, the fact that Moriarty accepted everything so easily, he is not mentioned in the series much except in a rather biased nature by Watson or Holmes so I had a bit of trouble imagining his personality. But Artimus was wearing a skintight black outfit, she just fell from his carriage ceiling and he has the same abilities as Holmes though whether they are better or worse I could not decide, (if someone knows from the Canon I would love to know which case it is located in) so I made them similar in some aspects and different in others. Now, looking at all the information she has given him and all he has seen for himself I know I would be most willing in that situation to believe what she is saying. Then again I read too many science fiction novels to find much weird. Anyway that was where my train of thought was at the time of that scene.
Also, I want to note that I would have answered any other questions there are but I have only been allowed to see three of what fanfiction tells me are my seven or so reviews. So, hopefully that will be remedied soon and I can answer all my reviews.
~~ Third Person ~~
Artimus-safe to be herself in the confines of her comfortable home-was sketching. Albeit her art wasn't what it normally was, they didn't have the same supplies as what she could get at "Michaels" or something, and that was what she was used to using. But Moriarty had been nice enough to find her a sketchpad and some art pencils. He offered her paint but when she colored her art in it always got worse than the flaws only she could seem to see.
So there she was sitting next to a gas-lamp at-according to the clock on her wall-one in the morning drawing her foot for a lack of inspiration or anything more interesting. Through the paper-thin wall that separated her from the living room of Sherlock Holmes she heard the rapport from a gun and jumped at the noise. She instantly thought someone else had killed the detective and since that was her job it would be bad if he was dead. So, fearing for her livelihood she pulled on a coat and raced to the neighboring home, bursting in through an unlocked door. Holmes looked about as surprised as Anna.
"Oh god I thought you'd bought it." She sighed, seeing the gun in his hand and the feathers drifting to the floor. Piecing together the clues she could tell he'd attacked the couch and he himself had not been attacked. She dropped into a sitting position and sighed.
"Bought what, and what are you doing in my home at this late hour?" He asked furious with the intrusion. She looked up confused for a moment and then laughed breathlessly, partly in joy that she could still kill him and collect her money and partly out of the humor of what he had just said.
"Bought the farm is a phrase to mean someone died, so in saying I thought you bought it I meant that I thought that bullet had found it's home in your head." She explained, the reason behind her sudden visit now quite clear.
"I am grateful you were so worried for my well being but that does not mean that barging into my home is a right course of action." He said dropping the gun onto his desk and starting to look for the bullet.
"Alright then next time I think you're dead I'll just let you bleed to death. I don't care if it was proper or not you idiot." She muttered stretching her legs and preparing to stand. He looked at her and raised one eyebrow.
"Idiot? I am not the one who barged into another's home on pure assumption." He said calmly and she was sure that had he known it he would have said, 'assuming makes an ass out of you and me.' Anna looked up at him, her amber eyes wide, her mouth open. It moved uselessly for a few moments releasing an undignified squawk every once in a while until she finally found her voice.
"That's right because god forbid Sherlock Holmes ever assume anything. He's all about reason and evidence and I am sure that should he think someone dead he would stop to make sure he wasn't assuming before he acted." She threw back folding her arms across her chest. He looked at her and she sighed dramatically dropping her hands to her sides. "I am not going to feel guilty for saying that. I don't care, I am not going to feel guilty because you deserved I-dammit." She muttered the last word and pursed her lips as though fighting against her natural want to pout. "I'm sorry I yelled. But you scared the c-you scared me thinking you were dead," She figured that that sounded right. She'd forgotten she was supposed to be a girl from 1886 even if she was from America, so she figured playing off the fear becoming anger. People always did that, her parents had when she was a kid. So it came in handy now. Of course she had only been worried that if he'd been dead she wouldn't get money and then would be without a job. She forced a smile while she kept eyes worried. "I didn't mean what I said." She was sure she was lying, she didn't feel or worry for people. Her pride thoroughly dented for so early in the morning she drew the hastily pulled on coat tighter around her and proceeded to leave.
"Winters?" Her name was a question on his tongue, so soft that she wasn't even sure he'd uttered it. "I'm sorry for worrying you. It is hard to remember there are people who will worry when I am enveloped in a case." He offered softly. She forced only half her face into a grin that she hoped worked for the latest part she was playing. It was always hardest for her to act like the character she was supposed to be and often she made a mistake like just then and Artimus slid through the barriers. The door shut with a soft click behind her and she slipped into her house with as much silence as she had left the other with.
"Nice one Tima," What? With a name as long as Artimus wouldn't you use your nickname when you talk to yourself? She flopped into a chair in a very 2003 gesture and sighed heavily. "You almost screwed that one up. Don't fight with famous detectives." She chastised herself, though at her own choice of words she was unable to contain the small laugh.
She fell asleep looking like a rag-doll in the chair. Her choice of position would leave her with several kinked joints in the morning but Artimus was an adult, she could accept that, just like she could accept the few and far between hangovers. When she did wake it was eight hours later and only because she twisted and fell out of her bed. She sat up, her short hair falling back into place and into her eyes. She looked around and satisfied that no one had seen that particular embarrassment she stood and walked to her meager wardrobe to pick out what she would wear to annoy the detective today.
~~
Constance Watson was off visiting a friend of hers who had recently given birth to twins, and that left her husband alone for a few days. On one of those days he chose to visit his friend, the infallible Sherlock Holmes. He came calling early that morning, hoping that Holmes was not out already. As he stepped out of the cab and paid the driver Watson heard instead of saw the door behind him crack shut. He turned as the driver road away and saw a woman standing on her doorstep staring at him. Her hair was short and rather messy and her clothes were old but well cared for. She broke into a grin and to Watson's surprise she jumped down the steps and walked up to him.
"You going to Holmes's?" She asked as he was approaching the door. He nodded and she nodded back, taking this in as though it were the most important piece of information ever imparted to her.
"Are you a client of his?" Watson asked kindly smiling at her. She shook her head and pointed to the formerly vacant rooms.
"I live there." She announced. "I was just going up to try and find Mrs. Hudson. I'm horribly incapable of cooking so either have to relay on her too cook for me or take lessons. I figured if she wasn't there Holmes could tell me where she was." The woman explained. "I'm Anna by the way, Anna Winters." She said by way of an introduction. He introduced himself in turn and held the door open for her. They ascended the steps and entered the smoky sitting room.
"Watson! Miss Winters." His voice was a lot less enthusiastic when he responded to her presence. She just raised one eyebrow sighed with a demeanor that said she was far less enthusiastic about seeing him in turn.
"Mrs. Hudson in?" She asked with a saccharine sweet smile in the direction of the detective. He pointed simply with one long finger towards the kitchen and didn't move other than that. "Has anyone ever told you that you really know how to treat the ladies, I mean they must just be falling all over you." She said with that same sickeningly sweet voice. Holmes just stared at her and Watson could only watch at the odd interaction between the two.
"As I am sure the men of London are fawning over you." He shot back. She blinked and though her features spoke of surprise she didn't seem all that startled by his scathing comment.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover." She spat walking away. Watson tried not to laugh at the fact that Holmes was probably more stunned that she had simply walked away from their conversation. From the kitchens came the sounds of a cooking lesson faintly and Holmes just shook his head and dropped into his favorite chair.
"It's so refreshing to see a friendly face after so long an absence." He said breathing deeply of the smoke from his pipe. I in turn settled into the chair I always choice and got comfortable to learn what was going on with this Anna Winters. He told me of how she had come to live there and more than once said, "She's the most utterly annoying and infuriating woman I have ever met in my life."
It was just as he was saying that for the third-or was it the fourth-time when we heard a shout from the kitchen that was Mrs. Hudson and a curse that was from Anna that was followed by a crash. We both raced into the small kitchen to see Anna standing stalk still against the wall and her hip against the counter. Her face was pale but serious, her lip clutched tightly between her teeth while both her hands were clinging to her skirt so tightly that her knuckles were white.
"Will someone please, help." She asked, her words measured as though she was fighting back several emotions. Mrs. Hudson was on the floor as though she had been pushed and she looked unconscious though not from the fall.
"What is going on here?" Holmes asked. Anna was looking past him though out the window, both brandy colored eyes focused on something. "I am speaking to you Winters." Holmes said drawing closer. Watson and he both noticed what was keeping her from moving at the same time. Against her neck was the blade of a long knife and a small amount of blood was staining her collar. Holmes grabbed it by the handle and pulled it out as gently as he could with only a slight hiss of pain on her part. Once the knife was in Holmes' hand she cracked her neck and dropped to help the older woman.
~~
"Good Lord! I've told you three times now, what more do you want?" Anna yelled her fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as she tried to get a reign on her anger. Holmes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.
"Because I want to make sure there's nothing I missed." He said for the fourth time. She sighed heavily and pursed her lips.
"Fine, okay you want detail? I'll give you detail." She muttered to herself. "I was standing in the kitchen just next to Mrs. Hudson on her left. I was sort of hunched over her shoulder so I could se what she was doing. She was explaining to me about how to make eggs, scrambled if you're terribly curious when I heard a sound. It was a sort of creaking clack, like when a window is stuck and you throw all your weight into it and it finally comes open and you sort of slam into the top. Anyway I turned in time to see a shadow and I thought he was aimin' at Ms. Hudson so I pushed her to the floor, thinking that that way I could save her. The guy threw the knife and I dodged and ended up the way you found me. The guy had been aiming at her I think because I saw the flash of another knife but nothing ever happened. Want more because I could always tell you what I was thinking about at the time or something, I'm sure that would help in your investigation." She spoke, managing to make it sound as though she had snapped that whole thing. Watson silently applauded her.
Holmes however sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together as he receeded into thought. Anna however leaned forward and waited for a few moments before she spoke.
"Who would want to see you suffer rather than die." Maybe it was only Watson who saw it and that thought made him disregard the theory but it looked like she was forming more of a theory than she was speaking. "This person could kill off those close to you, hoping to either anger you that you cannot solve the murders of those so close to him or perhaps to kill the only people you seem to care about." That said she stood, and in a flare of skirts was out the door.
"She may be a strange woman but she did have a point. Do you think that is a possibility?" Watson asked looking at his still motionless companion. Holmes sighed and moved his fingers from in front of his face to his sides.
"Only Moriarty would be sick enough for that but he would not miss. If he hired someone to kill me they would get the job done and someone like Miss Winters would not be able to figure out his plan from but one attack." Holmes explained brushing off the incident.
~~
The door to the study burst open and a angry woman entered, calm and collected but radiating anger. She looked at the older man behind his desk and sat down very primly and smiled. "Ah my dear professor I return to your doorstep once more." She said much too sweetly.
"Artimus, we agreed you would not contact me in person." He said in the same clipped tone he always seemed to adapt when angry. He leaned forward and blue met brown as their eyes met.
"Sir, did you not read the contract? You are NOT to hire others for this job without my knowledge. I nearly gained another hole to breath out of when someone threw a dagger at me!" This time her voice raised as she slammed her hands down on the mahogany desk between them.
"I assure you good madam, I have trust in your abilities enough to know not to anger you. I did not hire anyone else but Holmes has acquired quite a few enemies over the years. If it pleases you I will look into the matter and find out who it is that is behind this." He said with true sincerity in his voice.
"Knowing he is not yours I can take care of him in my own ways and not violate the contract. It is rare that I must pursue a quarry in this way that requires such patients. Practice would be welcomed." She said with a grin that revealed her teeth, sharp looking teeth.
"I would regret to be in the shoes of someone who angers you." He remarked as she left in the same brisk manor that she had entered his study with, all business. She shot one last grin back at him before exiting his study and a few moments later and then his home after that.
He watched the woman through his window, her short hair and sure step setting her apart from the meeker women walking along the streets at the same moment. She stood out and yet did not. You could pick her out of a crowd so very easily but to remember her after seeing her would be hard. She was smart, but she was no match for him. He was Professor Moriarty, the one who had taught the great Sherlock Holmes and no woman, no matter what time she had come from could best him. She may be from a time where women were considered equal but that did not make them great and he was great.
~~
She stood in front of the mirror and made sure nothing that she didn't want to show was showing. She had managed to acquire a gun, a revolver, something she could handle easily enough, and that was tucked away on her person along with six daggers, easily accessible, and one hunting knife that was not very easily reached but once reached would win the fight. Now she felt safe, now she could face the world, even in a frilly and uncomfortable dress.
She'd have to go spend time with the insufferable Sherlock Holmes but while there she could at least hope that someone would try and kill him. Eh, it may be difficult to explain if she went after the attempted killer but she'd get the satisfaction of seeing the idiot die.
She entered the home and smiled at Watson who was still seated beside the fire and sat across from him. "Where's Holmes?" She asked after the small talk that she'd realized Victorians were utterly obsessed with. He opened his mouth to answer when the door opened and the topic of the conversation entered, slightly muddy, limping and rather impressed with himself from the way he ignored the gash on his forehead with such practiced ease.
Both occupants in the room were-needless to say-quite stunned with the appearance of the detective, but while Watson set about trying to give him medical attention Anna was more content to pester him for information.
"What happened?"
"I walked into the room, or do you want to be more specific?" He asked cocking an eyebrow at her.
"Fine. What happened to make you look like that? You want it in Spanish? Ooh how about Japanese?" She suggested more kind in her joking than he had been. He regarded her for a moment and then swept to his chair in a flurry of fresh snow from outside.
"I went looking about the slums of London for our lady friend's attacker." He said, speaking to Watson instead of Anna. "It was not Moriarty, though word is he has hired someone to kill me." Holmes explained. Anna gasped and a hand fluttered to her mouth.
"Why Holmes! That's awful! What are you going to do if you find this guy that Mortion has hired?" She asked, feigning true stupidity, not to joke to truly fool Holmes. It worked.
"Moriarty and I will try to have him arrested though if he threatens my life I will not hold back from harming him, if he dies he should not have taken the profession." Holmes explained trying to turn back to the conversation with Watson.
"And what if the killer is stronger or better than you?" She asked.
"He won't be." And Anna left to find Mrs. Hudson while the two men talked of the information that Holmes had acquired. It was an hour into the cooking lesson that started between the two women then when a guest arrived at the lodgings. After letting in the Scotland Yard representative that was one Lestrade Mrs. Hudson returned to finish the lesson but her young pupil was leaned against the wall just inside the door listening to the three men talking. She'd missed parts of the conversation but she came in soon enough to hear the most of the case.
"The doors were all locked from with in and the only way in was through a barred window on the roof that I could barely get my head through. She was laying on the bed headless and still in her wedding gown, they want the killer caught."
"Caught Lestrade? Not discovered?" Holmes inquired.
"They think it was the maid somehow, a secret passage or something. They just want you to find her. So they can charge her for her crimes." Lestrade said in his tired, reedy voice. Mrs. Hudson was about to call her back to her lessons when she saw the look on the younger woman's face, the look of concentration that Holmes often wore. Sighing in the way a mother does when she knows what her child wants before even the child knows she turned to finish lunch alone.
"What of the others in this town?" Holmes asked, she missed part of what was said next and strained her ears.
"So they all can give proof that the other was there." Lestrade finished easily. "Does this mean you'll look for the maid?" He asked in an almost desperate voice.
"I will examine the case I will not look for someone I do not know is guilty." Holmes announced. "Give me what notes you have and I will look them over, then I will see if the town needs me as much as you seem to think it does." Holmes announced, and Anna heard him stand. She rushed to the side of the housekeeper and rolled up her sleeves before jamming her hands into the water to scrub a plate.
"I've been here the whole time." She whispered to the elderly woman as Holmes entered the kitchen.
"How much of that did you catch and what did you think of what you did catch?" He asked approaching Anna. She looked at him filling her eyes with innocence. Everyone knew she had been ready to say that she had no idea what he was talking about but she did not get the chance, he touched the edge of her skirts with his foot. "You hid yourself well but you forgot how far this stuck out." He told her as she laughed.
"I caught most of it. I think I want to go to this town. And meet these people and see what's up. That death sounds fishy." Holmes looked at her and she sighed heavily. "America, London whatever. The way the murder was committed sounds suspicious, its so improbable someone with an obvious motive had to have done it some how. You know what I mean?" She asked. Holmes thought for a moment and then after a deep breath he spoke.
"I understand your theory but it is flawed, everyone else had alibis." He told her smoothly.
"Why are you even discussing this with me? I'm a woman isn't death and murder a bit over my head?" She asked, meeting his gray eyes. His eyes said he was startled but his body stayed where it was. "What can I say, my whole world was just twelve people until I was thirteen. I never got out of the habit of saying what I mean." She explained, barely blinking. "So why, you hardly have any people you care about let alone trust I can tell by seeing how you live, so why, why do you trust me?" She asked again.
"Watson seems to think there is more to you than just your foolish American pride. He thinks perhaps some of it is confidence. I've seen you ask question and get an answer for a completely different question. You're devious and intelligent I have to admit. These people are lying, it's a small town and they will cover for each other, your deviousness would probably be an asset." He said. Her eyes widened and a hand pressed to her breast. She gasped and started falling backwards, catching herself on the counter and using the hand at her breast to fan herself as she spoke,
"Did the Sherlock Holmes just compliment a mere *woman*?" She asked in complete awe. He shook his head and started to walk away. "You deserved it!" She said grinned at him as he walked away. So she turned back to Mrs. Hudson who was looking at her as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, which to Anna did not make sense. "What did I do?" She asked coming over to help.
"I just don't understand why you insist on aggravating Mister Holmes so." She explained calmly. Anna shrugged and picked up a dish to start scrubbing. She thought for a moment about what she would say and then finally looked to the other woman.
"Because I was raised with a father too busy for me, a brother who was always too sick too talk too much and the rest were men and women and children who couldn't speak English any better than I could speak Spanish so I never had anyone to spar with verbally. It's nice to have someone who's so fun to annoy and can fight back, when he's not so mad he's stalking away." She explained, and even for the real her it was true, well aside from the why she never had anyone to spar with mentally wise.
It was odd going home that night, knowing that in being Holmes's neighbor she'd probably never end up in the series as she knew it to go from movies in her time. Moriarty would be the one who got credit for his death, that was how it was stipulated in the contract since she was a woman. Now though, now she was going to go on a case with him-she was still sure however that he was just joking about that and she'd regret believing that she would get to help-and that Watson would probably write. Would he mention her or would her part be small enough that she would get over looked?
The worst part of her ponderings was that she didn't know which she would rather. She wanted to help, wanted to be a big help on the case, after all, how ironic would it be for a killer to catch a killer. However she *was* a killer and anonymity was her only real friend. So getting written up in something she knew would be famous for years was not something she should want.
She shook her head and shed her clothes of the day and climbed into bed. She fell back on one of the few lessons she had taken from high school. "Lay back, sleep and let the world take you where you fear to tread." She forgot who told her that and doubted it had been a teacher but either way and teacher or no she liked that and let it go to work for her now. She fell into a nice relaxing, dream-free, sleep and woke refreshed in the morning, ready to face the day and solve that murder.
~~
Okay I wanted to end it here to explain a few things. One I do not own the mystery I intend to write. Yozaburo Kanari does, he wrote it for the "Kindaichi case files: The Mummy's Curse." Now, why this drew the chapter to a close early. See that they solve a mystery was really important, I needed them to go after a killer, smart but not Moriarty, I needed them in life and death situations and stuff. So since I was writing this while I had just spent an ungodly amount of money on books and "The Mummy's Curse" was one of them. So I changed that mystery around so that it could take place in London and work in the story line and all that so technically I just used the basic plot and stuff. If you want to pick it up it's good and Sherlock fans will love Kindaichi. I know I do.
So I just wanted to warn you of this now and that if you have by some coincidence read it, it's not going to end the same way. I liked the ending but that doesn't fit, neither does the photos since those were hard to take in 1886 and all that crap and I am going to shut up now and go start on the next chapter. All the plot of this is mine, but the crime they solve is not. There I think I could have just said that and been done with it but I am a writer, if I am not writing I'm staring at the wall so babbling is fun. Try it some time!
Next, the fact that Moriarty accepted everything so easily, he is not mentioned in the series much except in a rather biased nature by Watson or Holmes so I had a bit of trouble imagining his personality. But Artimus was wearing a skintight black outfit, she just fell from his carriage ceiling and he has the same abilities as Holmes though whether they are better or worse I could not decide, (if someone knows from the Canon I would love to know which case it is located in) so I made them similar in some aspects and different in others. Now, looking at all the information she has given him and all he has seen for himself I know I would be most willing in that situation to believe what she is saying. Then again I read too many science fiction novels to find much weird. Anyway that was where my train of thought was at the time of that scene.
Also, I want to note that I would have answered any other questions there are but I have only been allowed to see three of what fanfiction tells me are my seven or so reviews. So, hopefully that will be remedied soon and I can answer all my reviews.
~~ Third Person ~~
Artimus-safe to be herself in the confines of her comfortable home-was sketching. Albeit her art wasn't what it normally was, they didn't have the same supplies as what she could get at "Michaels" or something, and that was what she was used to using. But Moriarty had been nice enough to find her a sketchpad and some art pencils. He offered her paint but when she colored her art in it always got worse than the flaws only she could seem to see.
So there she was sitting next to a gas-lamp at-according to the clock on her wall-one in the morning drawing her foot for a lack of inspiration or anything more interesting. Through the paper-thin wall that separated her from the living room of Sherlock Holmes she heard the rapport from a gun and jumped at the noise. She instantly thought someone else had killed the detective and since that was her job it would be bad if he was dead. So, fearing for her livelihood she pulled on a coat and raced to the neighboring home, bursting in through an unlocked door. Holmes looked about as surprised as Anna.
"Oh god I thought you'd bought it." She sighed, seeing the gun in his hand and the feathers drifting to the floor. Piecing together the clues she could tell he'd attacked the couch and he himself had not been attacked. She dropped into a sitting position and sighed.
"Bought what, and what are you doing in my home at this late hour?" He asked furious with the intrusion. She looked up confused for a moment and then laughed breathlessly, partly in joy that she could still kill him and collect her money and partly out of the humor of what he had just said.
"Bought the farm is a phrase to mean someone died, so in saying I thought you bought it I meant that I thought that bullet had found it's home in your head." She explained, the reason behind her sudden visit now quite clear.
"I am grateful you were so worried for my well being but that does not mean that barging into my home is a right course of action." He said dropping the gun onto his desk and starting to look for the bullet.
"Alright then next time I think you're dead I'll just let you bleed to death. I don't care if it was proper or not you idiot." She muttered stretching her legs and preparing to stand. He looked at her and raised one eyebrow.
"Idiot? I am not the one who barged into another's home on pure assumption." He said calmly and she was sure that had he known it he would have said, 'assuming makes an ass out of you and me.' Anna looked up at him, her amber eyes wide, her mouth open. It moved uselessly for a few moments releasing an undignified squawk every once in a while until she finally found her voice.
"That's right because god forbid Sherlock Holmes ever assume anything. He's all about reason and evidence and I am sure that should he think someone dead he would stop to make sure he wasn't assuming before he acted." She threw back folding her arms across her chest. He looked at her and she sighed dramatically dropping her hands to her sides. "I am not going to feel guilty for saying that. I don't care, I am not going to feel guilty because you deserved I-dammit." She muttered the last word and pursed her lips as though fighting against her natural want to pout. "I'm sorry I yelled. But you scared the c-you scared me thinking you were dead," She figured that that sounded right. She'd forgotten she was supposed to be a girl from 1886 even if she was from America, so she figured playing off the fear becoming anger. People always did that, her parents had when she was a kid. So it came in handy now. Of course she had only been worried that if he'd been dead she wouldn't get money and then would be without a job. She forced a smile while she kept eyes worried. "I didn't mean what I said." She was sure she was lying, she didn't feel or worry for people. Her pride thoroughly dented for so early in the morning she drew the hastily pulled on coat tighter around her and proceeded to leave.
"Winters?" Her name was a question on his tongue, so soft that she wasn't even sure he'd uttered it. "I'm sorry for worrying you. It is hard to remember there are people who will worry when I am enveloped in a case." He offered softly. She forced only half her face into a grin that she hoped worked for the latest part she was playing. It was always hardest for her to act like the character she was supposed to be and often she made a mistake like just then and Artimus slid through the barriers. The door shut with a soft click behind her and she slipped into her house with as much silence as she had left the other with.
"Nice one Tima," What? With a name as long as Artimus wouldn't you use your nickname when you talk to yourself? She flopped into a chair in a very 2003 gesture and sighed heavily. "You almost screwed that one up. Don't fight with famous detectives." She chastised herself, though at her own choice of words she was unable to contain the small laugh.
She fell asleep looking like a rag-doll in the chair. Her choice of position would leave her with several kinked joints in the morning but Artimus was an adult, she could accept that, just like she could accept the few and far between hangovers. When she did wake it was eight hours later and only because she twisted and fell out of her bed. She sat up, her short hair falling back into place and into her eyes. She looked around and satisfied that no one had seen that particular embarrassment she stood and walked to her meager wardrobe to pick out what she would wear to annoy the detective today.
~~
Constance Watson was off visiting a friend of hers who had recently given birth to twins, and that left her husband alone for a few days. On one of those days he chose to visit his friend, the infallible Sherlock Holmes. He came calling early that morning, hoping that Holmes was not out already. As he stepped out of the cab and paid the driver Watson heard instead of saw the door behind him crack shut. He turned as the driver road away and saw a woman standing on her doorstep staring at him. Her hair was short and rather messy and her clothes were old but well cared for. She broke into a grin and to Watson's surprise she jumped down the steps and walked up to him.
"You going to Holmes's?" She asked as he was approaching the door. He nodded and she nodded back, taking this in as though it were the most important piece of information ever imparted to her.
"Are you a client of his?" Watson asked kindly smiling at her. She shook her head and pointed to the formerly vacant rooms.
"I live there." She announced. "I was just going up to try and find Mrs. Hudson. I'm horribly incapable of cooking so either have to relay on her too cook for me or take lessons. I figured if she wasn't there Holmes could tell me where she was." The woman explained. "I'm Anna by the way, Anna Winters." She said by way of an introduction. He introduced himself in turn and held the door open for her. They ascended the steps and entered the smoky sitting room.
"Watson! Miss Winters." His voice was a lot less enthusiastic when he responded to her presence. She just raised one eyebrow sighed with a demeanor that said she was far less enthusiastic about seeing him in turn.
"Mrs. Hudson in?" She asked with a saccharine sweet smile in the direction of the detective. He pointed simply with one long finger towards the kitchen and didn't move other than that. "Has anyone ever told you that you really know how to treat the ladies, I mean they must just be falling all over you." She said with that same sickeningly sweet voice. Holmes just stared at her and Watson could only watch at the odd interaction between the two.
"As I am sure the men of London are fawning over you." He shot back. She blinked and though her features spoke of surprise she didn't seem all that startled by his scathing comment.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover." She spat walking away. Watson tried not to laugh at the fact that Holmes was probably more stunned that she had simply walked away from their conversation. From the kitchens came the sounds of a cooking lesson faintly and Holmes just shook his head and dropped into his favorite chair.
"It's so refreshing to see a friendly face after so long an absence." He said breathing deeply of the smoke from his pipe. I in turn settled into the chair I always choice and got comfortable to learn what was going on with this Anna Winters. He told me of how she had come to live there and more than once said, "She's the most utterly annoying and infuriating woman I have ever met in my life."
It was just as he was saying that for the third-or was it the fourth-time when we heard a shout from the kitchen that was Mrs. Hudson and a curse that was from Anna that was followed by a crash. We both raced into the small kitchen to see Anna standing stalk still against the wall and her hip against the counter. Her face was pale but serious, her lip clutched tightly between her teeth while both her hands were clinging to her skirt so tightly that her knuckles were white.
"Will someone please, help." She asked, her words measured as though she was fighting back several emotions. Mrs. Hudson was on the floor as though she had been pushed and she looked unconscious though not from the fall.
"What is going on here?" Holmes asked. Anna was looking past him though out the window, both brandy colored eyes focused on something. "I am speaking to you Winters." Holmes said drawing closer. Watson and he both noticed what was keeping her from moving at the same time. Against her neck was the blade of a long knife and a small amount of blood was staining her collar. Holmes grabbed it by the handle and pulled it out as gently as he could with only a slight hiss of pain on her part. Once the knife was in Holmes' hand she cracked her neck and dropped to help the older woman.
~~
"Good Lord! I've told you three times now, what more do you want?" Anna yelled her fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as she tried to get a reign on her anger. Holmes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.
"Because I want to make sure there's nothing I missed." He said for the fourth time. She sighed heavily and pursed her lips.
"Fine, okay you want detail? I'll give you detail." She muttered to herself. "I was standing in the kitchen just next to Mrs. Hudson on her left. I was sort of hunched over her shoulder so I could se what she was doing. She was explaining to me about how to make eggs, scrambled if you're terribly curious when I heard a sound. It was a sort of creaking clack, like when a window is stuck and you throw all your weight into it and it finally comes open and you sort of slam into the top. Anyway I turned in time to see a shadow and I thought he was aimin' at Ms. Hudson so I pushed her to the floor, thinking that that way I could save her. The guy threw the knife and I dodged and ended up the way you found me. The guy had been aiming at her I think because I saw the flash of another knife but nothing ever happened. Want more because I could always tell you what I was thinking about at the time or something, I'm sure that would help in your investigation." She spoke, managing to make it sound as though she had snapped that whole thing. Watson silently applauded her.
Holmes however sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together as he receeded into thought. Anna however leaned forward and waited for a few moments before she spoke.
"Who would want to see you suffer rather than die." Maybe it was only Watson who saw it and that thought made him disregard the theory but it looked like she was forming more of a theory than she was speaking. "This person could kill off those close to you, hoping to either anger you that you cannot solve the murders of those so close to him or perhaps to kill the only people you seem to care about." That said she stood, and in a flare of skirts was out the door.
"She may be a strange woman but she did have a point. Do you think that is a possibility?" Watson asked looking at his still motionless companion. Holmes sighed and moved his fingers from in front of his face to his sides.
"Only Moriarty would be sick enough for that but he would not miss. If he hired someone to kill me they would get the job done and someone like Miss Winters would not be able to figure out his plan from but one attack." Holmes explained brushing off the incident.
~~
The door to the study burst open and a angry woman entered, calm and collected but radiating anger. She looked at the older man behind his desk and sat down very primly and smiled. "Ah my dear professor I return to your doorstep once more." She said much too sweetly.
"Artimus, we agreed you would not contact me in person." He said in the same clipped tone he always seemed to adapt when angry. He leaned forward and blue met brown as their eyes met.
"Sir, did you not read the contract? You are NOT to hire others for this job without my knowledge. I nearly gained another hole to breath out of when someone threw a dagger at me!" This time her voice raised as she slammed her hands down on the mahogany desk between them.
"I assure you good madam, I have trust in your abilities enough to know not to anger you. I did not hire anyone else but Holmes has acquired quite a few enemies over the years. If it pleases you I will look into the matter and find out who it is that is behind this." He said with true sincerity in his voice.
"Knowing he is not yours I can take care of him in my own ways and not violate the contract. It is rare that I must pursue a quarry in this way that requires such patients. Practice would be welcomed." She said with a grin that revealed her teeth, sharp looking teeth.
"I would regret to be in the shoes of someone who angers you." He remarked as she left in the same brisk manor that she had entered his study with, all business. She shot one last grin back at him before exiting his study and a few moments later and then his home after that.
He watched the woman through his window, her short hair and sure step setting her apart from the meeker women walking along the streets at the same moment. She stood out and yet did not. You could pick her out of a crowd so very easily but to remember her after seeing her would be hard. She was smart, but she was no match for him. He was Professor Moriarty, the one who had taught the great Sherlock Holmes and no woman, no matter what time she had come from could best him. She may be from a time where women were considered equal but that did not make them great and he was great.
~~
She stood in front of the mirror and made sure nothing that she didn't want to show was showing. She had managed to acquire a gun, a revolver, something she could handle easily enough, and that was tucked away on her person along with six daggers, easily accessible, and one hunting knife that was not very easily reached but once reached would win the fight. Now she felt safe, now she could face the world, even in a frilly and uncomfortable dress.
She'd have to go spend time with the insufferable Sherlock Holmes but while there she could at least hope that someone would try and kill him. Eh, it may be difficult to explain if she went after the attempted killer but she'd get the satisfaction of seeing the idiot die.
She entered the home and smiled at Watson who was still seated beside the fire and sat across from him. "Where's Holmes?" She asked after the small talk that she'd realized Victorians were utterly obsessed with. He opened his mouth to answer when the door opened and the topic of the conversation entered, slightly muddy, limping and rather impressed with himself from the way he ignored the gash on his forehead with such practiced ease.
Both occupants in the room were-needless to say-quite stunned with the appearance of the detective, but while Watson set about trying to give him medical attention Anna was more content to pester him for information.
"What happened?"
"I walked into the room, or do you want to be more specific?" He asked cocking an eyebrow at her.
"Fine. What happened to make you look like that? You want it in Spanish? Ooh how about Japanese?" She suggested more kind in her joking than he had been. He regarded her for a moment and then swept to his chair in a flurry of fresh snow from outside.
"I went looking about the slums of London for our lady friend's attacker." He said, speaking to Watson instead of Anna. "It was not Moriarty, though word is he has hired someone to kill me." Holmes explained. Anna gasped and a hand fluttered to her mouth.
"Why Holmes! That's awful! What are you going to do if you find this guy that Mortion has hired?" She asked, feigning true stupidity, not to joke to truly fool Holmes. It worked.
"Moriarty and I will try to have him arrested though if he threatens my life I will not hold back from harming him, if he dies he should not have taken the profession." Holmes explained trying to turn back to the conversation with Watson.
"And what if the killer is stronger or better than you?" She asked.
"He won't be." And Anna left to find Mrs. Hudson while the two men talked of the information that Holmes had acquired. It was an hour into the cooking lesson that started between the two women then when a guest arrived at the lodgings. After letting in the Scotland Yard representative that was one Lestrade Mrs. Hudson returned to finish the lesson but her young pupil was leaned against the wall just inside the door listening to the three men talking. She'd missed parts of the conversation but she came in soon enough to hear the most of the case.
"The doors were all locked from with in and the only way in was through a barred window on the roof that I could barely get my head through. She was laying on the bed headless and still in her wedding gown, they want the killer caught."
"Caught Lestrade? Not discovered?" Holmes inquired.
"They think it was the maid somehow, a secret passage or something. They just want you to find her. So they can charge her for her crimes." Lestrade said in his tired, reedy voice. Mrs. Hudson was about to call her back to her lessons when she saw the look on the younger woman's face, the look of concentration that Holmes often wore. Sighing in the way a mother does when she knows what her child wants before even the child knows she turned to finish lunch alone.
"What of the others in this town?" Holmes asked, she missed part of what was said next and strained her ears.
"So they all can give proof that the other was there." Lestrade finished easily. "Does this mean you'll look for the maid?" He asked in an almost desperate voice.
"I will examine the case I will not look for someone I do not know is guilty." Holmes announced. "Give me what notes you have and I will look them over, then I will see if the town needs me as much as you seem to think it does." Holmes announced, and Anna heard him stand. She rushed to the side of the housekeeper and rolled up her sleeves before jamming her hands into the water to scrub a plate.
"I've been here the whole time." She whispered to the elderly woman as Holmes entered the kitchen.
"How much of that did you catch and what did you think of what you did catch?" He asked approaching Anna. She looked at him filling her eyes with innocence. Everyone knew she had been ready to say that she had no idea what he was talking about but she did not get the chance, he touched the edge of her skirts with his foot. "You hid yourself well but you forgot how far this stuck out." He told her as she laughed.
"I caught most of it. I think I want to go to this town. And meet these people and see what's up. That death sounds fishy." Holmes looked at her and she sighed heavily. "America, London whatever. The way the murder was committed sounds suspicious, its so improbable someone with an obvious motive had to have done it some how. You know what I mean?" She asked. Holmes thought for a moment and then after a deep breath he spoke.
"I understand your theory but it is flawed, everyone else had alibis." He told her smoothly.
"Why are you even discussing this with me? I'm a woman isn't death and murder a bit over my head?" She asked, meeting his gray eyes. His eyes said he was startled but his body stayed where it was. "What can I say, my whole world was just twelve people until I was thirteen. I never got out of the habit of saying what I mean." She explained, barely blinking. "So why, you hardly have any people you care about let alone trust I can tell by seeing how you live, so why, why do you trust me?" She asked again.
"Watson seems to think there is more to you than just your foolish American pride. He thinks perhaps some of it is confidence. I've seen you ask question and get an answer for a completely different question. You're devious and intelligent I have to admit. These people are lying, it's a small town and they will cover for each other, your deviousness would probably be an asset." He said. Her eyes widened and a hand pressed to her breast. She gasped and started falling backwards, catching herself on the counter and using the hand at her breast to fan herself as she spoke,
"Did the Sherlock Holmes just compliment a mere *woman*?" She asked in complete awe. He shook his head and started to walk away. "You deserved it!" She said grinned at him as he walked away. So she turned back to Mrs. Hudson who was looking at her as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, which to Anna did not make sense. "What did I do?" She asked coming over to help.
"I just don't understand why you insist on aggravating Mister Holmes so." She explained calmly. Anna shrugged and picked up a dish to start scrubbing. She thought for a moment about what she would say and then finally looked to the other woman.
"Because I was raised with a father too busy for me, a brother who was always too sick too talk too much and the rest were men and women and children who couldn't speak English any better than I could speak Spanish so I never had anyone to spar with verbally. It's nice to have someone who's so fun to annoy and can fight back, when he's not so mad he's stalking away." She explained, and even for the real her it was true, well aside from the why she never had anyone to spar with mentally wise.
It was odd going home that night, knowing that in being Holmes's neighbor she'd probably never end up in the series as she knew it to go from movies in her time. Moriarty would be the one who got credit for his death, that was how it was stipulated in the contract since she was a woman. Now though, now she was going to go on a case with him-she was still sure however that he was just joking about that and she'd regret believing that she would get to help-and that Watson would probably write. Would he mention her or would her part be small enough that she would get over looked?
The worst part of her ponderings was that she didn't know which she would rather. She wanted to help, wanted to be a big help on the case, after all, how ironic would it be for a killer to catch a killer. However she *was* a killer and anonymity was her only real friend. So getting written up in something she knew would be famous for years was not something she should want.
She shook her head and shed her clothes of the day and climbed into bed. She fell back on one of the few lessons she had taken from high school. "Lay back, sleep and let the world take you where you fear to tread." She forgot who told her that and doubted it had been a teacher but either way and teacher or no she liked that and let it go to work for her now. She fell into a nice relaxing, dream-free, sleep and woke refreshed in the morning, ready to face the day and solve that murder.
~~
Okay I wanted to end it here to explain a few things. One I do not own the mystery I intend to write. Yozaburo Kanari does, he wrote it for the "Kindaichi case files: The Mummy's Curse." Now, why this drew the chapter to a close early. See that they solve a mystery was really important, I needed them to go after a killer, smart but not Moriarty, I needed them in life and death situations and stuff. So since I was writing this while I had just spent an ungodly amount of money on books and "The Mummy's Curse" was one of them. So I changed that mystery around so that it could take place in London and work in the story line and all that so technically I just used the basic plot and stuff. If you want to pick it up it's good and Sherlock fans will love Kindaichi. I know I do.
So I just wanted to warn you of this now and that if you have by some coincidence read it, it's not going to end the same way. I liked the ending but that doesn't fit, neither does the photos since those were hard to take in 1886 and all that crap and I am going to shut up now and go start on the next chapter. All the plot of this is mine, but the crime they solve is not. There I think I could have just said that and been done with it but I am a writer, if I am not writing I'm staring at the wall so babbling is fun. Try it some time!