Okay so I had to revamp this to make it better not JUST because Blackrose asks although her review did give me the hope that I could make this good so heh…
Anyway, here you FINALLY go. The new chapter, which I hope is better but because
~~
First thing was first she forced me to take a bath. That wasn't so bad, even though I was soaking in my own filth and that wasn't a comforting thought. Then I got out, wrapped myself in a robe and she bade me sit while she brushed out my hair and flitted about the room looking for things to pull together, horrified I had not brought something of my own to wear. I bit my lip and didn't mention that it had been the Napolean of Crime who picked out what I did have. I thought that at that point in time she would have been slightly disbelieving.
After a mini fitting session she announced perfect and started to tighten my corset. Joy. I could only thank god that Moriarty had the foresight to get me fitted for a corset. Have I mentioned that I love evil geniuses lately? I wore it often but since it was made for me and I had a small waist anyway it didn't do near as much damage as people in my time seem to think. And damn did it make me look good. The dress I wore was not my first choice, it was peach with black lace around the low collar and dripping from the sleeves, first may I mention that though I like black, it did not go well with peach. I hate lace, it's itchy and uncomfortable and just putting on the dress I knew I would be fidgeting all night. My hair, a source of great aggravation for poor Miss Lewis, had been pulled up into an awkward sort of bun with two combs with teeth so sharp I could have used them to kill someone, which I thought, was not such a bad idea. She'd forced me into the monstrosity and as I looked at myself in the mirror I realized I actually liked the dress a little. The color wasn't my favorite as we are all aware, but it was low enough for the time that it was racy but for my time it wasn't too bad, at least it didn't make me feel too uncomfortable and holy god did the corset make my breasts look big. Sorry to offend but it really did and usually I am self-conscious about their size but about then I was ready to go apply at my local Hooters.
The skirt was the only part I remotely didn't mind but didn't mind. It was wide around my feet and I hoped that I wouldn't trip on the hem, which would not be first on my list of things to do. She had pulled on a necklace to finish the look and it was a silver chain that dipped low and had a teardrop onyx stone on it. Looking in the mirror I couldn't recognize myself. I was used to wearing pants and a shirt all black and I was not used to breathing in the short and shallow gasps that a corset required, though I was quickly getting used to it, it was kind of like being at high altitude or like you had just run. She looked me over and nodded and then reached out and pinched my cheeks, twisting hard. I nearly killed her right there, I really did. I supposed it was better than her smearing lipstick and crap like that on my face but a little warning would have been nice. She smiled and nodded and I took a tentative step in the high-heeled shoes she had managed to trick me into. They were too small and I was used to wearing sneakers. No really, this was my first time in anything other than sneakers since I was 10.
The only thing I could think at that point was that I was going to trip and fall flat on my face before this evening was out. I knew it and I didn't need to be from the future to tell. "You look lovely." She said smiling and she had every right to. I normally looked like I had just wondered out of a Goth club and now, I looked…well as out of character as this will seem for me I looked like a princess. I twirled and smiled and felt like I was getting ready to go to prom. I of course didn't have a date to this prom I was creating in my twisted little brain. Holmes was more interested in a corpse than actually being at the dinner I was being made to dress up for, not that I was wanting to go to a prom type thing with him…Watson though, well when I was let out of the room to head to this function he was standing there waiting for me. He beamed like he was a dad and his daughter was going on her first date. Joy. Now I'm getting attached to the people I plan to ruin. Oh was that a pang of guilt? Naw I think that was my rib breaking. It better have been my rib breaking.
He lead me into the dinning room where six people were all standing and talking they quieted and introduced themselves as we came in, and I just kept saying Anna Winters. I don't like the whole social scene, that's why I chose a rather anti-social job. But, they really made me feel rather welcome which bothered me. They were being way too kind to a stranger from London. It was like they wanted to hide the fact that they weren't all "Leave it to beaver"-y.
Oh don't I sound intelligent tonight?
I had been talking with all of the people of the town, trying to at least learn one person's name when I noticed Watson wasn't near me anymore and I turned to see Holmes and he speaking in one corner. I brushed at a loose hair—apparently it was improper for a woman to wear her hair down in that time, but with mine so short there was precious little the talented Mrs. Lewis could do to it to keep it up—and slunk over to eavesdrop. I was focusing so hard on getting over there silently and without being noticed that when Mrs. Green screamed I jumped almost a foot in the air. I twisted in mid-leap and landed hard, the high-heel slipping out from under me in all my grace—ahem—I knew I would fall and closed my eyes, waiting for the painful senstation that would come with impact. Instead I felt arms hook around my own. I opened my eyes and titled my head back to look at my savior. Staring back at me with a bemused smirk on his face was Sherlock Holmes. Dammit. I stood quickly and looked around, no one seemed to have noticed other than of course Sherlock and Watson so I turned to the woman who was standing just inside the door of the room we were all in. I focused on her as much as I could. No one had ever caught me when I was falling before. Not once. And I wished that he had let me fall to tell the absolute truth. I didn't want him being nice to me because I would then feel like I was in debt to him and I would be all pissed when I finally had to kill him. So I just thought back to that annoying smirk and the urge to hit him wiped out the urge to thank him.
"IT'S BURNING!" She screamed again, louder catching my attention away from my ponderings. It sounded like she was pleading, begging us to save her from the memories she was relieving. As she spoke, yelled, a little froth formed at the corners of her mouth as the muscles around her left eye twitched uncontrollably. I took a small half-step forward, tentatively reaching out, hoping that she wasn't going to start having a seizure. She fell to the floor then, in a dead faint Watson announced, as he was one of the first to rush to her side. I felt the daughter of Mr. Smith, the owner of a mansion with huge suits of amour in front of it, grasp my arm tightly and scream. I held my free hand over both her own and shushed her softly, trying to calm the poor girl. When I was as innocent as she was I am sure that I would have handled this just as poorly. Still, it was not unlike comforting a small child. Mr. Smith came up to us then and smiled sadly at me.
"That's Mrs. Green, she's not been right in the head since her son died a few years back. We try and take care of her and she's been getting better lately but she still has…" He took a deep breath as though to find a kinder word than what he was thinking, "Episodes…every now and again. Come along Rose, we'll take care of Mrs. Green." He said prying his daughter from him limp arm. I winced and rubbed the finger marks that were forming. I wondered about her though, and the thing I wanted to know most was how had her son died to disturb her so and was it a part of whatever this town was hiding.
"She owns the Ivy mansion." Mr. Glass said, walking up to me, seeking to comfort me as I was the only woman without someone to hold her, of course I was also the only one who was more worried about the woman than scared of her. He was the owner of what was in my opinion the best of all the mansions, his was a mansion with huge, intricate stained-glass windows. I wished we had been aloud to stay there instead of in this home but it was just a little niggling thought in the back of my head, overshadowed by more important questions and theories.
"Yes Mr. Glass, just as you own the house with those big beautiful windows no?" I asked wanting to make sure my theory on the houses was correct. The way his eyes grew to be huge told me I was indeed correct. I pray my readers believe me when I say I was not trying to show off. To know that I could remember a person's home by what their name was, was important, for I was a firm believer in the fact that a home said a lot about a person as a whole. Though what happened next I must admit was a bit of me showing off. I am the first to admit I have a bit of an ego on me when the occasion calls for it.
"Why how did you know?" He asked leading me away from her limp body that was being carried to one of the many guest bedrooms. All the other people were walking through a large arching doorway that opened into the dinning room where a large array of food was skillfully displayed. He released me before I started speaking and I smiled pleasantly.
"Well," Holmes was nearby so I thought I would get on his nerves for sending me off to that evil woman who made me get into this hulking dress, yes I know I had to wear it to fit in, that doesn't make it any less demeaning. "Mr. Windom owned this mansion which has very prominent weather veins, and Mrs. Green owned the mansion covered in Ivy and so on and so forth and so I simply assumed that the people's names corresponded with which home they owned. Windom, wind, weather veins, Green, plants, ivy." I could almost hear the great detective's teeth gnash together at the thought of someone assuming something instead of deducing it properly. I ignored him though and focused all my attention on Mr. Glass who smiled and dismissed himself politely as he slowly drifted away to say hello to someone else as Mr. Windom came over to say hello. I was actually feeling rather confident at this point, this was just like parties back home, you rotate around talking small talk with people. Yeah, I could handle this easily enough. He started talking about how lovely the sky was at night and I would be able to see so many more stars than in London, he wanted to show me. I liked the stars and hey if he was hitting on me he liked me and if he liked me than I had a chance of squeezing more information from him. Allow me a moment of triumph for that is a good thing.
"Sir do you think I could ask you one question?" Holmes asked catching up to us just before we reached the balcony. Mr. Windom smiled and nodded, ever the delighted host. Of course Holmes being him could not ask a normal question; no…He opens his mouth and very bluntly asks, "Why do you have a headless mummy in the basement?" For a moment Mr. Windom's hand tightened painfully around my own which rested in the crook of his arm, then the feeling passed and he motioned for Holmes and Watson to follow him. I followed and he looked at me carefully. I wanted to snap that he hadn't been worried about the "fragile" woman a moment prior when he had crushed her hand, but thought better of it.
"She came here because I think she may be of some help to this case." Holmes said and I was allowed to follow the two men out onto the balcony. He pointed to the burned out brick building that used to be a Synagogue. "That was where the girl was when she was murdered. Missionaries built it over a hundred years ago, this was the only land they could get and they were just making a small sort of neighborhood for their try at bettering the world. There were seven of them and they came seeking "Eden's Apple." It burned down twenty-seven years ago with the family of two parents and their seven children inside. The girl was inside to atone for her sins before her wedding; it is a tradition in our town.
"The note in blood on the floor said that the seventh mummy had the bride's head. The mummies now…well the mummy you saw has been the guardian angel of this village for more generations than I can count. Each home has one mummy and then the church has one too, each has a different body part missing from its body. I do not know the full story, the records were always there but I never read them, there was always tomorrow and then they were gone." He said, and he almost seemed sad about it, but it still didn't sit right with me. That mummy hadn't looked like the mummies I saw on the History Channel, and I didn't expect it to look exactly alike but it was just so different…
I turned and left, walking back inside after a long hard look at the shell of the building, the night was cold and the dress was light, plus did I care to hear any more lies. At that point I didn't yet know what was going on but I knew that that bullspit about the guardian angel was just that. Bullspit. And pardon my language; I grew up in the Bible belt.
"You are Mr. Holmes's lover?" A man asked approaching me. I started and looked at him and laughed until tears had gathered in the corners of my eyes. The words he'd actually spoke just seemed so funny back then. Now I sit here wondering if I should even mention that part, I don't understand what was so funny anymore. But, I ramble.
"No, I do not think Mister Holmes would like a lover." I would have added that I was just using him for sex if it had been my own time. Then I realized that even in this time that was pretty rude and I should cover my ass before he suspected something. "Sorry sir, I was rude." I justified, "The…uh…hysterics of the night had taken their toll on me in an odd way." I lied, trying to come up with a better excuse an unable. I didn't even find it all that funny then but for some reason my stupid subconscious had decided to cover whatever I was thinking with laughter at the thought that I was Holmes's lover. "I am however helping him on this case as much as I can, can I still be of some help?" I asked trying to show concern in my eyes. So long they had been dead that showing emotions I didn't feel was easier than it should have been. I often thought I should have been an actor but I enjoy this lifestyle too much to stop for something so trivial.
The man looked so sad. He looked to where Holmes and Mr. Windom were on the balcony talking. "I loved her." He whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. Eyes I suddenly realized mirrored my own, they were dead…yes tears were in them but the sadness was missing. He shook his head and very nearly scampered away, but now my interest was peaked. He had dead eyes. Why would you have dead eyes? Assassin? No, he wasn't built for it, he was a little overweight and moved with a slow measured sort of pace. Okay so what was he…? I didn't know having never really loved, as trite as that sounds, so maybe you could get that way at the death of a loved one. I sighed and shook my head, unsure of what was going on, unsure of what it was I was even thinking at that point.
I took up a crystal glass offered to my by a servant and drank the contents slowly. The wine was rich and nicer than what I had tried other times in my life. Instantly my insides were warm and I sighed as contentedly as I could, enjoying the soft waltz that was playing in the background somewhere. The rest of the evening was filled with the soft light of candles and the softer buzz of conversation. I didn't speak to Holmes again, I was gossiping with the ladies, who in my eyes are highly underused resources. And this is why, I always have found that once they trust you and if it is considered gossip women are willing to tell you nearly anything in an attempt to beat your juiciest gossip. I of course had to trade information of London in return for this to work so I just made up things about sirs and ladies that probably didn't exist. I made it up and it was creative enough to amuse them even if they didn't know the people. They pointed out the man who had been the girl's fiancée, he had sort of cover over his head with holes for his eyes and I raised an eyebrow but they went on to explain that he was very sickly and so he wore that to hide his face.
That night went quickly after I met the stranger, he was a big part of this, I didn't know how, but he was. I'd seen that church and the bars on that roof for the skylight were too small for a human to fit through…so what happened to her. I was close to actually beating on my head to try and get an answer out of the organ that refused to respond. When I finally did fall asleep I was awoken by a scream, bloodcurdling scream to elaborate. I shout out of bed, forgot my housecoat went back for it, and ran into the hall, hoping I hadn't missed anything good as sick as that may sound. I trusted my eyes in the dark and slid to a halt outside where Holmes and Watson already were. Lestrade was looking at me with a raised eyebrow and I peered in around Holmes, bending at the waist to look between his waist and the doorframe since I had no hope of seeing over his shoulder. Mr. Glass was hanging from the ceiling with his right leg missing. Blood still gushed from the wound and I knew right away it had not been her scream so I assumed that it had been a maid who found her, and writing on the floor in blood I read, "The Seventh Mummy's revenge is not over." Whoever was doing this; they had style I had to admit.
I almost regretted having to catch them since I would like to have this guy tutor me, after all I think it's just about everyone who does anything that says that people will always have more to learn about everything there is no matter how well they know it. Then again I had to admit it was easier in this time with no DNA, no fingerprints, no alarms, nothing cool like that. I would have to see how much fun I could have with this time. I shook my head and drew myself back to the task at hand. Watson was ushering me away and I was arguing that I wanted to help and offer my opinion but he would hear nothing of it. So I was ushered off and away from all the action. I knew that he was trying to do what he thought best and I should have been touched but I was kind of offended that he thought I could be so easily spooked.
That said I was struggling a little as he tried to haul me away, which I regret now but at that point I was so desperate to prove that I didn't give half a rat's ass what they thought or felt that I didn't care. However, if I had not been struggling and dragging my feet, I would not have heard Mr. Clock's next words which would end up being a large part of this case.
"We've been cursed by him!" He announced quietly, his words growing in strength as anger lit up his face, normally so pale and stotic. "All six of us from that day will surely be killed." He announced. My eyebrows shot up and my eyes widened. Now it was getting interesting, and there to the side, was the fiancée in his mask. Yeah, I thought it was operatic too. Apparently he was hypersensitive to light and he wore that to keep his face from literally cooking in the light of day…I think he was being a baby but the way he always lingered on the sidelines had me interested to a very high degree.
~~
Okay so those who have actually read this manga know what happens but the end of the mystery isn't the end of the story. Remember, she's got her own agenda that's supposed to come first before the mystery. W00t now it's gonna start getting good. And those who have read it…I so wanted Holmes to go through what Hajime did when Miyuki came out of her room for the party, but it didn't fit *moans* damn. That would have been hilarious.