Chapter 9

We were all told to appear on Thursday but as much as we were ready the court date never came. Jefferson Hope died the very night he was captured, with a gentle smile on his face as if he had finally found the peace and maybe his Lucy.

"I can tell you that Lestrade and Gregson aren't too pleased with the death," Holmes sighed a few days later over a breakfast that we some how had come to find ourselves eating together, "Now what shall they do as their grand finale?"

"It's not like they deserve one," I said handing him the paper, "They really didn't have anything to do with the original capture in the first place."

"What a man does in this world my dear Miss Galahad is of no consequence," Holmes sighed once again looking over the paper as he talked, "Of course I wouldn't have miss this simple case in the world, don't get them very often-"

"Excuse me?" I interrupted him with a most annoyed look on my face. "If I remember correctly, I was the one to get you out of the house and to help them figure out this whole thing. If it weren't for me you would have stayed home that day and still be the forgotten detective."

"I most likely would have gone after a while," Holmes said in his snotty voice, "It was merely a simple case anyway, just a few simple and ordinary deductions and I was able to lay my hand on the criminal. It's what I believe you Americans would call 'a piece of cake'."

"No one ever uses that phrase any more and frankly my dear Holmes I could care less," I shot back trying to look out the window. But he stared at me, and not like he was studying me but as if he knew what was going on in my mind. Of course I knew what question he wanted me to ask, to boost his ego once more and to enlarge his head to sizes far too big to be measured by any means. I sighed finally looking back at him since I know he knew that I was wondering it any way. "I know you're ready to tell me how you simply figure out this whole thing Holmes," I said turning back to him, "Tell me, how ever were you able to discover who the culprit was?"

"I thought you would never asked," he answered smugly, "Well I find the small things that others find a hindrance in this type of work as more of a guide. While some things are notice, I take time to notice the more common things that people often dismiss in their everyday lives. With these small pieces I'm able to bring my deductions together to one single answer."

"Alright I know I'm going to regret this," I sighed once again, "But since I'm now only slightly curious-"

"Only slightly?" he said with a smirk.

"Look do you want someone to make yourself look good or do you want me to kick you where the sun doesn't shine," I warned him.

"Most people need the steps before to bring themselves to the end," Holmes continued, "It takes a great mind to work from the conclusion and to come to the steps in which came to that result. To work with the pieces of the end and come up with a beginning-"

"In other words," I interrupted, "To take the pieces and reconstruct the scene."

"If you want it in simple words yes," Holmes sighed, "Now don't interrupt, it's very rude."

"Just get to the point!" I growled, not believing that he would be the one to instruct me on manners.

"As I approached the house I immediately examined the walkway and as I told you saw the tracks of where the cab had been earlier. I surmised that it had come through last night and by the tracks themselves I was able to surmise that it was a taxi. As I entered the house, I examined the walkway. Of course there had been a heard of people through there already but with my expert eye I was able to pick up the things of importance. I've grown quite good at fallowing footprints, teaching myself in such things before this incident. Now I had two foot prints set before me, our two gentlemen that we now happen to know of. It was easy to tell that these footprints had been made earlier as they had nearly been completely wiped out by the other tracks left by other people. Now I had two footprints, a tall man, judging by the stride, wearing his boots and a well dressed man biased on his small and more elegant boot.

And there they were before me, my well booted man and the tall one was some how the murderer if there had been murderer as was said. I could see by his face, he had foreseen the fate that was coming to him and after I examined the body I discovered a sour smell which made me believe that poison had been forced upon him. Again I say forced because of the look on his face, full of hatred and fear. I came at the answer by the facts alone, not that it's a new thing for people to be forced to ingest poison by one who would wish them harmed. But why had this happened? It couldn't be robbery as everything was still on the body. Political assassins are quick and often leave the scene quickly but my tall man stayed there the whole time. There must have been a personal confrontation between these two men, something that would have brought on this methodical form of revenge. The writing on the wall seemed to confirm more to my suspicions. Could it have been a woman? This was something I pondered as the ring was found. Clearly it was used for some purpose to remind the victim of a woman long gone or somewhere else.

It was at that point that I asked Gregson whether he had put in a telegram to Cleveland, for anything that we might be able to find out about Mr. Drebber's life. After find that he had not I began to examine the room. I gained more information about the man's height, his nail length, and the cigar. Since there was no struggle I knew that the blood would have to have come from the murderer. A good blue blooded can break out in that way, which lead me to believe that he was robust and ruddy-faced. After leaving the house I proceeded to do what our detective friends had neglected to do. I telegraphed the head of the police in Cleveland, paying the most attention to the marriage of Drebber. I struck luck as I soon got an answer that Drebber had just recently taken out an order of protection against a 'rival in love' so to speak. A man by the name of Jefferson Hope and Hope was currently in Europe.

I knew that the man who walked in with Drebber was the man driving the cab. There was no marks in the road to suggest that he had gone anywhere else so then I knew what Jefferson Hope had disguised him self as. He was the cabby man and he most likely was one. It would be foolish to suddenly just change on the spot as it would draw attention to one's self. There was also no need to change his name as no one knew it in the whole country. Therefore I organized Wiggins to get the man here and the rest is history and here is the article in the newspaper." Holmes sighed as he looked over the paper. I had already read it and knew that once again Holmes had found little credit where it was due.

"Well at least you get some thing out of it," I commented about the small blurb left to Him (although the rest was left to Gregson and Lestrade and their 'brilliant skills'), "Besides if you'll let me I might be able to use this to furthure my writing. I could make you the hero-"

"Write what you want," Holmes interjected continuing to read, "It wasn't too hard to see that they were going to do this. It's as I told you, Lestrade and Gregson are only out to better themselv-es..." The sudden break in his speech was thanks to Holmes finally spotting what I had wanted him to see all along. At first his eyes grew large and then he blinked. I already knew what it said:

'Holmes and Watson Private Detective Agency

Any crime for Normal fees and no one will be turned away.

Inquire at 221b Bakerstreet and ask for Sherlock Holmes or Laura Galahad.'

"I was going to take out a full page add," I said, now having my own smirk, "But they get paid by the word and it's kind of quaint isn't it." Holmes was silent a moment before placing the paper on the table and looked at me dangerously.

"I only wished to be left alone," he said, his voice laced with an angry poison, "Left alone in my own little room, with nothing to worry about, and now you are suggesting that people come barging to my door, not only looking for me but YOU! YOU, who are not connected to me in anyway other then our living arrangements! YOU, who have been nothing but trouble! And YOU, who have been just a thorn in my side since YOU got here! You have no right to do this, this is my job, my work and you have no right to put out anything to suggest that you are apart of this!"

"Look you and I are talented in our own ways!" I argued, "I'm good with people and you are a genius in deduction! There for I can help get you work and deal with people and you can do all the work. Just think of all the money we could pull in on this!"

"I don't want work!" he cried voice rising dangerously, "I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!" But as the words rang out there was a knock at the door. We exchanged glances of wonder before we quickly moved to the door. We opened it and were met with more of a surprise. A line of people leading down the stairs, out the door, and even down the street stood before us.

"Excuse me," the young lady, who stood at the front of the line, spoke softly, "Are you Mister Holmes, the genius detective?"

"Yes I am but I'm afraid that I'm not really taking any business at this-"Holmes began but his eyes grew as wide as mine as we saw the wad of money that she pulled out of her purse (it was quiet large).

"Money is no option!" she said with a worried voice, "I can pay you anything you want! Please I'm in desperate trouble!" Holmes and I looked to each other again.

"If you excuse us a moment," he said as he closed the door, looking to me once again, "twenty percent and a silent partnership."

"Fifty percent and I get to go on cases and I get to deal with customers."

"Forty percent and you can quietly come on cases, handle public relations, and make guest comfortable but you don't even speak while I'm working."

"Forty-five percent and I do all the junk that you just said."

"Done but I get the final say in everything dealing with cases."

"Done!" I answered with a grin, turning towards the kitchen, "I will start some tea and get some cookies out for the people coming in, and you can start letting them in one by one."

"Miss Galahad," Holmes spoke making me stop.

"Yes Mister Holmes?"

"I believe that you are pushy, frustrating, and most likely one of the worst roommates I've ever had. But I must admit that you are intelligent when needed and I think somehow you and I are going to be able to live together. Somehow, I'm not sure what, but we are going to have to as if we don't we may just may kill each other."

"I'm sure it won't come to that Holmes," I said with a smile, "Now let's get to work. We do have a long night a head of us you know."