Hello people!!!!!!!! I'm Word Junky (for proof of this see my lack of stories and updates, I'm a reader not a writer)
I am new at writing Sherlock Holmes fics, so I beg all those older and wiser readers who know everything there is to know about Holmes to bear with this story. Remember, constructive criticism is always welcome, as well as any praise that does nothing but inspire and make me feel good. If you have nothing to say other than how bad this is and how crap I am, with no legitimate reason as to why, we will politely read it, and then do the exact same thing to all your own stories for every chapter, SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!!!
Dale: **throws water on face** Calm down Word, **to readers** sorry, she has no patience for those.
Me: **muttering** Damn flamers…
Dale: **to readers** Please do not tempt such reactions. If you don't like something tell us why and we can avoid all mud slinging and cage matches.
Standard disclaimers apply, I don't own anything.
Enjoy!!!!
"Holmes! You can't possibly expect me to do this!!" Watson's face was red.
"Oh honestly Watson, anyone would think you were afraid."
Watson puffed himself up like a pidgin, still trying to maintain his dignity. "Not afraid Holmes, outraged! There are some things in this world that are best left with their own business and this is one of them."
"Come Watson its only material." Said Holmes calm as though they were talking about the weather. He stood in the study holding the affronting pair of ladies undergarments up to his looking glass.
Inspector Lestrade had sent a telegram to Sherlock Holmes asking him to examine the clothes of a woman found dead in an ally behind a bank. There had been no identification, no purse, nobody had seen her enter the ally, or seen her in that part of town before either. The girl had been strangled to death (confirmed by Dr. Watson).
"Material made to cover a woman's… mmhmm… unmentionables." Watson's colour was moving from red to a violent shade of purple.
"Very fine material too." Holmes continued. "Highest grade of imported silk, very warm. See how the fibers are almost perfectly crystalline. They were hand sewn too, the hem is wider than is usually allowed for such material, it becomes too expensive otherwise, but for all its width it is not double stitched"
"And why should it be double stitched?" Watson couldn't help showing interest. It was obvious even to him that Holmes was working up to something.
"For strength my dear doctor. It's a quality control."
"You've lost me Holmes; now put those away before Mrs. Hudson comes in"
"Tell me, why would a tailored garment made out of quality material waste fabric on a larger hem than is necessary and fail to secure it in the proper manner?"
"Homes at this point in time I really don't."
"For easy access."
Watson was horrified, "Holmes if you are implying something less than gentlemanly I shall leave this instant."
"Oh goodness Watson have you no faith in me? To suggest such a thing, to me of all people, I should wonder what Mary would make of that statement."
Watson, fed up with the entire venture, exclaimed "Then what do you mean?"
"A single stitched hem is easily undone. And the amount of room inside the hem could easily carry small valuables. She could easily conceal jewelry, precious stones, papers and other such commodities. She was found behind a butcher, but on the other side of the block is a pawn shop if I'm not mistaken." He felt carefully round the hemlines of the bloomers.
Watson's embarrassment was momentarily forgotten and he couldn't help his growing interest. After some moments Holmes found something. "Here we are!! Give me your penknife and send a telegram to Lestrade, this should give him the information he needs to complete his case, we shouldn't be poking round any further in police business, unless asked to of course."
Truly one of Sherlock Holmes' favourite pastimes had been to prove how incompetent the police force was. Many times Watson had seen him formulate theories and even solve cases that baffled them simply by reading details in the Agony column. The select few in the profession who had earned his respect tolerated his mind games, but those out of the loop found it a constant source of embarrassment, hurtful to their sense of pride. So Holmes left them alone, his excellent reputation helped him stay in business, but he quietly keeping tab of their successes as well as the cases remaining open.
"You sly dog Holmes; they'll be knocking on the door by this evening." It wasn't yet twelve.
"I doubt it Watson, the police have been trying to stop asking my advice altogether. They will spend the afternoon exhausting all the obvious theories first, then the entire evening trying to piece together new ones, in the morning they shall follow up those. No Watson not this evening, lunch time tomorrow at the latest we shall be called upon to solve this case"
"Which of course you have already figured out no doubt?"
"No, I have my theories that is all. But a theory is no good without evidence and as Lestrade insists I leave well enough alone, we have none."
As it was obvious there would be no more revelations on the case Watson remembered the garment they were previously studying. Somehow it had ended up in his hands. All his earlier protests were suddenly remembered and he quickly tossed it into a nearby armchair as if the garment was on fire.
"Do be careful old boy! Remember what that garment could contain."
"Holmes if we are quite through examining the pantaloons I don't understand why they are still out! What would people think if someone was to walk in and see them there? What would Mrs. Hudson think? With her strict proprieties you would be turned out on your ear!"
Holmes had turned his back on the study and was currently observing the pedestrians on the street below out the window, but he turned back to answer his friend. "Why should Mrs. Jenkins turn me out for doing my job? For that matter what possible reason could she have for disrespecting my privacy and not bother to knock? No Watson you worry far too much. You continue to surprise me old boy, as a married man I thought you would understand more about these garments than myself, yet here you are blushing like an innocent. I'm sure as a medical man you've seen far worse."
"Matters of a feminine nature are best left to the fairer sex." And giving these final words he walked out of the apartment. Walking down the stairs he could still hear his friend chuckling.
There, that wasn't so bad. If you liked it, you know what to do, if you didn't tell me why and I won't have any reason to release the hounds.
Dale: Do you people have any idea how hard it is to make her write?!
Me: oh I'm not that bad
Dale: yes you areMe: Am not **goes to corner and sulks**
Dale: Damn, she's going to do that all night now. Just press that lovely little blue button down there ok? Ok. Every body happy.
Me: See you later!!