Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.
Chapter 2
"Marvelous! Marvelous Dr. Watson! Such an honor to meet you, finally! Thank you for that inspiring speech on post-op traumas…"
"Great speech Dr. Watson!"
"Ehm… Thank you, thank you." said I while shaking the hands of people coming forward to greet me on my lecture.
"Dr. Watson, Dr. Watson, may I have a photo please"
"Ehm…"
"Excuse me! Excuse me! Good evening Dr. Watson. My name is Rebecca Hall and this is my colleague Dr. Sörensen"
"Good evening.." said I as I was shaking their hands, both having a firm grip, that was telling of confidence and certainty.
"We are having dinner tonight with some colleagues in the restaurant on the top floor, and would be honoured if you would be so kind and join us to discuss some of your work further.." she continued.
"Yes Dr. Watson, truly an honour!" Dr. Sörensen reassured.
"Thank you, thank you," I replied not really knowing what to answer. Surely it was nice getting this sheer amount of acknowledgment from fellow colleagues, but I was feeling quite tired and had a nice, quiet evening in mind already.
"Thank you for the invitation… "
"Dr. Hall, Rebecca Hall" she reminded me, not seeming bothered at all by the fact that I had forgotten her name.
"Dr. Hall, yes! Sorry, thank you for the invitation Dr. Hall but I must decline. It's been a long day and I will be getting back to my room for some well-needed rest."
"Of course, Dr. Watson, maybe tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow would be great," said I and nodded while shaking their hands in order to move on, away from the crowd.
Feeling rather hungry I decided on going out for dinner before taking the elevator back to my room. Although the downstair restaurants genuine Mexican cuisine was appealing at a first glance, the large dining hall was already getting crowded with visitors and lecturers from the convention. It would be impossible getting a quiet meal in a crowd like that so I decided for a little walk to the old part of town thinking surely a nice and quiet restaurant could be found on the way.
The weather outside reminded me quite a lot of London, other than the weather there were no other similarities to my home town. Malmö seemed like a much more quiet town and not at all as crowded with traffic even in its most central parts. It almost felt abandoned, particularly when I turned into a narrow paving stone road with the surrounding buildings casting their shadows over the sidewalk. This would be a rather good setting for a criminal novel, thought I to myself as the wet slippery paving stones kept making a peculiar sound for every step I took, marking the rhythm of my steps like a metronome, or even more like a large old grandfather clock proudly emphasizing every second that passes.
As my eyes went from building to building an interesting sign caught my attention. It was of a bite-sized hog pinned on a fork with the letters "BASTARD" on it. Even though it wasn't too appetizing looking with a whole hog impaled on a fork I found the sign somewhat humourous. Looking through the window glass the staff didn't seem too occupied so I decided on having my dinner here, within reasonable walking distance to the hotel.
Upon entering the restaurant a tall waiter greeted me in swedish at first, but rather effortlessly switched to English just after a quick glance at my puzzled look.
"Good evening sir, are you expecting company or will you be dining alone?" said he while making a sweeping gesture with his arm implying that I should follow him into the back of the room, past the large, square shaped, brass coated bar which was placed in the middle of the room, somewhat like a centerpiece at a fancy dinner table.
"No, just me," said I following him to a table placed against a wall overlooking the whole room. It was a quiet evening, with the background music playing I could hardly hear the conversations going on between the other six guests in the restaurant, two couples enjoying romantic dinners and one what looked like, from the one sided conversation, like a father and son night out.
"Here you are sir. Just let me know when you are ready to order" said the waiter while handing over a menu to me and placing a large bottle of water on the table.
"Thank you," said I while reading through the menu.
The walk in the fresh, chilly air had improved my appetite quite a bit. Settling for both a starter and a main course I enjoyed my dinner accompanied with a glass of red wine, which I had let the waiter decide on, not having the patience nor the eye for browsing through the selection of wines. The whole restaurant looked like an old butcher store with white glazed tile on the walls reaching from top to bottom. The only things missing were large counters and hooks hanging from the ceiling. A great setting for a criminal novel I thought for myself again finding it rather entertaining.
After a nice satisfying meal I rushed back to the hotel looking forward to a good night's rest. The sky was pitch black and the wind had increased, the temperature must have sunk a few degrees because the wind was now piercing cold.
Once back in my room I was getting ready for a shower when I realized, to my horror, that the ring was missing. A feeling of panic started crawling up on me. I reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed the reception.
"Good evening Dr. Watson, how can I be of assistance?" the voice on the other end replied.
"Hello, someone's been in my room. My ring has been stolen... someone has taken my ring. From the nightstand… I wish to speak to the manager!" I managed to get out totally horrified by the fact that the ring was gone.
"Sir calm down please. Are you saying that something has gone missing from your room while you were out? A ring was it?" the receptionist tried to sound calm and reassuring but I could hear some tremor in his voice.
"Yes, that's right. I need to speak to the manager right away please!" said I again knowing that the only people having access to the room other than me were the hotel staff. It was the only logical explanation that I could come to think of at that moment.
"Sir, are you saying that the hotels staff is…."
"The manager please. If you could be so kind and let me talk to the manager, please."
"Of course sir, right away, just hold on for a moment sir" said he and put me on hold. Every second that went by felt like forever.
"Darya Karlsson, room attendance manager at Clarion Hotel & Congress Malmö Live speaking. How can I help you Mr. Watson?" said she with almost a slightly irritated tone in her voice.
"Yes, hello… I had a very precious ring on the nightstand in my room and now it has gone missing. I was holding a lecture at the convention and went out for dinner after. I came back to the room at 9:30 pm and found out that in the meantime the ring has been stolen," replied I
"And now you are saying that the staff is responsible for the theft of this ring?" Now the tension in her voice became clearer. Almost as if she wasn't even trying to disguise it.
"Well, yes… I mean the staff are the only ones having access to the room right?"
"Mr. Watson, I can assure you that the staff is not responsible for the disappearance of your ring. I will kindly ask you to meet me at the reception. We will go to the head of security to check the keycard logs for your room. I am certain that the staff is not responsible in this matter."
"Yes, thank you. I'll be down right away."
"Good.. and Mr. Watson.. Are you sure you haven't left your keycard unattended at any time today?" she finally asked.
"No, It's been on my person the whole time since I checked in at the hotel," I replied slightly surprised by her question.
"Ok Mr. Watson. Just making sure. Please come down so that we can sort this out," said she and hung up the phone.
I took the elevator down to the reception and met up with Darya and a short, dark haired, middle aged man who introduced himself as Kenneth, head of security. We walked through the lobby past the elevators to a staircase which led us to Kenneth's office. He looked at the logs for my room and to my disappointment it became clear that no one had entered my room during my whole stay. The only entries in the log were the two times I used my keycard to enter the room. Darya followed me back to the reception and made sure that the staff would be helping me in case I wanted to get in touch with the police and report the ring stolen.
I excused myself and just felt like laying down for a moment. I walked over to the elevators and went up, back to my room. Once inside, my phone started buzzing. I picked it up, it was my good old friend Sherlock calling.
"Watson! The murder in Piccadilly has been solved. All because of my brilliance of course. You should be here instead of wasting your time in the company of simple minded, homogenic…" Sherlock continued ranting in his orderly fashion but I couldn't stop thinking about the missing ring. Suddenly I felt my phone buzzing against my cheek. It was a message from an unknown number. The message had a picture of my ring in it with the text "Hamnparken, 11pm, come alone" written underneath it.
"Sherlock it has been an exhausting day. I must go now." I hung up on Sherlock and decided to pursue the message.