Disclaimer – Here's the obligatory disclaimer. I don't own any type of legal rights to the Batman or Sherlock Holmes. Period.
HouAreYouToday – Thank you for taking the time to check out my little fanfic. I hope you find later chapters as "fantastic" as those so far.
Dreamsprite5 – Thanks for sticking around. I know what you mean, and I'll try to delve deeper into Sherlock Holmes' mind as I continue this fic.
Lady Razorsharp – I happen to have always loved the deerstalker/Inverness/Calabash, but I know you're not the only Sherlockian with those pet peeves. As for your other quibbles, I've gone back and made some tiny changes to the first chapter. However, as much as I want to stay true to Sir Arthur's writings, Holmes is changing roles from hero to aging mentor, so there will be some small departures from Holmes' character in the canon.
Kenta Divina – It's Bruce Wayne's deductive powers that gives Batman an edge rather than superpowers, and I hope to explore just how he honed those deductive powers in the first place. Glad to know you're enjoying this.
Moonjava – Thank you for your comments. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long for this chapter, but I don't have enough free time to guarantee updates will be frequent. Please have patience with me.
Thomas Thurman – I think you're the first person to review more than one of my stories. Thanks!
A/N – I'm back! Thank you for all of your reviews, both the raves and the constructive criticism, while I've been brainstorming ideas for the rest of this adventure.
I've started reading the graphic novel "Batman: Detective #27" by Michael Uslan, Peter Snejbjerg, and Lee Loughridge. It's a far cry from anything else in the Batman universe, and I'll probably disregard everything in it when writing this. Still, it's an interesting book, and it captures what I'm going for with this mystery, having Batman interact with events from a different time and with different characters from literature, and, as I hope to do, it plants several of the seeds that will mature into the traits of the Batman stories we all know and love.
One idea I had when I sat down to start this story was to send Bruce and Sherlock on not one but a series of adventures. After all, the Arthur Conan Doyle canon is made of more short stories than novels. Now that plan goes into effect. Our first adventure is adapted from "The Mystery of the Winged Lady", one of my original fics. I hope you enjoy it, and either way, remembers to let me know what you think of it.
Sherlock Holmes & Bruce Wayne
in
"The Case of the Winged Demon"
August, 1935. Bruce Wayne remembered all the things that Sherlock Holmes had warned him about when they first met. Things weren't very exciting at the beekeeper's cottage. Most of Bruce's time was spent, as before, doing tedious chores. All of the time remaining was spent studying the papers Holmes had given him.
Bruce Wayne had surprised himself when he started to read through the papers. He had been eager to read through Holmes' accounts and learn the science of deduction firsthand from the master. But Bruce found himself gravitating more often towards Watson's papers. Dr. Watson's style was much more empathetic, much more human than Mr. Holmes' machine-like chronicles. As Bruce skimmed through Watson's accounts, he felt as though he was actually learning something. He felt like he was absorbing more of Holmes' skill through the secondhand accounts than the first.
Even though Bruce was fascinated by Watson's writings, he still found himself growing restless and fatigued. It was not unusual for Bruce to nap during his studies.
Holmes himself made a very unusual companion. The cottage often reeked of pipe tobacco and failed chemistry experiments, and the infinite screeching of a violin often kept Bruce awake at night.
It was very unusual of Holmes to receive guests, which is why Bruce was so amazed to step out of his room late one morning and hear voices coming from downstairs. Holmes was seated across from a very tall stranger. The man had a very pale face, darkened only by comparison with his snowy white hair, still blonde at the roots. A thick mustache was twirled at the ends.
The two men rose as Bruce approached them.
"Ahh, Gregson, this is my new friend, the young Bruce Wayne," said Holmes. "Master Wayne, this is Chief Inspector Tobias Gregson of Scotland Yard."
Bruce shook hands with the pale man.
"You would not mind if Bruce was to attend the event we spoke of?" asked Holmes.
"Of course, not, Holmes," said Chief Inspector Gregson. "Whatever you request. I will see you there?"
"Of course, Gregson," said Holmes. "Until then, I bid you adieu."
The two old men shook hands and the inspector made his exit.
"What was that all about?" inquired Bruce.
"Later," said Holmes. "First, to your chores."
Bruce wanted to argue, but he felt especially weary today. Holmes had been awake until at least 3:00 in the morning, perfecting one of Bach's concertos.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
That afternoon, while Bruce washed the dishes from lunch, Holmes spoke. Bruce wiped a plate clean and handed it to Holmes to dry.
"We'll be attending a gala event tomorrow night," said Holmes. "I'll provide you with appropriate attire, unless you've brought something of your own."
"A gala event?" asked Bruce. "What for?"
"You missed a spot!" proclaimed Holmes. "Detective work is about thoroughness." He handed the plate back to a very aggravated Bruce.
"What is the gala event?"
"It is the birthday of Lord Edward Porter, naval commander," said Holmes. "The American ambassador, Artemus Folger, is to present Lord Edward with a gift on behalf of his entire country."
Bruce handed the plate back to Holmes, who examined it carefully and then handed it back. Bruce groaned.
"Anyway," Holmes continued, "the Americans wish to impart this friendly gift on behalf of an alliance between our countries. Politics. Some have still remained enraged over our skirmish in the 1700's."
"You're referring to the Revolutionary War," said Bruce.
"You can call it that since your side won," said Holmes.
"Sore loser," mumbled Bruce. Holmes cleared his throat and Bruce shut his mouth.
"Chief Inspector Gregson suggested I attend the event since there is a certain opera singer who will be performing, and I've taken quite an interest in her career."
"What about the gift that the Americans are presenting to this Lord Porter?"
"A painting," said Holmes. "From an artist of some acclaim of your country's. A Mr. Phillip Patelli. I have heard some of his work described as rather vulgar and unrefined, but I'm sure his work has just been widely unappreciated across the globe on account of Mr. Patelli's still living. However, your countrymen seem to think highly enough of this Patelli to describe this work alone as worth a small fortune."
Bruce handed the plate once more to Holmes, who again examined it thoroughly.
"I suppose I'll just finish it myself," said Holmes. He then dipped his hands into the hot water and soap and ended the discussion.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The next evening, Bruce found himself accompanying Holmes to the private estate of Lord Edward Porter. It had been a long time since Bruce had dressed like a socialite, and he couldn't help but tug on his bowtie. Holmes, on the other hand, looked very much at ease in his tuxedo.
As Holmes and Bruce reunited with Chief Inspector Gregson, they were approached by a man who was balding and nearly bursting out of his too-tight extra-large tuxedo jacket. The man pumped Holmes' hand so vigorously that Bruce cringed, although Holmes himself remained quite emotionless.
"You must be the famous Sherlock Holmes," said the bald man in an accent Bruce recognized as his own. "I'm Artemus Folger."
"You've already met Chief Inspector Gregson, I'm sure," said Holmes. "And this is my imminent acquaintance, Bruce Wayne, of the Gotham City Waynes. Where is the painting?"
"You mean the Patelli?" Folger eagerly gestured to a wide wall which was empty except for a single piece of art. "The artist has titled it 'The Winged Demon.' You've been filled in on the details?"
"Don't worry, sir," said Holmes. "The chief inspector has given me all of the salient ones."
"I feel much better knowing you're here to take care of this matter," said the ambassador. "I'll leave you to your own devices."
Holmes and Bruce took a hard look at the painting. The palette was filled with blotches of dark blue, spattered with droplets of crimson red, and crisscrossed with lines of a drab yellow. A great blot of black paint was spread across the center of the chaos.
"Certainly abstract," commented Holmes.
"No," said Bruce, shaking his head. "Can't you see it? It's a painting of a vampire. A bat. Dripping innocent blood from its jaws as it flies across the night sky."
"That's certainly a melodramatic way of looking at it," said Holmes. "Why would the Americans give Lord Edward a painting of a vampire bat?"
"To call him a bloodsucker?" suggested Bruce.
"Mr. Holmes," said a distinctly feminine voice from behind. "I'm so glad you could come to witness my performance."
"Or prevent it," said Holmes, whirling to face the speaker. The woman was much older than Bruce but younger than Holmes. The make-up gave her face smoothness and a glow that made age hard to estimate. She had long, curly reddish-brown hair, full lips, and a body more voluptuous than was common for women of that age. "How nice to see you again, Ms. Adler."
"And who is this handsome young man?" questioned the woman. She looked at Bruce with sensuous eyes. Bruce felt a little uneasy, as if he had been lusting after a friend's mother, or worse, grandmother.
"This is Master Bruce Wayne," said Holmes. "Master Wayne, may I present Ms. Irene Adler, an operatic soprano of some note."
"So young," said Irene. "And so handsome. He reminds me of you when we first met, Mr. Holmes."
"We were just discussing the value of this painting," said Holmes. "Do you have any comment on it?"
"My knowledge of art doesn't extend far beyond auras," said Irene. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must prepare myself to provide the entertainment for this evening."
"Old friend of yours?" asked Bruce as Irene Adler walked away.
"More like an old enemy," said Holmes. "Besides the opera, her talents include extortion, espionage, theft, and forgery."
"Sounds like you admire her."
"Of course. In my opinion she is the woman. The woman who eclipses and predominates her entire gender."
Holmes removed a watch from his pocket and looked at the time.
"You have eleven minutes," he said.
"Eleven minutes until what?"
Holmes removed a long capsule from within his jacket and handed it to Bruce.
"This is a forgery of the Winged Demon," said Holmes. "I had some old allies of mine create one for me."
"How?" asked Bruce. "I thought this was the unveiling."
"Inspector Gregson was good enough to loan me the painting before the event," said Holmes. "I have arranged it that in exactly eleven minutes, the electricity will go out. You will then replace the painting with the forgery."
Bruce coughed.
"You will have exactly three minutes of pitch darkness before the lights come up again," said Holmes.
"Why me?"
"Because I've become arthritic in my old age. I'd never be able to switch the paintings without damaging something."
"But I'm not a sneak thief."
"I know. That's why I'm giving you three minutes. A professional would be able to perform the task in less than half the time. Consider this part of your training. You're slowly getting into the criminal's mind." He turned the intensity in his eyes up a notch as he looked at Bruce. "But not too slowly. You keep your eyes on the painting. I will keep mine on Ms. Adler."
Bruce tried to object, but he could only stammer and groan as Holmes walked away from him. Bruce just stood in front of the painting and began counting down minutes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The next six minutes were very dull. Ambassador Folger constantly walked by the painting, scrutinizing it as he went. He would introduce various diplomats from America and England as they made speeches and presentations in Lord Edward's honor. Finally, a warm, feminine voice added a spark of excitement to Bruce's evening.
"Do you come to these things often?"
Bruce turned his head just enough to see where the voice was coming from. He saw a pair of eyes similar to Irene Adler's, only they belonged to someone closer to Bruce's age. She was wearing a tight red dress that accentuated the shapeliest body Bruce had seen since leaving Gotham City. Long, wild, brown hair ran down the woman's back.
"More often than I'd like to," said Bruce. He turned his eyes back to the painting, but not without a considerable struggle.
"Sabrina Smith," said the young woman. She held out a hand.
"Bruce Wayne." He turned to Sabrina only long enough to kiss her hand.
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Wayne?"
"As little as possible. You, Mrs. Smith?"
"Miss Smith. Sabrina, please. And I'm an actress."
The two discussed the painting. Bruce found it a natural topic since he wasn't taking his eyes off of it. Sabrina Smith grew bored after a few minutes and sauntered off. Bruce turned his head just long enough to watch the young woman walk away. He found it a very rewarding view.
Then the lights went out, and Bruce realized he had lost track of time. As quickly as possible, he walked towards the painting, stumbling and nearly falling as he went. He put his hands out and groped along the wall until he felt canvas. He could see the clock hands moving in his head.
He reached for the canvas and it fell with a crash. His whole body stiffened in the dark. There was a lot of movement and loud talking. Even panicking. The noise did nothing to calm Bruce's anxiety.
He opened Holmes' capsule and struggled to unroll the forgery in the dark. His hands were clumsy and he felt the lights had been off for much longer than three minutes by the time he had unrolled the forgery, rolled up the genuine painting, and made the switch.
He backed away from his poor excuse of handiwork. Then a hand darted out and grabbed the canister from him.
Bruce tried to grab it back as the lights came on. He found Sherlock Holmes standing beside him, his pipe clenched between his teeth.
"No good," said Holmes. "It seems someone beat us to the punch."
A/N – That's all for now, but expect the conclusion of this mystery in a week or less. If you have any idea what happened when the lights went out, feel free to suggest it in your review.