Note the bold italics. It's a different date see? (I know many of you don't need to be reminded but it's a precaution I must take.)

The disclaimer I constantly forget to add: The Sherlock Holmes and John Watson personalities belong to Guy Rickie while the writing format – and all those really big words – as well as the original characters belong to Sir Arthur Cohan Doyle.

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The Vengeful Jewel

Saturday, January 16, 1891
3:32 p.m.

"Please, detective. I'll pay you any price."

Sherlock Holmes didn't bother to even turn around and face his potential client as she begged. He stood silently at the window, gazing down at the dreary, mud-stained streets of Baker Street with his pipe clutched loosely between his teeth; the smoke curling lazily up into the air.

His partner, assistant, soon-to-be former roommate, and most trusted friend, sat just as quietly in his chair, his calm blue gaze staring expectantly at the back of the detective. When Holmes made no move to respond, Watson turned back to face the woman wavering on the verge of tears before him.

Lady Katherine Jones was, by far, a most beautiful woman. And certainly wealthy. Her delicate frame was decorated with a rather low-cut dress that fell to her ankles. Ribbons of lace crisscrossed in the dark blue fabric, making the dress ripple and shimmer with her movements. Her golden blonde hair – with just the faintest sparkle of red – dangled in ringlets at her shoulders and framed her perfectly oval face, making her freckles stand out against her pale skin. She was a small creature, brimming with composed grace and elegance. A single wedding band adorned the finger on her left hand.

But it was a different piece of jewelry that she craved. And that desire led her to the home of the famous detective.

She clasped her hands before her in prayer, her pleading eyes moist as she gazed at Holmes' back. "Please, Mr. Holmes. You're the only one who can find my necklace."

"With the amount I demand for my services, I suggest merely buying a new necklace," Holmes declared impassively. He plucked the pipe out from between his lips and blew out a ring of smoke.

"There is no replacement for such an item," Mrs. Jones insisted. "That jewel was a gift from my mother. It had been given to her by her mother on her death bed. Sadly, it was passed on to me in the same fashion."

She lowered her gaze at the memory and a sparkling tear rolled down her cheek. "My grandfather had found it in the stream and had polished it for my grandmother. They had to leave their home to keep it otherwise it would have been stolen at the cost of their lives."

She blinked and looked back at Holmes with renewed determination burning brilliantly in her eyes. Watson felt a stab of pity strike his heart but he knew Holmes would not subject to it as easily as he.

"It means so much to me and my family," Mrs. Jones continued softly. "I had hoped to one day pass it on to my daughter."

Being an open and warmed-hearted doctor, Watson was ready to agree to the case. It was a missing necklace. The case certainly wouldn't be a difficult one. And Holmes had lately been in such a foul mood with the absence of a good case. Granted this case was mediocre but it would get Holmes out of the house. It was also for a good cause. This woman genuinely wanted her family jewel back and not just for its physical value, but for its emotional one. And a value like that was priceless.

Again, Watson gave Holmes an expectant sidelong glance. Holmes hitched up his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the pleading gaze that pierced his back.

A soft rustling of fabric caused Watson to look away from his friend and back to Mrs. Jones in time to see her stride gracefully past him. Surprised and curious, Watson watched as Mrs. Jones cautiously approached the brooding detective.

Gently, she extended a delicate hand and laid it upon Holmes' arm. The detective jumped with a start and turned to looked at the woman standing before him; his eyes instinctively examining her from head to foot. She drew herself up proudly with a great strength Watson hadn't known her capable of.

"Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Jones said with a patient tone, one Watson often used to get Holmes to listen and obey. "The price is irrelevant. Please, just find my necklace."

She reached out her hands to gently encase Holmes' hand within her small grasp, his hand proving far larger than her own. Her deep eyes of swirling green and brown gazed up at Holmes hopefully.

Dumbfounded and caught off guard, Holmes stood absolutely still, his smoking pipe balancing in his free hand. He was unable to break the spell cast by those burning eyes.

"All right," he said finally. "I accept, my lady. I will retrieve your necklace."

Mrs. Jones' face brightened instantly as she smiled, lighting up the room majestically.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes!" she exclaimed as she embraced him.

Startled, Holmes grunted and looked to Watson for help. The doctor merely smiled back at his friend warmly, proud of Holmes for agreeing to help the woman.

Mrs. Jones pulled away abruptly and offered Holmes one last grateful smile before bounding away towards the door.

"Mrs. Jones," Holmes called after her.

She stopped at the door and looked back, the movement causing her hair to bounce alluringly against her shoulders. "Yes?"

"Might I ask what perfume you're wearing? It has a most unusual scent."

"My sister gave it to me," Mrs. Jones answered. "I'm afraid it has a most lingering smell. It's been two days now and yet the smell still remains."

"And when did you lose your prized jewel?"

"Two days ago."

"I see. Then that is all."

Mrs. Jones nodded gratefully. "Thank you!" she said once more in her melodious voice and then hurried down the stairs to her waiting carriage.

With the cheerful woman no longer present, the room felt oddly forlorn and dark. Watson shivered involuntarily.

Homes shuffled up to stand beside him. The doctor looked up at him with a knowing smirk.

"So the great Sherlock Holmes has a heart after all," Watson teased.

"What did I just agree to?" Holmes asked.

"To find a necklace for a young woman," Watson answered nonchalantly.

"I thought so," Holmes mused. "It seems as if a witch has been in out presence, my dear fellow."

"A witch?"

"Isn't it painfully obvious? We both know fully well that I would never agree to such a fool-hearty assignment. Anyone with an intelligence as vast as mine could easily deduce that the necklace was taken by the sister. The very sister that had given her that perfume she was wearing. She must have put me under a spell."

"Very few are privileged to have a mind as brilliant and insane as yours," Watson scoffed. "And with what could Mrs. Jones have placed a spell on you?"

"Those eyes," Holmes replied ominously. "She possessed me."

"Are you sure you were looking at her eyes?" Watson said coyly, a taunting smile twitching on his lips. He glanced up at Holmes pointedly.

"I'm appalled, my dear Watson," Holmes exclaimed with exaggerated surprise. "To think a man on the verge of marriage with such a filthy mind exists within your soul!"

"Oh, stop," Watson chastised, slapping Holmes' arm. "Don't use me as your topic change. You agreed because you actually wanted to help that woman."

Holmes seemed to think about such a possibility for a moment. "No," he said with finality. "I was definitely possessed."

"You don't believe in witchcraft," Watson corrected, getting up to stand before his friend.

"Don't I?"

Watson sighed, clearly having no desire to continue an argument that would ensue until Holmes twisted the conversation to turn in his favor. He turned away from the detective and retrieved his coat and hat, donning both and smoothing the fabric until he found himself presentable and then took up his cane.

"Where are you going?" Holmes asked suspiciously, edging closer towards the doctor so as to not be left behind.

"Out to go looking for a lost necklace," Watson replied with a casually grin. "Care to join me, Holmes?"

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I have admit, after reading those Sherlock Holmes novels, the diction stuck. It comes out naturally.

Well, now the case is explained and so begins.

But this is how the fanfic works: present, past, present, past, etc. So please remember the date and time so you know what is happening when.

Until next time (and please keep reading. I'm rather proud of this one)
Hobey-Ho!

P.S.: Comments help the writing process tremendously. I do love the "encouragement."