Prompt: Someone quotes Shakespeare, from Wordwielder

A/N: So, due to two particularly bad English teachers in middle and high school, I really, really do not like Shakespeare. My knowledge of any Shakespeare quotes is limited to the most famous ones...hence this story, built around one of the most famous quotes from Richard III.

My friend Sherlock Holmes was often prone to odd whims and fancies that came upon him strongly and on these occasions, no relief was possible save for the execution of whatever strange interest had taken hold. One such whim came over him while we were engaged in a case in Leicester, which I intend one day to write up as an entry in my story series. But, having an afternoon free after the denouement of the case, Holmes was seized with the desire to visit Bosworth Field, site of the Battle of Bosworth.

I was not very eager to accompany him on this outing. For one, in October the weather would be dreary and damp, as it always is in England, and I dreaded getting my shoes and stick wet traipsing through mud. For another, I had seen enough of battle in the deserts of Afghanistan, and saw little interest in viewing another field full of the dead of an earlier century's battle. Holmes, however, would not be deterred, so I duly followed.

The field was, as I suspected, a field. Little remained of any artifacts from the famous battle, and it was difficult to imagine that it had ever been anything other than a peaceful field with hedgerows and fences to keep out the sheep. I confess I do not know why Holmes was so intent on visiting. He was no great student of history, unless that history was of a criminal nature.

But my friend was staring out at the field as if he could see the fighters battling in their armor with their swords, as if the horses had only just left the battlefield. "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse," he murmured to himself.

I stared at him in some surprise. "I did not think you were greatly interested in medieval battles. Now you quote Shakespeare as well?" Holmes's knowledge of literature was eccentric, to say the least. He knew the names of authors in the niche fields of crime, chemistry, and violin music as if they were old friends. Of the most famous authors, those whose names are household words, he knew nothing. I had assumed Shakespeare was one of these.

Holmes laughed silently. "Of medieval battles, you are right, Watson. I know little of what transpired here in truth. But of Shakespeare, why, of course I know his work! Every actor does."

That Holmes had once acted on the stage, a profession not particularly well thought of, was less shocking than it could have been after several instances of coming upon him so well disguised I failed to recognize him even when right in front of me. It did not take a deductive master to work out that such skill, not only in acting but in the actor's art of makeup and costuming, had to have come from professional training.

"I did much acting in the lean years after I left college, while trying to set myself up as a consulting detective. The penny theaters saw not only my Julius Caesar, but my Henry IV, Marc Antony, Macbeth-"

"And Richard III," I supplied.

"Of course. How else do you think I learned to emulate a hunchbacked laborer so easily?" Holmes asked.

I recalled from my own reading of the play that Shakespeare portrayed the usurper king as hunchbacked. "You know, they say he did not have a hunched back," I remarked. "History is written by the victors, after all, and his victors had every reason to skew history against him."

"I shall make no theory on it," Holmes said. "It is a mistake to theorize without facts, and the facts can never be known in this case, unless Richard's body is someday discovered."

"Well, I doubt that shall ever be. His enemies made sure it was well hidden," I said.

"Perhaps," Holmes said. "I confess I have thought to trying my hand at the search at times. What a mystery that would be to solve, eh, Watson? A historical mystery has its own charms, separate from the criminal, and requires different skills it would be prudent to develop."

"It would be interesting, I suppose," I said. "But where to even start? Why, the site could be under a road, or beneath the cellar of a building."

"Precisely," Holmes said. "Well, perhaps in my retirement, after I have exhausted all the criminal cases that come my way. It is not urgent."

"He certainly is not going anywhere," I agreed. "Come, Holmes, let's go back and find a pub. It's getting chillier by the moment."

"Very well," Holmes said. "But, imagine, Watson, whether the pub or the inn, we might be right above the bones of Richard III and never know it."

A/N: History time! When Richard III's remains were discoverd in 2012 under a parking lot in Leicester, the bones indicated that he did have scoliosis, so that was not just his enemies making up stuff about him.