Hello all! I did not forget about this challenge, but I have had scarcely any time to devote to it. so I begin as most of you end! Enjoy the below!
1. From goodpenmanship: empty prison cell.
I fear my narratives may occasionally paint him as unyielding and particular, and in some ways, Sherlock Holmes was an iron-willed man. In others, he was far more tolerant than his critics may give credit for. One such time was his partnership with Shinwell Johnson, during which I must confess I was the more doubtful partner.
I was eating jam and toast when Holmes entered the sitting room and brightly asked me if I was game to begin a journey to Isle of Wight.
"The Isle of Wight?" I repeated. "For what purpose? Would it be foolish of me to hope we are going on holiday?"
Holmes laughed. "It is not my way to holiday without being forced, as well you know, Watson; but perhaps we can do some ambling after I attend to the business that prompts me to travel to the island."
"And what is the business?" I asked, intrigued. "A case?"
"Ah, I wish! More so the leg work necessary for cases future. I have received some word from an inmate at Parkhurst, and I have written the warden and obtained permission to speak to the man."
"An inmate? Are we familiar with this inmate?"
"Indeed we are! Do you recall Shinwell Johnson?"
"Indeed I do," I grimaced. "We were much younger men. Is he not serving some time for assault and smuggling? If I recall, his iron fist would've crushed your nose if not for a well-placed punch of my own."
"Yes, and gratitude to you for that; he was once an enforcer for LeMarch, and danced with some quite unruly characters. All in all, a dangerous man at the time, and a worthy opponent when the LeMarch operation fell to my investigation. However, his letter was meek, and introspective. He struck me as a declawed kitten. Prison can change a man beyond recognition, Watson. Call me soft, or perhaps just curious, but I am quite interested to see what he wishes to tell me."
"Very well," I remarked. "I will make arrangements with the practice, and accompany you. A tiger may be just a kitten with iron bars around it."
Holmes and I traveled to the Isle of Wight, and rather than heading pleasantly to the sea, tucked away our belongings in our rooms and made quick passage to Parkhurst. It was an unsettling place; though Holmes kept his easy wit, I felt unhappily guilty to be walking free among its foreboding walls. The warden had arranged for Shinwell Johnson to meet us in a small room, sparse but for our chairs.
"Well, I am pleased to see you," Johnson cried out, roughly. "I did not think you would remember me…and maybe not so fond, like. And you too, Doctor. Sorry for, er…" he gestured weakly towards me. In spit of myself, I felt my lips twitch with a half-smile.
"Oh, Porky Johnson," Holmes said, not unkindly, "I am hard-pressed to forget a man whose path has crossed mine as yours has. I was interested by your correspondence. You are still as bold as ever, even caged."
"I've been in jail too long," Johnson said, with air of bitter sadness. "My life has been cold, Mr. Holmes; I'm sure you may scoff, but I did what needed doing, I thought…well, anyway. Two terms will change a man, and my time's almost up, now. I don't fancy a third."
"And I understand you have a proposal for me?"
"Listen, I know you get up into all sorts. Not just with the Yard. Gossips and rumors and underworld whispers. I have connections, and I'd like to offer them to you, in exchange for a little security. I want to stay honest, truly, but a man like me isn't meant to be banker or a secretary. I have other skills."
"I would be naive to think your skills would not be useful to me," Holmes replied. "You are correct that my work takes me down some murky paths indeed, and the underworld is an ever growing maze even I am pressed to follow at times. The eyes and ears of someone who can be my Ariadne is attractive. What is security to you, then, Mr. Johnson?"
"A promise of a little copper and a little bit of support should my path lead me to the Yard," said he. "I would not ask ya to lie, or do anything dishonorable; just to vouch that I'm alright, underneath the scruff."
Holmes tapped his hands together thoughtfully, then put out his hand. "I am amenable to it. Watson can serve as our witness, to hold us both to task."
"I am obliged to say that I see your utility, but I will hold you more than accountable if I sense your intentions faltering during your course," I warned him, extending my hand myself. Porky shook it with great zeal.
Johnson left Parkhurst one month later, and arrived at Baker Street with his hat brim low and a slip of paper with his address. Holmes gave him the first of his payments, and Johnson grinned and slipped out the door and in the crowds quickly. No empty prison cell waited for Johnson; he straddled the line of underworld dweller and upright partner admirably for many years to come.