Chapter 13: The Illustrious Client
*Back to Watson's point of view - my comfort :) * - I am also pulling some inspiration from the A.J. Raffles short story "A Costume Piece".*
For the past few days, things had been pretty uneventful at 221B. So much so that I was starting to get worried. No cases meant no money to pay rent here in the flat. Though I had recently gained some wages from writing my books and working at my office, Mary and I had been looking for a place of residence of our own. This only added to my worries for my dear friend. It seemed any client that came to us; the mystery elements just weren't enough in Sherlock's eyes. He had dismissed clients before but this was getting ridiculous. Miss Hudson threatened to kick Sherlock out if he didn't come up with the money soon. I didn't blame her harshness though. She didn't understand Sherlock's mood lately but that was because she didn't know the whole story - especially regarding Raffles. I decided to pull her aside downstairs and clue her in on what was going on.
"This Raffles character is that bad?" She asked me. I didn't tell her all of the details regarding him; just the small ones and about Sherlock's moments in the opium den days prior.
"Yes…I'm praying a good case will come soon."
She nodded and walked up the stairs to Sherlock's rooms. I followed behind her. With one look, she noticed the untidiness and her face grew red. She took a deep breath, exhaled and then spoke.
"Sherlock, I'm not going to hold the recent rent against you."
Sherlock was sitting at his chemical laboratory watching a beaker with great interest.
"Huh?" He said, turning toward Miss Hudson.
"Just call it a favor…that you will soon owe me," she said swiftly heading out the door.
Sherlock just shrugged and looked back at his analysis table. I walked over to the window and looked out. It made my heart ache that that man somewhere was no doubt causing havoc in some way. Suddenly, I saw a carriage stationed right outside our flat. Then, a well dressed man stepped out of the carriage. He appeared to be our next client and looked extremely wealthy. This could be the big case Sherlock was needing! He was a pretty large man with a pocket watch, an expensive broach on his lapel, and a walking stick. I turned around at Sherlock with a foolish smile on my face. He of course was too busy to notice and was still steadily working away on whatever it was he was studying. After a few moments, the man was outside our door and knocking. I rushed to open the door and greeted this new visitor.
"Hello, I am looking for Mr. Holmes," he said, removing his top hat.
"Yes sir, please come in," I said pointing at an open chair. Sherlock still hadn't turned around yet.
I cleared my throat. Nothing. I cleared my throat again and Sherlock finally turned. He looked the gentleman up and down; his eyes shifting in place. After a few seconds, he spoke. But with the response I was not expecting.
"Not interested. Go away," he said.
"But Sherlock you don't even know-" I began.
"Who he is…" He interrupted me. "His name is Reuben Rosenthall, an upper aristocratic alcoholic who is known for working diamond fields in South Africa. You've come to me most likely to protect something of yours…a jewel no doubt?"
The man who I now knew as Reuben Rosenthall appeared stunned. "I knew you were good, but not that good."
"Nonsense," Sherlock replied. "Your name is not unknown to high society…nor your occupation or wealth."
I was a bit offended. But of course, the circles one would have to be in to know Rosenthall's name were far above my pay grade scale. Rosenthall took out a wad of money; so great that I was sure that Holmes would take the case. However, he was still occupied with his analysis table.
"Please you have to help me Mr. Holmes. You are correct. I have two items of value that are under threat. My diamond stud and a diamond ring of mine are worth almost 50,000 pounds," he said, adding great emphasis to the 50,000 pounds part.
"What do you think Sherlock?"
My eccentric friend was still ignoring us. I sighed heavily and looked at our potential client. I told him that we would think about his offer and was showing him the door when he said something that made Sherlock rise from the table.
"I'm so sure that Arthur Raffles is the one trying to steal it," he said walking toward the door.
"Wait," we heard Sherlock call from behind us. "I'll take the case," he said, approaching us.
Rosenthall walked over to my friend and graciously shook his hand firmly.
"I truly appreciate Mr. Holmes," he said. "This is all my doing anyway. I should've kept my mouth shut about my luxurious diamonds, but after all they are most likely the most priceless jewels in existence…next to the crown jewels I mean."
Sherlock looked at his client with disgust. I couldn't blame him though. This man was actually rather arrogant. Rosenthall explained to us that he is holding a banquet at the Old Bohemian Club soon and wants us in attendance to make sure the diamond is kept safe.
"What makes you think it is in any danger," Sherlock asked.
"I have noticed two men that have been lurking around my mansion. I don't recognize the two but I have my suspicions. At past gatherings, I have spoken so highly of my valuables that Raffles jokingly stated he would try and steal it just for a laugh."
"How do you know he didn't say this in jest," I asked.
"Everyone in the upper circles knows that Raffles has done all sorts of schemes, I want to at least have the upper hand here."
I rolled my eyes. So this was just a game. A game of sport between a thief and a snob. Sherlock took notice of my reaction and looked in my direction and shook his head.
"Why come to me?" He asked.
"I don't trust nor like the police," he said. "So who better to win at a game of chess than the famed detective Sherlock Holmes?"
Sherlock went over to the lab table and began cleaning it up. I thought that he had been offended by what Reuben had just said, but then I realized it was a burst of energy - known to seize him just before a case. And with that Rosenthall gave us the address for the banquet tonight before leaving our flat. I looked over and noticed that Sherlock's face was twisted in frustration and he shook his head.
"What is it Sherlock?"
"Not only is that man an alcoholic, but he is a boastful man known to deal in shady business."
"Shady business?"
"Slave labor, prostitution, gambling - take your pick."
I gasped. "Slave labor?"
"Who do you think works in his diamond fields in South Africa?"
Confused, I asked Sherlock why we wanted to help such a man as this. Of course I already knew the answer…Raffles.
