Shades of Baker Street
Dr. John Watson sat in what was once Holmes’s room. When he started this business of consulting with the Yard he redid it and turned it into a sort of office. He was currently staring at a glass of wine, while usually like any Englishman he enjoyed a glass of sherry or port, maybe a good brandy on occasion, this wine was unique. It was the same year as what he and Mary drank on the day he proposed to her and the day they married. He pushed it to the side when he heard Ms. Hudson knocking on his door. “Come in” He said in a gruff voice, he cleared his throated and repeated himself in a much more polite and kind tone.
Ms. Hudson entered; she was the Daughter of Mrs. Hudson and had currently taken over for her mother while the Elder Hudson was sick. She was about to speak, but upon seeing the glass of wine on his desk an admonishing look crossed her face as she said sternly “ Doctor, you know you have guests arriving today, get yourself cleaned up and presentable.” She then left soon after, In truth it was only after she reminded him that he remembered. He gave a glaring look at the bloody Ad that Lestrade had convinced him to send out for help. It read:
Help Wanted
Dr. Watson of 221 Baker Street is looking for assistance, with matters concerning Scotland Yard.
Specifics will be explained upon arrival.
After gazing at the ad for a few moments his eyes traced the path of his hand as he reached towards the glass of wine he had pushed aside only moments ago. He stopped as one of the numerous things littering the desk caught his eye. It was a clipping about the Killings at the Tower, They were strange ones, even Inspector Baynes, one of the few in the Yard whose skill nearly rivaled Holmes’ own, could make neither heads nor tails of it. He sighed for a moment and shook his head. His hand and eyes continued their journey before stopping one more. Another Article had caught his eye, one of the more controversial ones.
While like many of the others it praised Holmes for his genius, it also criticized him for his many strange habits. Watson chuckled and smiled one of his rare smiles, as he remembered one of his friends many eccentricities. He had shown up into this very room and Holmes had been drinking what appeared to be Embalming fluid. It turned out it was just gin in an old bottle, Holmes liked playing jokes like that on occasion, to see what the slower and methodical Watson’s reaction would be.
As his mind was drawn back to the present Watson sighed again, and grabbed the bottle of wine. He put it under a false panel in drawer in the desk he was sitting at. He left the glass of wine on the desk and stood up, He did need to tidy up the room and himself a bit. Downstairs Ms. Hudson was waiting for the guests to arrive. She straightened up as there was a knock on the front door, signifying a guest had arrived. She opened the door and the man said “ 'ello, luv, name’s Ralph Blakely, ‘ere in response to the Doc’s callin me back bout the Ad.” She nodded and let the man in, his name and description was on the list that the Doctor had given her, of those who had passed the interview the week prior.
Ralph Blakely
One week ago
Ralph looked at the ad in his hands, before looking at the address of the building in front of him. 221 Baker Street, it read, the address was known to many, as the former home of the late great Sherlock Holmes. He was one of perhaps many answering Watson's call for assistance. Ralph was tall and well-built and had all the markings of a former Pugilist, he was formidable, this would be rather surprising if one knew his true age, was only of 20. Many thought he was older due to the permanent stubble and broken nose he sported. He knocked on the door and was let in, by Dr. Watson himself. While the older man was shorter, he was no less well built and his eyes spoke of experiences.
Ralph followed the Doctor into a room on the second floor that served as Watson’s office. As he took a seat, the other man sat across from him. Watson asked various questions, although Ralph wasn’t exactly smart or intuitive he could guess that the questions were meant to determine whether the person would be useful to Watson. Although he wasn’t a genius he could tell plenty about a person by looking at them. He used this in his fights, it was one of the reasons he was successful as a pugilist. As he left 221 Baker Street, Watson said to him “I will contact you next week if you qualified. Thanks for showing up.”
Present time
Ms. Hudson led Ralph to a room on the first floor that had been converted when Mrs. Hudson moved out, due to her illness. As he entered, he noticed that the room was rather bare, except for the numerous chairs in it. The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. At the back of the room behind the chairs, there was a bar set up. When he entered the room after her, Ms. Hudson said “ Take a seat, the others should arrive soon, there is a bar at the back, if you’d like a drink.” He nodded and as she left he took a seat near the wall and next to a window.
One Week Ago,
Whitechapel
A lone woman in a bloodstained dress was limping frantically down an alleyway in the Whitechapel district in London. She had left the flat she shared with an old friend earlier that night, as the friend was bringing a man home. She liked to be out when the other woman brought her business home. When she arrived at the flat less than ten minutes ago, she found her friend dead and a cloaked figure crouching near the prone form. The man slashed at her with his knife, and caught her leg, but she was able to escape nonetheless.
When she looked behind her and saw nothing, she started to breathe easier. She looked forward and in the distance she saw a Constable walking away. A wave of relief washed over her and she started slowly walking forward, dragging her injured leg. Suddenly she saw a flash of Black and she felt a hand clamp over her mouth as she was tackled to the ground. The cloak figure straddled her and she saw a flash of silver in the moonlight. Her last thought was ‘How did he get in front of me?’
Some Time Later
The cloaked figure stood up after finishing his work, and wiping his blade on her dress. He turned towards the west as a gust of wind blew towards him. He dropped the knife into a makeshift sheath and caught the piece of paper that had been blown towards him. It was the newspaper, specifically the one that had the ad that Watson had put out. As he flipped through it momentarily, he smiled at the ad. He said seemingly to himself “This should be fun, We was saddened when Holmes left us alone.” The cloaked figure then let go of the paper, which was caught on the breeze once more. He turned down the street and was soon swallowed by the shadows, his cloak billowing behind him.
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