Little Sherlock chapter 1Sherlock Holmes was an odd duck. Everybody said so. Teachers generally gave a sigh of relief when he left their classes. Other students avoided him like the plague. Of course, they had all loved his older brother. Mycroft was just a dear. What had gone so...strangely...with his little brother?John Watson, aged 12, surveyed the classroom as he was presented in front of it. So normal. He barely noticed the dark haired boy at the back, bent over something on his desk. Mrs. Hudson put her hands on his shoulders in a motherly fashion to introduce him."Class, this is John Watson. He's just come back from a mission trip to Asia. His sister Harriet is a 5th year. I expect everyone to be welcoming and respectful to him. You may take a seat now, John." John glanced around the room, looking for an open seat. "There's a free desk ju
Fortune Cookies"Care to make a guess?""Hm...Your mind is ingenious and you learn easily." Long fingers cracked the cookie open."Well?""...You have a sense of the dramatic and a tendency towards display."John sniggered."What?""Nothing, nothing. Predict mine?" Sherlock sighed."Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow." John split his cookie."You tend to draw out the love in others." John snorted and tried to hold in his giggles."Really, John. What is so amusing?""Oh. Um. It's quite childish, really. When we were kids, me and Harry used to think the words 'in bed' after every fortune cookie. See which ones were the funniest."He received a blank stare."Well, I didn't expect you to get it, it's just something that I thought of.""I get it, John. I just don't find it funny." John shrugged."To each their own. Open your next cookie.""Eat your fruits and vegetables to stren
Long Title is Long Sweenlock 3The Rather Nasty Business on Fleet Street or: The Story of Watson's Mustache Chapter 3 (final)The next two days blurred together in a rush of faces and useless names. Holmes was intent upon finding Johanna's origins, and became more and more intrigued when they did not present themselves easily. He also became desperate to find the old beggar woman. I could barely keep up with him as he ran from place to place, interrogating shopkeepers, orphanage workers, and beggars. Toby came about late the second day with little news about Johanna. Holmes told him to check mental asylums, and asked him about Mr. Todd. "I don't 'ave much to do wiv Mr. Todd, truth be told. I mostly work for Mrs. Lovett, cleaning and whatnot. There's been a lot to do, recently. She's re-opening the shop, see? We've been remodeling. Should be open by the end of the week, way we've been at it.
Long Title is Long Sweenlock 2The Rather Nasty Business on Fleet Street or: The Story of Watson's Mustache Chapter 2The next day, Toby Ragg arrived at our door near lunch-time, short of breath and carrying a grungy sack. I imagined it to contain all of his earthly possessions. Holmes beckoned him upstairs to interrogate him."An explanation is in order, young man.""I'm dreadful sorry, Mr. 'olmes, sir. But you see, I found new employment yesterday. Signor Pirelli dismissed me from 'is service. I've only now gone and got my things from 'is cart." Ragg indicated his sack. "Now I'm running errands for Mr. Todd.""I hope that I am not the cause of your dismissal?" asked Holmes, prompting the boy to continue. "Oh no, sir! Well you see, Signor took me along to Mr. Todd's establishment, seein' as 'ow 'e got 'is arse 'anded to 'im in the contest that morning. 'e went to pay off 'is wager. Well, I waite
Long Title is Long Sweenlock 1The Rather Nasty Business on Fleet Street or: The Story of Dr. Watson's Mustache Chapter 1It was a foggy and dismal morning in April. I had walked into the sitting room of the flat at 221b Baker Street to find it as a battlefield; papers and miscellany strewn about the place. I found my flatmate sitting on his haunches, deep in thought, presumably over the bowl of purplish liquid sitting before him. He looked quite disheveled, his hair uncombed and his clothes covered in stains and rips. I judged that it was best not to disturb him, and attempted to clear a space upon the table. I went in search of my own tea; Mrs. Hudson certainly did not need to see this mess. When I returned with two cups of tea, it was to find Holmes pacing about, the contents of the bowl now a part of the rug. He had evidently kicked it over in frustration. "Good morning, Holmes," I said. "Discover anything groundb