Here is all i have written for this story so far, plus a little more i have recently written =)
It was one warm summer afternoon at Baker Street when I was called upon by my friend Dr. Watson. The heat of the afternoon hung with the weariness of a long humid day, as if the air had been worn down by the day’s intense heat. Hot air blew and the trees flop away as if exhausted. The birds chirping added to the tired mood of the atmosphere as they chirped slowly with no apparent rhythm. I was in the middle of studying an array of newspaper articles for a case I was working on when Dr. Watson entered. He had a letter from Inspector Lestrade , informing me of a murder that had taken place at down at the Thames docks at around two-thirty that morning and that they were have difficulty solving the case and needed the help of my expertise. I took the letter from him and examined it for myself as Dr. Watson left me to my thoughts. At first read it seemed a typical murder case, but when I re-read the letter, and looked at its finer details I realized all was not what it seemed. The letter described the scene of the crime ‘as if the victim was mutilated by some beast’, yet they are quite sure this was the work of one of our fellow human beings. I went to my trusty companion Dr Watson to inform him of the situation. Dr. Watson has been by my side for years, someone I can always rely on to be there to back me up on a case, or there for me to be able to ponder my thoughts out-a-loud and think more clearly. Dr. Watson himself is a quiet man, a man of few words as some might say, though this works quite well for me. A loud companion would not be as useful. He seems to never question the actions or thoughts I take, and though asks for reasons, does not become disappointed if he receives none. I believe over the years he has grown accustomed to my ways and takes things as they come, and is now always ready for the unexpected as am I. I entered the small, yet cozy living room to find Watson studying the morning paper. The room was full of newspaper articles and clippings, evidence from past cases and some for leisure time. Bottles, jars and cups scattered around, some full of interesting miscellaneous items and scraps of leftovers. The clutter made the room seem even smaller and cramped, but it was how myself and Dr. Watson were use to living, scenes like this made us feel at home. I took the newspaper from his hands and replaced it with the letter. With no shock or surprise to the abrupt interruption, he immediately began to read the letter. His eyes moved quickly along the page and before a minute was up he put down the letter.
“Well Holmes, what do you think?”
“I think it’s an intriguing case. Seeming as if “mutilated by some beast” yet a human being, quite the query. This is going to involve some hands on work I believe, c’mon Watson”. After grabbing a quick stash of opium, my pipe and nothing else, Watson and I proceeded to Inspector Lestrande’s office.
Inspector G. Lestrade, a short stumpy man with plenty of energy to spare, but lacking in imagination and very conventional, bad traits if you ask me. A man known to be one of the best detectives at Scotland Yard, though a lot of this comes from taking credit for my accomplishes, not something that bothers me in the slightest though. I believe, though this man has no real crime solving skills of the sort, it is his determination that has brought him to his top ranks. I would not say that I loath the man, but I do dislike him.
Entering Scotland Yard I was greeted respectfully by various officers and acquaintances, “Afternoon Mr. Holmes”,
“How do you do Mr. Holmes”? With a nod of my head to everyone you passed by I headed to Lestrade’s office. Reaching the fine oak door that exclaimed “INSPECTOR LESTRADE” ignoring common social conventions, as accustom, I opened the door and walked in Lestrande’s office.
“Ah, course, Sherlock Holmes, should have known straight away it was you, who else doesn’t bother knock” noted Lestrade as I entered the room.
“Inspector,” I said as I took a seat in one of the chairs adjacent his desk “I received your letter about the murder suggesting it appeared to be the work of some beast, yet done by a human. I find this thought intriguing and wish to see the crime scene as soon as possible” plain and direct orders I found had always been the easiest way to communicate; I wasn’t one for chit-chat. Lestrade looked at me for a moment, not surprised by my upfront attitude, but still a little taken aback.
“Well of course, I can have myself or a few officers accompany you to the crime site if you wish” replied Lestrade.
“I’d much rather Watson and I attended the scene ourselves” I informed Lestrade.
“You know that can not be done; an officer must accompany you to the scene. It is merely precaution to make sure you do not tamper with the crime scene.”
“Honestly, do you believe me capable of such an act as stealing from a crime scene”? Lestrade looked at me, as if unsure to say what he was thinking.
“All the same, an office must be present with you.” Giving up trying to get my way I said, “Ahh, if they must”. I raised myself from the chair and began to leave. As I went to close I turned to Lestrade and dismissed him, “Lestrade” I said with a nod.
The next day myself, Watson a two police officers from Scotland Yard, arrived at the crime scene, the Thames docks. This side of London was quite the opposite of the other, full of slums, poverty and filth. It was probably not a shock to anyone that such a murder could occur here. Of course the body was long gone from the scene, but that could be attended to at another time, if even necessary. Entering the scene, to the normal eye, it looked just like an alleyway that you would except to find near the slums of London. Dirty, rubbish littering every corner, the brick chipped, missing and covered in god knows what. If there was a struggle you could never tell with all the rubbish already strew all over the place naturally.
“Where was the body found exactly?” I asked one of the officers.
“Just up there” one replied, pointing up the very end of alleyway. I walked to the end of the alleyway to inspect it, Watson following. Traces of blood where evident on the ground, garbage can knocked over with rubbish everywhere, possible the sign of a struggle, or just regular activity for this area. Looking at the wall I noticed a brick seemed to place loosely within the wall. Pulling at it, it easily removed itself from the wall. Looking at the end of the brick that had been within the wall I noticed blood all over it; a smart but risky way of hiding the murder weapon, while it was tricky to uncover, it was not impossible. The murderer would have been better off taking the brick with them.
“What did Inspector Lestrade conclude the murder weapon was?” I yelled out to the officers standing down the end of the alleyway. After a brief period of looking at each other in though,
“Ahhh, I don’t believe he did sir” replied one of them. I smiled to myself, “no of course not” I thought to myself.
“People say I’m quite the expert in finding clues others can not, but I personally do not think this is beyond anyone’s ability to find” I said to Watson.
“Well, Lestrade is a man who tends only to look right in front of him for answers, and if it is not there he does not find it” replied Watson. I nodded and continued to investigate the rest of the scene. Looking at the dried blood, it was easy to find where the victim had obviously been laying when hit, near the largest dried pool. Kneeling down near the pool, envisioning the body lying there, I noticed a small pink hairclip in the shape of a flower. Carefully picking it up, I examined it. With it being exactly where the body would have been I had to conclude that it was the victims, and due to the evidence’s nature, the victim must have been a young girl. Yelling out, once again the patience officers,
“The victim, was it a young girl, of maybe 16 or thereabouts?” The officers looked up the alley to me, astonished,
“Yes I believe so sir” replied one.
“If they knew how you knew that, I don’t think they’d be so intrigued anymore” said Watson cheekily. I smiled, but then frowned as I continued to look at the small hairclip.
“It is so horrible that someone could target such a young and innocent being, and in such a way” I remarked.
“Some people’s minds work very different to our own” said Watson. I put the hairclip in my pocket.
“We’re all done here” I yelled down to the policeman.
Back at our apartment on Baker Street, there came a knock at the door. Dr. Watson answered it to find my good old friend Dr. Jekyll standing at our doors step. Dr. Jekyll was an elderly man whose figure looked as if it had been worn down over the years. He always looked tired yet always had enough energy to make it through the day and keep a happy face to the world. His body, small and twisted looked so fragile that if a single flick hit him, his bones would crumble. Yet, he was a lovely fellow who always had his best interests at heart, but it seemed to me he was hiding something, but I wasn’t one to pry into people’s lives if they didn’t want me there. The way he held back this secret, it was as if he was ashamed and wanted people to know so he could get it off his chest, but also that doing such a thing would be detrimental to him and his reputation with those around him. Dr. Watson let Dr. Jekyll is after a brief hello and how are you. I motioned him over and to a low brown lounge chair that had become flat and squishy with age. Dr. Jekyll’s aged and wrinkled face smiled over at me.
“How are you my old friend?” I asked of him.
“I’m doing quite well Holmes, feeling a bit more tired everyday as age starts to catch up with me but I’m still here plodding along” he replied with a sincere smile. We sat in silence for a moment and I noticed a look on Dr. Jekyll’s face as he looked at the ground. His face told me something was bothering him, bothering him quite a lot in fact. I’d never seen worry such as this cross his face before.
“Is something wrong?” I asked him. He looked up at me. For a moment he looked at me, like a little child scared of what could be hiding in his closet, as if to alert me that something really was bothering him, but then he threw that look a way and plaster a smile on his face, as if warning me to keep it all a secret.
“What, I’m fine, never felt better,” he replied, “so…. Had any new and interesting cases of late?”
“Well, I had an old lady who was struck ill tell me about a mysterious lodger she had who’s face she said was hideously mutilated, quite like the description of this case, and was sure he had committed some kind of murder or other foul act. Then there was the man whose wife had disappeared, but most recently, just yesterday in fact a murder was brought to my attention.”
“Murders aren’t your usual calling” Dr. Jekyll pointed out.
“No, this is true, but the letter I received about the murder described it as ‘as if the victim was mutilated by some beast’. I think the odd nature of the case has dumbfounded the police at Scotland Yard and Inspector Lestrade, and when they have no clue what to do next they usually come knocking on my door” I explained. Dr. Jekyll looked a little taken aback by the description.
“As if mutilated by some beast that sounds completely awful!” he exclaimed.
“Indeed it does, but I was fortunate that when I went to the crime scene that the body had already been removed. Though in some instances the presence of the body would have been beneficial in providing me more clues for my investigation.” Dr. Jekyll nodded in agreement. I noticed as he looked around his gaze became looked on the pink flower-shaped hairclip that I had found on the crime scene, that was positioned on the armrest of my chair. The look was one of familiarity with the object.
“I found this hairclip at the crime scene when I went to investigate. It clearly points out that the victim was a young girl, which is a terrible shame. Does it look familiar to you Doctor?” I asked. The Doctor continued to stare at the hairclip for a few moments when he shook his head.
“No’ he replied while still staring intently at it. I wasn’t convinced.
“Are you sure Doctor?” he asked, keen to hear the truth.
“Well….” He hesitated, “for some reason it does seem familiar to me, extremely familiar. I’m racking my brain over and over again to try and place it but I’m coming up nothing. Nothing except that I’ve seen it before” he stated, now that I believed.
“Interesting. Well be sure to contact me if you do remember won’t you” I told him. He nodded his head.
“Well. I think I should be going now. Plenty of daily chores still undone” Dr. Jekyll said hurridedly as he got up from the sofa. I stood up with him and shook his hand.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you Jekyll”. He nodded. Dr. Watson opened the door for him. They said their goodbyes and Dr. Jekyll left. Once Dr. Watson had closed the door I sat back down. I picked up the small hairclip in my fingers and examined it, looking, as if I would find the reason for Jekyll’s familiarity with it the more I looked at it.
“Odd that. There’s something going on there that I don’t know about, and it would seem neither does Dr. Jekyll” I said to no one, but Dr. Watson replied as if it was directed at him.
“Yes I did catch that. It was quite odd”.