Fanfiction : The Little Details Part 2/3
Title: The Little Details Chapter 2 : New Dog, New Tricks
Author: Kiminoloko
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and mentions of Mycroft Holmes and Wiggins
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 1,557
Summary: Holmes and Watson travel back to Mycrofts estate to solve the murder of a young boy
Disclaimer: Still don't own, dammit
Big thanks to C.J for editing for me!! And hugs for everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I love you all
Sorry I was late posting this, next chapter will be up sooner.
First Chapter can be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/holmeswatson09/645764.html
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Sherlock let out a sigh, pulling the thick blanket closer. In his arms, he felt Watson shift around him, sitting his chin on Sherlock head.
“Morning, Holmes” Watson grumbled, keeping his eyes closed against the morning sunlight, which filtered through the open window.
He received a grumbled from Sherlock in response, more out of tiredness than laziness.
Wriggling out of Sherlocks hold, John swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, only to find himself pulled backwards, landing sideways over Sherlocks stomach, who had a grin splashed over his sleeping face.
“Mmm, no,” He grumbled “Stay” Opening both eyes slightly.
“Sherlock, we must get up” John urged, getting up from the bed again, moving to his suitcase at the right of the room.
Rolling over, Sherlock frowned as John moved away. Must get up? Why must, he pondered. Wiggins had arrived early yesterday morning with a telegram seeking their assistance in a town not far from Mycrofts country estate. Even though both men had set off as soon as they could, they hadn’t arrived at Mycrofts estate until well after the sun had set, and it was needless to say both were thoroughly exhausted. Why Watson thought they should lose further sleep puzzled the detective as he watched John finish getting dressed, his braces snapping shut with a click.
“Come on old dog, it’s not like you to want to sleep. Not sick are you?” John said lightly, ruffling Sherlocks hair, before stepping out the door.
“No” He responds as he rolls off the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No offence Holmes, but your brother really is a little suffocating at times”
Nodding in response, Sherlock continues along the side of the road. Alongside him, Johns cane moves parallel to his bad leg.
“But we can be thankful to him for putting us up at such short notice, though I suspect he’s just happy to see you, you don’t visit enough” John continued, rambling along as he had been for the most of their walk.
“True, but as it was Mycroft who recommended us to our client, it is not too unexpected.” Sherlock responded “And I visit. It was not less than four months ago that I visited, due to someone,” he says, jabbing a finger at Watson “Pulling me out here.”
Laughing, Watson only grinned in response, before checking the slip of paper with the address of their client’s house that Mycroft had handed to him as they were leaving.
“It appears we have arrived” He stated, stopping at the gate to a small cottage, which sat underneath a large tree with thick branches splayed out above the roof, shading the house.
“Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes! Oh, and Mr. Watson too!” Called a frantic maid as they stepped through the gate, latching it shut. The hurried woman rushed them inside, her red hair bobbing around as she took their coats “Come inside, quickly. Everyone’s here”
‘Everyone’ turned out to be a group of 5 people. There was a tall male figure, standing to right of the door, two females, another male sitting to the left of the room and a small boy sitting cross legged on the floor. Stepping into the room, the tall male nodded at their presence.
“Morning Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson, I’m Inspector Berkley. I’m sure you’re aware why you were asked to help shed light on this case” He said grimly. Watson tipped his hat, shaking the inspectors hand.
“Actually, we know nothing of the case, only that it was a suspicious murder” Holmes said, as the older of the two women in the room began to weep. The other girl, the elder woman’s daughter, judging from her looks, began to comfort her, the crying eventually dropping to quiet sobs.
“Our son, Timothy Barkers,” began the victims father, a dark haired man who gestured to the unsettled woman “He left to walk along the river on Monday morning and didn’t return. His body was found on Wednesday, three miles downstream from where he was last seen.”
Pulling out his clay pipe, Holmes lit it, sticking it in his mouth as his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“And the suspicious nature of this case..?” He asked, glancing at the Inspector
“When the body was found, it was most notable that he seemed to have sustained damage to his chest, possibly caused by a harsh shove.” Inspector Berkeley stated grimly “It is also clear where he fell in from foot marks showing a scuffle between Timothy and another person.”
“The last person to be seen with him was Michael Greenwood.” The father said, glaring at the small boy who appeared to be no more than ten years of age. His clothes were as scruffy as his brown hair, which stuck out at odd angles that reminded Watson of how Sherlocks hair often sat on most mornings.
“We had a fight, sir” the frightened boy began, shaking as he spoke “But it was only words we fought with, I didn’t touch him at all. I ran off after a while, and didn’t see him after that.”
“You didn’t see anyone near the river who could have pushed Timothy?” Watson queried, his forehead frowning.
“No, no-one was there apart from us," The boy replied. "It was just him, myself and Roger, his dog, sir”
The boy looked across the room to a fawn Whippet, whose fur was pale with grey hairs. ‘Roger’ was slim and bony, not appearing to have much muscle or energy, as he lay curled up sleeping on a stray cushion on the floor.
“Roger’s the only dog our boy trusted, Mr. Holmes. Wouldn’t touch any other mutt.” The father said, watching as the dog shifted in its sleep.
“So you’re certain you saw no one else, boy?” Holmes questioned, taking out his pipe to speak”
“Sure of it, sir.”
“Right, could you show me where the boy fell in?” Holmes said, replacing his pipe as the Inspector led him outside the grim cottage.
“I can’t show you myself, as I have other work to attend to, but follow the river upstream until you come to a rock with scratches etched into it” He said, pointing to a clearing in a group of trees which led to the river. “That’s where he fell in.”
Pulling on his coat, Watson blinked against the winter sun as the inspector walked away.
“Certainly is odd. Don’t suppose the boy could have just fallen in?”
“Hmm, it is a possibility. But facts before theories, old boy, don’t forget that.” Sherlock replied, taking Watsons arm with a grin as they started towards the clearing.
Reaching the clearing, they turned right. The added shade of the trees only made reminded the two of winter’s presence, which wrapped around them in a cold blanket as they followed the river upstream. The river itself was only a few meters across, six at the most, but its depth was impossible to tell from a glance, the water bubbling over rocks randomly scattered along the rivers path.
“Gah!” Watson started, as he felt something collide into the back of his legs. Turning sharply on the spot, he raised his cane against his chest in defense, only to set its base on the ground again as he realised the ‘something’ was the previously dozing hound, Roger, who wagged his thin tail in greeting at the pair.
“Well hello, you clumsy old thing” Watson laughed, bending down to pat the dog, who wagged his tail furiously at the attention.
“Hmm, no.” Sherlock frowned, bending down next to Watson to inspect the dog closer.
“No? You mean to say you don’t think he’s clumsy?” Watson laughed, grinning as Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him
“No, I mean no as in I don’t think he can be classed as particularly old.” Sherlock noted, gently holding the hounds muzzle in his left hand as he brushed at it with his right. As he did, flecks of flour fell from the dogs’ snout, causing the dog to sneeze violently at the ground. Shaking itself off, the dog caused a cloud of white to escape from its fur causing both detective and doctor to sneeze.
“Well, it seems you’re right, Holmes.” said Watson, standing as he helped the detective up, whose focus was on the now not-so-grey-haired dog that grinned with an open mouth at the pair.
“Indeed Watson, he seems to be younger then first though.”
Resuming their walk, the dog followed the pair, only stopping occasionally to sniff at plants. Reaching a flat patch of ground Holmes paused, noting the rock the inspector had told them to look out for.
“Hmm, a shame.” Holmes said, shaking his head “There’s been rain recently, it’s washed away any foot marks the scuffle caused.”
“Though I wouldn’t have wanted to fall from here.” Watson noted, peering over the paths edge to the river below, which bubbled furiously over jarred rocks that stuck up over the waters surface. “You don’t suppose the chest marks were caused by hitting them front on” he asked, pointing his cane in direction of the rocks.
Holmes opened his mouth to respond but found himself cut off by the cry of a young boy.
“Sir, sir, wait sir.” The voice called hurriedly, soon revealing itself to belong to Michael Greenwood from in the cottage, who ran towards them at speed. “I must tell you sir.”
“What is it, boy?” Holmes asked, grabbing the flustered boy by the shoulders as he stopped before him.
“Sir, I lied sir. I lied at the cottage”
~~~Wheeee cliff hanger~~~
Reviews are love, and if you spot any mistakes i've made, please point them out to me :)
Author: Kiminoloko
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and mentions of Mycroft Holmes and Wiggins
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 1,557
Summary: Holmes and Watson travel back to Mycrofts estate to solve the murder of a young boy
Disclaimer: Still don't own, dammit
Big thanks to C.J for editing for me!! And hugs for everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I love you all
Sorry I was late posting this, next chapter will be up sooner.
First Chapter can be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/holmeswatson09/645764.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sherlock let out a sigh, pulling the thick blanket closer. In his arms, he felt Watson shift around him, sitting his chin on Sherlock head.
“Morning, Holmes” Watson grumbled, keeping his eyes closed against the morning sunlight, which filtered through the open window.
He received a grumbled from Sherlock in response, more out of tiredness than laziness.
Wriggling out of Sherlocks hold, John swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, only to find himself pulled backwards, landing sideways over Sherlocks stomach, who had a grin splashed over his sleeping face.
“Mmm, no,” He grumbled “Stay” Opening both eyes slightly.
“Sherlock, we must get up” John urged, getting up from the bed again, moving to his suitcase at the right of the room.
Rolling over, Sherlock frowned as John moved away. Must get up? Why must, he pondered. Wiggins had arrived early yesterday morning with a telegram seeking their assistance in a town not far from Mycrofts country estate. Even though both men had set off as soon as they could, they hadn’t arrived at Mycrofts estate until well after the sun had set, and it was needless to say both were thoroughly exhausted. Why Watson thought they should lose further sleep puzzled the detective as he watched John finish getting dressed, his braces snapping shut with a click.
“Come on old dog, it’s not like you to want to sleep. Not sick are you?” John said lightly, ruffling Sherlocks hair, before stepping out the door.
“No” He responds as he rolls off the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No offence Holmes, but your brother really is a little suffocating at times”
Nodding in response, Sherlock continues along the side of the road. Alongside him, Johns cane moves parallel to his bad leg.
“But we can be thankful to him for putting us up at such short notice, though I suspect he’s just happy to see you, you don’t visit enough” John continued, rambling along as he had been for the most of their walk.
“True, but as it was Mycroft who recommended us to our client, it is not too unexpected.” Sherlock responded “And I visit. It was not less than four months ago that I visited, due to someone,” he says, jabbing a finger at Watson “Pulling me out here.”
Laughing, Watson only grinned in response, before checking the slip of paper with the address of their client’s house that Mycroft had handed to him as they were leaving.
“It appears we have arrived” He stated, stopping at the gate to a small cottage, which sat underneath a large tree with thick branches splayed out above the roof, shading the house.
“Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes! Oh, and Mr. Watson too!” Called a frantic maid as they stepped through the gate, latching it shut. The hurried woman rushed them inside, her red hair bobbing around as she took their coats “Come inside, quickly. Everyone’s here”
‘Everyone’ turned out to be a group of 5 people. There was a tall male figure, standing to right of the door, two females, another male sitting to the left of the room and a small boy sitting cross legged on the floor. Stepping into the room, the tall male nodded at their presence.
“Morning Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson, I’m Inspector Berkley. I’m sure you’re aware why you were asked to help shed light on this case” He said grimly. Watson tipped his hat, shaking the inspectors hand.
“Actually, we know nothing of the case, only that it was a suspicious murder” Holmes said, as the older of the two women in the room began to weep. The other girl, the elder woman’s daughter, judging from her looks, began to comfort her, the crying eventually dropping to quiet sobs.
“Our son, Timothy Barkers,” began the victims father, a dark haired man who gestured to the unsettled woman “He left to walk along the river on Monday morning and didn’t return. His body was found on Wednesday, three miles downstream from where he was last seen.”
Pulling out his clay pipe, Holmes lit it, sticking it in his mouth as his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“And the suspicious nature of this case..?” He asked, glancing at the Inspector
“When the body was found, it was most notable that he seemed to have sustained damage to his chest, possibly caused by a harsh shove.” Inspector Berkeley stated grimly “It is also clear where he fell in from foot marks showing a scuffle between Timothy and another person.”
“The last person to be seen with him was Michael Greenwood.” The father said, glaring at the small boy who appeared to be no more than ten years of age. His clothes were as scruffy as his brown hair, which stuck out at odd angles that reminded Watson of how Sherlocks hair often sat on most mornings.
“We had a fight, sir” the frightened boy began, shaking as he spoke “But it was only words we fought with, I didn’t touch him at all. I ran off after a while, and didn’t see him after that.”
“You didn’t see anyone near the river who could have pushed Timothy?” Watson queried, his forehead frowning.
“No, no-one was there apart from us," The boy replied. "It was just him, myself and Roger, his dog, sir”
The boy looked across the room to a fawn Whippet, whose fur was pale with grey hairs. ‘Roger’ was slim and bony, not appearing to have much muscle or energy, as he lay curled up sleeping on a stray cushion on the floor.
“Roger’s the only dog our boy trusted, Mr. Holmes. Wouldn’t touch any other mutt.” The father said, watching as the dog shifted in its sleep.
“So you’re certain you saw no one else, boy?” Holmes questioned, taking out his pipe to speak”
“Sure of it, sir.”
“Right, could you show me where the boy fell in?” Holmes said, replacing his pipe as the Inspector led him outside the grim cottage.
“I can’t show you myself, as I have other work to attend to, but follow the river upstream until you come to a rock with scratches etched into it” He said, pointing to a clearing in a group of trees which led to the river. “That’s where he fell in.”
Pulling on his coat, Watson blinked against the winter sun as the inspector walked away.
“Certainly is odd. Don’t suppose the boy could have just fallen in?”
“Hmm, it is a possibility. But facts before theories, old boy, don’t forget that.” Sherlock replied, taking Watsons arm with a grin as they started towards the clearing.
Reaching the clearing, they turned right. The added shade of the trees only made reminded the two of winter’s presence, which wrapped around them in a cold blanket as they followed the river upstream. The river itself was only a few meters across, six at the most, but its depth was impossible to tell from a glance, the water bubbling over rocks randomly scattered along the rivers path.
“Gah!” Watson started, as he felt something collide into the back of his legs. Turning sharply on the spot, he raised his cane against his chest in defense, only to set its base on the ground again as he realised the ‘something’ was the previously dozing hound, Roger, who wagged his thin tail in greeting at the pair.
“Well hello, you clumsy old thing” Watson laughed, bending down to pat the dog, who wagged his tail furiously at the attention.
“Hmm, no.” Sherlock frowned, bending down next to Watson to inspect the dog closer.
“No? You mean to say you don’t think he’s clumsy?” Watson laughed, grinning as Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him
“No, I mean no as in I don’t think he can be classed as particularly old.” Sherlock noted, gently holding the hounds muzzle in his left hand as he brushed at it with his right. As he did, flecks of flour fell from the dogs’ snout, causing the dog to sneeze violently at the ground. Shaking itself off, the dog caused a cloud of white to escape from its fur causing both detective and doctor to sneeze.
“Well, it seems you’re right, Holmes.” said Watson, standing as he helped the detective up, whose focus was on the now not-so-grey-haired dog that grinned with an open mouth at the pair.
“Indeed Watson, he seems to be younger then first though.”
Resuming their walk, the dog followed the pair, only stopping occasionally to sniff at plants. Reaching a flat patch of ground Holmes paused, noting the rock the inspector had told them to look out for.
“Hmm, a shame.” Holmes said, shaking his head “There’s been rain recently, it’s washed away any foot marks the scuffle caused.”
“Though I wouldn’t have wanted to fall from here.” Watson noted, peering over the paths edge to the river below, which bubbled furiously over jarred rocks that stuck up over the waters surface. “You don’t suppose the chest marks were caused by hitting them front on” he asked, pointing his cane in direction of the rocks.
Holmes opened his mouth to respond but found himself cut off by the cry of a young boy.
“Sir, sir, wait sir.” The voice called hurriedly, soon revealing itself to belong to Michael Greenwood from in the cottage, who ran towards them at speed. “I must tell you sir.”
“What is it, boy?” Holmes asked, grabbing the flustered boy by the shoulders as he stopped before him.
“Sir, I lied sir. I lied at the cottage”
~~~Wheeee cliff hanger~~~
Reviews are love, and if you spot any mistakes i've made, please point them out to me :)