Enigmatic |Sherlock Fanficton|

Chapter 18- The Abominable Bride Part 1

"Papers! Papers!" The news vendors shouted at every moment a new unfortunate soul walked by.

The door to 221B opened, and Mrs. Hudson scurries out, greeted with the sight of Marie Beckham, Dr. John Watson, and Sherlock Holmes who had his pipe in his mouth.

"Mr. And Mrs. Holmes, I do wish you'd let me know when you're planning to come home." Billy, the houseboy, hurries out from behind Mrs. Hudson and grabs the trios bags. Marie carefully stepped out of the cab, her dark red dress falling down once again as she was on the ground.

"We hardly knew ourselves, Mrs. Hudson." Marie wrapped her arm around Sherlocks. "That's the trouble with dismembered country spires- they're notoriously difficult to schedule.

Mr. Holmes clamps down on his pipe between his teeth, and then turns back to pay the cabbie.

"What's in there?" Bully asked, his speech directed towards Marie.

"Never mind." Marie said rejecting the young boys question. She watched as billy disappeared into the flat with their bags. Marie and Sherlock followed him in, their arms looped together.

"Did you catch the murderer, Mr. Holmes?" Billy set down the bags, and turned to them.

"Caught the murderer; still looking for the legs. Think we'll call it a draw." Marie begins to take off her hat and coat.

"And I've noticed you've published another one of your stories, Doctor Watson." Mrs. Hudson said as she turned to face John.

"Yes, did you enjoy it?" John also began to take his hat and his coat off.

"No." Replied Mrs. Hudson after less than a seconds thought.

"Oh?" John asked surprised.

"I never enjoy them." She said as she made her way back to the tall door, and closed it firmly.

"Why not?" John asked giving Marie a look, and getting nothing but a shrug from her.

"Well I never say anything, do I? According to you, I just show people up the stairs and you breakfast." Sherlock lastly hung up his coat and hat, and made his way back to Marie.

"Well, within the narrative, that is- broadly speaking- your function." Marie stated.

"My what?!"

"Don't feel singled out, Mrs. Hudson. I'm hardly in the dog one." Marie slightly laughed at Mr. Holmes' statement.

"The dog one?!" Watson said indignantly.

"I'm your landlady, not a plot device." Mrs. Hudson said, obviously upset.

"Do you mean 'The Hounds of Baskerville'?!" John said to Holmes, who is heading up the stairs with Marie.

"And you make the room so drab and dingy." Mrs. Hudson said as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, blame it on the illustrator. He's out of control. I've had to grow this mustache just so people'll recognize me. John replies, as he follows his colleagues upstairs.

Watson brought up two of the bags, and set them onto the coffee table that lie in front of the couch. Letting the bag go, he flexes the fingers of his left hand, then turns toward the living room where Marie is pushing open the curtains of the left window.

As more light floods into the room, a figure is revealed standing in front of the fire. Dressed in black mourning clothes and with a black veil over her face, the figure, apparently a woman, stands with her hands clasped in front of her waist.