Book of Secrets

The Detective's Apprentice (Posted on Gotham_Girl)

Title: The Detective's Apprentice

Genre: Fan Fiction, Mystery/Suspense, Action, Comedy

Description: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are at it again, but this time, they have an Apprentice. Vanessa Watson, taken in by John Watson when she was a baby after her entire family was killed in a fire, now she looks up to and respects both Watson's and Holmes' professions. She's learning how to be cunning like Holmes but witty like Watson. When a new enemy poses a threat, she's unaware how big this game she's been sucked into really is. Can she managa the life of Holmes or will the fires of hell come back for her?

Piece:

“Vanessa!” Mr. Holmes yelled from upstairs. I quickly grabbed the trey of tea and ran up to his quarters, knowing to knock before I enter.

“Yes Mr. Holmes?” I said, entering the dark room, the shades were pulled closed and the only light was from an old chandelier, half the lights burned out. It smelled of gun powder and a light layer of smoke filled the room. I coughed, the smoke making my lungs itch.

“Vanessa, do you smell that?” Mr. Holmes asked, sitting in his old, worn out chair, his back to me. I sniffed the air, only to inhale more smoke that made me cough.

“No, Mr. Holmes, I don’t. Unless you’re talking about the gun powder and smoke.” I coughed, trying to set the trey down anywhere in the cluttered room.

“That dead smell. Something died in here.” He stated, standing up from his chair.

“You mean again?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Huh,” he turned to face me.

“Dr. Watson’s dogs, the frogs, your macaw, the cat, the mice, the rat, take a seat, it might take a while.” I smirked, enjoying the satisfaction of shaming Mr. Holmes.

“So it seems, well, can you get rid of it?” he asked, taking a drag of his pipe. 

“I guess, Mr. Holmes.” I sighed, grabbing the broom. I used it to move large piles of random items aside, trying to find what poor thing died this time. I moved a small table of glass aside to find Dr. Watson’s poor bull dog.

“You killed Dr. Watson’s dog again.” I sighed, wrapping little Henry in an old blanket.

 “I was simply trying out a new anesthetic.” He replied, looking at a vile of blue liquid.

 “It doesn’t work.” I said plainly, picking up Henry. “Dr. Watson’s going to be furious.”

 “He doesn’t have to know. Just say Harold-“

 “Henry,” I corrected

 “Just say Henry ran off to join the circus.” He shrugged.

 “Alright,” I drawled, doubting Dr. Watson would actually believe that. I carried the dog carcass out of the room and down the stairs, just as Watson himself walked in. I let out an aggravated sigh; I really didn’t want to be the one to tell him Holmes killed his dog again.  

“Well good morning, Vanessa.” Dr. Watson said cheerfully, smiling down at me. “What do you have there?” he pointed at the bundle in my arms.

 “Your dog, Mr. Holmes was trying a new anesthetic. Obviously, it didn’t work. Sorry about Henry, anywhere special you’d like me to bury him?” Watson let out a sigh, shaking his head.

 “Next to James would be great. Thanks, Vanessa.” He nodded, storming up to Mr. Holmes’ room. I tucked Henry under my arm as I grabbed the shovel by the door and walked out back. I stopped at the line of small animal graves that lined the back fence. 

I placed Henry down and began shoveling besides James’ grave like Dr. Watson asked. When it was deep enough, I placed the bundle in the hole and began shoveling dirt back on top. I grabbed a stone and marked the spot, Dr. Watson would surely want to make a proper head stone later on. I walked back to the house, placing the shovel back by the door, and walking to the sink to wash the dirt off my hands.

 “Vanessa!” Mr. Holmes yelled. I shook off my hands and headed towards the stairs.

 “No thank you, Vanessa!” Dr. Watson yelled. I froze at the bottom of the stairs.

 “Vanessa!” Mr. Holmes repeated.

 “No, Vanessa!” Watson yelled louder.

 “Vanessa!” Holmes demanded even louder and more sudden. I rolled my eyes, heading up the stairs.

 “No need, Vanessa!” Watson yelled as I entered the room.

 “Yes sir?” I asked, leaning in the door way.

 “Don’t call us sir. You’re an apprentice, not a maid nor a housekeeper.” Dr. Watson said, staring at me sternly yet caringly.

 “Yes sir,” I replied, already realizing I had said it again.

 “Vanessa.”

 “Sorry Dr. Watson.” I said, bowing my head slightly.

 “It’s alright, dear, no need to be sorry. Now, Holmes, since you’ve troubled Vanessa, care to tell what you called her for?”

 “Ah yes, could you go to the bakery a pick up some bread?” I rolled my eyes, beginning to head to the market until Watson grabbed my shoulder.

 “Holmes!” he yelled.

 “Watson!” 

“She’s not your errand boy! You’ve been stuck in here for three months, why don’t you go to the market yourself?”

 “No, it’s fine. I have nothing better to do anyway.” I shrugged, exiting the room. I hurried out, grabbing my black cloak by the front door and giggling quietly to myself, listening to Holmes and Watson argue about God knows what now.

 A thin layer of clouds loomed above, making the sun a bright silhouette. Hooves clattered against the stone road, horses dragging along heavy carriages in pairs. People casually strolled around, minding their own business as a group of kids played a game of rugby in the middle of the street. I took a short cut and walked down an alley, the buildings blocking out the sun, making the alley dark.

 “Good day, madam. Would you like a bouquet of roses?” A scraggly man grinned, holding out a bouquet of red roses.

 “How beautiful,” I gasped, reaching for the bouquet when another man came up behind me, holding a knife to my back.

 “Care to empty out your pockets, ma’am?” he hissed in my ear. 

“No thanks,” I smiled before spinning around, snapping his wrist and taking the blade. I kicked into his chest, sending him into the wall and falling unconscious. I turned back around and threw a punch smack in the middle of the man’s face. He staggered back into the wall, clutching his bleeding, most likely, broken nose. I put the blade against his cheek, grinning at him, his nose gushing blood.

 “Nice try,” I ran the blade across the side of his face, pulling his wallet from his coat pocket. I grabbed the bouquet of roses, sniffing them. “They’re lovely,”  I smiled sweetly. Leaving the man scared, I exited the alley and across the street to the bakery, the proud grin still planted on my face.