Moor than Meets the Eye: a Sherlock Holmes fanfic (No Vacancy at 221c spinoff)

Arrivals and Introductions

A week of travel over land and sea alike brought the investigative duo to the doorstep of their long awaited client. The estate itself was large, but not gigantic. It towered three stories above the brilliant emerald flat and loomed into the blue sky in pillars of weathered stone. It was high noon at their arrival and the travelers were grateful to step into the shade that crowded around the home's entrance. A housekeeper, not a butler as a larger house would certainly have supplied, greeted the pair and rushed them inside over rich, dark wooden floors covered here and there in intricate rugs from far off lands. Another servant hurried by and collected their baggage, then vanished in a wink.

            "Do you have many guests here, Ms.-" John left the last bit hanging in question. He hoped his attempts at conversation might yield some valuable, though mundane information.

            "Mrs. O'Reilly - and no, I'd say we have company less than once a month," her twangy speech informed them. Her voice lowered as she led them past a large drawing room, and she paused before a closed door. "I dare call the gathering Mr. Murtagh had the night of the disappearance well, odd." She glanced behind her shoulder and rubbed her hands together fretfully.

             She was a not so old woman of perhaps 40, still strong in mind in spirit and quite upstanding as it seemed. A few curls of fiery hair escaped from her tightly braided pile and they framed her sun touched cheeks.

            The doctor glanced at his companion with a bewildered spark behind his bright eyes. "What do you mean-" He was interrupted.

            "Thank you for your information, I don't doubt we'll require your knowledge in the foreseeable future," Sherlock's quiet voice commanded rather than suggested.

            The woman was unmoved and held her head high as she reasoned. "Our good master has released many of the servants on a lengthy holiday and I shall be much engaged in an attempt to run this home with such sparse help." Her hard features softened quickly however. "But I should be delighted to help in any way I can, sir." Her face took on a thoughtful expression. "It worries me though, this whole mystery business. I don't like it, not at all." And with that she had escorted them through the closed door and disappeared in an air of authority and a ruffle of skirts.

            There was a moment of silence as Sherlock and John took in their surroundings and gazed at the walls covered in books from floor to ceiling. The ceiling however, was quite high and one could safely assume that it actually went into the second and third stories. Stairs led to walkways that rose up through levels laden with beautifully bound volumes that gave off a pleasant scent of ink and paper.

             "What do you make of her?" John looked up expectantly at his companion's face as he fell into a chair with a sigh.

            "We shall see, my friend, we shall see."

            The doctor frowned at the cryptic reply, but quickly smiled and rose as a door on the opposite side of the room opened to reveal a young, handsome man.

            "Do forgive me for the wait, I know you must be weary from your travels. I am, of course, William Murtagh," Their introductions were brief and coldly formal. His voice was so detached, his mind absent as if in a daze. Sherlock was having none of that.

            "I will forgive you only if you are deemed cooperative and helpful in my mind." He began to pace and clasped his hands under his half-closed eyes. "There is one thing that must be made absolutely clear."

            "You have only to speak the word." William seemed to have grown more alert and his eyes continued to flutter and flit over Sherlock and then John.