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

Violet Duncan

Sherlock sat back in a stiff wooden chair resting in one corner of the bed chamber. He had shooed the army doctor off with the promise to get some rest, though John was quite obviously skeptical. While Mr. Watson was trailing through the endless halls to locate Mrs. O'Reilly in an attempt to become aware of the home's inner workings, Sherlock mentally planned the approach he would take in his quest to use his temporary anonymity to acquire the most vital information from the expected suspects.

"How cliché," the detective mused to himself when his mind had been decided, "I shall approach them one by one and make them feel rather at ease so as not to have any barriers a known interrogator would have to bother with. It's all quite like a detective novel," he added grimly.

He rose quickly, his long legs straightening to their monstrous length. Holmes was ready to burst into action, placing himself in a place ideal to his meeting of the homecoming excursion party when a rogue thought hit his mind of organized pathways and perfectly controlled imaginings.

I should like it very much if John were to join me.

He was spared the trouble of addressing this, when said - or thought - army doctor entered the room looking nothing but a bit weary.

Long travel, new environment, fatigue from physical exertion, excited/nervous due to uncertain surroundings and danger.

Sherlock explained the circles under his only friend's eyes in the flutter of his study's pale eyelashes that were only now visible due to the golden sunlight so rare in their own dark quarters.

"You're just in time to leave with me," announced the taller gentleman.

The response was reluctant, "No time for a rest? I've hardly had a moment to breathe since we left the train."

"No time," Sherlock confirmed, "only opportunity!"

The two made their way down the corridor and descended onto the main floor via an elaborate staircase of wood polished until it had no choice but to gleam like a star. The high ceilings gave way to a cool breeze and a blue sky sailing above the manicured gardens. Somewhere behind one of the many hedges the sound of snipping sang from a gardener's shears as it forced the greenery to yield to its bite.

"Have you lost interest in the perplexing issue of rooms so quickly?" John quizzed as the topic came to mind.

He was hastily hushed and dragged towards a small table with seats for two and pushed down into the chair with enough force to cause his hat to re-position itself in a rather humorous manner. He looked to Sherlock in bewilderment, but began to play along as he spotted a stout blonde woman - with a hat so overflowing with feathers that it would put a rainforest bursting with flying creatures to shame - coming towards them in a huff.

A short glance and a nod later, the duo had engaged in a mock conversation over the author so-and-so and the atrocious price of such-and-such. They rose in synchronization as the young person - Violet Duncan - passed. "Can we help you, ma'am?" inquired Watson, incorporating a charming tip of the hat and the smallest of bows into his proposition.

"Well..." her smile brightened and she became as sweet as honey at the doctor's attention.

Sherlock frowned.

"I was looking for my gloves, Felicity had been holding them for me, but she is oh so forgetful sometimes and seems to have forgotten my favorite silk pair in the garden this morning!" The edge returned to her voice.

Sherlock interjected, "Are you normally losing or misplacing things, Ms.-"

"Violet, Violet Duncan and of course not! I have half a brain. Come to think of it I don't believe you have even introduced yourself, sir." Her words held a mistrusting venom. This soon vanished when it was explained that they had come to investigate the disappearance.

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, um, I do believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, so to speak. Wouldn't you agree?" A breathy laugh. A few failed attempts at renewing a positive first impression were attempted and then abandoned as Violet excused herself in a hurry.

The pair watched as Miss Duncan made her exit in a flurry of plumage.

"She seemed to appreciate your graces," commented Holmes dryly.

"You certainly owe me for that favor; with any luck she'll allow me a bit of peace in the evenings."

Sherlock's lips crinkled up in the tiniest of smiles. He waited patiently, knowing John would soon try to name the reason for this encounter.

"I have it. I have found out the meaning behind your brief interrogation!" announced he. "As the letter dictated, Violet left a small book in the garden - 'forgotten it' were the words or something to that effect. She, however, seems to have just disproved that theory. So we have found an inconsistency. Am I correct in saying so?"

"Most definitely. However-"

"However? There is more?"

"John, did you see Ms. Duncan's hands? They are not ones used to the finest silks nor gloves of any kind for that matter."

"It was a lie? That can't be, she had no clue who we were. Why lie to stranger?"

"You become quite the equivocator when foul play is involved. There is, in that woman, more than meets the eye, Watson. You may quote me on that."