SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

So it Begins

“Normal place, Mr. Watson?” a waitress asked.

Glancing up at the girl, John replied sharply, “Yeah, sure. Ta.”

The girl sauntered off to the back of the room and placed a menu on a table set for one. “Would you care to drink anything?”

John yelled over the thudding music, “Just water! I’m only staying for the show!”

The girl gave him a wink and disappeared into the mass audience.

Fidgeting and clearing his throat more than what was necessary, John sunk down in his seat, crossed his arms, and waited for the show. Soon, the music faded and the lights dimmed. Everyone who had been dancing settled down into their seats and fixed their eyes on a large, circular platform. When everything was quiet, an exotic beat filled the room and the satin curtain was pulled aside. There in the center of the platform crouched six girls, all surrounding the lead dancer who leaned seductively against a pole.

John scanned the room, eyeing each spectator. When the music picked up, John turned his attention to the stage and watched as the girls performed their number. The lead girl, whose face was decorated heavily in glitter, swayed her hips and slowly stepped down from the stage. The spotlight flooded on her and followed her as she made her way around the audience.

Men grabbed at her and made attempts to touch her, but she gave them a fierce look that sent them back into their seats. After she teased a few, she looked over at John and predatorily made her way to him. The men adjacent to John cursed at him and declared madly at different times, “Why him again?” “Come on, baby girl, give me some time!” “You don’t want none of that, sweet girl!” “He always gets the lead girl!”

The girl ignored and planted her palms on the table, leaning in, she gently bit John’s ear and whispered, “You want to hear a secret?”

John blushed and replied, “Tell it to me somewhere else, love.”

The girl slid onto the table and straddled John. To support herself, she flattened her hands on the wall behind John, making sure they were far enough so that her face was in line with his. “Mr. Watson, does your wife mind you being here?” She passed a finger over his eyes and then interlocked her hand with his.

Meeting her lips, John whispered, “I don’t think she does. Now, let’s go somewhere where it’s quiet.”

The girl helped John from his seat and the two exited the audience and into the backrooms. In a rather hurried manner, the girl flung open her room and pushed John inside. She shut the door behind her and took him roughly by the collar.

John peeled the glitter off her face and gave her a firm kiss on the lips. Pulling back, he said through a soft smile, “Would your wife mind? Oh, Alana, that was a good one.” He leaned in and gave his disguised wife another kiss.

Making a small curtsy, Alana said, “Well, I had to think of something sexy to say to you without being disgusting. Also, I think the others girls are getting suspicious every time I bring you back here.”

“Never mind what they think. What was the discussion this time?” John led her to the bed and they both took a seat.

“Well, Charleston, Foster, and Derby came this time. Alexander didn’t. I overheard them talking about Eric Rawlings, and how they believe he’s on to them. And they also talked about that they may have to transport their supplies some place in India. That’s all I heard. However, I got Charleston good and drunk last time, we got a bit frisky, and he foolishly trusted me with this.” Alana stood up from the bed and went over to her dresser. Carefully, she pulled out a sealed envelope.

John’s interests perked and he kept his eyes glued on the elongated envelope until it was placed in his hands. Observing it cautiously and tilting it in all angles like he’d seen Sherlock do, John tried to deduct it.

“He told me that it was for the ‘Russkies’.”

“Russians. So, the Russians are playing into this American scandal? This should make the case more interesting for our dear Sherlock.”

At that, there was a pounding knock at the door, sending John and Alana scrambling to their feet. Alana flustered about, wondering what she was to do. She stared at John, pleading for suggestions.

In a loud enough voice so that the person outside could hear him, John shouted, “Oh, you lovely girl! Do it again! Oh, that’s so nice!” He whisked Alana towards the door while he continued his acting. “Right there, oh yes, bloody hell!”

Alana dashed onto the bed and ruffled it up before doing the same to her hair. She motioned to John to talk louder while she hid the envelope in her dresser’s door.

Stopping in mid-sentence, John looked at Alana. “How long to do I do this?”

Alana reached for the door and whispered back, “Keep talking dirty, you naughty ol’…thing.” She opened the door slightly and peeked through the crack. It was one of her dance partners, notifying her that she should return to the stage. In impatient whispers, Alana promised her that she would come out.

“Well, hurry, the men are getting wild!” John overheard the dancer say before she left.

“All right, thank you, hun,” Alana said, shutting the door. She latched it and turned to John. Sighing, she walked up to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “This is so exhausting. And I only get to see you twice a month.”

“I’ll see if Eric can pull you out sooner. We may have all the information we need.” John stroked her cheek and passed a light hand down her bare back. He kissed her gently, not breaking it until he felt her shiver under his touch.

“I love you,” Alana said breathlessly. She looked up into his pale blue eyes and smiled a smile John had never seen on her before. It was soft, innocent, and confident. The kind of smile one would wear when everything was perfect and all that it should be.

John rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Little did he know that when he’d open them, Alana’s body would be slumped in his arms; a steady stream of blood trickled over his hand. Her heart beat no longer harmonizing with his. Wakening up to the sights and sounds around him, John spotted three, full-bodied men crowding the door way. They were all shouting at him and brandishing their hand guns.

Not having time to weep or fight, John stood where he was, completely shocked at the seconds that had just happened.

One of the men went up to John and grabbed him about the throat. In a gargled voice, he demanded, “The whore delivered you a message. Where is it?”

John wanted to glance over to the dresser he had seen her place it, but he held himself back and said, barely audible, “I don’t know where it is.”

“You’re lying!” the man sent a hard blow across John’s face, sending him to the floor. Not giving John a moment to recover, he popped him on the back of head with the butt of his hand gun, blacking him out. “Charleston and Derby, take Dr. Watson outside. Search the room—don’t leave until we find it.”