HM Prison Wormwood Scrubs; London 1919
A man with a curled moustache and a bowler hat walks in to the prison and is greeted by the warden.
"Dr. Watson, with what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?!" the warden asks.
"I'm here to pick up a certain Irishman! By order of Major General Holmes!" the man takes off his bowler hat.
"Guard. Take this man to block B, level 2, cell 21!" the warden orders.
"Yes Sir!" the guard answers "Follow me doctor!"
They walk quite a long way. On their way they pass some guards which Watson all greets with a nod. From some corners he can hear agonising screams which he tries to ignore as best as possible. After about 20 minutes they arrive at said cell, the guard on duty knocks at the door.
"Ay Paddy, you have a visitor!" he yells while unlocking the door.
Watson salutes as the door opens up.
"Sergeant Major Holmes, Dr. Johnathan Arthur Watson, at your service, I'm here to free you!" he says as the door opens to a man with shoulder long dishwater blonde curls and sideburns.
"Sherlock Conan Holmes, nice to meet ya, Doctor!" the young man extends his hand towards Watson. His Irish accent thick as he speaks.
Watson raises his brows and straightens the round glasses on his face.
"You must be one of me brother's lackeys!" Sherlock says as he limps through the door and after Watson who is already on his way back "Can you walk a little slower, a man is not what he used to be!"
"I see, you're dragging your leg behind you, I assume a wound from the war, from the looks of it, you were shot in the thigh! Here take this!" Watson hands him his decorative walking cane.
"Thanks!" Sherlock catches up to him.
As they pass the reception desk the warden comes forward.
"Mr. Holmes, a package from your brother arrived. I assume it's a suit!" he leads Sherlock into his office.
Sherlock unpacks the package and finds a neatly folded brown suit with a champagne colored waistcoat and a black bowler hat on it. He pokes the warden with the cane.
"Come on, feck off! Let me a little privacy. Ye creeps have watched me way too long!" he almost pushes the warden out the door "Chop chop, skedaddle cunt!"
After a couple of minutes he comes out of the office wearing the suit. The olive cravat contrasts the brown and the black of the hat is contrasted by the white shirt.
"Can we?!" Watson asks.
"Sure!" Sherlock limps towards him.
"Farewell, Mr. Holmes, hope we don't meet again too soon!" the warden says as the two men leave through the front gate.
"Same goes for you!" Sherlock says
"Fucko!" he adds as the gate closes. "Alright, where are we going?!" he turns to Watson.
"To my place! 221b Baker Street!"
"Fuck me sideways, that's bloody far!" Sherlock looks down at his leg.
"We ain't walking!" Watson says a little annoyed.
A car pulls up in front of them. They step in and sit down.
"221b Baker Street!" Watson orders the driver.
The car rolls on through the streets of London. They pass beggars and homeless trying to survive the day. Rubbish piled on the sidewalks next to debris.
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22|BB
FanfictionLondon 1919. Follow a young man on his ventures to solve mysteries that no other can solve.
