Jack the Ripper: Sherlock

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This is based on a story from the second edition of Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street; Story XV Page 167 based in 1888
The next two chapters will all be based in 1880 so that will be John and Moriarty, if you want another 1880 based chapter for another character like Irene Adler or Molly Hooper or Lestrade I'd be happy to do it! Just comment here! ❤️


Another murder, a killing of many from the infamous Jack the harlot killer or otherwise known as Jack the Ripper. As a woman, it worried you travelling at night, though you were no harlot and came from a rich successful family it still did frighten you. However, you had nothing to worry about for long as it seemed your neighbour the great Sherlock Holmes and the current man you fancy.

"Y/n? Dear?" Your landlady, Mrs Hudson, had snapped you out of your thoughts of the current paper as you stared blankly at it. "Are you alright?"

"Of course she is alright, she is merely thinking, what is it that is on your mind, Y/n?" Sherlock moved his cupid bowed lips off his pipe to say this.

"Nothing, Sherlock, just a trifling thought... any news on the current set of murders engulfing the east end?" You asked quizzically.

"No... none at all, though I have a plan!" He sprung up off his chair and took your hand. "My dearest friend, Y/n, will you do me a favour and help me with this plan?" Friend huh? Well glad you know your place...

"S-sure," Oh how you wished you didn't agree...


"You want me to what?"

"I think you had heard me correctly, Y/n, I want you to dress up like a harlot and travel the streets of the east end,"

"Holmes, I don't think this is a smart idea..." You agreed with Watson as he doubted Holmes' plan.

"Yes, I agree with Watson, let us not go along with this," You put down the shaggy clothes which Holmes had given you and made your way out the door before Sherlock grabbed your hand and looked into your e/c eyes.

"Y/n... Please become a harlot to stop these gruesome murders. Only for a short while... you will even be paid... £1?" You sigh and take up the clothes.

"Very well,"


It was the night of execution and you had gotten into the very itchy and raggedy clothing. "Remember that you owe me £1," You sigh and ruffle up your hair and smear on lipstick.

"Of course, you look... lovely," You chuckle and put on your heels.

"No need to mock me, Holmes, I know I look terrible,"

"Let's just fix..." His thumb meets the edge of your lips as he wipes away a smudge. "There," You felt his warm breath as he fixed the retched necklace on your collarbone. His eyes meet yours and for a split second you saw dilation but he quickly averts his eyes to the figure at the door. "Watson, glad you have come,"

"Am I interrupting?" Watson's eyes shimmer with a smirk as he casts his gaze tonto you.

"Not at all, I was just going to go take my last walk," Watson chuckles and leaves the room, likely to hail a carriage.

"I will let nothing of the sort happen to you, Y/n," You blush at this as he lets you walk down the steps first, as a gentleman would.


"Help!" you cowered, banging on the door of the nearest home. The Ripper had you in his grasp, the blade near your stomach. His sickening grin shooting daggers of fear through you.

Just moments before your scream he had snapped open his little black bag and withdrew a razor-keen nine-inch long butchers knife. You had just breathed out his name 'Jack' to see his sickening smile and him to reply 'Jack the Ripper, Jack the Harlot killer' you screamed and ran away and back to this very moment you came.

"Drop the knife, Jack," Said Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street. You sighed in relief as Jack had you in a corner against a wall 8 feet high. In a swift motion, Jack's scarf was thrown to the floor by Sherlock's sword, jack covering his face with his arm. Jack drew his knife out further, little did he know he was up against Europe's most accomplished swordsmen. "Forfeit the game, Jack?"

All the Ripper did was shrug his broad shoulders. "What else can I do?" He growled. Jack goes to put down the knife but lunges at Sherlock, tackling him by the knees catching the detective off guard. Holmes hit his head on the stone pavement of the doorstep where you were. You tried to shake the detective awake but to no luck the Ripper had gotten off him it seemed as if all Hope was lost, Sherlock unconscious and you, a meters away from the nine inch blade. Suddenly a shrouded figure launches itself from above. Knocking the Ripper off his feet and onto the grimy pavement, delivering a smashing blow and knocking the blade away from Jack. Grabbing him by the shoulders the figure smashes the rippers head into the cobblestone wall. It seemed as if the killer had been knocked out cold, almost dead like.

"Oh my-" you had seen the identity of the Ripper, a friend in Scotland Yard, Anthelney Jones. You then saw the shadowy figure to be the faithful John Watson. "Watson!" You collapsed your arms around his neck and started to thank him. "Oh! Dear Holmes, he's knocked out cold!" You gesture worriedly to the figure on the ground. Taking out a flask from his coat pocket, Watson forced down liquid into Holmes throat, Holmes arose suddenly, grabbing the laid down knife, you sigh in relief, Holmes was awake, maybe not so well.

"My dear Y/n! Watson!" You blush and move a strand out of your face.


You sat by Holmes' bed for the next 24 hours as you had been worried sick. He had urged you to rest but you hadn't been bothered. Even Mrs Hudson had ushered you out after a few hours to run errands but you had refused. Holmes has what you would call a concussion, so he was on bed rest. The 24 hour mark had passed and Holmes had woken again. "Are you ok? Do you need anything?" He chuckles at your worried state.

"My dear y/n... have you not slept?" You shake your head. "I know you care deeply for me in this state and I you but do get some rest," he looks at your lips and smirks, with his thumb he wipes off lipstick and neatens your hair. His eyes meet yours, for a second as if in a book the world stood still, you lean forward and him too. Lips meeting, sparks of excitement and anxiety fill you, never wanting this to end.

"Ehem, I do believe I am interrupting this time?" Watson smirks and leaves the room you just blush.

"Y/n," Sherlock takes your hands and looks deep into your soul. "I have grown fond of you since day one and I apologise profusely for my wrong doing yesterday evening, I would like you to be mine," all you could do was nod and whisper of course. You stand up and excuse yourself, leaving, you squeal causing confused looks from Mrs Hudson and Watson to stare back at you.


Will do 1800 themed oneshots for Moriarty and John and more if requested.

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