"CHECKMATE" The Beginning of Sherlock Holmes

Chapitre II

Once outside of the apartment, Sherlock knew exactly what he had to do: he was going to inquire about Grace, starting with her frequentations. He knew that the most efficient way to understand someone was to learn more about their relatives and their past.

The Archives were on the other side of London, and he was aware it would take him at least two hours to get there walking. But he didn't have that time, a girl was missing after all. Therefore, he got in a horse-drawn cart to cross the city.

During the journey, he looked outside: they were driving along the London Docks, some people were walking happily, laughing, others looked way more serious, possibly on their way to work. He also spotted a woman with her two kids taking a little walk. He realized that it indeed was a beautiful day and that if he hadn't had a case to solve, he would possibly be enjoying the sunshine too.

The driver announced to Sherlock they had arrived, bringing him out of his thoughts.

They were now standing in front of a large building. Three wide windows adorned the large facade in Portland stone and lighted the first floor. The door was framed by two stone columns and made of old wood surmounted by a window. He tipped the driver, climbed up the stairs and entered the library.

He had been here before, but the splendour of the room struck him every time. The ceiling was very high, decorated with large patterns and on the walls were shelves filled with thousands of books. The place was long and lit by big windows and several counters were aligned along the walls.

He headed to the archives section, in the back of the room. Sherlock was looking for the letter "A" and grabbed the folder with the name Anderson on it.

He spread the different documents on a table nearby. There were several basic papers like Hope and Charles' wedding announcement or the birth certificate of Hope and Grace. A detail caught his attention: the place of birth was stated in Chicago, America.

That's very curious, he thought, why would they have moved to England?

He was thinking about the different answers when he found two adoption papers. They were named after Bill and Judy Anderson. It seemed like Hope and Grace's uncle and aunt had adopted them in September 1857. More and more questions jostled in his head.

Why would the girls need to be adopted? What happened to their parents? Did they abandon them?

Sherlock went through the resting document and saw an old family photo. He took it to have a closer look. We could see the two parents smiling at the camera, Grace was laughing between them, but Hope seemed very displeased. He put it back with the other documents and continued his research.

His gaze fell on one paper in particular: a death certificate. It was dated from the 12th of September 1857 and stated the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.

The detective looked again at the picture; Hope didn't seem to be much more than ten years old. Matching the dates in his mind he figured out that it must have been taken around a year before her parents died.

Suddenly, everything added up in his mind. Hope and Grace were born in Chicago, where they lived with their parents until an unknown cause took Mr. and Mrs. Anderson's life. The girls were left alone and forced to move to England, where their last relatives Bill and Judy Anderson were waiting for them. Until then, they had been living with their aunt and uncle.

Sherlock thought he had learned enough and put the folder back on his shelf. However, he didn't know much about Grace's frequentation. He made a note to himself to ask Hope about that.

For now, he needed to find more about the mysterious foam on the teacup he had seen at Grace's place.

To do so, he decided to visit an old friend of his who was an apothecary. He was based only a few alleys away, so Sherlock only took twenty minutes to go there walking. A fresh breeze stroked his face as he entered the shop.

It was a very small room, quite dark, and the smell of hundreds of plants got into his nose, nearly giving him a headache. He couldn't see the colour of the walls as they were covered by a multitude of jars, each containing a different type of medicine. Right in front of him stood a blond-haired man, possibly in his fifties.

- Good afternoon Mr. Holmes said the man.

- Hello Mr. Nightingale, replied Sherlock, it's been a long time since we last met.

The detective and the apothecary had known each other for a while now as they had met during one of Sherlock's first investigations. It was a gentleman and Sherlock quickly figured out that, as long as you compliment him or flat his ego, he could give you anything you want. Since then, every time he needed a piece of information related to Mr. Nightingale's area, he never hesitated to give him a quick visit.

- Indeed, indeed ... But I presume you're not here only to enjoy my dear company, isn't it?

- You know me well, Edward.

The apothecary let out a little laugh before he spoke again:

- Well, tell me what you need then, and I shall do my best to help you solve whatever mysterious case you're inquiring about!

It was Sherlock's turn to laugh.

- You see, I found a quite interesting substance, like a foam, on a teacup. I had never seen something like it before and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the type of drink that was inside it. It triggers me a lot as I know it could be a key element in my investigation.

- I see what you mean. However, I will need more information to tell you with certitude what it could be. Maybe you could describe it more precisely?

- Of course: it was bright white, very aerated and had no particular smell. It could be the cause of fainting.

- Mmh, very interesting indeed, let me check

Mr. Nightingale turned over to face the jars and started to whisper incomprehensible words while searching for something. He then grabbed a little container filled with a liquid and turned again to face Sherlock.

- This, my dear, is morphine. It can be a soft pain killer or antidepressant if used in moderation, but also a very dangerous substance if you abuse it. It will drug you possibly until a phase where you're not conscious of anything around you.

You can spot someone who takes it quite easily: they mostly have shaky hands. Despite this, if you spill it in a drink, it will leave a little foam on the edges of the cup, just like you saw.

- You're a genius, thank you!

The other man made a little movement when lowering his hand, acting embarrassed but really enjoying it in reality.

- It's only my job!

- Well, you're doing it great! But more seriously, did anyone come here to buy you any morphine recently?

- Yes! A lot of people buy their medicine here, as I'm the only one in town and morphine is very popular within my customer base.

- Do you keep a track of your selling then?

- Of course!

- Would you mind if I'd take a quick look?

- Not at all, not at all! Do as you need, Sherlock.

- Thank you, Edward.

He took a notebook from the counter and handed it to the detective. Sherlock started reading the names that spread over the pages. He was about to abandon when one familiar name caught his attention next to the buying of a large amount of morphine:

Mr. Charles Thompson