SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

Prologue

London, England

Two liquid eyes peered past a young master, who waved a stick eagerly for a game of fetch. The tall figure hurled the stick across the empty field the pair occupied and watched it make a beautiful arch into the air and land into a shallow pond. The boy commanded his collie to go after it— however, the dog stayed stationary.

“What’s wrong, Robbie?” the boy asked, clutching his knees with his hands. He leaned down and looked his dog in the eyes. “Robbie?”

The collie lifted his haunches off the ground and walked forward in mechanical motions, ignoring all of boy’s inquiries.

“Robbie! Come, Robbie. What’s the matter with you?” The boy raced ahead of the hypnotized dog and blocked its pathway. However, the dog veered around him and continued towards the pond. Irritated at the strange behavior, the boy threw his cap to the ground and marched over to his school bag. He threw it over his shoulder and made his way to the main road where he intended to go home.

The moment his foot hit the pavement, the boy heard a dull splash that had him spinning around. In baited breath, the boy stared at the spot at where he had last seen his dog. “Robbie? Robbie!” The boy’s bag fell to the ground and he dashed down to the field where he tumbled beside his collie, half-submerged under water.

Pulling the limp and sodden body out of the water, the boy cradled the dog and broke out into loud, mournful sobs. After a moment or so, the boy laid the dog down and walked up to the road to retrieve his bag. His mobile was tucked in one of the pockets and he knew he had to dial for help. When he reached his satchel, he spotted a circular ring resting on top of his bag.

The boy narrowed his eyes and looked closer at the foreign object. He knew it hadn’t fallen on his bag because no piece of string could land in the perfect shape of a triangle.

 Cornwall, England

Dressed in a beautiful satin gown, the young duchess of England sat in her boudoir choosing the next outfit to wear that evening. Her servants hovered around her, making sure her hair was netted and styled and her face unblemished and blushed. The duchess was gorgeous with full pink lips, bright, expressive eyes, and a voice that could charm the angels.  The whole of England knew her as Alana Alexandra Simmons the IV. She was unmarried and twenty-two years old with no intentions of living a royal life—she would much rather spend her time riding her brother’s motorcycle and studying the history of motion pictures.

Though, sadly, she wasn’t encouraged to pursue those lifestyles and was coerced to learn about her ancestors, study for law, and consider marrying a fine gentleman that wasn’t after her wealth. Apart from her daily activities, Alana’s hobbies consisted of avoiding flashing cameras, tolerating interviews, and smiling through visits from suitors she turned down once she found out their rather low aspirations.

What the young duchess wanted most of all was to live a fast and furious life where she could chase after her artistic dreams and travel the world beyond Europe.  She was also a rational character, of course, and knew what was expected of her. She didn’t want to disappoint her parents or destroy her heritage; so, remembering her line in history, she performed the part of a duchess gracefully.  

All these thoughts were stashed, as usual, in the back of the duchess’s mind when her lady-in-waiting came in with an envelope.

“This just came in the post.”

Alana stood up from her chair, continuing to rub lotion on her hands, and asked in her light, but directive voice, “What is it?” She knew her lady looked at her mail before she opened it for security reasons and also because Alana trusted her. “Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth made a gentle shrug and handed the packet to her. “I don’t know. But security considers you consulting someone for answers. It’s nothing dangerous. Just…confusing.”

Alana took the envelope and peeked in. Not being able to see the object unless she turned the envelope upside down, Alana turned it over and shook it gingerly. Into her palm fell a piece of string braided together to form a circle.

“There are three dots on the string—all a few centimeters apart. One of the guards said it formed a triangle.”

Carefully, Alana placed the string onto her table and began separating the dots from one another until it formed a perfect, equilateral triangle. Frightened because she couldn’t understand it, Alana looked up at her lady-in-waiting and asked in a hushed tone, “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace. But we must consult someone.”

“Yes! We must!” Alana scooted her chair back and picked up a stack of newspapers. She placed them on the table beside the delivered object and flipped through their inky pages. She stopped when she came across her desired spread. “There, we contact this man.”

Elizabeth leaned in and read the title. She looked at Alana and then back at the paper. “Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why, yes! He solved many cases and has been quite successful. We shall give him a ring.” Alana stood up from her chair and hurried over to her iPhone beside her bed. She picked it up and began dialing the number at the bottom of the page before her phone rang. Alana jumped, but caught herself by placing a hand over her chest.

“Who is it?” Elizabeth asked.

Cautiously, Alana flicked the “reply” key over and placed the phone against her ear. She didn’t say anything, but waited.

Elizabeth pulled out her own phone and opened the line that connected with Alana’s. The two both stood and listened.

Then, in a rich and baritone voice, the caller said, “This is Sherlock Holmes. I am calling on behalf of my brother, Mycroft Holmes. Correct me if I am wrong, but there was talk of a bodyguard?”

“Oh, Mr. Holmes,” Alana said breathlessly, “I was just going to ring you. And indeed, I would like to set up a meeting about security. But at the moment, I am interested in something else and I hope you could help me.”

“A mystery already?” Sherlock mumbled from the mouth piece. “Well, we’ll talk about that when you set up an appointment. Good day.” With that, Sherlock hung up the phone, leaving the duchess with a loud dial tone.

“What a disrespectful young man!” Elizabeth declared, staring at her phone in disgust.

“Oh, never mind that!” Alana brushed off in excitement as she ran over to her desk. She pulled out her a calendar and clutched it close to her chest.  Through an uncontrollable smile, she sung, “Go make an appointment with Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson!”