Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

VIII • 8

Josiah Stauffer was a decorated Major, well respected by his comrades.
He lived in a Victorian style mansion in east London.
Sherlock filled you in on everything else he knew about his client as your train made its way to Stauffer's home.

When you exited the station some time later, Sherlock bounded up the stairs to the street and hailed a cab, and you were in it before you knew what was happening.
Sherlock grinned at you, his face flushed with the cold.
"Almost there." He said.

The cab dropped you off at the end of a long driveway, Stauffer's mansion looming ahead.
As you approached the gigantic house, Sherlock observed every detail of your surroundings, having already switched back to detective mode. You could do nothing but gawk at the grandeur of the house.
The doors were mahogany dyed oak, solid and at least two and a half metres high. There were grand windows on either side, boasting stained glass.
Sherlock gave a sharp rap with the bronze lion knocker.
Within seconds, the door was opened by a butler who inquired of your presence.
"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. The Major beckoned me." Sherlock replied.
"And the lady?" The butler inquired further.
"My friend and assistant, Ms. Watson."
"This way, please." The butler pulled the door wider and gestured toward the hall. You stepped inside and the butler escorted you.
Painted portraits of past Majors lined the walls. You tried not to stare as you followed Sherlock and the butler down the hall.
Your escort stopped by a large room, showed you inside, then stationed himself by the doorway.
This room was equally grand, if not more.
The Major sat in a large chair by the hearth.
His posture suggested pride and leadership, although it was obvious that he was troubled.
"Mr. Holmes. Thank you for your prompt arrival."
"My pleasure, please elaborate on your dilemma."
The Major glanced warily at you. Noticing, Sherlock confirmed,
"Major, this is my friend and assistant (F/N) Watson. I assure you she is trustworthy. Whatever you say to me, you may say in front of her also."
"Very well." Stauffer nodded curtly.
Sherlock steepled his hands and closed his eyes, awaiting the Major's elaboration.
"It all started ten years ago. I had been Major of my regiment for only three months at the time. I'll admit, I had some enemies, they come with the position."
"Of course." Sherlock mumbled, nodding his head slightly but not opening his eyes.
"To me, 'enemy' really only meant someone who coveted my promotion. But when I got the first note, I knew something much worse was brewing. I tried to forget about it, convincing myself that it was just a prank. But then came the second and the third and the fourth. They continued, Mr. Holmes. "
Stauffer's face creased with worry.
"Tell me, please, what the first note consisted of." Sherlock requested.
"Of course, I'll never forget it. It said "'Mister Stauffer, if you do not transfer 16,000 pounds by Thursday, everyone will know.'" It was Monday, Mr. Holmes."
"Fascinating." Sherlock replied, opening his eyes for the first time.
"Excuse me?" The Major looked concerned.
"What's fascinating, Sherlock?" You asked, glancing at him.
"Why (F/N), it's obvious. The author of the note disrespected the Major, whether he meant to convey it that way or not."
You raised your eyebrows, silently asking him to explain further.
He sighed, as though he couldn't believe you didn't understand. "The note was addressed 'Mister Stauffer' as opposed to 'Major Stauffer'. Unless the writer wanted it to look that way, which is highly unlikely, he is quite disorganised. There is also the possibility that it was written by someone who knew the Major before he was Major, and therefore habitually called him by his name rather than his title."
Turning to address Stauffer, Sherlock asked, "The note mentioned something that 'everyone will know'. What is it?"
"That's the problem, Mr. Holmes." The Major looked increasingly worried, "I haven't the slightest idea."