A Consulting Detective, Ex Army Doctor, and Child Mercenary Walk Into A Room

Chapter 1: The Great Game

A couple of weeks have passed since I've made acquaintances with Sherlock and John. I had just finished framing two complete oil paintings. One was of Sherlock and the other of John. Since then, interesting things always happened in our flat. More people came over for Sherlock to solve their mysteries. I had gotten used to the craziness of it all.

Today, Sherlock took me to the police station in Belarus. He said that he wanted to show me someone who was an idiot in hopes of me learning something of it. "You're a growing girl Lune. You need to learn things. But only the important ones."

The assembly room in the prison looked a bit like a spartan schoolroom. Lots of chairs and tables with a Beluras flag in the corner. We were sitting opposite of a shifty-eyed man in an orange jumpsuit. Sherlock looked tired and the man's name was Bezza. "Tell me from the beginning," said Sherlock. Bezza took a breath before he spoke.

"We'd been to a bar. Nice place. I got chatting to one of the waitresses and Karen weren't happy. So when we got back to the hotel we ended up having a ding-dong, didn't we? She was always getting at me. Saying I weren't a real man."

"'I wasn't a real man,'" I butted in.

"What?" he asked. He looked puzzled.

I rolled my eyes. It was all just simple English really. "It's not weren't, it wasn't." Sherlock sighed. "Go on."

"Well, I dunno how but suddenly there was a knife in me hands. My dad was a butcher so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast -"

This time Sherlock decided to interrupt. "Taught. He taught you how to cut up a beast."

"Yeah. Well. Then I done it."

"Did it," Sherlock interrupted again.

"Did it. Stabbed her! Over and over! And I looked down and she weren't -"

Sherlock and I frowned. Here comes the wrong grammar.

"- wasn't moving no more -"

Our disappointment probably just skyrocketed.

"- anymore? God help me. I don't know how it happened but it was an accident. I swear it! Look, you've got to help me, Mr. Holmes. Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this."

Sherlock stood up and motioned for me to do the same. "Come Lune. we must go." We started for the doors when Sherlock turned towards Bezza. "No, no, no Mr. Bewick. Not at all. Hanged, yes." Sherlock smiled as we walked outside.

"Lune what did you learn about Mr. Bewick's silly problem?" "That you shouldn't drink and get angry. Also, mind your grammar. It can be very annoying." Sherlock nodded gravely. "Retardedness does come to all of us and I'm hoping you'll get past that Lune. Though I've never experienced it in my life." I snickered at Sherlock praising himself high and mighty.