Haunting the Shadows

Meeting

The world in England in 1880 is nothing short of adventures. With the second Afghan War having just ended, a sea of soldiers flooded the streets of London, their futures unsure and bleak. Some of them with damaged health, either mental or physical. It is during this time that a young vetern Doctor, John Watson, meets an odd gentleman by the name of Sherlock Holmes. Shortly after arriving in London, Watson runs into an old friend Mike Stamford, mentioning to him that he was in need of a fellow lodger. Stamford found himself having the same conversation twice in one day. So he takes Watson to the underground mortuary.

As they walk through the tunnels they see a man repeatedly and violently flogging a corpse with a walking stick. "Good lord!" Watson watches the man through the window of the room.

"It's an experiment, apparently." Stamford continues down the hall, "beating corpses to establish how long after death bruising is still possible."

Watson watches the man, growing more and more uncomfortable, as he continues to flog the corpse. Soon, Watson turns and limps after Stamford, "is there a medical point to that?"

Stamford waits for his injured friend to catch up to him, "not sure."

"Neither am I. So, where's this friend of yours, then?"

Stamford stops at the door to the room, Watson takes a few more steps before noticing his friend isn't beside him. Turning back to him, then realizing that the friend is the man flogging the body. Stamford opens the door, followed by Watson, "Excuse me!"

The man begins to flog the corpse even faster. Watson calls out to him loudly, "I do hope we're not interrupting."

Giving the corpse one last violent lash, the man blows out a breath and turns. He quickly looks down the length of Watson's body, "you've been in Afghanistan, I perceive." He turns away, reaching into this waistcoat, retrieving his pocket watch.

"Doctor Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Stamford looks between his two friends.

Looking to his watch, without turning, Holmes tosses his walking stick to Watson, who instinctively catches the cane. Holmes turns back with a smile, "excellent reflexes, you'll do."

"I'm sorry?" Watson looks from the cane to Holmes, a bit confused.

"Mike, you wouldn't have happened to run into Madison on your way in, did you?"

"No, we weren't lucky enough to see the beauty today," Stamford shakes his head.

"Who?" Watson shakes his head.

"Madison Moriarty," Holmes straightens up a bit, rather proud of the information he has yet to share. "My love, no doubt the finest woman in England."

"You're engaged?"

"Unfortunately, I do not have the promise of Madison's hand, nor do I suspect I ever will. But she is well off on her own, thanks to her brother, who is a Maths Professor. I have my eye on a suite of rooms near Regent's Park. Between us we could afford them."

"Rooms? Who said anything about rooms?"

"I did. I mentioned to Stamford this morning I was in need of a fellow lodger. Now he appears after lunch in the company of a man of military aspect with a tan and recent injury, both suggestive of the campaign in Afghanistan and an enforced departure from it." Holmes takes a breath, after listing off this information in a quick fire manner. "The conclusion seemed inescapable." Holmes flicks a quick glance at Watson, then lowers his eyes with a small smirk. "We'll finalise the details tomorrow evening." Holmes walks past the two, dawning his coat and hat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hanging in Wandsworth and I'd hate for them to start without me."

"A hanging?"

"Madison and I take a professional interest. I imagine she is waiting on me as we speak. I also play the violin and smoke a pipe. I presume that's not a problem?"

"Er, no, well..."

"And you're clearly acclimatised to never getting to the end of a sentence. We'll get along splendidly and Madison will be very fond of you. Tomorrow evening, seven o'clock then." Holmes goes to leave, before turning back to Watson, "Oh, and the name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street.

Watson and Stamford stand in the room, as Holmes leaves. Once he is gone, Stamford glances over to Watson, "yes, he's always been like that."

"How does a man like that have a fiance?" Watson looks over to Stamford.

"I'm not sure." Stamford shakes his head, "I'm also not sure why the lovely Madison is with him when he has no intention of making her his bride. But they seem to be happy."

"Seems rather inappropriate."

"They are at the root of no end of gossip, believe you me."