Fic: Missed Connection: Gen
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holmes_minorTitle: Missed Connection
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Summary: Holmes and Watson unmask a swindler pretending to be a dead fiancee, but all is not what it seems.
“…before I was a soldier, I wanted to go on the stage,” confessed the young man after Watson had given him a hearty shake. “I was good, too. Everyone said so.”
“But you decided to apply your theatrical talent to the role of this young lady’s dead fiancée, visiting, in phantom costume, the newspaper office to submit the messages in the Missed Connections column of that daily publication,” said Holmes. “Show her your finery.”
Watson released his vise-like grip on the scoundrel’s neck and gave him a shove toward the wardrobe.
“Oh!” gasped Holmes’ client. The young lady threw both hands up to cover her face as the soldier’s uniform was presented. In the dim shadow of the room, the raiment gave off an eerie glow. The young lady’s eyes went wide, then rolled back into her head, and she slumped against her friend-companion.
“If you dust it with a phosphorescent powder, well, it has a nice effect at night,” mumbled the young man sheepishly.
“The fog didn’t hurt either,” added Watson grimly. “Really, it was very professionally staged if someone wanted this woman to believe her fiancée was communicating with her from the grave—and using the Daily Stamp to do it!”
“But how did you know what kind of messages to put in the Daily Stamp?” accused the companion who passed the weight of her friend to Doctor Watson. “How did you know all those details? Henrietta said they were things only Charles would’ve known.”
“This is something I, too, would like to know,” admitted Holmes. “You must’ve had information directly from the source.”
“Charles and I served together before he was killed.”
Watson frowned. “Holmes, that’s…”
“Impossible, yes, different theatres of operations, and the timelines are wrong,” said Holmes.
“That’s all I’m saying,” insisted the young man. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Apart from entering a newspaper premises without authorisation, what you did may not have been illegal,” said Holmes. “The young lady is of age and is free to dispense her moneys as she saw fit, but it was immoral, and Watson and myself, not to mention Miss Northington, here, will make very certain you feel the consequences via whatever channels we have. Now, tell me: how did you know the intimate details of Miss Henrietta’s relations with her fiancée?”
“You won’t believe it.”
“Try us.”
“They were written in by her fiancee’s ghost in a journal by my bed.”
“What?!”
---
“Gotcha!” cried Holmes.
“CHARLES!”
Henrietta swooned for a second time that day. Luckily, this time Doctor Watson caught her as she tumbled down the ladder to the attic.
“Reports of your death have been exaggerated, Captain,” said Holmes dryly. “So, you’ve been living in this attic mouse-hole and sneaking downstairs to plant suggestions into your puppet-accomplice’s journal. You’re fortunate he’s so suggestible and unscrupulous.”
“He’s a pawn. They’re all pawns in my game!” The bearded fiend cackled loudly and shook his fists.
“Yes, well, I think this is checkmate,” said Holmes. “Bedlam awaits.”
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
Summary: Holmes and Watson unmask a swindler pretending to be a dead fiancee, but all is not what it seems.
“…before I was a soldier, I wanted to go on the stage,” confessed the young man after Watson had given him a hearty shake. “I was good, too. Everyone said so.”
“But you decided to apply your theatrical talent to the role of this young lady’s dead fiancée, visiting, in phantom costume, the newspaper office to submit the messages in the Missed Connections column of that daily publication,” said Holmes. “Show her your finery.”
Watson released his vise-like grip on the scoundrel’s neck and gave him a shove toward the wardrobe.
“Oh!” gasped Holmes’ client. The young lady threw both hands up to cover her face as the soldier’s uniform was presented. In the dim shadow of the room, the raiment gave off an eerie glow. The young lady’s eyes went wide, then rolled back into her head, and she slumped against her friend-companion.
“If you dust it with a phosphorescent powder, well, it has a nice effect at night,” mumbled the young man sheepishly.
“The fog didn’t hurt either,” added Watson grimly. “Really, it was very professionally staged if someone wanted this woman to believe her fiancée was communicating with her from the grave—and using the Daily Stamp to do it!”
“But how did you know what kind of messages to put in the Daily Stamp?” accused the companion who passed the weight of her friend to Doctor Watson. “How did you know all those details? Henrietta said they were things only Charles would’ve known.”
“This is something I, too, would like to know,” admitted Holmes. “You must’ve had information directly from the source.”
“Charles and I served together before he was killed.”
Watson frowned. “Holmes, that’s…”
“Impossible, yes, different theatres of operations, and the timelines are wrong,” said Holmes.
“That’s all I’m saying,” insisted the young man. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Apart from entering a newspaper premises without authorisation, what you did may not have been illegal,” said Holmes. “The young lady is of age and is free to dispense her moneys as she saw fit, but it was immoral, and Watson and myself, not to mention Miss Northington, here, will make very certain you feel the consequences via whatever channels we have. Now, tell me: how did you know the intimate details of Miss Henrietta’s relations with her fiancée?”
“You won’t believe it.”
“Try us.”
“They were written in by her fiancee’s ghost in a journal by my bed.”
“What?!”
---
“Gotcha!” cried Holmes.
“CHARLES!”
Henrietta swooned for a second time that day. Luckily, this time Doctor Watson caught her as she tumbled down the ladder to the attic.
“Reports of your death have been exaggerated, Captain,” said Holmes dryly. “So, you’ve been living in this attic mouse-hole and sneaking downstairs to plant suggestions into your puppet-accomplice’s journal. You’re fortunate he’s so suggestible and unscrupulous.”
“He’s a pawn. They’re all pawns in my game!” The bearded fiend cackled loudly and shook his fists.
“Yes, well, I think this is checkmate,” said Holmes. “Bedlam awaits.”
