The Case of the Ring of Innocence
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century...though I wish I did...but anyway...the only thing I do own is the plot idea...
Summary: When a young woman is found dead in the Thames, it was proclaimed an accident. However, her husband insists that it was not. What will happen when Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Lestrade get caught up in a black market scandal that threatens both their lives, and Lestrade's job? Read to find out.
A/N: Um...this is the first R rated fic I have ever written. It may not actually be that bad, but I feel that the subject matter demands it. There will be explicit scenes of violence, though no adult language, and not at first. You have been forewarned.
It always amazes me the lengths people will go just to make a few creds. Murder and theft are just a few. But this case was perhaps the most monstrous I have ever experienced.
Prologue:
The young woman walked slowly along the streets of New London, contemplating what she had just done. Was it really worth a million creds? Was it worth it, to have to feel this pain, like her heart had been ripped from her chest and stomped on? She choked back a sob. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't do it. Sure she already had the money, but she hadn't spent it yet. She could take it back. She could swallow her pride and ask her family for the money she needed. They would understand, and even if they didn't...it would be better than what she had done.
So resolved, she turned around and started walking back to the nondescript building she had just left.
Chapter One
Sherlock Holmes sat in his customary chair by the fireplace, staring into its depths, bored out of his mind. It had been weeks since Moriarty had shown any signs of activity, and the rest of the city's criminal population seemed to be on hold. Watson and the Irregulars had all gone to one of Wiggins' boxing matches, leaving Holmes to fend for himself. He could have gone, but the possibility of a case coming while he was gone was too great. Now, he wondered if it had been merely wishful thinking, something he tried never to indulge in.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs outside interrupted these thoughts, and he sat up quickly, staring at the door. His lips curved into a slight grin. Perhaps his time hadn't been wasted after all. He affected a casual pose when the visitor knocked on the door. He granted permission to enter with a bored tone to his voice.
The young man who walked in couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. He had coal black hair that was swept back in the latest style, with a lock of it falling forward into icy blue eyes. He had an aristocratic nose that had at one point been broken, judging by the slight twist to it. Though the man's clothes proclaimed him to be wealthy, the large calluses on his hands showed that he must have worked very hard over the years to get that money, had stolen the suit, or had spent what little money he did have to buy the suit for interviews such as this. Holmes needed more facts before he could make that judgement.
"Well, if you need my help, please speak up sir, I am a very busy man," Holmes stated nonchalantly.
The young man blinked and then sneered. "I'm sure you are Mister Holmes. You're just like all the rest. Well, if you don't need my business then I'll go elsewhere." He turned and walked towards the door.
"I see that your years of working for other people and not getting what you deserved has left you bitter, Mister..."
"Stanhope, Derrick Stanhope," he said turning back around, "And what makes you think that's why I'm bitter?"
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "It is so simple I am rather embarrassed to say it. But if you must know, the suit you are wearing does not go with the calluses on your hands, nor with the broken nose that someone with money would have been able to fix. Now, either you had stolen it," he held up his hand when Stanhope started to protest, "or you had bought it with what little money you had saved up. Judging from your earlier statement I concluded that it was the latter."
Stanhope's eyes widened as he looked at the detective. He shook his head, and a small smile twitched across his lips. "I see they weren't exagerating about you, Holmes." He started pacing in front of the door. "Did you hear about the boating accident on the Thames?"
Holmes nodded. "Such a tragic accident, that young lady was not much older than one of my Irregulars. Only twenty I believe. So young to lose one's life. She was your wife?"
"It was no accident Mister Holmes," Stanhope insisted as he stopped pacing. He looked at Holmes with conviction in his eyes. "Yes, she was my wife, and I know it wasn't an accident. Elaine was terrified of the water. She wouldn't even take a bath, it had to be a shower. Somebody put her on that boat against her will Mister Holmes."
Holmes raised an eyebrow. That was believable if Elaine Stanhope really was afraid of water. However, there was one question that needed to be asked. "Why would somebody want to murder your wife Mister Stanhope?"
Instead of the puzzled anger Holmes was expecting, the young man looked down at the ground, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know...I just want to find out who these people are...and get them in jail."
Holmes frowned. "Why didn't you go to New Scotland Yard with this?"
Stanhope looked up with a slight sneer. "They wouldn't have believed me. I'll see you later Mister Holmes." He turned and walked out the door.
"Well," Holmes said to the empty room, "This looks to be a most interesting case."
On to Chapter 2!
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