by Jen (dragonriderjenner at yahoo.com)
Just thought I'd get the first part of it up. I probably
shouldn't say this, but I have no clue how I'm going to work this
fic. I can see a writer's block coming up through my spyglass and
I'm hoping to find a way around it. That's why I'd like some
ideas from you people! Using your ever-intelligent ideas, I will
be able to forge a path of Justice and Righteousness around the
EVIL WRITERS BLOC OF DOOOOOOOM!!! (And yes, I did spell bloc
wrong. I also neglected to capitalize my name.)
Enough of that!
"Good morning, Chief Inspector Greyson."
"What are you doing here? Might I remind you that you donít
formally work for the Yard? Get out. I have other things to do than
entertain dead detectives."
"Oh? Such as?"
"Finding my missing inspector, for one! What do you want, Holmes."
"I wish to help you find our dear Inspector."
"Fine! Detson! Get in here! Detson, meet Holmes, our resident
dead detective. Heíll be your temporary partner. You have
authority over him. Feel free to boss him around. Now, both of
you! Get out of my office! I have work to do."
"Yessir, Chief Inspector."
"Good day, Chief Inspector."
". . .
"You better not be dead, Lestrade. I have to fire you before you die...
besides, you still have three months of vacation time to use."
Holmes leaned back comfortably as his new temporary partner
navigated the skyways of New London. He would have to Ďgive him the
slipí as Lestrade would say. He knew he was walking right into a
trap, but if for Lestrade, he would give everything. He glanced at
his new partner and decided to strike up a bit of conversation.
"Detson, is it? Do you know Lestrade well?"
"Oh? How well?"
"We were partners."
"For how long?"
"Listen. I know you want to give me the slip so that you can
find her on your own. I donít care. Just report back to me every once
in a while so that I can report back to Greyson. And no, I didnít
have any kind of intimate relationship with Beth. Iím gay."
Detson rolled his eyes. "Homosexual."
"Ah. Er. . . You wouldnít. . .?"
"This's where Lestrade was sent to investigate and was last
seen." Detson paused and looked Holmes squarely in the eye. "Iím
guessing that you already know who took her."
Holmes returned the look. "Yes. Moriarty. I have the evidence
at my home, along with a broken window and brick."
Detson blinked, then sighed. "Yeah, well, good luck. I havenít
had the chance to look around, but you could probably do better than
I could. And because youíre wondering, no, I donít have any Ďspecial
"Who is to say that I was wondering such a thing?"
"Your subconscious. Get out and look around. Iím going to get
some breakfast. Keep me updated on what you find. And no, Iím not
going to stare at your rear as you walk away. Goodbye Mister Holmes."
With that, Detson had taken off to Ďget some breakfastí. It truly
unnerved him (Him! Him! Of all people!) how Detson could almost read
his mind. Then again, Detson probably got that reaction quite a bit,
being homosexual. In his day, homosexuality had been considered to be
Ďimproper conductí, but in this day, homosexuality was no different
In the warehouse, all he found was a lump of some kind of metal
that was once a lock, and the footprints of a chase. One pair of
footprints he identified as belonging to the Inspector and the other
pair belonged to none other that that devious little scum Fenwick. In
the alleyway, he found another pair of footprints. This pair showed a
man who had been waiting in the alleyway for the Inspector to emerge.
This man was Moriarty.
By his reasoning, it went something like this:
The Inspector arrived at the scene and took to looking about
the warehouses. She found a warehouse with a new lock and used her
ionizer (set to a high setting) to melt it and part of the door away
to relieve some of her anger. She then entered, heard footsteps
leading away, and then chased after the running man (Fenwick) until
she reached the alleyway where Fenwick kept running. She was about to
chase him further out of the alleyway when the second man (Moriarty)
shot her in the back with a low-powered setting. Then Moriarty
proceeded to pick her up and they escaped with the Inspector to an
unknown location. Then he had /touched/ Lestrade (God damn him!) and
had thrown a pair of his gloves (The ones with which he had touched
Lestrade) through his window. However, the devious bastard had left
no clues as to his and the Inspectorís whereabouts.
Holmes paced along the sidewalk in front of the alleyway. It
was obviously a trap and Moriarty was using his Inspector as bait.
Holmes paused on the sidewalk, pondering Moriartyís most obvious
trap. Why was the man showing his hand so early on? Was he so
confident that he would win this time? And if he was, what was it he
had, besides the Inspector, that made him so confident? Holmes
resumed his frantic pacing. Possible answers darted about in his
head, many of them relating the Inspector and bodily harm.
"Lemme guess. Moriarty ambushed her and snatched her away to
use as bait for some dastardly trap in which he means to kill you most
Holmes almost started at the sound of Detsonís voice. "Back so
soon? And, yes, that would be correct."
Detson shrugged. "Iím a fast eater. Beth was always on the run.
Hard to keep up with that girl, sometimes."
Holmes turned and gazed blankly down the street. "Yes," he
replied distantly. "Yes she is." His gaze refocused upon Detson.
"You havenít the slightest idea where he took her, do you?"
Detson deadpanned, watching Holmes steadily.
"No, I donít. Moriarty is being unusually clever. Heís trying
to draw me to him using Lestrade." ĎAnd by God itís working,í he
Detson sighed and turned away. "Well, no point in hanging
around this dump. Letís go. Weíve still gotta report."
Holmes nodded in response, and they returned to the cruiser
without another word.
A man dressed in dark clothes stepped from the deep shadows of
an alley. He smirked broadly. Things were going according to plan.
His stomach gurgled unhappily and he laid a palm on the whining
gut. ĎAlready?! I just ate!í He looked up and down the street and
then strode off to find something to satisfy his bottomless pit of a
stomach. ĎHow embarrassing.í
Um. It may seem odd and rather impossible, but chapters 3
and 4 are happening on the same day. And it's not even lunchtime yet!
Oh, and another thing. I am planning to make Moriarty's bottomless
stomach a theme. It'll add a bit of humour to the fic. Well, in my
opinion, at least.
TO BE CONTINUED
Back to part 3
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