A thorn by any other name would hurt just as deep, or whatever the saying is.
~~~
Greg Lestrade would say Sherlock Holmes was always the smartest in the room. Whether at 221B or Scotland Yard, no ordinary person ever came close to compete with his...
Stepping into the heart of the Vatican, St Peter's Square was as busy as central London. Filled with tourists admiring the majestic colonnades that slowly begin leading them towards the towering basilica that pierces the high skies. St. Peter's Basilica stands as a symphony of Renaissance and Baroque architecture, towering with welcome to those who visit.
Sherlock watches the sun's golden glow flood against his skin, taking a deep breath to enjoy the new scenery. By the entrance of the Chapel was a man in religious clothing, carefully looking out for the detective.
"Father Ransome," Sherlock ascends a set of stairs, fixing the collar of his black shirt. "Good to see you again,"
The man pushes back his dirty blonde hair, the ends curling up. Soft blue eyes complimented by the soft sunlight watched in curiosity at the detective. "Sherlock," the priest greets Sherlock with a smile. "You're... a priest,"
"Dressed as one," he corrects, "onto business matters. Are you sure you can take me there?"
"As sure as I am about my faith," he chuckles, "and what did I say about addressing me so formally?"
Sherlock chuckles shortly, "Formalities are needed, are they not, Will? This is the Vatican, after all," their steps lead towards the Chapel.
"It's one of the most well-guarded parts of the Chapel, Sherlock. We must be quick and undetected. I'm doing you a favour," Will looks at his old friend seriously.
"Technically," Sherlock follows him through a separate hallway from the tourists. "You owe me a favour,"
Ransome rolls his eyes at Sherlock, gesturing towards a diverging route. The noise of the outside grew quieter and quieter, each step on marble floors being the only thing heard. Through the maze of marble and centuries-old architecture, they soon found themselves face to face with a lone door.
"This is it?" Sherlock places his hand against the cold handle.
"Welcome to The Stufetta del Cardinal Bibbiena," Will Ransome steps back, allowing Sherlock to enter.
As he steps into the Stufetta del Cardinal Bibbiena, the ambient warmth wraps around him like a comforting embrace. The room unfolds, revealing an array of intricate Renaissance frescoes. They adorn the walls, telling tales of a bygone era, while an antique chandelier casts a gentle glow, illuminating the space in a soft light.
His eyes sweep the room from top to bottom in amazement. A timeless chapter within history nestled in the crook of the Sistine Chapel, unguarded. The provocative nature of the bathroom hardly bothered Sherlock; his eyes focused on one possibility.
"What exactly are you looking for?" Ransome leans against the door, observing with a tinge of pink on his cheeks.
"A sign from Venus," he whispers, following the story from the beginning in hopes of catching sight of the goddess. From Cupid, Pan, Erichonius and Syrinx, these notable figures were nothing compared to the ethereal glow of soft golden hair gently combed through, by a river.
Ransome watches Sherlock kneel down and curiously inspect the image. Venus, in all her beauty, carelessly caresses her hair, admiring the river stream beside her. "Is that a clue?"
"No, don't be ridiculous," Sherlock hushes him, looking at the panels surrounding him with no luck. "Come on, my darling," stepping back, he examines Venus further. Her eyes were cast down, both hands in her hair facing downwards. "Point me in the- oh..." he almost smiles, not noticing it at first.
With both hands down, Venus subtly points towards an alter of sorts. Carved into the wall was an empty display, a detailed marble countertop bare except for one thing. Freshly dusted, the detailing adorning the marble counter linked together in a circular pattern. Like a rose blooming, the marble mimicked petals opening up, ready for spring. At the very centre, the tightly wrapped together petals stuck out from the counter a little more than the others.
Out of pure curiosity, Sherlock pressed down, hearing a click under his finger travelling through the room like an echo. Leading behind him, he spins on his heel, waiting for another sign. Seconds dragged out after the final click was heard.
"Is something-" Ransome was cut off by the panel of Venus opening in front of them both, "my god..."
"Don't use the lord's name in vain," Sherlock jokes smugly, earning a nudge from Will. He reaches into the small compartment, taking out a sealed envelope.
"Another clue?" The priest peers over Sherlock's shoulder, catching sight of the detective's name written along the front. He takes out his knife and slices through the seal, taking out the neatly folded paper.
You have to admit you're having fun. I have to applaud you for managing to get into this little bit of history, but you're not done just yet. This is your next clue. - Y/n x
"What's the next clue?" Ransome couldn't see anything but the letter Sherlock held.
"This," he held the letter up, "is the clue,"
~~~
Sitting at a quiet cafe, Sherlock and Ransome enjoy some tea while the detective deduces his next step.
"The letter?" Will repeats for clarification.
"You can tell a lot from a letter; luckily, I already know who wrote this," Sherlock smiles a little without realising, making Ransome lean back smugly.
"A woman? Never did I think I'd see The Sherlock Holmes in love,"
"Shut up," he rolls his eyes and hands the paper over. "These clues are meant to lead me somewhere else,"
"And what can you get from just a letter?" Will quirks a brow, examining the paper and the contents it held.
"Usually a lot more than one would think," Sherlock clicks his tongue, looking outside the cafe windows. "Source is the main key. Watermarks on the paper can help you trace back where the paper was made,"
"Ah, just like you were able to tell that crayon sketch was made in Russia?"
"Yes, just like- you've read the blog??" Sherlock does a double take in shock.
"Well, I do get bored every other Wednesday," Ransome finishes his coffee, letting the porcelain clink against the saucer. He stood up with a sigh, "now, I'd love to continue this mystery-solving, but I do have duties,"
Sherlock nods and stands up as well, shaking Will's hand, "Thank you. I'll be sure to visit soon,"
"You? Visiting friends for the sake of visiting? This woman really has changed you," he nudges, bidding his last farewells before exiting and walking back towards the chapel. Down a passageway, he found himself slowing his pace as he reached a small archway. "I think he'll find his way,"
You stop leaning against the wall and smile, shaking Will's hand. "Thank you, Ransome,"
"I can tell he loves you," the priest chuckles, "I've never seen him like this,"
"You've met five times maximum, Ransome," you hand him a bit of cash.
He shakes his head, holding a hand up, "I help friends without strings attached,"
"Suit yourself," you shrug, placing your sunglasses on. "Stay safe, Will, I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other soon,"
As you leave the hidden spot, Will can't help but laugh gently, "I hope that it'll be under the request I am an officiant!"
Your cheeks burn gently, a glare sent back to him. "Oh, shut up,"
~~~
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