The Gasfitters Union Hall was on Great Peters Street, in Westminster, just down from the Gas Light and Coke gasworks building. Briggs dressed in the best his meager wardrobe had to offer and took a cab to the union hall. This was to be the first stop in his investigation, and he was about to do his very best at something he was very good at - lying.
"Good afternoon Sir, my name is William Briggs, and I am a barrister and hope very much that you can assist me," stated the Badger to a clerk who was sitting behind a large reception desk in the main hall foyer. The entrance was grand, and the desk was grand, but the clerk manning his station was merely a four-shilling-a-day man and such men are usually interested in that odd extra coin that may come their way.
"Yes Sir, how can I be of assistance?" replied the clerk as he stamped a large stack of notices, one by one.
"This may strike you as an odd question, but I assure you that it has a direct connection to my business at hand: do you read the detective stories about Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" Briggs leaned forward and placed his arm on the top of the desk, which also doubled as a counter.
"As a matter of fact, I do," replied the clerk - BANG his stamp came down on another notice.
"Are you familiar with the tale, 'A Case of Identity,' in which a young woman is wronged by her step-father?"
BANG
"No, I have not read it as of yet."
"Let me impart some circumstances in the tale upon you, and perhaps you can be of assistance?" Briggs related an elementary version of the story.
"And thus, I am energetically attempting to find Miss Sutherland, to assist her in employing her legal rights against Mr. Windibank in this case."
The clerk had paused in his stamping as he took an interest in the tale.
"However, I suspect that Miss Mary Sutherland is not her real name but is a fiction used to protect her identity, and there lies my predicament." Briggs could see that the young clerk was caught by the tale, so now he just had to hook him with what was to be gained.
"So my good man, here I am looking to see if you can tell me the names of any unfortunate widows to which the union still sends ball tickets?"
The clerk looked away from Briggs and back down at his paperwork.
"Of course, there will be some compensation for you if you can provide me some positive assistance..." smiled Briggs reassuringly.
"Allow me to contact the gentleman who prepares the arrangements for the yearly ball and see if he can provide some assistance - just one moment," and the clerk got up from his desk and departed down a large hallway.
The Badger lit a cigarette and paced the foyer as he waited. A name here, at his first inquiry, would be a find as significant as recovering the Crown Jewels of King John.
After a short time, the clerk returned with a slip of paper in hand. He met Briggs in front of his desk and handed him the note.
"Here are the names of six widows whom the union continues to send complimentary tickets."
Briggs received the note and smiled to himself. He looked at it and saw the names of six women.
He looked up at the expectant clerk, reached into his waistcoat pocket, and removed a coin, and held his hand out to the clerk. The eager clerk glanced around the foyer, and discretely held out his hand in anticipation. Briggs pressed the crown into the clerk's hand, smiled, and winked and turned heel before the young man had an opportunity to either thank or rebuke him for the amount.
YOU ARE READING
Not Strictly Sherlock
Fanfiction"She reached up and ran her fingertips down his jaw and across his lips. They were close, very close, and she found his warm breath exciting. He smelled of tobacco and danger." Excerpt from "Twice on the Divan" Do you love Sherlock Holmes? Well, th...
