Author Note: This story takes place within the Arthur Conan Doyle (ACD) canon story "The Naval Treaty," where we get to learn some fictional backstory on the thief and the possible involvement of London's more treacherous arch-criminals. Familiarity with that ACD story would be helpful to the reader but is not necessary as a summary is part of this tale. Simultaneously, Holmes and Watson take a case (that is my original fiction), and the reader will get to enjoy the two men bounce back and forth between investigations.
Preview: An old, school friend of Dr. Watson is in dire need of assistance, the type that only Sherlock Holmes can provide. As Holmes and Watson work to solve this case, with its international consequences, Holmes also picks up the simple case of a stolen diamond ring. Our story bumps between the two cases as Holmes and Watson work to clear his friend and find the stolen ring!
Chapter 1
June 15, 1889
The man named Toombs stopped at the top of the steps and paused in front of the heavy wooden doors that barred entry into the Anglo-Indian Club. The ornate mahogany doors had imagery of lotus flowers, elephant and tigers, carved along its frame and into its panels. Toombs reached out and touched the images with his remaining hand, and the smooth feel of the dark wood instantly took him back to an earlier time when the sights of a tiger and the smells of lotus and jasmine were not uncommon to him.
Toombs gathered himself, pushed open the heavy door, and entered the club. The door did not slam but closed with an air of confidence and a sound of finality as if it knew the quality and influence exerted by the men it admitted. Toombs stepped forward into the high ceilinged foyer and noted the smell of tobacco and aromatics. A large Bengal tiger had been mounted and was crouched to the left side of a podium that stood post in the center of the room. He thought that the tiger was beautiful but sad, as it was now cursed in perpetual and frozen fierceness, never again to show its quiet, patient, countenance displayed as it hunted.
"Yes Sir, may I be of assistance?" asked the Steward who made himself known as he stood behind the podium. The Steward was an older man who carried himself with military comportment, or perhaps he was merely a man who had served as a domestic for his entire life. He wore the livery of a house butler with a small brass elephant pin tacked onto his lapel.
Henry Toombs recognized that pin as a British Army collar badge designating service in India - except it looked smaller than army issue he thought, so perhaps it was jewelry made as a copy.
Toombs stepped forward, reached into his watch pocket, and removed an item which he held out to the Stewart. The Stewart's eyes never left Toombs' face as he reached out and took the item from the man's hand. Once in possession, the Stewart glanced down and recognized it as a well-worn silver Indian Rupee, ordinarily common enough in parts of London, except that this coin had a hole punched out of the center.
The Stewart's eyes rose to again meet the Toombs' only now they contained less apathy and question, both of which had been replaced with reluctant acceptance.
"Colonel Moran if you please" stated Toombs.
"This way Sir," replied the Stewart, and he turned and led Toombs past the fearful tiger and through the open archway into a large lounge where several tables were occupied by men playing cards or reading the papers. Smoke floated about the room decorated with portraits of Queen Victoria and General Charles "Chinese" Gordon, a large set of elephant tusks, and a large tapestry of Hindi characters performing various tasks. Servants dressed in khaki stood by at the ready, linen towels over their forearms, and holding silver trays waiting for their next delivery of sherry or whiskey.
Toombs followed the Stewart to a table at the far side of the room where four men sat playing whist. He stopped several feet from the table and patiently waited until they completed their hand.
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...
