The Case of the Bridled Unicorn

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Harlequin Daniel, Jan 8, 2007.

  1. Harlequin Daniel

    Harlequin Daniel Captain Grumpy

    Aug 19, 2006
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    The Case of the Bridled Unicorn
    A reminsicence of Doctor John Watson, m.d. as related to my direct ancestor Sir Walter Rockshamm O-Willicker Smythe the 42nd and a half.

    Chapter One - The Client:
    Over my many years associate with Sherlock Holmes I have experienced a number of things that the common man would call "impossible". From the events of the Steamer Mary Sue, to hte giant Rat of Sumatra or even the fantastical tale that I've called "The Case of the All Consuming Fire".

    None have really come close to the events that began on that wet winter's day in the year of our lord 1899. I must write down these events as a form of catharsis. However I doubt they will evber see print.

    I digress, it was a winter's day in the year 1899, towards the end of that very august century. My fellow loger Mister Sherlock Holmes was stalking around our shared rooms at 221b Baker Street. He was, although he'd never admit it, bored.
    "HA!" Holmes ejaculated.
    "What is it Holmes?" I asked, hoping for his sake that it heralded a new case.
    "That carriage Watson. Look at it an tell me what you see"

    I advanced on the window and looked where he beckoned. I saw a sight all to familiar to the denizens of London. A black hansom cab. "Well, I'd say that it has just delivered that fellow there. The one conversing with the driver" I was rather proud of my observation, but knowing Holmes I expected he wanted more, so I employed the methods he has laboured to teach me "the cab is one of the sort one is more likely to see in the more influential areas, so that fellow must have money. He is the sort of fellow who isn't class conscious, as he's talking quite animatedly to the driver" again I felt the rush of pride the use of my meagre skills brings.

    "Your observations do me credit, to know that I've taught you well enough that you look past the obvious. However you've missed hte most important of facts" I felt my pride defate like a bladder.
    "The gentleman in question has the bearing of a solider. See his straight back. However he wears his clothes with the neat care and procision of a gentleman conscious of his station, yet as you observed he talks freely with the cab driver. Judging by his manner of dress he is modestly rich. He bears no obvious scars and moves freely. See Watson, he moves like a predator, always observing his sourroundings. Now look at the cab. Tell me what you see."
    "Nothing out of the ordinary Holmes"
    "PAH! Look at it list, I'd say there is a fair weight in there, at least one person if not two. And, this I'm sure you've not missed is that he's coming this way"
    Holmes closed the window, turned and strode over to the hall "MRS HUDSON! Prepare for a guest" he commanded to our ever suffering housekeeper.

    Holmes' prediction was, of course, correct. Our door was opened by a tall gentleman, someone of equal height to Holmes, dressed impeccibly in a dark suit and waistcoat. Upon his head he wore a top hat and the only colour that splashed across this monochromatic figure was the vermillion flower he wore in his lapel. "Good morning gentlemen" our guest said smoothly, in an accent that despite being familiar I could not directly place. Colonial I assumed. "I wish to speak with Mister Holmes in regards to a case he is investigating"
    "I am he. Pray sit." Holmes directed with the courtousness I knew he rarely capable.
    "My name is Silver, and I am, shall we say, a fellow hunter of the truth, a seeker of answers"
    "Very honourable I'm sure. However you tell us little and expect much" Holmes said smoothly, the politeness lost from his voice.
    "You are investigating a case of murder involving unusual means. A woman who had her head exorcised, a man crushed in a manner most queer, another man poisoned. I seek the being responsible like you. But I am lost in this city"
    "You are not a local then?" Holmes asked, his interest picqued.
    "No. I am a," he paused, as if searching for the right word "Colonial, here hunting a villian most foul from my own land"
    "I see. Pray continue"
    "This menace is known to me, but it's goals are not. I, and a few others, are here to stop her" Mister Silver said.
    "I am usually not inclined to include others in my investigations, however you seem to have knowledge that counterpoints my own. And in some cases exceeds it"
    "I don't understand..." Mister Silver said, looking worried
    "You said her. As if you are aware of whom we both seek"
    "Ah. Yes, I don't know what name she has adopted here, but from my homeland she was known as a criminal mastermind with a vicious streak and a temper of the Irish, I think is the phrase"
    "Mister SIlver" I began "are you telling us that those violent crimes are being orchestrated by a woman?"
    "Yes. A dangerous an cruel woman, who will stop at nothing to achieve her goals. Sadly, my collegues and I are in the dark as to what they are"

    "Then, Mister Silver, we have a common goal. I too want this criminal brought to justice, and whether it is in England or your homeland I care not. Only that justice is served" Holmes stood, extending his hand to Mister Silver "I think that we can pool our resources"

    With that simple phrase, Holmes had set us on a course of actions that would lead, inexorably to a showdown in the sewers under London and then, later to the dark heart of Africa and to the infamous Mountains of hte Moon and the denizens within.

    Next: Chapter 2 - The Latest Victim

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