"I'm glad I didn't run into anyone. I truly needed a peaceful walk home to clear my head. I should check for mail, perhaps.... No. It's been ages. He wouldn't have sent a letter now, of all things." I mutter under my breath, walking to the mailbox; an idiotic sense of hope made itself known against my will. Slowly I open the lid, but nothing.
"Of course, I have taken care of any bills for the month, and I'm not exactly fully part of the 'in' crowd of Cordona except for the few art shows of Vogle's I attend. I shook my head at the memory of Vogle's last attempt to make me attend one of the parties he regularly attends, flicked in front of my eyes like a film. Unlocking the front door, I sigh and close my eyes as I lean against it, effectively shutting it and adding to my dramatics. 'I wonder what I should eat. What do I even have in the kitchen?'
Sherry finally made it down to the bar as I claimed our table. I wonder what she is up to. I don't think Sherry remembers her. Hell! he doesn't remember much from his time on Cordona, almost like that's the whole point of us being here, Jon. I roll my eyes at myself, something usually reserved for Mycroft and whenever Sherry is stupid. How long does it take to grab food? I had an entire introspection session.
I walked up to the bar with two platters of marlin ceviche for the taking, not that we needed two. One will suffice.
"If seafood is not to your taste, everyone loves 'Benedict's Batch' - our poached eggs with a hollandaise sauce!" The bartender informs me.
I got bored waiting at the table, so I looked around the foyer and found something quite intriguing.
"Hey Sherry, just our luck!" I called, gaining his attention.
"A medium? Jon, haven't we been through this already?"
"Come on! It's not like we got anything better to do!"
After what I would call a masterpiece of convincing by yours truly, a rather intriguing character walks down the staircase. Hopefully, the table I found is still empty.
"Excuse me, sir, but I believe Mr. Ghalichi is conducting a seance at the moment," I could care less about Mr. Ghalichi's scam. "Perhaps you would care to have your portrait drawn while you wait?"
"Why?" Perhaps I could find some entertainment in a short conversation.
"Pardon me?"
"Why should I sit for a portrait?"
"I- Sir... It's art. It doesn't need a 'why.' It is its own justification." How dull.
"All things require justification, be they objects, systems, or beliefs."
"How about, 'art is the lens through which we see the truth of the world' ?"
"That's backwards. Truth is not subjective and not complicated. It's just the truth - either it is or it isn't. You do not need a lens to see it, just an open mind." This artist is quite annoying but the most entertaining thing in the room.
"Ha. That seems rather close-minded. Truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. So tell me, what do you see?" He holds out the sketch he has been working on.
"Mediocrity," I respond, and the artist finally walks off.
"Come now, Sherry, what did he do to deserve that? The servant mentioned Ceviche at the bar, Sherry. You should grab us some, and I'll find us a table. I'm starving." I say, heading toward the table I claimed earlier as Sherry went to the bar.
I could feel my eyes roll at Jon. I had tried to grab a platter earlier, only to have him call me to that sign advertising a seance. I grabbed a platter, "Okay, time to check if Jon found us a nice table for the evening." I found Jon at a table with a cane lying on it.
"Sherry! I'm over here with my new ursine companion." I look at Jon.
"What are you waiting for? Put the dish down so we can tuck in!" Setting the dish down, I sit down in the plush chair.
"Cordona is even quieter than I remembered. It's going to be a long evening."
"Come now, Sherry. What say we amuse ourselves with a little game?"
"What were you thinking? Promise me it isn't nonsense- after being cooped up on that boat, I am itching for activity."
"No! As you can see, someone left a cane on our table. I simply thought you could identify its owner."
"Ugh, so it is nonsense. It will take me a minute, Jon, at most!"
"Well then, you can deliver it to him as well."
"Deliver it to him? Then what are the staff here for? Aesthetics?!"
"Stubborn, Sherry! Too stubborn! You wanted something to do." 'It makes me wonder how she put up with him; me a perfect angel.'
"Slapping oneself in the face is also 'something to do' That doesn't make it worthwhile! But all right, let me take a look."
I spare a glance at Jon before starting this arduous task.
"No matter how long you stare at the stick, it's not going to walk itself to its owner."
"The handgrip is a head of a golden Javanese statue, probably stolen from a temple. The dents suggest it has been used as a bludgeon.
A crest depicting a bulb of garlic in a meadow. Perhaps the Fielding family or Meadows? Or Craven from the old English name meaning 'garlic place'?
The cane is made of Ebony. It is worn, uncared for, and bears the scars of numerous hits.
This cane is an expensive and ostentatious weapon. Its owner must be vain, volatile, and of noble English blood."
"Take it with you, Sherry! Let's return it to its owner."
I pick up the cane time to find its owner.
"All right, I hope you noted down your observations in your casebook. But how are you going to find this nobleman?"
"The cane itself is not enough. I may have to ask other guests if they saw who was here." I inform and begin to look for someone to ask.
The market is definitely on the docket for tomorrow. All I could find was a bit of sausage and two eggs. Dinner now decided, I quickly prepare it. "Hmm, I wonder what they're up to right now. Probably on a case." Putting my now-cooked food on a plate, I sat at the empty kitchen table and ate. I must have gotten lost in thought as I looked at the clock to see it was now 8:33. Picking up my plate and fork, I added them to the dishes I needed to clean.
"To clean or not to clean, that is the question." I stared at the dishes; maybe they would clean themselves…. "To clean is sadly the answer." I made quick work of the dishes. Now to get washed up and ready for bed.
With the bath filled with hot water and some rose oil, I slip out of my dress and undergarments and sink into the steaming water feeling my muscles instantly relax. Leaning my head back, I let my thoughts take over my mind once again. What would life be like with them here? More specifically, if he were here. I am certain of that, but would it have been possible for something more to have occurred? Lord knows his elder brother would protest it, saying such things are trivial for people like them. It is funny since they are only here due to their parent's love.
I slid down the tub till my head was submerged getting up after a moment. I grabbed my soap, lathering it in my hands before lathering it on my scalp rinsing it out a minute or two later. Grabbing my soap and a cloth, I quickly cleaned my body as the bath slowly lost its warmth. I got out of the tub, and pulled out the stopper, allowing the water to drain. Grabbing a fluffy towel, I dried myself off and slipped into one of my favorite nightgowns. As I lie in bed, I wonder what my dreams will show me. Maybe I will see my friends and go on an exciting adventure! I don't' even know when my eyelids finally shut.
After conversing with her, I found out that there were three people at the table- a couple and a retired Navy officer. Observers weren't sure what happened to the couple, but the Navy officer was seen going out to the front garden for some air. I have to find him.
"Well, even with your keen senses, Sherry, I doubt you'll find the cane's owner on your first try." Jon quipped as I made my way through to the front garden.
"Ha! And would you be confident enough to bet on it, my friend?"
"Why not! Let's see how good you really are!" Now I must get this right can't let Jon have something to hold over me.
Once I entered the front garden, I gave a brief deduction of the people; to the right, by the gate, an affable Swedish artist who owns a pug; By the main walkway of the garden next to a lamp post, an affable Irish singer with seasonal allergies accompanied by an affable Irish diplomat with an allergy to seafood. So far not even close to who I'm looking for. Next was a Cordonian adventure, who was dehydrated and sympathetic. Then among a group of three men was a friendly Swedish secretary with back pains, a friendly French pharmacist suffering from cirrhosis, and an affable Swedish engineer that is a retired military officer. This is the man I was looking for. I asked him about the can and the couple he accompanied earlier that evening.
The Navy officer, Mr. Rhodes, was sitting at our table with the noble couple. The men talked about yachting, and the lady was fidgeting with the cane. Perhaps she put it aside, and her husband forgot to take it when they went to meet the medium.
"Hey, Sherry, don't we now have the perfect excuse to visit the seance?"
"I'm just going to give the cane to its owner. You will not persuade me to take part in this show."
I head over to the seance room.
"Come on, if you hurry, perhaps we'll see the ghost!"
Jon started to play the piano to intensify the mood. I open the door to see a fight between the nobleman I was looking for, the medium, and a hotel staff member.
"This hotel, this island… it's full of thieves! First my cane, now my diamond! Take your hands off me! Do you even know who I am?"
I smacked the cane down onto my hand, and Jon finished his song. That seemed to get their attention.
"Hey, boy, that's my cane!"
"I get that a lot. It's a very common design."
"What…!? No, that's a custom-made-"
"A joke, a joke," I cut him off, "It was left at my table in the restaurant. I thought it deserved to be returned." I handed him the cane.
"Well, I'll be- it is rare to encounter a straight-fingered truepenny these days! What a fine gentleman! But I must ask… how did you know I was the rightful owner?"
I deduce Lord Craven swiftly to the conclusion that he is a bored British nobleman.
"Simple deduction. Your cane told me everything I needed to know. I was after a strong middle-aged man, with a keen interest in adventure, noble blood, and affection for strong drinks. And if one were to go further, one may even be able to extrapolate your name from your heraldic symbol… Lord Craven."
"Marvelous! Simply Marvellous! That's me, Lord Andrew Craven! You are the real medium! You hear that, Emma?" He looks at the woman lying on the couch and then back at me.
"Well, you found my cane… perhaps you can locate my diamond too! Yes, you should do it. It will be child's play for you, mister…"
"Holmes. And if a child can do it, then I'm sure the local police can suffice."
"The police!? Why bother? I know this harlequin stole it! The only question is where is it hidden." He turned and walked across the room from me. "Fine, give me my stick, and I'll resolve the matter myself! This thief almost confessed after a single punch."
"Hm. I suspect a beating may result in answers of… questionable veracity. Fine. I shall spare you and he the trouble, if you first answer me this. You insist the medium robbed you during the seance - but what occurred exactly?" Jon seems to be enjoying this as he watches from the corner.
"Bah, it was a dirty trick! We were sitting here in the dark, chanting and holding hands, as expected. Then something began to appear from the medium, like a cloud or a bubble. The swindler called it 'ectoplasm.'"
"Ah, yes. Common in the spiritualist trade. And quite the spectacle."
"Indeed - perhaps too much. My beloved Emma screamed in horror, and I stood to defend her, attacking that cursed ghost!"
"How brave." No sarcasm was noticeable in my voice.
"But my hand hit nothing! The medium jumped away from me, and Emma fainted. I lit the candle - and the diamond was gone!"
"How does a priceless diamond become the subject of a seance? It is an unusual accoutrement."
"Emma wished to speak with its former owners. My grandfather told us it belonged to a rajah- an Indian king."
"So you were summoning long-dead Indian royalty? And, pray tell, you were expecting him to converse in English?"
"To be frank, Mr. Holmes, I don't believe in ghosts. But Emma was fascinated by the idea of meeting a real king… even a dead one."
"Well, a crown is a crown. Can you describe the stone itself?"
"A yellow diamond, not less than a hundred carats, and perfectly egg-shaped. There is not another like it!"
"Stay here, and don't touch anything. I'm going to investigate further."
"Don't fret. I'll be keeping a close eye on this thief."
I started my investigation at the table where the diamond was seen last. In the center of the table, there was a holder for the diamond. A moth brooch was in the medium's coat and a splotch of green ectoplasm was on the table. The broken wine glace had traces of rouge in its edge and a half glass of Balblair scotch along with the remains of a Por Larranaga cigar.
I walked over to the hotel staff member, who thanked me for my help to resolve the situation. Just past him and the doors to another area, a nearly broken hefty chair.
"Is it even possible for one man to lift it?"
Lord Craven suddenly spoke, "At Cambridge, I was captain of the rugby team. It was no place for weaklings."
Time to talk to the medium.
"What happened here?"
"I don't know! The ghost… I summoned it as usual, but then it all went wrong. The lady screamed and pointed at Lord Craven… And there was a shadow! Such a mystical force! It terrified the lady. And it must have taken the diamond - who else could have?"
"Do you feel the presence of any supernatural entities at the moment?"
"Are you joking, sir? My nose is broken, this maniac wants to kill me, and you're asking about the spirits?"
"I suppose this can wait. I will investigate, and the culprit will be identified."
"But this stubborn brute, Lord Craven, blames me right now! As if I could do something like that! Perhaps you can reason with him? Please!"
"Seems like you are ready to delve into your mind palace, Sherry. I'm sure you'll make some good deductions!"
I'll enter my mind palace after I've looked around some more.
"Was this covered on purpose?"
"Of course!" The medium answered, "It is very dangerous to leave a mirror exposed during a seance! The spirits may become enraged.
"Or someone may notice the trick they should not see…" I muttered.
Next to the mirror were skulls littered on a shelf, three human and one animal with a candle.
"How can you not love this stuff, Sherry!? It adds so much atmosphere to the room!"
I looked at Emma on the couch. Her skin was pale, quickened pulse and unsteady breathing.
"She's barely conscious. Bah, the feebleness of women."
"Really, Sherry? Poor thing." Although it was Jon that scolded him, he could almost hear another voice, a more feminine one say it to him. 'How odd.'
AN: So much dialogue in this game, but I rather keep the majority of the dialogue the same when I can and when I feel up to typing it all out... Probably a few more chapters still till Sherry and y/n meet again. Lowkey forgot how much happened before the case I want to use to reintroduce our childhood friends.
If you spot nay mistakes or have any ideas on how I can improve please let me know!
A Forgotten Friend From Cordona Sherlock x Fem Reader
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Island of Cordona, 1880
6:00
Another day on the beautiful island of Cordona has begun. Its residents scattered about setting up their booths, cleaning their shops, getting their horses ready to transport an unknown number of people, or just waking up. The latter of this list is where (y/n) fits in. Softly the sun's rays crawled through the gap in the curtains and lay atop her face causing her eyes to flutter open. Sighing, she glared up at the ceiling as she did every morning. (Y/n) does not remember when she started looking at her ceiling with hatred, a partial lie. The exact date is unknown to her; assumed to be the day her life in Grand Saray turned a horrible shade of grey. Finally, she rose from her comfy bed nest and prepared for the day. Donning a plain dress, she left her room and headed down the hall to the stairs, sliding down the railing and heading to the kitchen to grab a light breakfast. After devouring her toast and an apple, she headed to help Mrs. Nini at her shop in Scaladio.
"I wonder who will come to the shop today; hopefully, no one unseemly." (Y/n) shuddered at the mere thought. As she made her way through the winding streets of Grand Saray, she saw a group of children running past excitedly, shouting about their planned adventure for the day. Smiling to herself, she reminisced about when she was their age and doing the same with her friends. They were like three musketeers or perhaps three pirate-actor detectives. Chuckling, she shook her head and saw she was almost to Mrs. Nini's Altier shop. Slowly opening the door, she chimed, "Good morning Mrs. Nini!"
"Oh! (Y/n) is that you, dear?" Mrs. Nini called from the backroom.
"Yes, it is me." She replied with a giggle.
"Well, good morning dear, are you ready for today?" She asked the young lady as she made her way to the counter.
"As ready as I can be." (Y/n) stated and went to grab a broom to sweep before the store opened at 7:00. It is good that she arrived at 6:45, giving her ample time to clean and straighten up a few other things.
On the boat, there were many tourists. One of these tourists was having a rough time, however. The poor man's friend did little to help his predicament. Groaning with an arm thrown across his face, Sherlock could not wait to be on solid ground again.
"Ginger. That's what you need. A mouthful of the good stuff, and you'll see the back of any seasickness."
"Thank you for your support, Jon. I don't suppose you actually brought any ginger?"
"No. I don't get seasick." Jon replied straight away.
Exasperation was evident in Sherlock's voice as he bit out a "Terrific."
"Don't worry, Sherry - we've almost arrived at Cordona. I can see land through the port hole."
"So much for docking at tea time. The captain seemed more interested in his maids than in his maps." Sherlock leaned on his arm to support himself as he criticized the captain. Jon rested a hand against the bunk, "Aww, is Sherlock grumpy? Cheer up - we're back where we grew up! It's exciting! What's changed? What's the same?" Sherlock finally got off the bed with a slight groan. "I am starting to question whether the weeks-long journey was worth it.' Standing up fully now, 'Traveling all this way, enduring this indignity, simply to visit a grave? Even if it is my mother's." Sherlock was bent over the sink next to the bed as Jon leaned against the wall.
"That's just Mycroft's nonsense still rattling around in your head. Try to forget what he said - I have!"
Sherlock turned the sink on and splashed the cool water onto his face.
"I believe it was that this is 'a preformative farce', a 'feeble excuse to avoid responsibilities' and that there was 'nothing to be gained' from it."
"You needed to do this. Enough of the self-pity and doubt. So we're a little late - what of it? We'll retire to the hotel and visit her in the morning. It will be worth the wait."
"Thank you, Jon."
"And if you want to notify the captain's wife of his indiscretions, I will not stand in your way." Jon mused. Sherlock turned and put his notebook in his bag, and just as he did, the boat's horn sounded. "At last! I'm quite ready to get off this cursed boat." Relief evident in his voice, he grabbed his bag.
"Come on. We'll go together." Jon assured with a hand on Sherry's shoulder. They swiftly disembarked the boat and made their way to the hotel. Jon impatiently waits for Sherlock. "Hey, Sherry! Come on, catch up!" Like a parent, Sherlock released a "Yes, yes." and made his way to Jon and the hotel's entrance. Yet he ended up sidetracked as he deduced the patrons standing in the small garden at the front of the hotel. "Sherlock! Don't get lost in this huuuge garden. Follow the sound of my voice." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Jon and finished his look around before finally making his way to the entrance. "Welcome to 'Il Palazzo del Lusso,' sir." the doorman greeted.
'Today was a slow day. Not to say it was a bad day, but it was quite boring.' (Y/n) thought as she put the final bundles of fabric back in their proper spots. "(Y/n), dear, you can head home now; I can finish everything else." Mrs. Nini said sweetly.
"Are you positive?" I questioned the sweet old lady.
"Yes, I am quite positive. Go! Go! Maybe you will run into a nice man on your walk back." Mrs. Nini all but pushed me out the door before I could utter a word in response. I heard the door slam and sighed. "For an old lady sure seems to love gossip and to attempt to fix my nonexistent love life," I mumbled. I took a moment to breathe in the fresh night air before heading back to my home.
Opening the front door, the clerk at the front desk greeted him. "Welcome to Il Palazzo del Lusso, sir. We just need your signature." Sherlock glanced around the lobby seeing a maid scrubbing the floor by the door to the left multiple luggage carts with a few workers and patrons spread about, and a staircase leading upwards to the right, a doorway leading to the bar area. He reached the front desk. "Would you kindly sign these papers, sir?" As Sherlock went to sign, Jon casually leaned against the end of the desk. Not an oddity for one to do, but Jon seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sherlock looked over at Jon before signing his name.
"Come on, finish up the formalities so we can get off our feet," Jon whined. Finally, he signed the book.
"Ah... Mr. Holmes! Yes, we have room 221 prepared for you. I see it was reserved for two people. Would you like a second key?"
Glancing at Jon, Sherlock replied, "Oh, uh, no... I think we'll stick together."
"Very good. Rooms are upstairs, sir. Welcome to Cordona."
"More like welcome back to Cordona." Jon quipped. The man didn't seem to hear him or just outright ignored him. Jon didn't let that dishearten him and instead went right back to pestering Sherry. "Hurry up, Sherlock; I want to see our room. I hope there is a balcony with a view!" Not wanting to make Jon wait any longer, he headed up the stairs searching for room 221. While walking down the hallway, a letter left abandoned on a table caught his eye. Being Sherlock, he could not just leave it unread.
A LETTER LOST IN THE HOTEL
Dear James!
I read your 'Treatise on the Binomial Theorem' with great interest, and although some parts of it still remain unclear for me. I must say that you have done an impressive amount of research! I strongly recommend you publish as soon as possible, for I anticipate a great and wide practical usage of your method as soon as it becomes known.
Sincerely yours,
Prof. Gilbert.
___________
'While Binomial Theorem is indeed intriguing, that was rather disappointing.' Sherlock thought and continued on. He made his way to the balcony area above the bar, a grand staircase in the center of the room that allowed one to go to the bar or rooms on both the right and left sides of the hotel, walking to the other side of the staircase he finally found their room tucked in away at the end of the hallway. However, the relief at locating their room diminished as the accommodating and affable Turkish servant told them it was not yet ready. The servant gave a way to pass the time by relaxing in the foyer and grabbing a complimentary marlin ceviche from the restaurant.
Jon excited, "Let's check what they have on offer!" Both made their way to the grand staircase and down to the foyer. Jon went to grab a table for them as Sherlock went to grab the food.
I'm glad it isn't that cold out so I can enjoy a leisurely walk back home. My Father would absolutely lose his mind saying how "a young lady shouldn't be walking by herself at night," but it isn't even that late. My eyes still get misty when I think of him. It's been a few years since he's passed, but it doesn't make those few moments of true remembrance hurt any less. I like to think I'm doing well. I grieved and mourned his passing but did not let that stop me from living. "Oh, how did I end up in front of the Chronicle? I guess my feet decide to separate from my brain. Now I must really get home. I have much to do!" I must stop talking aloud to myself; someone may think I am sick. I shudder at the thought of what possibilities that could bring. Resuming my walk home, I did not let my thoughts wander lest I get stuck in some random scuffle.
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So, I am lowkey obsessed with this version of sherlock and could not find any x readers about him except for one. I want to remedy that hopefully... I am used to writing on Wattpad, so hopefully I haven't butchered the formatting too much on here.
