Evie Vigil is writing a Victorian romance novel and needs a prototype cover! Who else would she seek out for help other than the great detective and his people?
Behind the Scenes: Featuring illustrations by fledgling artist Olive Green, with help from a few willing/unwilling models at 221B Baker Street >:3
A/N: Like I said, I’m not gonna write full-fledged fan fic until DGS2 comes out, but that isn’t gonna stop one-shots. The baby and Ryuunosuke’s wife are my OCs. Takes place sometime after DGS. Content warnings for extremely out-dated terminology for people’s ethnicities. The setting is Great Britain in either 1899 or 1902, so . . . yeah. Racism. Definitely a thing.
The sight across from Van Zieks at the defense bench was . . . not quite what he was expecting.
The defense attorney was who he had expected - Ryuunosuke Naruhodou - but while he was dressed as usual, there was . . . something very different.
A little, dark-complexioned infant was in the defense attorney’s arms, sleeping at the moment in the crook of Ryuunosuke’s arm.
“Japanese. The courtroom is no place for a baby,” Van Zieks said bluntly.
Ryuunosuke gave him an irritated look - but instead of being hunched over, he kept his back straight as he narrowed his eyes at him. He might have actually been angry.
“Unless you are offering babysitting services, Prosecutor Van Zieks, the court will just have to deal with it,” Ryuunosuke said. “There’s no law saying I can’t bring my son to work.”
“Your son?”
Van Zieks looked from the baby to Ryuunosuke, comparing skin color. Then he looked over at the defendant - an African immigrant who was on trial for murder and theft. He looked back at the baby. While not nearly as dark as the defendant, the baby’s color was certainly closer to the defendant’s than the defense attorney’s.
“Yes, mine,” Ryuunosuke said.
Van Zieks’s eyes moved back up to Ryuunosuke’s face. His eyes were alight with pride.
“His name is James Naruhodou, and he is my assistant for the day.”
Van Zieks said nothing to that, and the judge asked if both sides were ready.
The trial at first seemed like the answer should be easy, but as was natural for Ryuunosuke Naruhodou, he managed to turn things around and make things complicated and give Van Zieks a headache.
Van Zieks hadn’t thought anything could make it worse until he had banged his fist on the desk and spoken with a louder, firm voice than he had previously in this trial, ridiculing Ryuunosuke’s argument point.
The baby started crying, and Van Zieks made a dramatic sigh as he closed his eyes and brought a hand to press the spot between his eyebrows with his index and middle finger.
“This is why we don’t allow babies in the court,” Van Zieks growled out.
Ryuunosuke was quick to rock the baby in his arms, saying soothing words to him.
“Awww. Did the big, bad prosecutor scare you? He is a big, loud bully, poking holes in Daddy’s testimony, isn’t he?”
Van Zieks continued to hold his head and scowl as he poured himself more wine.
“Hmm.... You normally stop crying after a little bouncing.... Maybe you need to change your nappy . . . ? You certainly do. Your Honor? May we take a short nappy-changing break?”
“Well, uh.... I suppose it wouldn’t do to let the little thing suffer. But, defense . . . why isn’t the child with its mother?”
“Don’t change it on the bench!” Van Zieks protested as Ryuunosuke set the baby on the desk and went ahead and started to change the diaper.
“James can’t be with Beatrice because Beatrice is at work,” Ryuunosuke said. “And I couldn’t leave him with anyone else because a certain ‘great detective’ and his assistant up and disappeared when they knew I had court today.”
“Go clean that thing in the bathroom before do you anything else!” Van Zieks demanded as Ryuunosuke worked on putting the clean, spare cloth diaper on James and had the soiled one now sitting to the side of the desk.
“I will, I will! .... Though this could make a good weapon. Like, ‘admit my argument is probable or get this thrown at you.’”
“Throw that at me and I will hold you in contempt of court!” Van Zieks said, stepping a little further back from the bench.
Ryuunosuke couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Bailiff, assist the attorney with cleaning the soiled nappy, and clean the spot on that desk, would you?”
The bailiff didn’t look the least bit happy to be dealing with fecal matter.
The baby was much happier, and the trial resumed.
It ended in a Not Guilty verdict, much to Van Zieks’s annoyance.
But he found his attention still drawn to the little infant and the Japanese defense attorney.
Just then, the doors to the courtroom burst open suddenly.
“Mr. Naruhodou!” Sherlock Holmes shouted, running over to the defense bench.
“H-Holmes-san? What’s - ?”
“Beatrice is in the gaol!”
“W-what!?”
“Iris is with her, but I thought you’d want to investigate the scene with me -”
Ryuunosuke grabbed everything he had - baby bag, the law papers, and the baby itself - and hurried out of the courtroom.
Van Zieks’s curiosity got the better of him. He went down to the gaol, despite not being assigned to the case.
He stayed in the darkness, just out of view of the little pink-haired girl. He could see the face of this Beatrice from where he stood, but as long as he didn’t say a word or a sound, they wouldn’t notice him.
Beatrice was an African woman, and judging from her clothes, her occupation was that of a maid. He saw the wedding ring on her finger. The rock and design showed that it was cheap by Van Zieks’s standards, but for a maid and a defense attorney who did much pro-bono, it was pricey, and it was within-the-last-year new.
“It’ll be okay, Mrs. Narudie! Holmsies and Narudie will be here very soon to help! They’ll be able to prove you didn’t steal that jewelry.”
“But who will hire a maid who has been arrested for theft? What if James falls ill and we don’t have the money for a doctor?”
“Then we’ll help you! You’re our friends, Mrs. Narudie. We’ll help any way we can.”
Van Zieks left after that. The next day, in his office, his secretary brought him a piece of paper.
“You requested to know about all of that Japanese attorney’s cases. He’s representing a Negro woman in a theft case.”
Van Zieks drank some of the wine that was in his glass. Then he set it back on the table.
“Let it be some other prosecutor’s problem,” he said.
“Are - are you sure, sir? You’ve insisted on taking all of his other cases -”
“I’m sure. Go give it to someone else.”
“Yes, sir.”
The secretary left, and Van Zieks just kept drinking his wine.
