Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Abominable Bride- Two

Chapter Two

Third POV

An issue of The Strand Magazine. Nearby, a news vendor is calling out to the passing pedestrians. He is holding newspapers and another copy of The Strand with a small red sleeve around it on which are the words 'SHERLOCK HOLMES & LADY PHILLIPS' and an in-profile white silhouettes of the detective and lady. Carollers can be heard singing 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.'

"Papers! Papers!" A hansom cab approaches along the street. "Papers! Papers!" The cab slows down as Watson leans out of the window a little and gestures to attract the attention of the vendor. "Here." The cab stops. "How's 'The Blue Carbuncle' doing?"

"Very popular, Doctor Watson. Is there gonna be a proper murder next time?" The news vendor questions. "I'll have a word with the criminal classes."

"If you wouldn't mind." He points towards the two figures sitting next and across to Watson. "Is that them? In there?" Holmes, mostly obscured from the vendor's view, kicks Watson, who grunts. "No. No, no, not at all. Ah, good day to you." Tipping his hat, the cab begins to stride ahead. "Walk on."
"Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes and Lady Phillips!"

Baker Street

The door to 221B opens and Mrs Hudson comes out as Holmes and Watson get out of the cab, Holmes turns back to the cab holding his hand out. A gloved hand holds onto him, Phillips steps out, in a deep blue dress, holding at her purse. "Mr Holmes, I do wish you'd let me know when you're planning to come home."

The houseboy, Billy hurries out of the house towards Watson, who is unloading bags from the cab. "I hardly knew myself, Mrs Hudson. That's the trouble with dismembered country squires, they're notoriously difficult to schedule." Holmes clamps his pipe between his teeth. "What's in there?" The houseboy asked Watson. "Never mind."

"Did you catch a murderer, Mr Holmes? Ma'am?"

"Caught the murderer my dear child, still looking for the legs. Think we'll call it a draw." Lady Phillips sums up. Holmes strides ahead whilst Mrs Hudson turns to Watson. "And I notice you've published another of your stories, Doctor Watson."

"Yes. Did you enjoy it?"

"No." Lady Phillips laughs before walking past them. "Well, I never say anything, do I? According to you, I just show people up the stairs and serve you breakfasts."

"Well, within the narrative, that is, broadly speaking, your function." Phillips gaze hardened towards Watson. She hated the disrespect towards women society held. "Don't feel singled out, Mrs Hudson. I'm hardly in the dog one." Holmes gestured. "'The dog one'?!"

"I'm your landlady, not a plot device." Mrs Hudson stands up for herself. "And you make the room so drab and dingy."

"Oh, blame it on the illustrator. He's out of control. I've had to grow this moustache just so people'll recognise me." John follows his colleagues up the stairs.

Holmes and Phillips go up the stairs into the first floor sitting room. Glancing briefly towards the fire, Holmes walks across the room to the right-hand window and pulls back the closed curtains, revealing a stag's head hung on the wall between the two windows. The mounted head has a full set of antlers, upon which an ear muffs hang around. A knife can be seen stabbed into some letters on the mantelpiece. On the wall opposite the fireplace is a framed copy of the painting 'All is Vanity' by Charles Allen Gilbert, painted in 1892.

Watson brings one of the bags upstairs, taken it to the room behind the sitting room and put it on the table. Letting the bag go, he flexes the fingers of his left hand, then turns towards the sitting room where Holmes is pushing open the curtains of the left window. As more light floods into the room, a figure is revealed standing in front of the fire. Dressed in black mourning clothes and with a black veil over the face, the figure, stands facing the fire with her hands clasped behind her back. "Good Lord!"