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Title The Return of Sherlock Holmes - Part 9, Sherlock Holmes
Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
I was quite astonished by the heartfelt welcome I had received from Lestrade. While I considered the man one of the best of the professional detectives, and appreciated his common sense and direct manner when he was working, as well as his wry sense of humour and his kind, if somewhat well hidden, heart, it had never occurred to me that he might consider me a friend. I found to my surprise that not only was I gratified by his regard, I returned it in full measure and could definitely count him among the few people I would be happy to socialise with. Perhaps when this case was reached its conclusion I would invite him to join Watson and I for dinner one evening.
Since I already knew the full facts of what had transpired that morning in the scullery I was content to merely watch from the sidelines as the Yard's team of scientists began their evidence collection. It really was quite fascinating to watch how the professionals did it and it would certainly prove to be useful information for those occasions when I had to examine a crime scene which had already been trampled by a horde of policemen with their careless tread and their size nine boots. As a general rule I usually only encountered the police scientists when they were being assigned on my orders so I had little idea of precisely how they worked when they were following their own protocols.
I was somewhat chastened to realised that some of the techniques they were now using, I had never heard of. The last three years of almost constant travelling had left me little time to keep up with my reading and it seemed the advancement of the scientific field of criminology had continued apace, leaving me with a plethora of questions for the scientists. They were naturally a little reticent at first. After all Watson and I were technically the chief suspects in this rather grisly murder, and they were not inclined to share their secrets with us, but a combination of Lestrade's approval and my own reputation finally convinced them to show me their apparatus and explain its functions as long as I kept my hands away from their evidence and my person out of their crime scene.
The small recording devices I understood, although I had not encountered the much more convenient hand-held versions before. They were simply miniaturised versions of the tabletop machine I had been forced to leave behind when I had vanished and, like the larger machine, they used a wax cylinder and a needle to record sound. I would have to acquire one and take it to pieces in order to work out how the manufacturers had overcome the problem with smaller cylinders being able to hold much less information than the larger ones used by the tabletop devices.
The cameras were also something I had encountered before, although once again they had decreased dramatically in size in the last three years, and the time for the picture to be taken was much shorter, but what really fascinated me was the moving picture camera. The scientist working it called it an eikonagraph. Eikona from the Greek for image or scene, and graph for writing or recording, almost certainly because whoever had coined the phrase wished it to relate to the phonograph. The images were recorded on celluloid films and the operator explained that it was like a child's kinescope where you spin the drum and the still pictures seem to move. The principle for the eikonagraph was similar and the more frames per second you could record the smoother the final moving image was. As usual the metropolitan police were disinclined to pay for the most expensive model and the operator was most envious of the versions that were being used by the British Government. I must admit to a flash of envy myself. I must invest in one of these machines at the first opportunity; they are truly incredible. I also found myself speculating on how one might synchronise the eikonagraph with one of the new smaller phonographs and record both sound and pictures at once. It was most definitely a subject that merited further research when I had the time.
Watson walked up behind me and rested one of his strong hands on my shoulders. “When you've quite finished playing with your toys, Holmes, Inspector Lestrade would like to discuss what we're planning to do next about Moriarty. I'm sure if you're a very good boy you can go and play with the scientists once we're no longer suspects.”
His eyes were twinkling despite the gruesome scene in front of us and I would rather see that than win this particular war of words, so I simply chose to smile back and then gesture expansively towards the consulting room. “Then by all means lead on, my dear Doctor. We mustn't disappoint the good Inspector.”
Watson led me back to his consulting room and closed the door firmly behind us, shutting out the intriguing sounds still drifting along the hallway from the scullery and forcing me to concentrate on the impromptu planning session instead of the far more intriguing science going on somewhere behind me. I smiled ruefully at him and nodded; Watson always has been able to read me far better than any other man and he understands that just occasionally I need to be redirected from something I am obsessing over and back towards the more pressing matters occurring in the here and now.
Inspector Lestrade was ensconced in one of Watson's comfortable chairs with his feet propped up on a footstool, leaning back and sipping some of Watson's cognac, fetched I presume from the good doctor's sitting room as I know he is not in the habit of keeping alcohol in his consulting room. I raised an eyebrow as Watson passed me a glass for myself. “A little early in the morning for alcohol isn't it?”
“With the kitchen occupied by the Inspector's scientists it was the only refreshment available,” Watson pointed out dryly. “Besides after seeing you come back from the dead, I'm sure the Inspector could do with a drink, and our encounter with my erstwhile housekeeper has left me rather in need of something stronger than tea as well. You are under no obligation to drink yours if you do not wish.”
I waved my hand dismissively and hopped up on the bed, leaving the other chair for Watson, crossing my legs Indian-style as I did so. “No, no, I do believe you are correct my dear friend. This morning's alarms and excursions definitely allow for a breach of etiquette. I believe this will do quite well, especially as I know you to have excellent taste in cognac.” I took a sip of my drink and savoured the flavour before allowing it to slide down my throat and warm me from the inside. “Now what did you want to discuss, Inspector?”
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Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
I was quite astonished by the heartfelt welcome I had received from Lestrade. While I considered the man one of the best of the professional detectives, and appreciated his common sense and direct manner when he was working, as well as his wry sense of humour and his kind, if somewhat well hidden, heart, it had never occurred to me that he might consider me a friend. I found to my surprise that not only was I gratified by his regard, I returned it in full measure and could definitely count him among the few people I would be happy to socialise with. Perhaps when this case was reached its conclusion I would invite him to join Watson and I for dinner one evening.
Since I already knew the full facts of what had transpired that morning in the scullery I was content to merely watch from the sidelines as the Yard's team of scientists began their evidence collection. It really was quite fascinating to watch how the professionals did it and it would certainly prove to be useful information for those occasions when I had to examine a crime scene which had already been trampled by a horde of policemen with their careless tread and their size nine boots. As a general rule I usually only encountered the police scientists when they were being assigned on my orders so I had little idea of precisely how they worked when they were following their own protocols.
I was somewhat chastened to realised that some of the techniques they were now using, I had never heard of. The last three years of almost constant travelling had left me little time to keep up with my reading and it seemed the advancement of the scientific field of criminology had continued apace, leaving me with a plethora of questions for the scientists. They were naturally a little reticent at first. After all Watson and I were technically the chief suspects in this rather grisly murder, and they were not inclined to share their secrets with us, but a combination of Lestrade's approval and my own reputation finally convinced them to show me their apparatus and explain its functions as long as I kept my hands away from their evidence and my person out of their crime scene.
The small recording devices I understood, although I had not encountered the much more convenient hand-held versions before. They were simply miniaturised versions of the tabletop machine I had been forced to leave behind when I had vanished and, like the larger machine, they used a wax cylinder and a needle to record sound. I would have to acquire one and take it to pieces in order to work out how the manufacturers had overcome the problem with smaller cylinders being able to hold much less information than the larger ones used by the tabletop devices.
The cameras were also something I had encountered before, although once again they had decreased dramatically in size in the last three years, and the time for the picture to be taken was much shorter, but what really fascinated me was the moving picture camera. The scientist working it called it an eikonagraph. Eikona from the Greek for image or scene, and graph for writing or recording, almost certainly because whoever had coined the phrase wished it to relate to the phonograph. The images were recorded on celluloid films and the operator explained that it was like a child's kinescope where you spin the drum and the still pictures seem to move. The principle for the eikonagraph was similar and the more frames per second you could record the smoother the final moving image was. As usual the metropolitan police were disinclined to pay for the most expensive model and the operator was most envious of the versions that were being used by the British Government. I must admit to a flash of envy myself. I must invest in one of these machines at the first opportunity; they are truly incredible. I also found myself speculating on how one might synchronise the eikonagraph with one of the new smaller phonographs and record both sound and pictures at once. It was most definitely a subject that merited further research when I had the time.
Watson walked up behind me and rested one of his strong hands on my shoulders. “When you've quite finished playing with your toys, Holmes, Inspector Lestrade would like to discuss what we're planning to do next about Moriarty. I'm sure if you're a very good boy you can go and play with the scientists once we're no longer suspects.”
His eyes were twinkling despite the gruesome scene in front of us and I would rather see that than win this particular war of words, so I simply chose to smile back and then gesture expansively towards the consulting room. “Then by all means lead on, my dear Doctor. We mustn't disappoint the good Inspector.”
Watson led me back to his consulting room and closed the door firmly behind us, shutting out the intriguing sounds still drifting along the hallway from the scullery and forcing me to concentrate on the impromptu planning session instead of the far more intriguing science going on somewhere behind me. I smiled ruefully at him and nodded; Watson always has been able to read me far better than any other man and he understands that just occasionally I need to be redirected from something I am obsessing over and back towards the more pressing matters occurring in the here and now.
Inspector Lestrade was ensconced in one of Watson's comfortable chairs with his feet propped up on a footstool, leaning back and sipping some of Watson's cognac, fetched I presume from the good doctor's sitting room as I know he is not in the habit of keeping alcohol in his consulting room. I raised an eyebrow as Watson passed me a glass for myself. “A little early in the morning for alcohol isn't it?”
“With the kitchen occupied by the Inspector's scientists it was the only refreshment available,” Watson pointed out dryly. “Besides after seeing you come back from the dead, I'm sure the Inspector could do with a drink, and our encounter with my erstwhile housekeeper has left me rather in need of something stronger than tea as well. You are under no obligation to drink yours if you do not wish.”
I waved my hand dismissively and hopped up on the bed, leaving the other chair for Watson, crossing my legs Indian-style as I did so. “No, no, I do believe you are correct my dear friend. This morning's alarms and excursions definitely allow for a breach of etiquette. I believe this will do quite well, especially as I know you to have excellent taste in cognac.” I took a sip of my drink and savoured the flavour before allowing it to slide down my throat and warm me from the inside. “Now what did you want to discuss, Inspector?”
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