Sherlock Holmes x Mary Morstan
Authors Note: This is a fanfiction that takes place in the missing moments of book two of Sherlock Holmes "Sign of The Four". Part one taking place in the missing hours after Sherlock and Watson meet Ms. Morstan. This takes place in the late 1800's, in London. I tried my best to make it read like a Sherlock Holmes novel and also tried to stay true to the character's personalities while still telling the story I wanted to tell. This story is a fanfiction of only the books, and not any movie or TV series.
Sherlock turned his head to the side, not looking Dr. Watson in the eye. He stared blankly at the wall before answering his friend.
“I hadn’t noticed,” He commented. But in fact, he had noticed. He had noticed a great deal. Ms. Morstan was blonde, petite, and fair-skinned. All things he would have noticed about any young woman, a client even. But the feelings that accompanied those observations were new and peculiar. He might have thought them a new reaction to the cocaine, but he had already felt the effects subsiding before Ms. Morstan visited. No, these were definitely something else. Some might find them exciting, but Holmes found them something to be studied, exploited. So he stood.
“I shall return soon.” Sherlock grabbed his coat off the hanger and darted from the room. He slipped it on as he trotted down the stairs. The sounds of Dr. Watson moving his chair and the smell of tobacco wafted down the stairwell. Holmes smiled as he closed the door.
After walking some ways across town, Holmes found himself at the address of Ms. Morstan. He straightened his collar and jacket before briskly knocking on the door and standing with his hands clenched behind his back. The door opened a few moments later and an older woman stood in front of him. He cleared his throat before speaking.
“I’ve come to speak with Ms. Morstan,” He stated firmly.
“Oh. She just got in. Let me fetch her.” The woman beckoned Sherlock inside and rushed to some unknown room in the house. Sherlock studied the walls and ceiling as he waited. The house was older, and in need of repair, he noticed. Footsteps were coming near him, so he squared his shoulders and stared at a painting on the wall. It was mediocre at best, he decided.
“Mr. Holmes,” Ms. Morstan breathed as she neared him, “Is there anything I can help you with?” Sherlock noted as she straightened her dress and clasped her hands in front of her. He looked her in the eye as he spoke.
“Yes, I needed to know if your father was ever in the public eye. Did he ever public speak, was he interviewed, in a paper?” Sherlock tried to remain as short as possible in his speech. He kept himself rigid. Ms. Morstan seemed to act same way, except for the faint blush on her cheeks.
“No, he was a very private man. The only thing that would be in the paper about him would be the post of his death.” Ms. Morstan said in a soft tone.
“Ah, yes. Which paper?” Sherlock said with his curiosity piqued.
“The Times, I believe”, Said Ms. Morstan.
“Of course. Thank you Ms. Morstan. I will see you,” Sherlock pulled out his watch and checked it, “In two hours.” He tipped his hat to her and opened the door. It wasn’t until the door was closed that he let out his breath. He had to admit, she was beautiful.
“Holmes,” He muttered to himself, “this is not appropriate. She is a client.” He narrowed his eyes and began walking towards where he would find the archives of the Times, his pace fast and his emotions closed.