Tipping back the pint of smooth beer, I scanned the bar, taking in my surroundings. I had been back in London for three months and had already gone through two therapists and four hotels. My military pension was hardly enough to sustain decent living circumstances, and I had recently been considering finding a flat- in that case, of course, I would need a flatmate to help split the fee. The trouble of finding one willing to live with me almost seemed not worth the hassle, but I certainly was not going to stay with Henry. London was my home, and as I had no family in the area, I had no choice but to try to find a man who didn’t mind living with a cold veteran suffering from PTSD.
As I contemplated my circumstance, I heard a familiar voice behind me, calling me by name. “Watson? Doctor John Watson?” I twisted in my seat and found myself facing the young Mike Stamford, an unseasoned doctor who had trained under me during his schooling at St. Barts. The young man smiled at me and extended a hand in greeting, one I readily took. Within the hour, we had become reacquainted and had shared a few laughs and tales of our lives since we had last seen each other five years prior. He had been married, and his wife had birthed an infant daughter, while all I had to share were my few brief yet horrific misadventures in Afghanistan.
“Mike,” I eventually asked, my state of mind slightly fogged by the alcohol, “how would you like to meet up for coffee tomorrow morning? I haven’t seen a lot of my old friends since I got back, and it’d be nice if we could get together to talk more.”
“Yes,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” We exchanged mobile numbers and shared a cab back to our respective homes with plans to meet up at a café the following morning at ten o’clock sharp.
Upon arrival the following morn at the predetermined destination, however, I found Mike pacing anxiously outside of it, a coffee tray holding three cups in has hands. I indiscreetly checked my watch, and, finding I was not late, walked up to him. “Something wrong, Mike?” I asked as he handed me a coffee.
“No,” the thin man replied, “not a problem, I’d say. It’s just... a colleague and I have been working on a study recently and they seem to have had a breakthrough. I was up there a few minutes ago, but came down to meet up with you. You wouldn’t mind walking up to Barts with me? We can talk on the way, it’s a bit of a walk and a nice day considering.” He was right. It was one of those rare blue-skied days in London, and a walk wasn’t such a bad idea.
“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.” I sipped my coffee as we strolled down the streets towards the hospital. “So tell me about this study of yours?”
“Oh, it’s a study on how certain chemicals can help preserve DNA. We’re working on not only how to better preserve DNA fresh found as evidence, but also how to better detect older, already decayed DNA and make a positive match with it. Very interesting, very useful. Not my idea of course, I’m not nearly that clever, but my knowledge on animal and human chromosomes has been helpful, I’ll admit.”
“Hmm… that does sound very useful. This colleague of yours must be quite the scientist, then.”
Mike laughed good-naturedly. “Sherlock’s something else, I’ll give you that. So tell me, how have you been getting on recently?”
“Oh, you know,” I offered, “I’ve been trying to settle down, back into the grove of the common man. It’s quite strange, adjusting to life here since my dispatch from the military. Actually, though, that does remind me of a point I meant to bring up with you. You haven’t, by chance, come across anyone in need of a flatmate? I figure I must be quite the difficult man to live with- I’d be surprised if anyone would be willing to go halves with me. It’s really quite too bad, though, because I cannot afford the hotel nor a flat on my own and I am far from normal enough to make a pleasant flatmate for any man.”
As I finished speaking, Mike burst into laughter beside me. He was laughing so hard, in fact, that he had to stop walking and catch his breath. I found myself slightly offended, as I assumed it was I he had been laughing at. I would soon realise, however, that I was quite wrong. “Mike?” I asked when he had recovered from his amusement, “Did I say something wrong?”
Mike shook his head and chuckled lightly as we resumed our walk towards the hospital, which was but two blocks away at this point. “No, not at all. It’s only that you’re the second person I have heard say that this morning.”
“What?” I turned surprised towards him, eager at the possible opportunity of meeting a man that might actually be willing to live with me. “So you do know someone, then? Who is it, and can I meet him to talk about the possibility of sharing a flat?”
“Yes, I do in fact know someone. And I think they’d readily share rooms with you, I’m just not so sure you would be so hasty to move in with them.”
“Is that so?” I did not find myself persuaded by Mike’s caution. At that point, I figured any man willing to live with me would be suitable. Even a violent serial criminal would do, as long as I was left out of his antics. “Who is it, then? I’m sure he’s a fine man.”
I found Mike chuckling again, and wondered what could possibly be so funny about our conversation. “None other,” said he, “than Sherlock Holmes.”
“Why,” I replied enthusiastically, “I don’t see how that is a bad thing at all! From the brief amount I have heard of him, he seems like a fantastic fellow. And I’m sure a scientific man would make a fitting and standard flatmate, save for the few instruments of his trade. I don’t see how that would be a disadvantage at all, however. In fact, I think that would only make him a more interesting man to get to know.”
Mike gave a wry smile and shook his head sardonically. “I think you will find yourself much surprised by Sherlock Holmes, Watson. More so than you could imagine.”
“Well, I guess we will see soon enough.” That was the last we spoke of Sherlock Holmes, as we chose to converse more common matters for the rest of our stroll. When we got to St. Barts, I found myself much intrigued by some of the technological changes that had occurred of the four years I had been absent. We entered on the first floor and passed many laboratories and an autopsy room, all of which were equipped with the most novel instruments I had seen. Of course, this awe could have been slightly attributed to my incompetence with technology of any sort. I often found myself having troubles with the smallest of devices, including my laptop and phone, and usually needed someone else’s assistance. Technology was amazing to me, yes, I just wasn’t too keen with it.
Eventually we found ourselves through a wing of the building I had never stepped foot in, an observation which I was sharing with Mike as we entered a rather spacious room. It seemed to be a chemistry or biology lab, and there was one young female student working behind a long counter on the other side of the room. As Mike informed me of a few more recent renovations, the student came around from behind the counter and scurried towards us. “Mike!” she exclaimed excitedly, “I simply must show you what I have-” She unexpectedly froze midsentence and turned towards me, as if suddenly realising I was there.
When she looked at me, her face lit up. “Oh, an army doctor!” She smiled happily, sticking out a hand in a greeting. I accepted it and was rather surprised by her firm handshake- one that would be rare from a man, let alone a woman. “How long have you been back from Afghanistan?” She inquired curiously, looking me in the eye.
“Three mont- wait. How did you know that?” I was shocked and slightly appalled by her knowledge of me. She only smiled as I turned towards Mike. “You told her, then?” He grinned and shook his head as I turned back to the girl, who was still standing expectantly in front of me. “Who are you anyway?”
“This,” Mike introduced, gesturing towards the girl, “is my colleague…”
“…Sherlock Holmes,” the feminine voice interjected.
My mind shut down for a moment, like a machine cut short of energy during a power outage. As the gears in my brain slowly started turning again, I was able to begin to process the situation. The girl in front of me was approximately five feet and seven inches in height, with slightly tanned skin and light brown hair slung up in a messy bun that stuck every which way. It was hard to tell the texture and length of her locks, as it seemed she didn’t care much for her appearance. Her frame was rather thin, but not to a sickly proportion. She was decently weighted in the hips and breasts, but extremely lean around her legs and waist. Her build, however, made her seem slightly taller than she was, despite the fact that already had greater height than the average woman. She was clothed in loose jean shorts and a light yellow polo that was rather tight fitting. Over this she wore a white lab coat that seemed to be a slight bit big on her. The most outstanding variable, however, was her lack of shoes. Her feet were clean and well groomed, and they were obviously calloused. It made me wonder if this girl even owned a pair of shoes. This barefoot habit she seemed to have, it was very strange. But, for some reason, I found that it didn’t bother me. It just seemed right and natural for this girl to not wear any footwear, like that was just the way it was meant to be.
My eyes were then drawn to her face. She had peculiar greenish eyes and a well-shaped brow. Her face was mostly symmetrical, and adorned with a set of plush lips and smooth, flawless skin stretched across her sharply set cheekbones. It donned on me that this girl was quite pretty, and could draw a crowd if she bothered with her appearance even the slightest. Her even face gave her an air of dominance that was not contradicted by those fierce and intelligent green orbs and I looked down into them for a moment, trying to read anything I could, but only found myself intimidated in a way that I had not been before, especially in the presence of a woman. “Sherlock…” I repeated slowly, crossing my arms and trying not to draw my gaze from hers, “Holmes? Why, that’s a man’s name. Is this some sort of sick prank Mike has put you up to?” Despite my inquiry, I knew deep down that it was not, as there was something uniquely perfect about this girl that told me she was exactly who she claimed to be.
Her mocking chuckle confirmed my doubts, as she shook her head sarcastically. “No, not at all doctor. I promise that I am exactly who I say I am.”
“Your parents then, gave you a mans name?”
Her brow furrowed as she studied my face and I fought the urge to tear away from those knowing eyes. However, those same eyes that made me fidget uncomfortably suddenly had a look of realisation in them as her pupils dilated and she exhaled slowly, “Ahhh...” She stared at me for a few more seconds before giving me an ever-so-small nod of recognition. “Wilhelmina Sherlock Scarlett Holmes. Sherlock is merely the name I choose to go by, for it is of my preference.”
I heard Mike inhale sharply beside me as the girl- Sherlock- and I continued in our stoic confrontation. “Well I find it quite… fitting. Albeit strange, I believe that name suits you all too well.”
“As good names tend to do.” Sherlock quickly spun around, seemingly through with me, and grabbed her coffee from the tray Mike was still holding. “Black,” she stated simply, walking away and taking a long gulp of it, “Thank-you.”
Sherlock returned to her previous spot behind the counter and fiddled with a few instruments whose names were foreign to me. “Now Mike,” she said, “I would like you to observe this for a few moments and tell me what you find.”
Mike complied, setting down his coffee and the now empty try on the edge of the counter. Sherlock then returned her gaze to me, looking me up and down quickly. “So,” she proposed, “would you find it all to bothersome sharing a flat with a woman?”
I almost choked on my drink as she spoke, but managed to contain myself. I decided this time around not to inquire how she knew this but to instead simply play along. “Don’t you think that would be a little inappropriate? I mean, we hardly know each other. People might talk.”
“I promise,” she stated sarcastically, “that I will not make any sexual advancements towards you. Now I have acquired a nice flat with more than enough room for the two of us to live comfortably, and with the split fee it should be more than affordable. Tell me, John, what habits you would dislike in a flatmate.”
Again, she seemed to have information she shouldn’t have been able to. And, again, I chose to ignore it- for the time being, that is. “You really may do whatever you please, so long as your habits do not interrupt or hinder my life in any way. I warn you though, I suffer from PTSD and can sometimes be cold and informal. I have been told I can be quick to anger and quite rude when upset.” I figured playing along with her game couldn’t hurt, and if it came down to it I wouldn’t mind moving in with a beautiful- yet eccentric- woman.
“Oh, that shall not be a problem. All those traits are welcome or acceptable. Tell me then, what is your opinion on music?”
“Music? Well I like it quite a bit, if written and preformed well.”
“Would you mind terribly the presence of a piano in the sitting room? The other instruments that I tend to play include the guitar, flute, and most prominently, the violin. Would it bother you if I were to sit around the flat composing music and playing those instruments?”
“No, in fact I would find it quite swell if you are good at your trade. I find live entertainment quite pleasant.” Hopefully this Sherlock Holmes could appreciate a bit of sarcastic humour.
Evidently, she did, as I saw the corners of her lips rise in a smirk. “My habits, then. I tend to go to bed early but wake up late at night and become active. I then go back to bed and sleep late. I eat little and talk less when my mind is preoccupied and have been known to go on for days without uttering a single word. Also, I have the terrible habit of smoking. Would that bother you immensely?”
“All fine so long as I am left at peace. And, whilst I do not smoke, I do not mind being in the company of those who do. Is there anything else?”
“No, I think that should be all. Now Mike and I here have quite a bit of work to be doing and will be occupied for the next few hours. Please see yourself out. I will meet you at noon tomorrow at the address 221B Baker Street. Good day.”
And with that, it was as if she simply turned off. She turned to a microscope and became immersed in her observations beside my friend Mike Stamford, who looked equally absorbed. I fidgeted awkwardly in the corner of the room for a few moments before briskly turning and leaving without another word.
As I walked out of the hospital and down the street, hailing a cab, I only had one thought in my head: “Who the hell is Sherlock Holmes, and did I just move in with her?”
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125,017 Literary Works • 672,850 Reviews
I’m sorry. I had to stop in the middle of finishing this because it hurt. First of all, you took this whole idea from the British show Sherlock (down to the words themselves) and the only thing you changed was that Sherlock is a girl. There are several things I would like to say about this, and not all of it is nice, so I will refrain. One giant thing I can see is you desperately need help with your dialogue. If you’re watching the show, which is mostly dialogue I would think you would do better at it. Another main thing you need to watch is your story line. You’re tripping over yourself trying to write it down. At one point your ‘Sherlock’ mentions Afghanistan and your main character asks how she knows. She doesn’t answer yet your main character says later on not to ask how she knows these things. It doesn’t make sense. One more thing about the story line, Sherlock is introduced yet John’s name is never said and when she asks John a question by name he doesn’t think anything of it. Which brings me to my other, more distressing note; your characters have no emotion. They don’t react like real people. They talk like robots and have no reactions to what is being said. It all just hurts me. It’s clear as day that you took the idea off of that show so please, even though the old Sherlock Holmes stories are most likely public domain, the shows based off of it are most certainly not. Though it is okay to have some poetic license when bouncing your idea off of a platform of a popular show, please make it your own and not go word for word in some cases.
Now, let’s get to some more detailed editing.
“I warn you though; I suffer from PTSD and can sometimes be cold and informal.”
Informal is probably not to word you are looking for. Informal implies a relaxed air in which you would kick off your shoes and have a beer.
“Her mocking chuckle confirmed my doubts, as she shook her head sarcastically.”
I’m sorry, but you can’t shake your head sarcastically. You can make an expression that implied sarcasm, but you can’t shake your head sarcastically. Sarcasm is an element of irony and just as you can’t trip ironically, you can trip cause a bit of dry humour in the irony involved. Sarcasm is when you say something that is the opposite of what you mean. I.E. you can’t say something is the opposite by merely shaking your head.
There are a lot of other mistakes and I was trying to go easy on you but plagiarism is just something I don’t like at all. I feel bad because it is your first post and you are new. I do believe you can take your idea of a female Sherlock Holmes just as Robert Downey Jr. can make an excellent Sherlock in the American movies completely separate from Benedict Cumberbatch from the British television show, so can you. Keep writing your marvellous ideas and one day it will take you somewhere.
Thanks so much for your review
Thanks for the bit about the dialogue, I know I have always had trouble with that aspect of writing in the past, and it is something I have been working on to improve. I have a few friends who review my work, and they have told me this over and over again. I am aware of that flaw, but old habits are bad to break, eh? I actually have read a few articles on how to better write dialogue, and they have been helpful. I still have a lot of room for improvement though. I had rather liked the dialogue, though, in this piece- but now i will go back and review and see what i can do to make my characters, as you said, "more human."
The second bit I wish to reply to is your mention of my word sarcasm. I had not seen that before, but you are correct. Sardonic would be a much better adjective in this case, and I will make note to change that during my editing (after I finish chapter one, of course, which I am still working on). So thank-you for pointing that out for me. I often use Sardonic and Sarcastic interchangably in the wrong context.
You mentioned Sherlock knowing John's name, and how he "had no reaction". Brilliant observation, I was hoping people would see that! He did have a reaction, in fact, he said in his narrative "Again, she seemed to have information she shouldn't have been able to." This of course, is touched on in Chapter One- which I would be honoured if you read and critiqued for me!
The last point I would like to bring up is the only one I have a problem with. (I appreciate, no, thrive for, cruel reviews. They help me improve.) You mentioned constantly the BBC show, Sherlock. First, you stated that Warner Brothers created something seperate from Moffats adaptation. On this point, the Warner Brothers version came out in 2009 while BBCs Sherlocl did not air until 2012. Also, BBCs Sherlock is set in modern day while the Warner Brothers version is set correctly in the victorian era. I would just like to clear that up for you: technically, BBC was able to create something seperate from what the Warner Brothers did, as the Warner Brothers film came out first.
Also, you constantly compared my version- even though you have only read the prologue (and from what you say you stopped halfway through) you seem very sure of yourself that I have plagerized the Moffat and Gatiss in my writing of this. I will have you know that I have indeed watched- and enjoyed- BBCs Sherlock. But I will strongly state that I do not like it as
an adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyles original work. The show is not canon, Sherlock Holmes is nothing like the original character, and many thing that should be in there aren't- and vice versa.
Albeit, the show is brilliant- and the modern day idea is similar. But I will say to my dying day that I have taken every measure to assure that this in no way is anything like BBCs Sherlock. In fact I hate the show as a Sherlock Holmes adaptation. It belongs in a different catagory. I have made my story quite canon to the original, which I assume you have not read.
In fact, I would put money on you not having read it. How disappointing. And while I hate being rude, I am throughly insulted by your acuisations on this matter. I have not copied BBC, in fact I have made a great effort to stray away from it. I have made Sherlock Holmes realistic and canon, and I have made John Watson the skeptical, detached, and quizzical man he is in the novels- something BBC has failed to do. And while I love the program, I am insulted by the comparison. This is NOT a fanfiction.
Thank you for the review, it was much appreciated and I will work off of it. I would love if you would point out my other mistakes for me, I do so hate it when people go easy on me. Again, thanks- and have a great day!
Reading back over it I'm sorry I was such an a**. I had recently re-watched that beginning episode so with every mention that was similar and spot on I could easily remember the show. I do not blame you for being as defensive as anyone would be for their piece. I do suggest for you to watch that beginning episode and look back over your piece. This will help you see any similarities and be able to improve your piece. I do like your idea though not as fond to your style of writing but that I can get over. You were right when you said I never read any books by Doyle yet I have read some of the countless short stories about Sherlock Holmes by Doyle. Though I do plan on one day (God forbid) reading The Final Problem though at the moment it is just sitting on my book shelf gathering dust. Again, I am sorry that I was so rude but it really did strike a nerve when people take work from others. I hope that you prove me wrong.
No, it's fine. I can get defensive sometimes too, so part of that was my fault. http://www.publicbookshelf.com/mystery/ ... ock-holmes
that is the first chapter of A Study in Scarlett. I did recently re-watch the episode and see similarities, but that is because the episode is based off of the book. If you read the first chapter at the link I have posted, you will find that the show, the book, and my prologue are almost uncanny in resemblance. I hope you get a chance to read more of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, he is a great author.
And I get it, it is totally understandable to not like a writing style, no hard feelings at all (;
Thank you for such good reading. I do see how they are very similar with not just theirs but also yours. I suggest you note how Doyle develops characters mostly through their dialogue and less from how they are perceived (ie clothing/actions). From what I gather your story is placed in modern times (the jeans and the fact she is a woman). I hope your story can stay on its toes because of the perception of Holmes right now is very hard to live up to. Happy writing
Hmmmm. Very interesting.
You might consider shortening the beginning; I'd assumed this was merely a re-telling and began to skim until I noticed you were talking about a woman. (I've seen the series, you see, and am not a newcomer to the fanfiction world.)
Now, you have a nice style here. One thing you need to watch out for: over-explanation.
Most early writers fall into this trap, in fact; there are many experienced writers who do this often--the fact that we don't see more of it is a tribute to their editors, who slice and dice and chop until the wild rosebush of a thing has been pruned into something more manageable. Since we don't have editors yet, we have to do the chopping ourselves (or ask someone else to do it for us). (Here is a useful article on the subject.)
Now, I'm not saying you describe everything too much. Your style is progressing nicely (I say this because we get better as time goes on), and you're getting the hang of this whole writing thing. What you have here is good. You just need to delete everything that isn't necessary. If it doesn't add to the story--not the information, not even the characterization or the plot, the story as it appeals to the reader--then it needs to be cut. That's a hard call to make sometimes--take this snippet:
I can't decide if that's over-descriptive or merely giving us a better picture of the character, so I'm leaving it up to you. Generally, I try to ask myself: how can I convey this in a different way? Yes, description is necessary to to a story, but sometimes you can convey things in a different manner. For example, to show she has messy hair, you could show how she messes with it, or how little attention she pays to it later on--or you could just have her move/adjust it while she's talking to Watson. Hair getting in the face is generally a sign that it's messy, rather than well-brushed.
Not that there was anything wrong with the hair bit! I'm just trying to show how things can be done differently.
Now, after that, it starts to feel like you're repeating/over-emphasizing certain aspects of Sherlock's appearance and/or character. Ask yourself--have I already said this, but in a different way? Am I repeating myself? Is there something the characters have said or done that has gotten this point across? Is there something the can do?
I think I've said enough, so I bid you adieu. Happy writing!
Thank-you!
This is a very constructive review, and I love and value your opinion. I have been told constantly by my teachers and professors that I am a "fluff writer".
While there are some bits about description I have deemed necessary, I completely agree with you. There are definitely bits i need to cut out. I usually don't like doing major editing on a WIP, though, so that will have to happen later. (I feel it ruins my flow and thought process when I go back and do major editing)
Also, I would like to point out this is NOT a fanfiction- not from the BBC series at least. Many people seem to think that, and it is not true. This is simply another adaptation of the original, and is meant for not only people who have seen the series, read the books, or seen any of the movies, but also for people who have never read or seen any Sherlock Holmes before. Therefore, (as this is a prologue) I think I will keep the introduction.
I will definitely take into account your suggestions on description, however, for they are quite literally gold. Also, thank you for the link.
I would be honoured if you would be willing to read and critique my following chapters for this novel, because I appreciate and enjoy your opinion. I can't get better if i'm not told what I do wrong, after all!
Again, thank you, and lots of love xxx