Archive of Our Own

Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet

The year of 'Eighty-Two saw what was to prove the short-lived Triple Alliance between Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy, a forerunner of the dreadful events of the twentieth century. The third 'new' case I can reveal from that year involved Doctor Watson meeting Kean for the first time, after my lover had had his way with me (in every sense!) in my letting him visit 221B Baker Street to request Sherlock's help on a case. And although I made my displeasure at his underhand tactics quite manifest on his return, the horny bastard enjoyed that too. Rats!

Note to self: maybe time to employ footmen who can smirk a bit more quietly.

Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D.

In my many years with Mr. Sherlock Holmes I would soon come to the conclusion that one of the rare things that we had in common was an utter and absolute aversion to Feelings. I have to admit however that he was far better at hiding his emotions than almost anyone I knew, which was why I was a little disappointed at not being able to include this case in the original canon. I am writing it up anyway in the hope that one day it may see the light of day.

I would see many examples of humanity come through the door to our rooms at 221B, seeking the assistance of the great man with whom I lived. But few could have matched this early example, a blond hulk of a fellow who came through the doorway that he almost filled. And then stood up. Even more surprising was Sherlock's reaction to this behemoth, greeting him like an old friend. Yet there was definitely something strained between the two.

“This fine young fellow is Mr. Kean Hardland”, Sherlock said, bidding the fellow sit down.

I remembered the name.

“You are the friend of Holmes' eldest brother”, I said.

“I am his lover”, the man said flatly. “He and I have sex. Every night. Oftentimes during the day as well.”

I did a passable impression of stranded goldfish. Holmes, predictably if annoyingly, was not perturbed in the slightest.

“How may we help you, sir?” he asked courteously.

“As Mr. Holmes knows”, our visitor said, “before I met Rin I worked at a smithy in Hammersmith and did part-time work as a strong man in the circus which was based around the area. I still retain some friendships from back then. One of them is a lady called Miss Vittoria Vincenzo, who came to this country with her father from Venice back in 'Seventy-One.”

That was a coincidence, I thought, as I knew that Sherlock had already tackled a case with Italian connections that could have had severe diplomatic repercussions had it not been carefully handled.

“Miss Vincenzo lives on the far side of London”, the giant said, “so we rarely meet. Like my own time with the circus she maintains a full-time job as well to make ends meet. However certain recent events have unnerved her, and when she expressed her fears to me I decided to see if Mr. Holmes here might involve himself in sorting things out for her.”

“It must be a grave matter for you so to do”, Holmes said. “Yes, we shall be glad to help Miss Vincenzo out in any way that we can.”

“I think the best place to start might be with her employer, a Mr. John Smith”, our visitor said. “She is employed at a fish-packaging factory not far from her house, and he has arranged her hours so she can also work at the circus – which pays a lot more per hour as you might imagine – when it is in the area. He is also pursuing a relationship with her, which given that he is some years her senior I am a little concerned over. But he and she between them can give you the facts.”

“We shall see him first, then”, Holmes said. “Thank you for coming, sir. My regards to Sherry when you see him.”

The behemoth stood up, wincing a little for reasons that I desperately tried not to think about, and bade us farewell. I did not sigh with relief; it was just a heavy and sudden breath.

“Yes, I felt that too”, Holmes admitted. “But he is a gentle fellow at heart, and he and Sherry really do love each other. It is regrettable that although I brought them together he fears that my own choice of career may endanger the man he loves, which for him trumps all else. I shall do what I can for this friend of his although it will probably turn out to be quite mundane.”

For once he was wrong. It was not 'quite mundane'.

Mr. John Smith was in central London the following day and Sherlock sent a telegram requesting a meeting. The gentleman wired back that he would come and see us in Baker Street, which I felt showed that he himself considered the matter important if not urgent.

The only distinctive thing about Mr. Smith was the decidedly unpleasant cologne that he was wearing, which was both vinegary and overpowering; I was glad that the window was slightly open that day. The gentleman was short, plain to the point of ugliness and had somewhat unkempt mousy brown hair, and I would not have taken him for an entrepeneur at any price.

“Welcome”, Holmes said, waving him to a chair. “This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.”

Our visitor nodded to me and took a seat.

“Thank you for seeing me, gentlemen”, he said. “I should begin by explaining that I have a large house in Essex, near Majestic Park, on the edge of London. I prefer to allow my factory managers up on the Suffolk coast to do things themselves, and pay only irregular visits to keep an eye on them, though I visit the distribution centre here rather more often. As you said in your telegram I am more than a little concerned about Miss Vincenzo, whom you doubtless know works at the circus when it is on our side of the metropolis.”

“Vittoria came to England with her father Salvatore just over ten years ago, and he initially applied to work on the many building sites in our growing area. Unable to find any employment there, he joined her in applying for work at my London factory which is next to Liverpool Street Station. The work is mundane, but it pays a fair wage and I am said to be a decent employer.”

“I myself only met Vittoria some two years ago, when I moved to the area from Lowestoft upon the closure of the smaller factory that I had owned there. I fell in love with her at first sight. Of course I was her employer which put me in a difficult enough position, let alone the ten-year age gap. Matters were further complicated when her father died in that outbreak of winter flu shortly after our first meeting, which sad event caused her to look for additional work elsewhere.”

“Although her sweet nature is, I think, her best attribute, Vittoria is stunningly beautiful. Indeed, when I first declared my interest in her I would have been far from surprised if she had refused me; with her looks she could have any man in London who had eyes to see with. It was those looks which enabled her to obtain the job at the circus, which as you know tends to operate around London. Many such places have a Belle, a girl of outstanding beauty, and the Galliano Circus is no exception. I agreed to amend her hours at the factory so that she could work evenings and the occasional afternoon at the circus, and all seemed set fair.”

“Unfortunately, a problem then arose in the form of a Mr. Roderick West. In the ring he is Roderigo Occidentale, the Knifeman From Hell, and he made it clear from when he first saw Vittoria that he wished to be considered as a suitor for her affections. He is, I suppose, a handsome enough fellow but she did not return his affections. However he has recently been pressuring the circus manager Mr. Pines to have Vittoria included in his act. The thought of that horrible man throwing knives at my... that dear girl – I cannot allow it!”

“The question is”, Holmes said dryly, “does Miss Vincenzo wish to allow it?”

“She does not”, the man said ruefully, “but she needs the job to be able to maintain her house, and I very much fear that she may feel forced to yield to his request. But I do not trust the man.”

Holmes pressed his long fingers together.

“This is difficult”, he said. “No crime has been committed as of yet, but if your fears of your rival prove justified then we may be looking at a potential case of murder and worse, one which could all too easily be made to appear as an accident. Obviously Miss Vincenzo cannot move in with you and leave her house so we must find a solution quickly. When might we wait on the lady in question?”

“Her shift today concludes at three”, our guest said, “and she usually leaves her house a little before five-thirty to be at the circus for the six o'clock evening performance. You would catch her any time between three-thirty and five-fifteen.”

“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “If you leave her address with us, we shall visit her between those hours and then formulate a plan of action.”

I was somewhat surprised that my friend had once again assumed that I would be going with him, though I said nothing. Obviously I must have shown some emotion, for once our visitor was gone, he spoke.

“I am sorry if I over-stepped”, he said, looking abashed. “I do however find your presence grounding, and would welcome it if you could come.”

Well, when he put it like that... I supposed that I could be persuaded.

Miss Vittoria Vincenzo lived at Number 30A, FitzAllan Gardens. It turned out to be a single and quite modern house standing athwart the road which was terminated by the railway behind it, a single goods line running into Liverpool Street Station. I could not help but notice that the numbers were a little strange; houses one to thirty (no thirteen) down one side, then Miss Vincenzo's house, and then fifty to seventy-nine down the other side. From that and what was a rather questionable footbridge over the railway and across an open area on the other sides of the tracks, I envisaged that the road had once connected through to the distant north-south road I could see in the distance but had been cut off when the railway had been built.

Our target property was not small, and I did not wonder at Miss Vincenzo having to hold down two jobs to keep it up, although I presumed that she rented out unused rooms like everyone else. The lady in question had obviously been apprised as to our coming, and welcomed us with coffee and cakes. She was indeed beautiful, of the sort that make-up would more likely mar rather than make. I wondered how my friend would set about his inquiries, and his first question surprised me.

“Have you received an offer for the house, may I ask?”

She looked as surprised as I felt, but rallied quickly.

“Yes”, she said, her voice somewhat melodic in tone. “How did you know?”

“I did not”, he said. “But one of the things that I noticed when we arrived is that the area directly behind the railway line is being at least partly re-developed, and surmised that this would make an easy access road from the City whilst avoiding the station. Indeed, from the house numbers the road once did reach there, and councils are more liable to grant permission to restore old roads than build new ones. Your house is the only obstacle to that plan.”

She nodded.

“It has made for some bad feeling along the road”, she admitted. “Many of my fellow Venetians live here, and they assumed that it was going to remain a quiet little street. The thought of it becoming a busy thoroughfare worries them, what with their children playing in the street. When they built the railway, they knocked down the houses at the end of the road and the developer built this one for himself. He had two young sons who were keen on railways, so it was ideal for them.”

“Who made you the offer?” Holmes asked.

“Heath, Callington & Wilsford, the developers of the site that you saw”, she said. “They offered me more than the house is actually worth – Mr. Smith kindly had it valued for me – but he advised me to refuse their offer as he said it was far short of what I should get. I did not understand such things, but since he knows business I decided to follow his advice.”

“Presumably he believed the developers would pay more because they would be gaining the access across the railway line”, Holmes said. “We must look into that further. Mr. Smith also tells us that he has some concerns about a co-worker of yours at the circus, a Mr. Roderick West?”

She shuddered.

“I think that he means well”, she said, “but he is such a brute at times. He did have some issues over drinking, which for a man with knives is far from idea, but I understand from what I have heard that he is over that now. Mr. Smith is sure that he is behind the idea for me to be included in his act, which I would not like at all. But I cannot afford to lose my job there even if it is only an occasional one, so I may have to. I have two lodgers here and I still struggle.”

Holmes looked at her consideringly.

“Miss Vincenzo”, he said eventually, “you mentioned that there are several other Venetians living in this particular road. Do you happen to know if your father sought to buy this house in particular, or if he was just looking for somewhere in this area?”

“That I do know”, she said. “He hoped to buy number Twenty-Three a little further down the road but he told me that it was sold to someone else, one of those people who, I believe the phrase is, sub-let. The people in there now are a family from somewhere in the North of England. However the then-owner of this house heard that he was looking for a house and offered to sell it to him. My dear papa had some money put by, and we were fortunate that the seller was prepared to accept a little below its full value as he wanted to move quickly to be with a sick relative in the West of England.”

“I see”, Holmes said, and I just knew he was on to something. “May I ask why your father sought to purchase a house outright rather than just renting?”

“He wished to settle in England permanently”, she explained. “His own father was moderately rich, and although that estate was divided between three sons my father had just enough to be able to afford this house. As I am sure you know, the incorporation of Venice into the Kingdom of Italy was not welcomed across large parts of La Serenissima, and many of us left for other countries.”

“Quite”, Holmes smiled. “You are quite clearly a lady of sense, Miss Vincenzo, so I am going to be honest with you. Your life is in danger unless you do exactly as I say.”

I felt that he was being a little too direct here. The poor lady looked terrified.

“Why?” she gasped.

“You must trust me”, Holmes said firmly. “In a moment I am going to run through a list of instructions, and if you follow them to the letter all will be well. To the letter Miss Vincenzo. Failure to do so may well result in your untimely demise and we do not wish that, do we?”

“No”, she managed.

“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “Now this is what you must do……”

Next, we paid a call to the offices of Heath, Callington & Wilsford, which was only a few streets away. It turned out to be a small sub-office of the company and the only manager who worked there was away dealing with a client, which meant that Holmes had to ask his questions of the secretary, Miss Grissom. Sixty if she was a day, her hair tied up in a bun and wearing a severe black dress, she looked as if she had forgotten what a smile was. He asked her several questions then thanked her for her time before returning outside with me.

“They are indeed the developers for Laxton Fields”, he said. “And she had one particularly interesting piece of information. Mr. Heath, her manager, scheduled an unexpected meeting with someone when she was away from the office yesterday. A Mr. Roderick West. She only found out when she was typing up his notes from it and she was sent out on an errand during the visit, which annoyed her greatly.”

“Did she know what the meeting was about?” I asked.

“Her manager retrieved the papers concerning the Laxton Fields development from the files”, he said.

“I am surprised that she was prepared to tell you as much”, I said, a trifle sourly. I still could not believe how he had charmed that Medusa. He grinned at me.

“I am full of surprises!” he said.

Once we were back in Baker Street I asked if he thought the case was actually solvable.

“I solved it before we left FitzAllan Gardens”, he said airily. “However I appreciated the help I received from dear Miss Grissom, so I thought it only fair to warn her that she might very soon be out of employment and should immediately seek work elsewhere.”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because there is every likelihood that the criminal investigation into her employers may force them to close down”, he said.

“But how are they involved?” I asked.

He was saved by answering by the announcement of a visitor, obviously an important one as Mrs. Hudson herself had come up. It turned out to be none other than Miss Vincenzo. Holmes kissed her hand and led her to a chair.

“I should say now that the danger I feared is all but passed”, he smiled. “But I am expecting another visitor as well, and it woud be best if we waited for him.”

“Who is that?” she inquired.

“Mr. Roderick West”, he said. She paled.

“Is that necessary?” she asked, a little sharply.

“It is if you wish to know the whole truth”, Holmes said crisply. “It is not a happy tale, but it looks to end about as well as could have been hoped.”

She looked at him dubiously but did not make to leave. The maid brought coffee, tea and cakes, and fifteen minutes later she led up Mr. West. Out of his outrageous pirate-style costume that I had seen in the poster for the circus (I wondered if he truly hated having to wear such a monstrosity), he looked an utterly normal Victorian gentleman, but I reminded myself that this was someone who could knife a victim at a great distance with deadly accuracy. I tried not to shudder.

“Miss Vincenzo”, Holmes began, “I must start this tale with your father as he was the man who, albeit unwittingly, placed you in your recent peril.”

“My father?” she asked, clearly puzzled. “How?”

“My inquiries at the estate agents confirmed what I had suspected”, Holmes went on. “Your father was not outbid on Number Twenty-Three, as he told you. Whilst at the estate agents he saw plans which showed that your current house would most likely have to be knocked down for an access road to the new estate to be built beyond the railway line. I also found that since there had been a road there before, there would be no problem getting permission to relay it. Your father correctly reasoned that the owner of that house could make a huge profit once the development became public knowledge, which is why he was prepared to offer more than the value of the house to its current owner. More, not less as he told you.”

“His plan was that he would be the one making a profit. As it happened his departure from this earthly realm left you in possession of the house. As I said, only the estate agents and the developers knew of the plans to build in the area at this time. However, as well as your father those plans became known to a second gentleman.”

Holmes turned to look hard at Mr. West.

“I don't know what you're talking about”, he said defensively.

“The estate agents were recently visited by a certain 'Mr. West'”, Holmes said, “and the appointment was not logged in the schedule, as is common practice. The laws about what property and assets a lady can hold as of right were changed some twelve years back, but the much-needed further legislation to finish the job is still going through the Commons. So the man who married Miss Vincenzo might still come into possession of a most handsome property – if he marries her before the law reaches the statute books.”

“I've never been to no estate agents!” the man asserted boldly.

Holmes stared at him for a moment before turning back to Miss Vincenzo.

“I am very much afraid, Miss Vincenzo, that had you married in the near future, that marriage would have been curtailed by your untimely death in an unfortunate 'accident'.”

She visibly edged away from the other man.

“You wished me to become part of your act”, she whispered. “Heavens!”

“I still don't know what you're talking about”, Mr. West blustered, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Holmes eyed him thoughtfully.

“The secretary there, a Miss Grissom, is a highly observant lady”, he said. “I am very thankful that she exhibits no criminal tendencies, for I fear that she would prove a most formidable adversary. For example, she noted two things about the visitor that she was sent out to avoid seeing. The first was a small quantity of sawdust, which she assumed had come from the man's boots.”

Mr. West instinctively pulled his boots back a little, and I thought 'circus ring'.

“Sawdust can come from anywhere”, he said, but he looked increasingly worried.

“Actually that is not true”, Holmes said. “It was fortunate for you that Miss Grissom is exceptionally tidy-minded. She took a dustpan and brush, and cleaned the mess away before the office cleaner arrived, depositing the dust in her own waste-paper basket which she empties herself when it is full, checking the contents to make sure that nothing important has been thrown away in error. I was therefore able to obtain a sample which I have since tested. And what do you think I found, Mr. West?”

My friend looked like a cat waiting to strike at a cornered mouse. Mr. West shook slightly.

“I found that the sawdust left in the room was not the same as the sawdust used in the circus ring”, Holmes said.

“What?” I asked. Both our guests were similarly astonished.

“It was planted there by the estate agent's visitor, to give the false impression that Mr. West had been there”, Holmes said. “It is in fact oak, most likely from an old piece of furniture.”

“But who was it then?” I demanded. “We have only just started investigating the case.”

Too late I realized that I had said 'we' instead of 'you'. The slight quirk of an eyebrow told me that that slip had not gone unnoticed, but fortunately he did not comment on it.

“This is how the crime was committed”, he said. “Our criminal – not Mr. West – learns of the value of Miss Vincenzo's house and sets out to woo her.”

“But the only person I am seeing now is Mr. Smith”, she objected.

I winced. She was going to put two and two together.... yes, from the agonized look on her face she just had.

“No!” she gasped.

“All marches well, until the Fates work against him”, Holmes said. “Miss Vincenzo mentions her concerns to a former colleague who has retired from the business. That colleague lives at the house of a brother of a certain London consulting detective and, having a strong understanding of human nature and feeling that something is wrong, he asks said detective to investigate. Mr. Smith is at first worried but sees a chance to pull the wool over everyone's eyes and also to frame a potential rival. He arranges a private meeting with the estate agents using a pseudonym, and leaves the sawdust in the room for Miss Grissom to find, thus incriminating his rival.”

“But Mr. Smith's cologne”, I objected. “It was.... well, strong. Would Miss Grissom not have noticed it?”

“Ah”, Holmes said, “there we come to the matter of Mr. Smith's accomplice. Wishing to eliminate any risk of himself coming under suspicion he sought around the circus to find someone who shared his dislike of Mr. West here. I would strongly suspect that that person was Giordo, one of the clowns.”

“How can you know that?” I challenged.

“Because the other thing that the eagle-eyed Miss Grissom observed puzzled her considerably”, Holmes said. “She told me that whilst she had not detected any perfume in the office upon her return, she had noticed a small rouge marking on the arm of the client's chair in her superior's office. What struck her as odd was not just the position of such a mark – why would a lady have lipstick there? - but also the shade, which she described as 'dark burgundy'. Not a common colour amongst ladies – and of the four clowns at the circus, only Giordo used that colour.

The lady finally found her voice.

“And you think..... you think that he may have killed me?” she asked in a small voice.

Holmes looked at her, his face unsmiling.

“My dear lady”, he said gravely, “I am certain of it.”

“He should hang for this!” Mr. West growled.

“That is the problem”, Holmes said. “Of evidence, we have very little. If we were to place this in front of a court, it would most likely be rejected. But the frustration of his scheming will doubtless be a bitter pill for him to swallow.”

Holmes was right. Mr. John Smith sold his businesses very soon afterwards and retired to live in Belgium. Miss Vincenzo and Mr. West decided to settle elsewhere in London, and sold her house at a handsome profit. They married beforehand, but Mr. West insisted on his new wife keeping all the proceeds from the sale for herself and in a separate bank account.