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Upon the mantelpiece at 221B sits a photograph. In this particular frame is a woman, seemingly unrelated to the rest of the framed photographs in the suite. Should anyone ask about the identity of the subject, Herlock Sholmes would always smile and refer to them as the woman. Few know of her true identity; Yujin Mikotoba was one of them.
The origin of this peculiar addition to 221B began in late March, when the Queen's Golden Jubilee was mere months away. Herlock had spent most of that month buried in old books, alternating from week to week between his own drug habit and his ambitions. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and tried to keep himself occupied with a few unsolved cases that passed him by.
One night, Yujin returned from work and stepped out of a cab outside of 221B. He looked up at the window and saw Herlock's dark silhouette pass once or twice against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest, and his hands clasped behind him. His mannerisms told Yujin that his partner had finally found an interesting case to solve. He had finally risen out of his drug-created dreams, and was hot upon the scent of a new problem.
When he entered their shared suite, Herlock gave him a wave and stood before the fire. By now, Yujin was used to it; he hardly could say that anything exciting happened whilst he was at work. Whatever his partner was pondering over was far more interesting compared to what he could say about cholera.
Herlock looked him over in his singular introspective fashion. "Did you enjoy your day of examining the dead, Mikotoba?" He remarked with a faint smirk.
"You know, Sholmes, if you were born a few centuries ago, you would've been burned at the stake," Yujin replied, "Would you care to tell me how you've managed to deduce what I spent most of my day doing?"
He chuckled to himself and rubbed his hands together. "It is simplicity itself. I can smell the faintest scent of formaldehyde upon you, which is used as an embalming agent. You also have a black mark of nitrate of silver upon your right forefinger," he pointed out, "You see, Mikotoba, but you do not observe. For example, the steps which lead up from the hall to this room."
"What about them?"
With a grin, Herlock reached for his pipe and lit it. "You have passed them hundreds of times. So, how many are there?" He asked him.
"How many?" Yujin repeated, dumbfounded at how to answer. "Well, I... I couldn't tell you."
"Quite so - because you have not observed. You have only seen. My point is proven. There are in fact seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed." Herlock winked playfully as he took a breath from his pipe. "There is a letter that you may be interested in, now that I think about it. It's in the pink envelope upon the table. Read it aloud."
Curiously, Yujin picked up a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper. It was undated, without a signature or address. "There will call upon you tonight, at quarter to eight o'clock," he read, "A gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the Royal Houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may be safely trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wears a mask."
"Whilst I would normally amaze you with my deductive abilities, I have no data yet," muttered Herlock, "It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Unconsciously, one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. However, with English being your second language, what do you make of it? You should find this rather easy."
"I was actually thinking about the paper itself," said Yujin as he held the paper up. "Such paper must be worth more than half a crown for a packet. The one who wrote it is well-off indeed. There's also some letters woven into the paper... Eg, P, Gt."
"The Gt stands for Gesellschaft, which is German for 'company' - like our 'Co' in English," Herlock explained with a smile. "P, of course, stands for Papier. The Eg most likely stands for Egria, a German-speaking country in Bohemia. The place has numerous paper mills. I deduced all of this whilst you were away. I'm rather good, aren't I?" His eyes sparkled as he sent up a great triumphant cloud of smoke from his pipe.
"The paper was made in Bohemia, and... the person that wrote it is German!" Yujin realised, looking over the words again. "I see what you meant - I did think the sentence structure was odd at times. It's because English is not the writer's first language."
There was a sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb outside. The two rushed towards the window and spotted a brougham with golden embellishments. It certainly looked out of place in an ordinary London street.
"That must be our client," Herlock pointed towards a tall gentleman that stepped out of the brougham. "There's money in this case, if nothing else. I wonder how many months of rent we'll be able to pay...?"
The door downstairs opened. A slow and heavy step was heard upon the stairs. The steps paused outside of their door. Then, there was a loud and authoritative knock.
"Come in!" Herlock cried.
A tall man entered the room, no less than six foot six inches in height. His dress was rich in richness; heavy bands of fur were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat. A deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined in flame-coloured silk, and secured at the neck with a broach of a single flaming beryl. His boots were trimmed at the top with rich brown fur, and he carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand. The most peculiar thing, however, was the black mask that covered the top half of his face.
"You had my note?" He asked, with a deep, harsh voice and a German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked at both Herlock and Yujin, unsure which one to address.
"Pray take a seat," said Herlock, "This is my partner, Dr Mikotoba. He often assists me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?"
"You may address me as the Count von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman." The Count glanced towards Yujin with a frown. "I should much prefer to communicate with you alone."
Yujin rose to go, but Herlock caught him by the wrist and pushed him back into his chair. "It is both, or none," Herlock declared, "You may say before him anything which you may say to me."
The Count shrugged his shoulders. "Then I must begin," he said, "By binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present, it is not too much to say that it is of such weight that it may have an influence upon European history."
"We both promise to keep this matter an absolute secret," Yujin replied.
"You will excuse this mask," continued their strange visitor. "The person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own."
"I was aware of it," Herlock quipped dryly.
"The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe," The Count explained, "To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia."
"I was also aware of that," murmured Herlock, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.
The Count glanced with surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man. He had no doubt been told of his energetic and incisive abilities. Sensing his inability to continue with Herlock in this state, Yujin nudged his partner. Herlock slowly reopened his eyes, and looked impatiently towards their client.
"If Your Majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked, "I should be better able to advise you."
The man sprang from his chair, and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "You are right," he cried, "I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?"
"Why, indeed?" Herlock muttered. "Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhem Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Falstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia. Did I pronounce that correctly?"
"But you can understand," said the King, sitting back down again. "You can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet, the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you."
"Then, pray, consult," remarked Herlock, shutting his eyes once more.
"Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress Irene Adler," he told them, "The name may be familiar to you."
Yujin got up and rushed to check Herlock's index of people. He kept a record of names - after all, he couldn't be trusted to remember them all. He found the biography of the woman in question sandwiched in between an old client and a file merely titled 'Karuma.' Yujin made a note to question his partner about why his friend's katana had a biography later.
"I've found it. Born in New Jersey in the year 1857," Yujin read, "Contralto, La Scala. Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw. Retired from operatic stage and living in London... Sholmes, your notes are awfully messy..."
Herlock ignored his partner's complaints and turned back to the King. "Your Majesty has written some compromising letters to her, and is now desperate to get those letters back. Correct?"
The King nodded along. "Precisely so. But how-"
"Was there a secret marriage? Any legal papers or certificates?"
"None."
"Then I fail to follow Your Majesty." Herlock placed his pipe down for a moment. "If Miss Adler should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she able to prove that they are authentic?"
"There is the writing."
"Writing can easily be forged."
"My private notepaper."
"Stolen. Next?"
"My own seal."
"Imitated."
"My photograph."
"Bought."
"... We were both in the photograph," The King admitted.
Herlock burst into a fit of laughter, ignoring the glares he was receiving from his client. "Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion. How bad is it?"
"The photograph is one that cannot be faked," he explained, "It shows myself sitting on the throne with Irene Adler next to me. It was her idea; I was mad - insane. I was only Crown Prince "
"It could've been worse," Herlock commented, "At least you're not-"
"Sholmes!" Yujin snapped at his partner before turning back to the King. "Forgive him, Your Majesty. Has Miss Adler suggested a price?"
"She will not sell. We have also tried to recover it ourselves, but to no avail," he told them, "Five attempts have been made to steal it from her. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result. It is a serious problem."
"What does she propose to do with the photograph?" Yujin asked him.
"To ruin me," the King answered, "I am about to be married to Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end. Irene Adler threatens to send them the photograph. She will do it; I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. To stop me from marrying another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go to - none."
"How do you know that she has not sent the photograph already?" Herlock questioned him further.
"She has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday," he replied.
"Oh, then we have three days yet," muttered Herlock with a yawn. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the time being?"
"Certainly," the King confirmed, "You will find me at the Langham, under the name of Count von Kramm. You have carte blanche on the payment - I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph."
Herlock's eyes twinkled at the words. "And for present expenses?"
The King took a heavy chamois-leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table. "There are three hundred pounds in gold, and seven hundred in notes," he said, "Irene Adler lives at Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St John's Wood. Is there anything else?"
Before he replied, Herlock scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his notebook and handed it to him. "One final question. Was the photograph a cabinet card?"
"It was."
"I see. That is all, Your Majesty. I shall drop a line if I make any progress." Herlock simply waved the man out, not even bothering to get out of his chair. When they heard the King's brougham move off the curb outside, he leant forward and stared down at his hands.
Yujin gazed out of the window and bit his lip. "I know it is rude of me to say, Sholmes, but something about that man... He rubs me the wrong way," he said, "Do you understand what I mean?"
"I thought that my nonchalant behaviour would be enough to get rid of him, but it appears the man really is desperate," Herlock replied, "I agree - I don't particularly like the man, either. It is not for the money that I take this case - but rather, for the sake of Bohemia."
"Bohemia?" Yujin repeated, turning towards his partner.
"Bohemia used to have an elective monarchy," Herlock explained, "The fact that it is now hereditary only makes matters worse. His Majesty has no siblings or close relatives to name as his heir. If Miss Adler makes good of her threat, I can safely say that His Majesty's chances of marriage would be..."
"I think I understand what you mean. Are we certain that His Majesty doesn't have any close relatives, though?" Yujin placed a hand upon his chin. "Say, a cousin, perhaps?"
"In times of the past, a succession crisis has resulted in a war," Herlock informed him, "Matthias, Holy Roman Emperor and previous King of Bohemia, is one example. He had no children, and the lack of an obvious heir resulted in a war... Well, it was more complicated than that, I will admit. This was also when they had their elective system in place. It is slightly different now, with the hereditary system. Either way, there will be unrest in Bohemia if there is no heir to the throne."
"So, in order to avoid the possibility of a war, we will have to help him," Yujin realised, slumping into his seat. "As long as there is a possibility, we cannot sit idly by and do nothing. Do you have any ideas? We don't even know what Miss Adler looks like."
Herlock took his pipe to his lips once more, the faintest of smiles on his face. "Leave it to me, Mikotoba. When you return from work tomorrow, I will tell you what I was able to discover in your absence. Have faith in me, will you?"
----
At three o'clock the next day Yujin returned to Baker Street, only to find that Herlock had not yet returned from his fact finding mission. Mrs Hudson told him that he had left shortly after eight o'clock that morning. In the meantime, Yujin decided to sit down by the fire and finally sow that button back onto Herlock's waistcoat. He could do nothing else but wait for his partner to return home.
It was close to four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered with disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Yujin had to look three times before he realised that the man was just Herlock in disguise. With a nod he vanished into his bedroom, only to poke his head out of the door a moment later.
"Mikotoba," Herlock began with his disguise partially off, "Where did you put my clothes?"
Yujin gathered the waistcoat he was working on and handed it to him. "I sewed that button back on that you were complaining about. Are you going to tell me where you went this morning?"
"Of course I will. You'll find it rather amusing, I believe," Herlock said with a chuckle, "I'll be just a moment. Keep the fire going, will you?"
In five minutes he emerged, his hands in his pockets. Herlock joined Yujin by the fire and stretched his legs out in front of him. He laughed heartily for a few minutes, only confusing Yujin further. Just what had occurred to make him laugh so much?
"I suppose you watched the house of Miss Adler?" Yujin remarked, desperately trying to get an answer out of him.
"Quite so. It is a cosy villa, with a garden in the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two storeys," he explained, "Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well-furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and window fasteners that even a child could open. I didn't find much of interest, however, the conversations I had with the ostlers were particularly useful."
"What did you discover about Miss Adler?"
"She has rejected every man that has come her way. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings." Herlock picked up his pipe and held it up in the light. "She has only one male visitor, but they see each other often. Never calls less than once a day, and often twice. His name is Mr Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple; a lawyer."
"A lawyer?" Yujin repeated, "If Miss Adler is his client, then there's a chance that she has transferred the photograph into his possession."
"It's actually the sequel to my fact finding that has me in a fit," Herlock flashed a grin at him. "Sit back, and let me tell you about what happened whilst I was contemplating what to do next..."
----
Still in disguise, Herlock glanced towards Miss Adler's home and wondered what he could do next. At that moment, a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. His appearance - dark hair, slender, moustached - evidently told him that this was the Mr Norton that he had heard about. He appeared to be in a great hurry as he shouted at the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door.
He was in the house for about half an hour, and from his view from the street, Herlock could only catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly and waving his arms. Miss Adler could not be seen. Presently, Mr Norton emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly.
"Drive like the devil," he shouted, "First to Gross and Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St Monica in the Edgware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!"
The cab pulled away. A neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half buttoned, came up from the lane. It hadn't pulled up outside of Briony Lodge when Miss Adler shot out of the hall door and into it. It was only for a second, but Herlock could catch a glimpse of her face and the strands of her red hair that fell over it.
"The Church of St Monica, John," she cried, "Half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes."
As the landau pulled away, Herlock was about to crouch behind it in order to follow her when another cab came through the street. He jumped into this new cab and handed the driver a measly fare; he looked twice at it, but didn't object.
"The Church of St Monica," Herlock repeated, holding up a coin. "Half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes!"
He had never driven so fast in his life. It was twenty-five minutes to twelve when the cab pulled up. The others had gotten there before him. Herlock quickly paid the driver and hurried into the church. There was not a soul in there, save for the two that he had followed and a clergyman. They seemed to be in some sort of a disagreement. Herlock lounged up to the side aisle. Suddenly, to his surprise, all three of them turned to face him.
Mr Norton ran up to him and grabbed his arm. "Thank God!" He exclaimed, "You'll do. Come, come! Only three minutes, or it won't be legal."
Herlock was half dragged up to the altar and found himself mumbling responses which were whispered into his ear, vouching for things of which he knew nothing, and assisting with the marriage of one Irene Adler to Godfrey Norton. It was all done in an instant, and it was easily the most preposterous position he had ever found himself in in his life. The clergyman required a witness for their marriage, and if not for his miraculous appearance, they would've had to search the streets for a best man.
After it was all over, Irene Norton, née Adler, turned to Herlock with a sweet smile. "It really is a... miracle that you were here. Allow me to thank you for all of your help, sir." She handed Herlock a sovereign for his services.
"If you insist," Herlock forced his best smile for her. "However, knowing that I have assisted the both of you is a fine reward in itself."
"It was my fault, Irene," Mr Norton muttered, "We should've invited the coachman inside. Had I known that-"
"It all worked out in the end, didn't it, Godfrey?" Irene said to him as they walked out of the church. "As I said, it is a miracle that this gentleman was here to assist us. I shall drive out in the Park at five as usual."
At the church door, they separated. They drove away in different directions. Staring down at the sovereign the bride had given him, Herlock wondered what he was to do next. The growl from his stomach told him that he should probably think of getting some food before he returned to Baker Street. All the while, he kept staring at the sovereign, and thinking of the peculiar woman.
----
"I shall wear this sovereign on my watch-chain in memory of the occasion," Herlock remarked, showing Yujin the sovereign in question. "I must say, this case has certainly provided me with a form of entertainment. I should become a witness to even more weddings!"
"It's certainly better than the pair of broken spectacles on the shelf," Yujin complained, glancing over to the assorted memorabilia of their past cases. "You now have information. What's the next step?'
"Ah, yes. I will require your cooperation, Mikotoba. Do you mind breaking the law?"
"If I say no, you will do it anyway."
"Quite so. Then you will not mind possibly sharing a cell with me?"
Yujin gave him an annoyed look. "Doing so would drive me insane. My point is, I'm with you, no matter what. What will you have me do?"
"It is nearly five now. In two hours, we will be at the scene of the action." Herlock grabbed a leftover sandwich and began to nibble at it. "Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her. I have already arranged what is to occur. Promise me you will not interfere, no matter what occurs."
"I promise," Yujin replied with a firm nod. "I assume this means that some violence will occur. How does it fit into your plan?"
"Because by the end of it, I will be in the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window. You are to watch me, and when I raise my hand, you will throw something into the room. At the same time, you will raise the cry of fire."
"This... isn't the first time you've pulled such a trick," Yujin noted, "I'm beginning to wonder when this trick of yours will wear off. What will you have me throw?"
Herlock pulled a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. After you have raised your cry of fire, it will be repeated by multiple people. After that, you will walk to the end of the street. I will rejoin you in ten minutes."
"I understand. What disguise will you use this time?"
"Aha!" Herlock jumped from his seat in excitement. "Give me a few minutes, and I will show you. I have planned everything perfectly - nothing can go wrong."
He disappeared into his bedroom, and returned a few minutes later, dressed as a clergyman. It wasn't just his appearance that had changed, but his entire character; his sympathetic smile, and a general look of peering and benevolent curiosity. His expression, manner and his very soul varied with every part he assumed.
"Compared to your previous disguise, I can hardly tell that you are the same person," Yujin remarked, standing up to admire his partner's performance. "You will have her fooled for sure."
"That is the general idea," Herlock chuckled, "Come, I will explain how this will aid us when we reach the street in question. It is a most devilish plan, if I do say so myself..."
----
It was quarter past six when they left Baker Street, and ten minutes to the hour when they arrived at Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were being lit as they paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge. For such a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen and a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed gentlemen with cigars in their mouths.
"This marriage rather simplifies matters," Herlock explained in between his pacing, "The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon - she will not want it to be seen by Mr Norton. The question is, where do we find the photograph?"
Yujin joined in with the pacing and placed his hand on his chin. "It is unlikely that she keeps it on her. She knows that the King is capable of having her searched. The photograph is too big to keep on herself," he said.
"It is unlikely that she has given it to someone else - such a matter is best kept private," Herlock continued, copying Yujin and placing his own hand on his chin. "It must be where she can keep an eye on it - in her house. Yes, it has twice been burgled. But I will get her to show me."
Before Yujin could ask him for any further details, a carriage rounded the curve of the avenue. It pulled up at the lodge, and two of the men that had been waiting rushed up to pull open the door and earn a copper. A quarrel soon broke out between the two as they argued over which one of them should open the door. They elbowed each other out of the way, and the other loungers nearby soon got involved.
Irene Norton, née Adler, stepped from her carriage, only to be met with the quarrel. It soon evolved into a fight, with one man striking the other. They swung their fists at each other, and Herlock soon rushed into the centre of it all. He had hardly reached her when he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, blood running freely down his face. Those that were involved in the fight turned tail and ran, whilst the bystanders looked down at the injured Herlock.
"They would've 'ad the lady's purse if it 'adn't been for 'im," some woman in the crowd said, "Ah, look. 'e's breathing now. You're not going to leave 'im out in the street, are you?"
"Bring him into the sitting-room," Madame Irene declared, "There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!"
Slowly, Herlock was taken into Briony Lodge, and laid out upon the sofa. The lamp had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so Yujin could still see inside. He had taken to his position, but a part of him felt guilty over deceiving a woman so kind - she was tending to Herlock's wounds and had asked a maid to fetch a glass of water.
"Are you quite certain that you're alright?" She asked him, "It looked like you took an awful hit there. That was awfully brave of you."
"It is the fault of those ruffians," Herlock replied, his voice having changed to match his disguise. "I dread to think what would've happened if I was not there, madame. If it's not too much trouble, might I ask you to open a window? I need some air..."
She raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Stay right there. I'll be back in a minute," she said.
The window was open. Herlock raised his arm; the signal to throw the smoke rocket. Yujin tossed the rocket into the room and shouted 'fire!' The crowd of spectators from the street joined in as thick clouds of smoke curled into the room, and out at the open window. With his job done, Yujin slipped through the crowd and headed towards the end of the street. The last voice he heard was Herlock's, assuring the house that it was a false alarm.
Herlock's figure appeared no less than ten minutes later. He joined hands with Yujin as they walked away, a smile upon his face. "You performed perfectly, Mikotoba. I know where the photograph is," he said, "Of course, you would have guessed that I hired the street-goers to aid us."
"I did think that it was rather odd, seeing all of those people on such a quiet street," Yujin replied.
"When the the row broke out, I had some red paint in the palm of my hand," Herlock explained further, "I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. Madame Irene had no choice but to bring me in."
"Which is when you asked for the window to be opened, and I threw in the rocket. How did that help your plan?"
"When your house is on fire, your first instinct is to protect whatever is most important to you. She is no different - it is an impulse I have taken advantage of more than once. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull," he announced, unable to hide the smile behind his words. "I caught a glimpse of her collecting it. When I told her the fire was a false alarm, she rushed upstairs, and I have not seen her since. I was unable to secure the photograph at that time as the coachman was watching me, so we will have to do so tomorrow."
Yujin nodded along to his explanation. Baker Street was just round the corner. "Which means we can contact the King in the morning. I think I'll let you do that. What time are we collecting the photograph tomorrow?"
"Eight in the morning. She will not be up, allowing us some time to collect it. Besides, the marriage may cause a change in her habits; we'd best do this as soon as possible." Herlock stopped outside of the door of 221B and searched his pockets. "Key, key, key... Where did I put that key?"
"Sholmes, if you've managed to lose our only key-"
Their conversation soon turned into an argument. "I haven't! It must be in one of these pockets! If you help me look, we'll be able to get in sooner!" Herlock insisted, patting down his pockets.
"I am not doing that!" Yujin cried, "Do you have any idea what that would look like?!"
Their needless bickering continued until Herlock had finally found the key - it was hidden in his hat. He unlocked the door when they heard a voice from behind them.
"Good night, Mister Herlock Sholmes."
Herlock froze and stared at the door. "I've heard that voice before," he muttered.
"You're really not such a great detective, are you?"
The two of them turned to see a slim youth in an ulster coat standing behind them. The voice must've come from him - there was no one else nearby. He simply smiled at the two of them and strode straight past them, walking into 221B.
"A-Are you a client?" Yujin stuttered, desperately trying to catch up with the youth as they walked into their suite. "My apologies, but Sholmes really doesn't-"
The youth sat down on an armchair in front of the fire. "Does he need to get changed? I'll wait," he said.
Herlock was still in a mindless daydream as he joined them. He continued to stare at the youth in amazement. "I know you from somewhere," he insisted, "I could swear on it. That voice, that face..."
"I really think you'd best get changed, Mr Sholmes."
It was only at Yujin's insistence that Herlock went to change out of his disguise. In the meantime, he served their possible new client some tea. He tried to get some answers out of him, but the youth refused to answer any questions until Herlock had returned. It was really most peculiar.
"Right," Herlock re-entered the room, now out of his disguise. "I still can't place my finger on it. Do I know you, Mr...?"
The youth took his hat off to reveal long, red hair. "Mrs, actually. Mrs Irene Norton. Did you really think that you could fool me with that pitiful disguise of yours, hm?"
Yujin almost dropped his teacup. "This is... unexpected," he mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. He thought he was rather adept at seeing through disguises, but this incident told him otherwise.
With wide eyes, Herlock took a seat opposite her. "You know of me?"
"I was warned against you months ago. If the King employed an agent, it would be you," she told him with a grin. "I must confess, I didn't suspect a thing until the false alarm. I rushed upstairs to tail you, so I could see for myself if you were really after me. Tell me, what do you think of the King?"
Herlock seemed a bit put off by the question, so Yujin answered for him. "We took the case to avoid the possibility of a succession crisis in Bohemia," he explained, "Although, to his character... I can't say we were..."
"He is a horrid man," Madame Irene spat, "I should know as much. He will stop at nothing in order to further his goals. Tomorrow is the deadline, and I know he will be keeping an eye on my home. I fear for my safety. You two gentlemen seem like nice people - I have come here with an alternative to your current plan."
"We obviously have no other choice but to listen to you," Herlock remarked as he crossed his arms. "You know that I have seen where you hide the photograph, so even if we decline, you will simply move it again."
"I promise that you will have a photograph by the end of this," she assured them, "Now, listen to me. I know that the King will tail me as soon as I leave my home. He will stop my landau and demand that I return the photograph to him. Perhaps he will resort to violence - Godfrey is rather worried about that. They are a far kinder person than the King. Still, the King can be rather blind at times. This is where the two of you come in."
"Oh, do we, now?" Herlock groaned from his chair.
"You will have no choice in the matter," Madame Irene shot back, "Mr Sholmes, I am already aware of your abilities. You will disguise yourself as me, and Dr Mikotoba will disguise himself as Godfrey. You will take my landau, and the King will chase after you, allowing me a chance to escape."
"And the photograph?" Herlock muttered, "What of it?"
"I will hand it to you in a briefcase, where your usual attire will be. I will show you beforehand, if you really do not trust me. You will arrive at Briony Lodge at five in the morning, giving us plenty of time to prepare. Do you have any questions?"
Yujin looked between his irritated partner and the sly woman in front of him. "Is it wise to say that this is our only chance of obtaining the photograph?"
"Yes," she confirmed, "I will send it off if you do not go through with my plan; of which, you have no choice. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"
If it was possible, Herlock had slumped in his seat to the point where he was almost falling off of it. "We'll do it," he replied through gritted teeth, "We'll be there by five, Madame Irene."
"Wonderful!" Madame Irene sprung out of her seat and stuffed her hair back into her hat. "Godfrey will certainly be pleased. I will see you two in the morning, then. It's probably in your best interest not to tell the King about our little conversation, hm?"
As she left the room, Herlock was oddly silent. Yujin shut the door and tapped his shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked him, "I've never seen you... so..."
"Defeated?" Herlock was almost off of his chair entirely. "My plan almost worked. It should've worked! I've defeated countless of criminals in the past, my plans all foolproof - so, what's so different about her?"
"I would recommend against staying up all night trying to figure that out. It appears her disguises are almost as good as yours," Yujin commented, "Um... Perhaps this isn't such a bad idea, though. If we go along with her plan, we'll have the photograph. You heard her - she knew what you were up to. She would've just hidden it away again tomorrow morning."
To no one's surprise, Herlock groaned and fell to the floor. "I can't promise I won't stay up. I may have to use makeup to hide the bags under my eyes tomorrow..."
"You'll have plenty of time to think about that later. For now, you must sleep," Yujin insisted, dragging the man up. "Come on - I won't hear any arguments."
"How are you not worked up over this?"
Yujin found himself hesitating. Why... wasn't he more worked up over this? "Well, I... I suppose I believe that it'll all work out in the end. It usually does with you on the case," he said.
"To think you should have so much faith in me, Mikotoba, despite my failure," Herlock chuckled to himself and placed a hand on Yujin's shoulder. "Thank you. I promise I'll try and get some sleep tonight... Maybe... Possibly."
It would be a miracle if he managed to get some sleep that night. It was hard enough normally, but with these new developments on his mind, the task would be even more difficult than usual. At least Herlock seemed to be open to the idea.
----
Yujin's disguise was easy enough. He just had to put on a fake moustache and borrow one of Mr Norton's suits. As he glanced at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but to think that a moustache suited him. Genshin had a moustache, but he couldn't quite bring himself to have one exactly like his. He would have to bring this up to his partner later.
They had reached Briony Lodge at the time they were told, and quickly asked to change into their disguises. Herlock took a bit longer getting ready, on account of how complex his disguise was in comparison. It wouldn't be the first time he acted as a woman, but Madame Irene was... very particular about certain details.
It was the fourth time he had presented himself to her that she was finally happy. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Madame Irene chortled. She held up the photograph - the one they were after - in her hand. "Now, pay attention. I'm placing this in the breast pocket of your waistcoat, Mr Sholmes. The waistcoat will go in a briefcase, along with the rest of your clothes." She handed the waistcoat to a maid, who quickly rushed off to fetch the briefcase in question.
Herlock moved to follow the maid, but Madame Irene caught his hand. "Hold it," she said, "I can see a bit of your hair poking out from the wig. Fix it."
With a grumble, he looked into a nearby mirror and adjusted his hair. "The King will only see us from a distance, anyway," he complained, "What's with all of this fussing?"
"It is necessary," she insisted, collecting the briefcase from the maid. Madame Irene handed the briefcase to Yujin, a smile plastered on her features. "Dr Mikotoba is clearly the winner here. You can hardly tell that the moustache is fake!"
"I'm really not used to disguising myself," Yujin confessed, "I'm afraid I don't even know how to, um... act like Mr Norton. Are you sure this will work?"
"It will at least distract him for a while," she replied, "That is all I need. Good luck to you both. Try not to trip over the steps on the way out, will you, Mr Sholmes?"
With one last glare, Herlock left Madame Irene and stepped outside. The landau was already waiting for them. Yujin linked arms with Herlock as they walked down the drive and stepped into the landau. As soon as they were in, the coachman pulled away, driving to an unknown location.
"I hate everything about this," Herlock complained, "For once, I can safely say that I'm not enjoying the disguise I currently have on."
"We have the photograph." Yujin tapped the briefcase to make a point. "Hopefully, the King would've noticed the landau... Can you see it yet?"
Herlock peered out of the landau windows and nodded. "I see his rather fanciful carriage tailing us... Oh. He's going quite fast."
"He is?" Yujin peered out of the window himself and noticed the carriage easily gaining ground on them. "This is... We should be further away before he realises that it's all a trick. Coachman! As fast as you can!"
The landau instantly picked up speed. They turned a sharp corner and were thrown across the seats, a messy tangle of limbs. With a groan, Yujin picked up his hat and put it back on. He pulled Herlock back to his seat, only to be thrown off again as they turned another corner. The scenery whizzed by, and Yujin could hear faint shouts from the streets.
"It's a good thing the landau roof is up," Herlock remarked in between corners, "Otherwise, I fear that they may see the underside of my dress! Lucky for you, hm? Is the King any closer?"
Yujin checked behind them and saw nothing. "I think we've managed to lose him!" He exclaimed, "I can't see his carriage anymore. Perhaps the driver-"
The landau skidded to a sudden halt. For the final time, Yujin was thrown from his seat to the opposite side, crashing straight into Herlock. His hat was somewhere near his foot. Even Herlock was caught off guard by the sudden stop.
"You knocked the wind out of me," Herlock gasped, picking up Yujin's hat for him. "Why... have we stopped? I heard the horses cry out. Has there been an accident?
When he recovered, Yujin stumbled out of the landau, feeling awfully sick. He was about to open the door for Herlock when he realised what had occurred; the King's carriage had stopped in the middle of the street, blocking all of the nearby cabs.
Herlock jumped out of the landau and frowned at the scene. "The driver must've taken a shortcut and blocked our route," he deduced, "The people of London don't seem too happy about it, though. Ah - here comes out client now."
The King stormed up to them, his face red hot with anger. His eyes drifted towards Yujin, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "You're the... doctor!"
"He has a name, Your Majesty," Herlock said with a smile. "I told you before, didn't I? It's Dr Mikotoba."
"Herlock Sholmes?!" The King exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock. "I don't understand. I was chasing... What are you doing, dressed like her?!"
"It was necessary to reclaim the photograph, Your Majesty," Yujin insisted, grabbing the briefcase from the landau. "Here, it's in Sholmes' waistcoat pocket. You shouldn't worry too much - Miss Irene Adler is now Mrs Irene Norton."
"She has married?" The King repeated.
"Indeed. If she doesn't love Your Majesty, then she has little reason to send the photograph in the first place," Herlock explained further, "It should spare you all future annoyance. Mikotoba, the photograph?"
Inside Herlock's waistcoat pocket was not the photograph. Instead, there was an envelope with a letter. There was a photograph inside the envelope, but it was a different size to the one they had intended to claim. Utterly confused, Yujin held out the envelope.
Herlock snatched up the envelope before he could read it. "What's this?!" He cried, his eyes scanning the letter:
'My dear Herlock Sholmes,
I imagine that you must be in a pit of confusion. No doubt the King is standing next to you, outraged. I will explain the trick I played on you. Of course, you know what I did when I came to Baker Street, but it is what I did afterwards that is still a mystery to you.
I started for the Temple to see my partner. We both agreed that our best resource was flight when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; you will find my home empty when you return there. Whilst you distracted the King, we made for the continental express.
As to the photograph, I had it swapped whilst my maid went to fetch the briefcase. Your client, however, may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better person than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I kept the photograph only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future.
I leave a photograph which may amuse you. I remain, dear Mr Herlock Sholmes, very truly yours,
Irene Norton, née Adler'
"Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was?" The King remarked, "Would she have not made an admirable queen?"
"From what I have seen of her, she seems, indeed, to be on a very different level to Your Majesty," said Herlock, coldly, "I am sorry that I have not been able to bring Your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion."
"On the contrary," the King replied, "Nothing could be more successful. I know that her word can be counted on. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."
"Sholmes - the photograph in the letter," Yujin reminded him, "We have yet to look at it..."
"Oh! You're quite right," Herlock turned over the photograph with curiosity. As soon as he had done so, he burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
Confused, Yujin examined the photograph himself. It was a picture of Herlock, dressed up as Madame Irene - the exact same outfit that he was wearing right now. He... couldn't remember a picture being taken of him.
"Your Majesty, I think I will gladly take this photograph as my payment," Herlock declared, still giggling excessively to himself.
"The photograph? If that suits you," the King shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his carriage. There was a pile-up of cabs, and his carriage was still blocking the way. "In that case, I believe our business is done."
Herlock merely waved him off and continued to chuckle over the photograph. "Between this and my own foolishness, I may have an interesting case for your notes yet, Mikotoba," he remarked, climbing back into the landau. "We will kindly take this back to Baker Street. Care to join me?"
With a nod, Yujin climbed back into the landau. The angry shouts from the various coachmen were beginning to hurt his ears. Luckily, the King's carriage moved out of the way, and traffic slowly began to dissipate. Baker Street was waiting for them - along with a hot meal.
----
Upon their return to Baker Street, the two of them changed out of their disguises. Herlock had kept the dress and had slumped it over a chair. He was in the middle of fixing something to a frame when Yujin entered the room, their supper in his hands.
"What are you doing with the picture?" Yujin asked him.
"I'm displaying it, of course. This mantelpiece did need another picture - I can hardly think of a better memory of a case." Herlock placed the frame on the mantelpiece, the photograph encased inside. He stepped back to admire his work. "I have another dress for my collection, at least. That is another thing she has left me."
Yujin glanced at the dress over the chair. "That's right - we have no way of returning it to her. You're going to add it to your disguises?"
"Naturally. It would be a waste, otherwise. The dress fits me rather well." Herlock turned to his partner with a smile. "I think we should keep Madame Irene a secret between us and your notes, Mikotoba."
"A secret?" Yujin repeated, "Ah... it's not because you were outsmarted, is it?"
"I-It's not that!" Herlock insisted, suddenly snapping at him. "I just think... it'll add a little flair of mystery!"
Unfortunately, Yujin was not convinced. "Then... whatever shall we say when people ask about the woman in the photograph?" He asked him.
Herlock snapped his fingers and pointed towards the photograph "We shall refer to her as... the woman."