Thread by @TheRealDoctorT

((For part one of this story, please see below.

When we left our dynamic duo, they were investigating the disappearance of Lord Simon Byron.

Sherlock seemed convinced of foul play, but was stunned when the Lord appeared safe and sound...))

https://twitter.com/TheRealDoctorT/status/1302283961541046272

Forgive me, dear reader. I have committed that most egregious of errors in story-telling.

The mistake that drives Holmes mad with irritation.

Even now, I can hear his voice in my head, “Watson, start at the beginning! How can I deduce anything without a complete picture?” 1/

So let me start at the beginning.

The year is 1890.

My name is John H. Watson, and I am a physician and former army man. A bullet in the Battle of Maiwand a decade ago gave me a limp, and an honorable discharge.

Sherlock Holmes is my friend.

Together, we solve mysteries. 2/

This case, which I shall refer to as The Invisible Army, begins simply enough.

Sherlock and I are screening potential cases at 221B Baker Street, our flat.

Mired in the depths of boredom, without an interesting case for weeks, Sherlock is insufferable.

“Watson, I’m dying.” 3/

I set down the newspaper I’m reading and look at him, “Sherlock, you’re bored.”

This seems to vex the Great Detective, and he sinks lower in his seat until half his body is out of it.

“You’re a doctor, Watson. Surely you can see my intellect withering away. I’m DYING.” 4/

Dealing with Holmes when he’s like this is like dealing with a child. Distraction is helpful.

“Holmes, what about that interesting case that woman brought to us? Her husband gone missing?”

Holmes snorts derisively, “Boring.”

“Yes but it seemed mysterious and-“

“BORING!” 5/

I exhale deeply, summoning every last ounce of my patience, “Well, what about the theater manager and the disappearance of his acting t-“

“Watson. This is London. People go missing every day. That’s why we have Scotland Yard. These aren’t worthy of me.”

“But-“

“BORING!” 6/

“Fine, Sherlock, if you want to wallow in self-pity, you’re welcome to it! I, on the other hand, would rather not waste my time.” And I fold my newspaper under my arm and rise to my feet, grabbing my cane.

Holmes grunts something unintelligible, his face in his hands. 7/

As I reach the door, it opens to reveal Mrs. Hudson.

“Dr. Watson,” she smiles, and I can’t help but smile in return, “I’m so glad I caught you. There’s a letter that just arrived, addressed to you and Sherlock.”

“Thank you Mrs. Hudson,” I take the envelope with a nod. 8/

Turning to Sherlock, I raise the envelope, “Interested Holmes? It says “urgent” on it.”

Sherlock sighs exaggeratedly, “Everything is always urgent, Watson. God, why is life so DULL? I need a challenge! And some cocaine.”

“No! No cocaine, Holmes, someone needs you.” 9/

Sherlock quirks a brow, getting up to snatch the envelope from me before I open it, “I swear Watson, if this is another waste of my talents I will do something entirely unreasonable!”

I watch Sherlock’s face as he reads the letter, and something familiar starts happening. 10/

His eyes narrow, his aquiline nose twitching as his nostrils flare. I’ve seen this look before, many times.

Sherlock is deep in a deduction.

He rubs his chin pensively for a long moment, before handing me the letter.

“Here, you read it Watson, tell me what you observe.” 11/

I look at the piece of paper first before I read the writing.

It is thicker, of a finer quality than the usual low grade stock of most notebooks.

Bringing it to my nose, I sniff. A faint floral scent lingers, barely there at all, strongest at the rightmost edge.

I read it. 12/

“Mr. Holmes. Your presence is requested urgently at Chatsfield Manor. Things are not what they seem.”

The handwriting is lovely, tightly lettered with a flowing script.

The only flaw is the occasional smudge, smearing towards the right.

No signature, no address, no date. 13/

“Well Watson,” Sherlock is sitting up now, his entire demeanor transformed by the thrill of the mystery, “Your thoughts?”

“Written by a woman, most likely, a wealthy one. Seems to be left-handed, and she wrote in a great hurry as the smudges seem uncharacteristic of her.” 14/

I feel rather proud of my deductions, but Sherlock quickly dashes my pride.

“Yes, quite elementary. What did you think of the message itself, Watson?”

“Well. Not much to go on.”

“Exactly! It seems to say so very little. And in doing so, it actually speaks volumes!” 15/

I quirk a brow, and wait for Sherlock to elaborate, which he can never resist doing.

“You see Watson, if it was so urgent, why not just send a telegram? Why gamble on a letter I might easily have tossed aside? And why make no mention of the issue at hand? Why hide it?” 16/

I shrug, “Perhaps she knows your love of mystery and didn’t want to bore you with the mundane?”

Sherlock nods pensively, “Perhaps she knows me. But I believe whoever wrote this is in danger herself. She couldn’t trust a telegram, and she can’t trust those around her.” 17/

Sherlock trails off, and the silence in the room grows, punctuated only by the light tapping of his heel against his chair.

Finally, he rises to his feet.

“Come Watson. This shall be our case. Before we go to Chatsfield, we must research the manor and its Lord.” 18/

I frown, feeling a twinge of disappointment in my old friend, “Why Sherlock? Is it because they’re wealthy? Why wouldn’t you accept any of the other cases? Do the problems of the common man hold no value? Only the rich?”

Sherlock pauses, as if contemplating my words. 19/

“No, Watson. Quite the opposite. Our society follows a rigid class system, to the point that nobody truly sees anyone for who they are. We only ever see the roles they play, according to their class. I see no class, Watson, I see people as they are. Always, as they are.” 20/

I repeat my question, “So why this case?”

He smiles faintly, “Because it needs me to solve it. The others can be handled by Lestrade. This one is for me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“In time, all will be revealed. For now, grab your things Dr. Watson! We leave at once...”