The Case of Pandora's Box (Embryo22)

The weather in London was always easy to predict during the cool spring months. The fog hung over the city like a thick blanket, blinding the oh so willing eyes of it's citizens with greater ease then normal. The rich enjoyed pretending that their small pocket change made a difference for the beggars and cripples of the street,happy that they kept to themselves in the slums by the Thames where if they died, the river would act as the city's private cheep cleaners. Young nobles could pretend that they weren't the pimps of the local whores and likewise the whores could pretend they weren't selling themselves to ugly men whom scorned them seconds later.

And it was probably thanks to the heavy fog that Lord Arthur Gray never saw his attacker until the needle pinched his skin. He had gasped in pain and glared at the cloaked companion but when he started to feel the pain reach his heart, the man crumbled to his knees as his attacker tore threw his traveling bag. Arthur could feel the ice in his veins as it pumped onto his heart. Groaning in pain, he glared at the other and spoke out in strained words.

'The box... will... never..."

And then he fell to the ground, dead as a fish in a desert, just as a young woman screamed into the night.

***

Officer Baley was not a happy man as he peered down at the two dead corpses that littered the streets of London's slums. It seemed to him another whore and her John had had been killed for money. He hardly cared though, he had more important cases to follow up on. Like this morning he had been awoken by the Minister himself, informing him that one of his dear friends Aurthur Grey, a well known archeologist hadn't arrived to a meeting the day before nor had he returned home. His daughter had informed him that she was worried for her father and it was a little known fact that Minister Dorian Furlong was very attracted to the young lady and the inheritance she was rumored to gain.

"Sir? What do you think has happened here?"

"Just some damn John looking for company. Probably got jumped along with his lady friend," Baley muttered. "Just wrap this up quick. The governor wants our attention on more important matters."

[Embryo22]

The predictable London weather was quite a match to the situation that Doctor John Hamish Watson was currently familiarizing himself with. He ran a gloved hand through his short acorn brown hair and sighed, his brow furrowed. "Murder of Archeologist...Lord Arthur Grey...Daughter worried..." he mumbled the words as his blue eyes skimm read the scrawled hand writing. "Holmes, have you heard of this!?" John called expecting no immediate reply as always. The Doctor walked through the parlor and into the kitchen where he saw his accomplice. "Holmes, did you hear me?" the man asked rather annoyed.

"Of course I heard you Watson, I just chose to ignore you." Sherlock answered, his dirtied hands were clasped together on the table infront of him, his deep eyes were glazed over. He was clearly lost in thought. "I have indeed read that peice of parchment, I am wondering as to why Lestrade has not yet contacted us." he stated in his gruff voice.

"Perhaps he is too busy with oh I don't know, visiting the cime scene or comforting the daughter!" Watson shook his head and placed the documents on the table, "Well there is no use sitting and sulking, Holmes." Watson smiled. Leaving his friend and then returning momentarily with Sherlock's long coat. "Come on, we're going to go down there."

"Oh goodie." Sherlock sighed, his eyes expanding for a moment before dressing in his coat and heading outside the house with his partner. "It's awfully cold Watson, why couldn't you have provided me with some warmer clothing?"

"I am not your nanny Holmes." Watson shook his head and headed with Sherlock toward the crime scene.

The reason why Lestrade hadn't called Holms yet of course was because he had spent the morning yelling at Officer Baley for sloppy work. Baley had been far too eager to brush off the slum murder as nothing, that he had ordered the bodies brought to the morgue without so much as a second thought. It had only been because of one of Grey's family friends worked there as well, that it had been discovered the man wasn't missing. He was dead.

And now they had the fair job of finding the young heiress of Grey manor whom had gone missing after reading about her father's murder in the paper.

"You are an officer of the law man! Use your head?!?" He roared as the officer lightly flinched.

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again sir."

"It had better not. Now, I want you to return to the crime scene and look it over thoroughly this time." Lestrade muttered as he gathered his own coat and headed for the door. "I'm going to see if I can find young Grey before she lands herself in trouble."

He wasn't a fool, he had heard the rumors about the girl all to well from her admirer's mouth.

*

Isabelle Grey was a young woman born before her time in her circle. She had been raised with the rules of being a lady. She could play the piano, arrange flowers, read and write poetry (though she loathed it) and dress in the newest of fashionable dresses.

... when she had to.

The truth however was her father had raised her very much like a son rather then a delicate flower and as a result she was as stubborn as a mule and slick like a fox. Isabelle didn't take the answer no likely and although her governess, she refused to call her a nanny now that she was sixteen, had told her no, Isabelle had pulled on a pair of trousers, her most ragged winter coat and rode her horse Nightshade out to the slums without a single word. True it was an unwise idea, the men there were was sharp and milk and twice as tactless, Isabelle refused to allow herself to worry about such petty things. After all, she was only sixteen but her body was like that of a young boy. The only clue to her gender was her long raven hair and that she had hidden under a cap.

She was angry to see that there weren't any officers at the crime scene and that the blood of her father and the poor woman with him still covered the street. London was truly a viscous animal if the locals could just walk through the blood soaked streets without a care. How could people be so indifferent? She just didn't understand. Dismounting her steed, Isabelle looked around the alleyway, hoping to find something that could tell her why her father was murdered. It felt like it took forever though, as she that to carefully pick threw trash in order to look for clues. In the end it paid off as she found something shining in a pile of what she figured was rotten veg.

"Is that..." she picked it up with care because the chain was broken. "It is. Papa's key."

[Embryo22]

"Thank goodness you aren't." Sherlock stated in a mumble, "The woman was far too strict." He walked behind Watson as they headed toward the crime scene but soon, he drifted further apart from him.

"Do hurry along Holmes, goodness you're like a child." Watson sighed and looked back to Sherlock who was looking around gormlessly at the London city sights, or there lack of. He stopped in his tracks and sighed, "Come on, stop daydreaming, we're probably quite far behind on this case as it is." he said firmly and then continued walking. "We'll take this alleyway, it'll be a short cut."

"Alright if you insist Watson." Sherlock sighed, hurrying his pace to keep up with the taller man. He really did wish he had dressed more warmly for the day because even though it was spring - Sherlock could see his breath curling up into the chilled biting wind. Even if not a scarf or an extra pair of socks, he would be most greatful for a piar of thick gloves, his fingers were begining to go numb as a result so he shoved them in his pocket, looking most ungentlemanly.

Watson lead the way and the two were soon half way through the slim alleyway when Watson spotted a young boy (Isabelle) scrimping around some rotten food or something other that was creating such a ghastly smell. "Excuse me my young fellow, but are you looking for something in particular?" he asked in a genuine but firm tone, "These alleyways are rather dangerous at this time."

(sorry for the wait. Sister's birthday and packing)

The key was painted in a thin layer of gold which was what had given off the light shine in the dim lighting of the alleyway, but it was by no means boring or usual in shape. It was shaped like any angel with it's wings and arms open as if to embrace another. It looked in fact more like a child's flashy toy rather then a keep except for the foot extended into an odd shape that looked like a crossing between a David's Star and a heart. Isabelle had never seen where the key belong to, only that her father had had it for as long as she could remember and that she was told never to play with it because it was very special to him.

'But why would Papa be here-' She thought when a hand descended on her shoulder.

"Excuse me my young fellow, but are you looking for something in particular?"

Shrieking with surprise, Isabelle shot to her feet, twisted around hard and-

"Unhand me!" *SMACK!*

It took her a full minute to realize she hadn't punched the man whom had grabbed her shoulder but his companion squar in the jaw. Thankfully to Watson, Isabelle had never learned how to punch someone correctly so not only was her punch rather weak, but it left her more in pain. Sherlock had foreseen her reaction though, so he had cooly sidesteped out of harms way.

"Ahh.... of all things. What is the matter you? Sneaking up of people like that?" Isabelle growled hotly at the thinner man and then looked a little apologetically at the other. "My apologies. I was aiming for him."

She winced as she shook her hand a little trying to ease the pain in it. Hopefully nothing was broken.

"Who are you anyways? Are you from Scottland yard?"

[Embryo22]

Watson was about to dodge the sharp attack from the young lad and was thankfull that Sherlock managed to only recieve little damage that caused him to grind his jaw a little and rub it with his grubby hand. Watson frowned and held his hands to his chest in a peaceful pose.

"I hadn't meant to startle you, and watch your mouth when speaking to elders, gracious it's as if you have no manners." John reprimanded firmly and turned to his partner before looking back to the young man with a sigh, "That aside, I think the better question would be who are you, and why are you skulking about in alleyways at this time of day?" John questioned with a frown.

"No, we are not from Scotland Yard, well not officially, we do however alliance with Scotland Yard." Sherlock answered and rubbed his jaw a little, "Apology accepted, but Watson's right, you shouldn't be loitering about."

(It's fine )

(Migraines are a real pain too. Sorry for the wait)

"If you're not from Scotland Yard, then leave."

Wonderful, she wasn't just being direct, but short and rude as well. Isabelle quickly turned around as she double checked the ground. During her moment of panic, she had dropped the key on the ground, the echo of her punch covering the cling of the metal. She mentally cursed the pair for making her drop the items and knelt down to find it in the same fashion she would if she wore a dress. It had to be there somewhere...

"As for skulking, I'm doing nothing of the sort unlike you sirs. I'm looking for an items of most importance and I don't need to civilians mucking about in my personal affairs."

*

"When I find that girl..."

Governess Elizabeth Mere was not a happy woman. She was 56 years old, with grey silver hair and steel cold eyes that could glare anyone into submission. In all her years as a Governess, helping pure British blooded families in raising their little boys into academical gentlemen and little girls into proper well manners ladies, she had never had a child more bull headed then Isabelle Grey. Not... that wasn't fair. She was the most stubborn girl she had ever had to work with but child... not, another young man held that place all too well like an Emperor did his throne. By all the Saints, she had never had to fight a child over so many miniscule things like tying his shoes. Isabelle on the other hand was far too indipendent for her own good. She took to her lessons like a duck to water but her father had believed it was healthy for her to be strong spoken and as a result there was really no telling the girl 'no' to anything. Sure one could say it, but she would ignore it regardless.

"I'm sure she'll be alright Ma'am."

"Madam."

"Pardon Ma'am?"

"Madam. Ma Dam. There's a 'd' in the word. Speak properly," Elizabeth scolded and turned her attention back to the streets. Goodness, how ugly the slums had grown. If Lady Grey knew where her daughter had ventured, the poor woman would turn in her grave.

[Embryo22]

(It's alright, don't worry about it )

Watson frowned, almost losing his short patience with the young brat. Instead however he merely turned to his partner Sherlock who seemed to be looking around for something, perhaps he was looking for clues or he had caught the scent of something rather inviting. John quickly turned his attention back onto the young lad when he implied that he and Sherlock were skulking.

"You need to watch your mouth young man, I will not take any disrespect from a child like you." he scolded and looked down at the key that was lying at the side of his right foot, he bent down to scoop the small golden item in his gloved hand and frowned, "Is this what you are scrounging for, by chance?"

Sherlock was fidgeting, getting cold where he stood. As soon as the male felt his teeth chatter he moved quickly from the London slum and out into the open in search of some hope of warmth. When he spotted a familiar looking elderly woman. He frowned, wondering why the lady looked so familiar, he did not even look to see quick enough before he bumped into someone.

"Watch where you're going." The other man stated roughly.

"You collided with me, sir so you watch where you are going!" Sherlock snapped right back in a very ungentlemanly like way.

Several things happened all at once. The first was that Isabelle glanced up to see the angel hanging from Watson's careless hand. Not that he was being disrespectful with it, but he just didn't understand the value that the items held. With a yelled 'Give it here!' Isabelle lunged forward tackling Watson to the ground and clawing the key from his hand. At the same time the officer whom was escorting the elderly woman scowled at Sherlock, demanding that they all explain just who they were and why they were mucking about in a crime scene.

It was the Elizabeth, however whom silenced them all.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" She barked in a heated and angry voice. From her place on the ground, Isabelle flinched and looked up at her nann-governess and blushed. "This is not the proper way for a person of your stature to behave."

"Governess-"

"Don't you 'Governess' me. What did I tell you about going down here. And look at you? What are you dressed in?!" scrambling to get off Watson without so much as a word of apology, Isabelle looked bashful at her nanny, never realizing that she still hadn't gotten the key back from Watson yet. "You had best be on that horse before I count to three or I will take a strap to your backside, 16 or not."

"But Elizabeth-!" Isabelle gasped.

"One!" She didn't need to count higher because Isabelle bolted to her steed and mounted it with a hesitation. She didn't even need to tell her to go home because the girl quickly turned her horse around and kicked it into a gallop home. Shacking her head, Elizabeth turned towards the two men to apologies for her ward. "I'm terribly sorry. Young people these days. They are so stubborn..." She paused looking hard at Sherlock. Why did this man look so.... then it hit her. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, what are you doing outside in this weather without a proper coat?!"

[Embryo22]

Watson was indeed very taken by surprise when the young lad took a lunge at him and clawed the key away from him. Watson hadn't realized it belonged to him or that it was of any value at all but it must have been by the way the young man seemed to be so protective of it. He had to admit he would rather have had a better look at the key, it was rather perculiar looking.

He got to his feet and refined his posture as the now apparent girl scrambled off of him. Wondering why the young girl had not corrected him when he had adressed her as male he looked to the Governess thankful that someone was about to give this girl some proper structure. A little irritated about not recieving an apology, Watson turned round to see the woman adressing Sherlock in such a way.

"William?" John repeated in a sort of chortle, he couldn't help the look of amusment on his face as he looked from the elderly woman and then back to Sherlock. "Care to explain who this is, William?"

"That's Sherlock to you," Sherlock began and then he remembered this woman clearly, "Oh my very strict Nanny, hm...you got rather old in not so many years, either that or you have just aged terribly." he smirked, his brown eyes flashing with challenge.