So, I'm trying to think of a way to bridge my current
Sherlock Holmes: The Musical fic to a mystery I have planned for Bella involving an old college friend and a blackmail plot. And, as much as I love Bella and Holmes together on an intellectual and social basis, I am not one for writing the romance. (Reading it, possibly...writing it, not so much.) But then this scene popped into my head and simply begged to be included somewhere. Since I am nowhere near this state of affairs in
Late, Lamented, it's going here for now:
Inspired by this quote:
"You could never have possibly considered...marriage with a Moriarty?"
-Dr. Watson, in the final scene of
Sherlock Holmes: The Musical
The note arrived early one day. Holmes was still engrossed in the papers, and Mrs. Hudson was on an errand, so it was I who answered the door at our Baker Street lodgings. My former lodgings, I should say, since I had married for a second time and was no longer residing at my old address. Still, I visited my dear friend as often as time, business, and propriety would permit, and had gladly joined him this particular morning for a discussion of Moran's appeal and some breakfast.
At the door, a scruffy, disreputable-lookng fellow met me with a note and a suspicious look.
"You Mr. Sherlock 'Olmes?" he asked sharply. "I's got a letter for 'im 'ere, and the lady who sent me wants it delivered to 'is person."
"I am not Mr. Holmes," I replied stiffly. "However, I assure you and this...lady that I will deliver the missive to him personally."
In truth, I had no desire to let this person into my friend's home. Although the Baker Street Irregulars--those faithful, trusty urchins--had been invited into our flat on certain occassions with no problems, this particular individual just looked untrustworthy. Although I am not by nature a snob, I had no doubt that this fellow was currently eyeing up my pockets for items of any monetary worth.
"You sure it'll get to 'im?"
After assuring the persistent messenger that, yes indeed, the note would get to its intended recipient, I paid him a guinea, took the letter, and headed back upstairs.
"Letter for you, Holmes," I announced as I slumped into my old familiar chair. He snatched the envelope and ripped it open.
"Aha!" he remarked, smiling darkly at the message. I leaned over his shoulder to read:
To My Dear Future Son-in-Law:
Best wishes on your upcoming marriage. You will understand if I wish you a happy, though not altogether long or successful union. Might I be so bold as to suggest a Continental trip for your honeymoon? I hear Switzerland is lovely this time of year.
Sincerely,
Maria Carlotta Groschli Moriarty
"You actually mean to..marry this woman, Holmes?" I asked, incredulously. It was not the simple act of engagement that surprised me so. Holmes had been engaged before, on a case I dare not mention at the present time, so as to receive information. I thought he was going too far in toying with the poor girl's emotions, but alas... In any case, it was the person whom Holmes was so intent on entering into matrimonial bliss with that shocked me. The daughter of his own arch-enemy. The person whom, only a few years prior, had tried to frame Holmes for murder as revenge!
"If by 'this woman,' Watson, you mean Miss Belladonna Minerva Moriarty, I must answer affirmatively, old fellow," Holmes replied with a grin.
"You will understand if I do not congratulate you," I retorted, mirroring his reaction to my engagement to the late Mary Morstan.
Holmes looked stricken. "My dear friend, why have you no congrats for me?"
"That woman, Holmes! How do you know for certain that this is not another plot? That she is not going to poison you, or frame you for some other heinous crime, or do one of any number of horrid things?"
"Such as strangling me on our wedding night, as in those dreadful penny novels one can find on every street?" My friend laughed, waving away my concerns, and returning to his papers.
I, on the other hand, was not satisfied with his flippancy. "Holmes," I began. "Even if she is intent on marrying you...You know nothing of married life. Mary and I, although there was no happier couple in all England, did have some terrible rows. Women have a way of dragging up things from the past and making them into current arguments. You pushed her father off a waterfall and declared on numerous occassions that her entire family was possessed with 'hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical sort.' She's not going to forget that anytime soon, I can promise you! And the papers, Holmes, the papers! Can you possibly imagine what people will say when word gets out. Why, they might even say you did in the professor just to avoid asking his consent!"
Note: That's all I've got for now. I don't know where this is going, but I like the look of it.
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janeturennewho I am quite sure did this a hundred times better than I could hope to do. 
cheerful
sleepy