The world is like a magical theatre where fairytales and realities intertwine. Things are deemed impossible and succeeded, but yet, the reality of everything sometimes crashes down into a dull image that can shatter everything. But... there are some things that are almost magical in this world or the next.

"Why are we going straight into the direction of the castle!" I asked.

My name is John Watson. I used to serve in the Royal Army, but after an arrow to the shoulder, I was severely injured and almost perished. On the bright side, I survived the accident, but after that, I was discharged from the army. Looking for a housemate, it was then I met my best friend, the legendary detective Sherlock Holmes. Throughout all our adventures, he solved the cases, and I journaled about them to be published. No one paid any attention to me though, only buying my works to read about the famous detective. I don't mind this though, as everyday life with Sherlock is enough adventure for somebody as the likes of me.

"New case. This is going to be a good one too," Sherlock said, in a dull tone.

Even through the grim face, I could see that he was practically bristling with excitement. This was his first case in weeks, and it was bound to be a good one as one of the captains themselves had to come deliver the news. Without further ado, Sherlock quickly readied himself, and was dragging me to the "scene,"

"Who are we going to see, the queen!" I exasperatedly asked.

Even though I was excited to experience a new case, Sherlock's mysterious habits were tiresome, and I wanted to know more information about this case.

"Maybe," was all that I heard in response.

~

Huffing along in the brisk December air, it was about a half hour walk to the castle from the cottage we rented. It involved traversing through busy market plazas and residential streets before finally able to reach the front gates of the castle. Once arriving it took almost another half hour for us to get approval to enter, which only made Sherlock's mood flair. He was eager for a new case, and in his opinion, this was all an unnecessary task as he considered himself the only person to be able to solve it, hence granting him automatic entry. After quite some time, we were finally allowed entry into the castle. I had not heard any of the information Captain Gregson had told him, but Sherlock seemed to know exactly where we had to go, the two of us hurried down the halls. I lose track of how many turns we made, but eventually, we were met with a giant set of double doors. Excitedly, Sherlock pushed open the doors and entered the room, and I was a step behind. Inside, multiple members of the army, important advisors, and the royal family were gathered, surrounding a massive four poster with lilac curtains. Sherlock rushed to the bed, everyone clearing a way for him. I hurried behind but upon seeing the body, I couldn't stifle a gasp.

It was one of the princesses. Princess Mary-Anne to be exact. Dead. Sherlock dashing around the body snapped me back to life. Nervously, I tried deducing the body like Sherlock himself. She was wearing a lilac sleeping gown, and there were three stab wounds in her chest. Quite a lot of blood had soaked through, and there were dark shapes around where the blade had entered her body. Judging by the  dried blood, she was killed about six hours ago, right after midnight. She had a calm expression on her face, meaning that she was likely killed in her sleep. Now, Sherlock was peering on top of the bed, tossing around the sheets. But, that was the only thing I could deduce. After a moment though, Sherlock was done with his deductions.

"Cause of death was because the blade punctured heart. Weapon was most likely a Poignard judging from the wound decreasing in width the deeper it is, along with the thin puncture holes. Tiny blade, but still very deadly. Murder happened around six and a half hours ago because the blood is completely dried, and the garments are rough to the touch. Died peacefully, couldn't feel the pain, but I think that was obvious enough. An assassin was most likely sent out as a quick sweep of the room reveals that all her possessions are intact, and nothing has been forced open or tampered with. More obviously though, she slept with multiple rings necklaces, and other pieces of jewelry, and they are still on her body. Motive wasn't robbery, nor revenge as I severely doubt some secret mate would make it painless and make it happen that fast. But then, that leaves the question of why. We know how, but why? This would be virtually undetectable if it weren't for the pips. Don't you see! This explains everything!" He said excitedly. But, that was where he was interrupted.

"Pips? What do you mean by pips, Holmes? We've examined the body multiple times already and have found nothing such as pips," Captain Gregson butted in.

"I think he means fruit pips Gregson. Meaning somebody is sending us a message," Captain Lestrade answered instead. "But, Gregson is correct. We never saw any pips. But don't pips usually convey the message of someone else's death coming soon?"

Sighing loudly, Sherlock produced a package and indeed, there were five orange pips in it.

"You lot never look! Sure, you examined the body, but you missed the most important piece! The pips were hidden in the mattress, and whoever planted them knew you wouldn't be able to find them. Whoever they are, they're trying to send me a message. As for another murder, just increase security in the castle, but I should have the assassin caught in a few days,"

"Well, why could that be Holmes? Why are they for you?" Gregson asked sarcastically.

"Orange pips! They only grow Oranges in the West, and the orange growing capitol is in Anxborough. Whoever murdered the princess is obviously located there, so we need to travel West immediately!

"We'll say you're correct about that Holmes. How do we completely know that they're in Anxborough! Especially since they murdered the princess, don't you think they would want to lay low? Say you are right about the oranges. Why would they be in the capitol! Why wouldn't they be in some lesser city so they are undetectable?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"Oh you lot are so slow! Don't you see! They want us to find them. They want to see me. When have I ever been wrong captains?" He asked the two of them strongly. With no answer, as Sherlock had always been right, he knew he had beaten them and continued with a smug grin on his face.

"So, Watson and I will need transport to Anxborough immediately, and anyone else who wants to come can follow," He finished.

Gregson opened his mouth to speak, but then the queen butted in.

"We all know Holmes is the best. We will have to trust his word, so Gregson, Lestrade, arrange for a carriage to Anxborough. You two, and anyone else may follow as you wish,"

With the queens' word in place, everything was set. Lestrade dashed off to set up a carriage for Sherlock and I, while we stayed behind in the room. Sherlock, went off to chat with Gregson. I awkwardly lingered around before ultimately decided to send my condolences to the queen.

And so, Holmes and Watson set off for Anxborough, with Captains Lestrade and Gregson being the only ones to follow. Holmes would not be incorrect about finding the assassin in Anxborough, but, they were in for a journey that no one would ever imagine.

Finally, after two days of travel, we had arrived in Anxborough. Much to Holmes annoyance, both Gregson and Lestrade had come with us. He grumbled about them slowing him down and being massive annoyances, so I was glad to have a change of air once we arrived. Checking into an inn, I settled down for the rest of the day journaling about the case so far, while Holmes, Gregson, and Lestrade wandered off all saying they were to investigate. I wrote better part of two hours, making sure to include every little idea, scraping and rewriting most bits. Once finished, I decided to get up and stretch my legs for a while. Wandering around the town, I tried to look for anything odd to help with the case. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to spot anything, so I returned to the inn in defeat. No one had returned yet, so after a long day, I lay down to rest.

***************

I was rudely awoken by Sherlock shaking me awake and calling my name.

"John. John. John! Wake up!"

"Yes... I, I'm up..." I said sitting up while yawning.

"Good," He said before immediately diving into his newly collected information. "If you couldn't tell already I brought disguises with me as well as my violin, just for this scenario! Anyway, I dressed up as a street performer and headed out to the square. I was able to pass as a performer, but was actually deducing at the same time. Everything, and everyone. After an hour in which nothing happened, I changed positions. Multiple different neighborhoods, and still nothing out of the ordinary. By now, hours had passed, and I was about to return when I got a feeling to check one more area. I went to one final part of the town where I hadn't been, and sure enough, I finally found something. Or, someone to be exact. I'll spare you the details, but if someone wears dark clothing, stays in the shadows while sneaking around, pickpockets multiple people, they're up to no good. Cautiously, I packed up everything, and when they started to move out of the area, I followed. They weren't very cautious, so I was able to follow them all the way to their destination with no difficulty. Matters got more complicated from then though. They entered a building, and I would have to be impossibly stealthy to continue to follow. So, I did something that simplified matters. I quickly followed then in, knocked them out, and took their clothes. Once situated in that, I followed the only staircase in the building into a basement. Once down, I went through a door into what seemed a gang meeting. Everyone looked up at my arrival, but no questions were asked, so things proceeded smoothly. Now, from this meeting, I was able to get much valuable information. The assassin was not the one who planned the murder. He was hired by a character named Midnight Wolf. Eldest prince is next, I'll send Greyson to deliver that. But, from here on out, I think I can solve the case!" He finished excitedly.

"Well... that's a lot... but it's good you have enough information to solve the case," I replied weakly.

Sherlock usually got overexcited on cases, and sometimes forgot that us normal people couldn't keep up with his mind. Taking my words as a sign of understanding though, he settled down in a plush chair, probably to think about the case when both Gregson and Lestrade barged in.

"Holmes!" Gregson shouted loudly.

"I've solved the case!" Lestrade cut in.

"No I have!"

"Shut it both of you! Explain to me how you think you've solved the case," Sherlock harshly intruded.

Gregson started. "Going through the Anxborough criminal record, there was a man in particular who has committed many more crimes than the average citizen. Jailed four times, it could only be him that murdered the princess. So, I marched over to his house and immediately arrested him. Then, questioning him, he confessed everything, including that he did the murder," he finished proudly. There was a moment of silence before Sherlock shut down everything.

"Obviously a poor man, jailed from robbery correct? Anxborough isn't the wealthiest city, and even then, no mode of transportation. Absolutely no way to get to the castle and get back before us. Also, I doubt he had knowledge about I, handling a dagger, or how to stab to kill. He was obviously stressed out, arrested for no apparent reason, so of course he confessed everything. Simple as that. Lestrade, what do you think?" He finished, quickly moving on.

Lestrade, now obviously self conscious about his solution, stuttered quite a bit while giving his answer. "I f-found some gang member or cult member. Taking him i-into custody, I started to question him. He said that th-there are two major gangs in Anxborough, but his wasn't responsible. Unsatisfied with his answer, I jailed him and went to look for the other gang. After a day of searching and finding no one except for the average thief, I returned to the cell where I stored him and confronted him. But this time, he shut his mouth and wouldn't speak, but I know that it's his gang that did it," He finished strongly. What Sherlock said in response shocked everyone in the room though, myself included.

"That's not entirely incorrect Lestrade. Well done. Of course I discovered the gang too, but I was able to find out that they hired an assassin. I didn't think of taking a hostage to question. I'll make him talk. This actually will help quite a bit. Now, the eldest prince is going to be targeted next. Gregson, leave and deliver this information, add security, and try to catch the assassin. I'd be genuinely surprised if you could, as almost the entire army is useless, but it's good if you could. Now, off you go,"

"What!" He protested, "But... but I can't go back to the castle! I'm a valued member of the case!"

"Switch valued with unvalued. We already have Lestrade. Goodbye Gregson!" Holmes said, neatly pushing him out of the room and slamming the door. "He's walking away. We'll get some rest, then continue in the case. Goodbye you two!" He said, while also kicking us out of the room, and slamming the door in our faces.

"Well, I guess that's a wrap for today," Lestrade told me.

"That's true. Night then," I replied, as we set off.

Things seem all well and jolly for our trio...but playing with fire will only get you burned.

I was awoken the next day by Sherlock himself who was to the side of my bed shouting in my face.

"Get up! We're going to the station to interrogate the gang member. Lestrade should be there. If not, his loss. Now I'm leaving in ten minutes, be ready by then,"

Finishing his sentence, he left my room, leaving me time to get ready for the day. Quickly changing, I met him in his room where he was gathering "necessary supplies," Upon seeing me, he spoke again.

"Ah Watson. You're four minutes early. I'm prepared so let's proceed now,"

With no choice but to follow him, we walked to the station as it was quite close. Once there, Sherlock was granted access and we were both able to see the prisoner. For such a small town, the prison was quite large. It had at least two stories, and several cells lining the halls. Most of which were occupied. Once again, Sherlock knew exactly where to go, and he led me into an underground level. Walking down a dimly lit hallway, many prisoners glared at us as we passed. Most of them looked harmless, but there were some scary looking people kept in there. Finally, Sherlock stopped outside a cell. At first glance, it looked unoccupied. Once looking more closely though, you could notice a single figured huddled in the corner, a black hood pulled over his head with a matching black cloak. He obviously didn't want to be seen, and was doing a good job of it. Holmes rapped against the bars, trying to alert the prisoner of our presence.

"You. If you answer our questions, we'll consider letting you out. All you have to do is cooperate. Does that sound good?" He asked, almost teasing him.

Either the prisoner didn't hear him, or didn't acknowledge him. I suspected the latter.

"I'll give you one more chance. Then... I'm going to do something we'll both regret. So you understand?" He asked again.

Once again, there was no reaction from the prisoner. Scowling, Sherlock unlocked the cell with a key I hadn't seen before before handing it to me.

"Lock me in," he instructed me.

"Wha... are you sure about this Holmes," I asked him seriously.

"Yes. Now lock me in," He said again, in a dull baritone.

Knowing he was serious, I complied, locking him in the cell with the prisoner. Walking over to him, he nudged the prisoner with his foot, as if checking to see if he was still alive. The, in a second, a hand came out from under the robe, and clenched around Sherlock's foot, yanking hard, making the detective lose him balance. Once on the ground, the prisoner tackled Holmes, and started punching him repeatedly.

"Sherlock!" I called out, about to intervene. I would've too if I hadn't heard a faint, "Don't," from Sherlock. Uneasily settling back, I let him do his thing.

The prisoner continued to beat him up, but in a split second, almost as fast as the prisoner had attacked him, Sherlock struck out a hand and... caught the prisoner's fist that was about to make contact with his face. Startled for a second, Holmes quickly twisted his wrist violently to the right, and a sharp crack rang out through the air. Yelping in pain, the prisoner quickly pulled back his hand, which now hung limply against his arm. This was when he chose to speak.

"You bloody maniac! Look what you've done to my hand! I won't be able to do my job for weeks, you know that!"

"Yes, in fact I do. You choose not to comply, so I went with the simplest option. There was a good chance you would talk after this, am I correct? If not, I'll consider breaking your other wrist,"

"Alright, alright! I'll speak. What do you want from me," he said in a fierce tone, but it wasn't very convincing with the whimper that was detectable in his voice.

"First. Do you know who the Midnight Wolf is?"

"No!" He frantically called out, "He always sends letters when he wants us to do something, never shows his face and is very secretive. No one has any idea where he resides or whom he is,"

Then, Holmes seized his other wrist in his hands, and gave it an experimental nudge. He didn't apply enough force to break it, but it was enough to make the prison cry out in pain again.

"You're lying," He growled, "Tell me the truth, or your career goes away, along with your safety, protection, and income. You wouldn't want that happening now, would you?"

"Fine!" He cried out, the fear evident in his eyes, "No one knows who he is, or where he lives, that is true, but he has a "messenger," That would be me. I go to locations to retrieve his letters for us each week. No one knows where he is, and he tells me the location through a secret message in his previous letters. I go to the location, and a hooded guy hands me the letters. I don't know if it's him, or another assistant. I swear to God, that's all I know!" He finished.

Nodding in satisfaction, Holmes let go of the prisoner.

"Let me out Watson," He said to me, motioning at the keys. Shakily, I held the key to the lock, and twisted it open, letting Sherlock out. Reaching back out to lock the cell again, Holmes stopped me.

"Let him go. He's no longer of use to us, and I did promise to let him go after. It's not like he can do much anyway,"

"Are you sure about..."

"Yes. Now hand me the keys," Holmes said, cutting me off.

Sighing, I gave Holmes back the keys, and we left. With no other thing to talk about, I asked Holmes about what had just happened.

"How did you know he was lying?" I asked.

"Elementary my dear Watson. He was fumbling, playing with things he needn't have. Eyes darting all over the place, looking for anything to gather on except for myself. Obviously lying, it doesn't take a genius to know,"

Of course it was something like that. There was no use in talking anymore, especially since Holmes seemed to have finished. Going back to the inn, Sherlock immediately went into his room, and didn't emerge. I didn't suspect anything until the next morning, when he still hadn't made an appearance. Cautiously, after breakfast that day, I went up to him room, and raised a fist to knock.

"Sherlock...?" I timidly asked. "Are you okay... I mean, no one's seen you for hours,"

No answer. I pushed against the door to find it unlocked. The room wasn't lit up, but there was no need for a candle with the morning light. Drawing back the shutters, I found the room I was in empty. Starting to panic now, I searched all across the room before ultimately deciding that Sherlock wasn't there. But, no one had seen him leave. He had told no one about leaving. I darted around the entire room trying to find clues about his whereabouts. The bed was made, but judging by the state of the sheets and pillow, hadn't been slept in. There were papers scattered around, and it looked like it was the works of Sherlocks'. Then, facing another side of the room, I saw an open window.

"Kidnaped," Was the first thought that sprung into my mind, and it seemed like a logical one. Sherlock, coming close to cracking the case, was kidnapped to prevent the Midnight Wolf's identity from being leaked. "Think, think, think," I told myself. "What would Sherlock do in this situation... What... Ugh I'm not Sherlock Holmes! What can I do... Contact the officers... Lestrade," I thought. Quickly grabbing my coat and shoes, I rushed to the station to thankfully find Lestrade talking with the chief.

"Lestrade!" I called out, "Sherlock's gone. I need your help,"

Immediately stopping what he was doing, he quickly finished his conversation before rushing to me.

"What do you mean gone!"

"Gone as in kidnaped,"

"We have to go. Do you know where?"

"No. But, there's like this code hidden in letters. Did you find any letters when you took in the prisoner?"

"One, but nothing seems off about it, excluding the fact that it's written about murder by a criminal mastermind."

"Let me see it,"

Rushing off to grab the letter, Lestrade quickly returned with a folded piece of parchment in his hand. Opening it up, I read.

First method of entering through the window failed. I'm disappointed. Don't make me mad. Outside the castle walls, there should be a secret tunnel in. Concealed in an abandoned house. Underground. There's a trapdoor. Follow the tunnel, and it should lead to a tapestry of King Nicholas the Second. As you know, that's in the hallway of the prince's room. Rid of the patrol. Then, enter the room, but be cautious. There's more guards inside. Get rid them, near princy.
Afterward, be quick about ridding him. Knife would be easiest, don't leave hints, you know why.
I will have to do things I may regret if you don't succeed. So, don't mess up, and finish the job.

No mercy.

-MW

"Aargh! I can't see anything wrong with this!" I angrily called out.

"Me neither. Are you sure you have no other ideas?"

Quickly rereading before answering, I still had nothing.

"What would Sherlock so in this situation?" I thought out loud.

"Well, he would probably analyze every single word, and look for any difference,"

Now very stressed out, I reread the letter another time. And another. Still picking up on nothing. Except for the wording. It seemed... compressed at times, as if information was being withheld. Rereading yet again, I tried to draw out every bit of information.

"First method... disappointment... underground... afterward..."

"Fountain!" I suddenly cried out.

"Fountain... what," Lestrade answered bluntly.

"Look! Every line down. It's a hidden message! First, Outside, Underground, Nicholas, Then, Afterward, I, No. The first letter of each of the words starting a new line! That's the message, and that's where we'll find the Midnight Wolf character and Sherlock! We have to go now, they could go there at any time!" I cried, while trying to usher Lestrade toward the door.

"That was... brilliant... alright, let's go,"

Quickly rushing out to the square, we waiting around the fountain, before I suggested hiding. I doubted they would come out in the middle of the day, but you could never be too certain. The both of us stayed there for hours, waiting, for anything. We didn't stop when night fell, only feeling to need to continue, as the time was near. Finally, after the clock struck midnight, a figure strolled into the square, and stopped at the fountain. He seemed impatient, and was waiting there, hidden by the shadows. Then, another figure emerged.

"What's going in?" I whispered to Lestrade.

"No idea. Let's wait,"

We didn't have to wait for long though. The first figure spoke, in a voice that was all too recognizable.

"Fancy seeing you here. Moriarty," His voice dropped an octave, and the air around us seemed to stand still.

"Ah, the infamous Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. I do have to say, I'm a fan. Did you like my clues? Oh, wasn't it fun?" He said, in a eerily upbeat voice. "But, the game's over now," his voice turned cold, "MORAN!"

"Ah, your assassin. Let me guess, steel windlass crossbow, paired with a set of steel arrows? Expensive. If you shoot me now though, it would provide enough time for my... partners... to get backup before you were able to disappear. You'd be done for,"

I knew Sherlock knew of our presence. Somehow, at the same time, two of us acted at the same time. Midnight Wolf, or Moriarty, and me, myself.

"Sherlock!" I called out while tossing him a sword that was discarded besides me. It was a bit worse for wear, but it would have to do the job.

"Moran!" Moriarty called out at the same time, which resulted in a sword coming flying in his direction.

Unlike the one I was able to provide Sherlock, this one gleamed brightly, even in the dim moonlight. It was just polished, and looked wicked sharp. It wasn't enough to stop him though, and Moriarty was the first to charge at Sherlock. He swung towards him. Iron against rust. It was obvious what the outcome would be. Bracing myself for the worst, but unable to turn away, I was absolutely shocked to see Sherlock parry, with the rusted blade still intact. Neither of them broke their glance, and this time, it was Sherlock who swung. Aiming for the neck, Moriarty sidestepped avoiding the blade. Wasting precious moments stepping away though, it gave  Sherlock time to swing again, making Moriarty play defense. On his second swing, Sherlock went for the lower abdomen, but was blocked by Moriarty's blade. Moriarty was able to pull back quicker, and swung ferociously at Sherlocks swinging arm.  Stepped away, but the blade nicked his arm, easily cutting through fabric and meeting with flesh.  Seemingly unfazed though, Sherlock immediately aimed for  neck again. Recognizing the move, Moriarty sidestepped, but with more agility, and in the period in which  Sherlock had to recollect himself, Moriarty brought his blade down on his back. Obviously not expecting to hit him, he didn't put much power into the swing, which could only be described as a miracle for us. With a sharp blade like that, it would have surely been the end for the great detective.  Cringing in pain, Sherlock was in a very vulnerable state.  Moriarty, taking advantage of this brought his blade back down, this time at full force. Somehow though, Sherlock was able to dodge the blade, almost bringing Moriarty down with his momentum. Taking the second to swing at Moriarty's back now, the rusted blade met flesh. But, this was the time when the old blade finally shattered. Breaking into hundreds of tiny metallic pieces Now the sword ended in sharp points that wouldn't do much damage unless met perfectly. But now, Moriarty springing back up like a coil, the two faced each other yet again. Now, both suffering from injuries, but Sherlock with a severely damaged sword and body.  Moriarty swung back again, and Sherlock tried to parry with the tiny little stub of a blade he still had. It was able to block something, but the rest of the blade shattered in the process.  All he had left was a useless hilt. Discarding it toward the floor, Sherlock's last defense was to only dodge swings, and hope for the best. I didn't know how long this could go on for though, and it was clear that  believed the same. I think it would have been over if it weren't for Lestrade. Somehow, during the whole scuffle, he had darted off, and brought back with him reinforcements. And many of them at that.

And, this is how our story ends. "Happily ever after," as you would say. Both Moriarty and Moran taken into custody, no more assassination attempts, and another case successfully solved by the great detective Sherlock Holmes. As for I, I am the storyteller. The one who is the answer to all stories, whether they come to the light of your world or not.

~The End~