She Wore a Crimson Rose

Created as part of a writing challenge for Writers Ink Northants Creative writing group. We had to write a piece of work based upon ' She Wore A Crimson Rose.'

She Wore A Crimson Rose

by Allan Shipham

“She wore a Crimson Rose.” Holmes repeated his previous statement, as though it was the first time he'd said it.

“Wha... Wha...” I blustered, trying to grasp the meaning behind what he'd said. “I heard what you said, I just don't see the significance.” Holmes dwelled in a moment of silence ,as I awaited his explanation. He watched me as he drew slowly on his calabash pipe; I later found out the dreadful thing wasn't just decoration, apparently the smoke collected in the bowl, so it was cooler when it hit the tongue. I enjoyed and shared Holmes' love of tobacco, but I disapproved of some of his other habits.

I thought about his statement, Holmes as always was giving me time to reach the same conclusion he had, with the same evidence. “Come to think about It... I didn't even notice a flower, let alone it's colour.” I tried very hard to remember the day when the sweet, pleasant lady had knocked at Home's door. I'd been polishing my shoes, and I had to send one off the urchins to get some paraffin wax. Now, Mrs Hudson had finished her cleaning routine, well as much as Holmes would let her do. She said she had to... to 'Do the Brasses', yes, that's right. I asked if she needed cleaning rags, and I offered to send for them, when the boy returned with the paraffin wax.

“Come, Come Watson.” Holmes interrupted my thought process as I remembered the day. “People will die while you meander through last weeks shopping lists.” I was stunned.

“How do you know I was meandering through a shopping list?”

“Elementary my dear Watson. You're trying to remember anything significant about the Lady Blackburn. As you remembered your actions that day, you animated yourself through them with the performance of a second rate actress from the chorus line. When I witnessed you shining your imaginary shoes and walking toward the door and I remembered the paraffin wax you sent for, the day she arrived.” I was always thrown by Holmes' deductions, but I'd no idea I was so animated while I was thinking so hard. I suddenly remembered more about the moment I walked down the staircase to meet Mrs Hudson and the unexpected visitor.

“Why... She was sweet I say, I remember that much.”

“We both know you personal opinion of this delicate flower will not help Inspector Lastrade to net his bounty...” I could see Holmes was desperate to end my memory recall exercise. I really had no Idea. I suddenly remembered what Holmes had said earlier.

“You said she wore a red rose or something.” I vaguely recalled.

“In point of fact it was crimson, pay attention to the detail and you will see all.”

“Well for once, the great detective is wrong!” I announced victoriously. “I worked it all out.”

“Pray tell.”

“Well, when Mrs Hudson held open the door for the young lady, I distinctly remember seeing the Irregulars having a snowball fight, in the street outside.” I remembered these events with some conviction, I was in half a mind to go outside and tell them to stop, but I only had my soft lounge shoes on, my others were in a state of cleaning.

“And...” continued Holmes annoyingly.

“And when it snows, it is hard to find a florist of calibre with a selection of roses that wouldn't wilt and die of a frost.

“A florist....” Holmes unexpectedly rose from his smoking chair, placed his pipe on his desk and picked up his fiddle. He inspected his horse hair bow and started to apply an even coat of resign.

“The Crimson Rose I speak of, was about her person, but was not a rose. She wore a broach on her right lapel, I noticed it the moment she walked into this room.” As Holmes spoke, I remembered she had indeed wore a broach. It appeared to be diamonds, jet and ruby’s.

“A Crimson Rose?” I was puzzled at the connection. “What was this broach, Holmes, how is it connected to the Murder of the Duchess?”

“Don't you see! It's marvellous, It's truly remarkable.” Excitedly, Holmes placed the Fiddle on his shoulder and drew his bow ready to play.

“Marvellous? I must say Holmes I'm at a loss.” Holmes stopped before he made a single note.

“The broach was designed in the shape of a Butterfly, not common in this country, it is common-place in the country of Ceylon.” Holmes waved a finger in the air while still clutching his bow, preventing me from interrupting. “The Duchess had any financial interests, including shares in the East India Tea Company. All this information I found from my copy of the Origin of Species, and the registry of benefactors in East India House in Leadenhall Street.” Holmes was smug to say the least, but I knew he'd done his homework. “The Duchess died from a puncture wound in her neck that had interrupted the electrical activity between her brain and her lungs, thus rendering her helpless and unable to breathe. This Watson, was achieved by her murderer getting close enough to her, to thrust the needle of said broach into her neck.” I considered Home's theory, it was quite plausible, there'd been considerable investigation into electrical brain activity, I think he was on to something.”

“What motive Holmes... What's the motive?”

“The Duchess has it written into her will, that on the event of her death, all her worldly possessions pass into the hands of her son, one Nathaniel Robinson.”

“Why, wasn't the young lady called Robinson, Norah Robinson?”

“Indeed she was Watson. The Daughter-in Law no less of the Duchess Robinson. She'd never met her husbands mother before and sought our help to find the missing cannon, so we could lead her straight to the home of her intended victim.” I was suddenly struck with guilt, if we'd not helped the young lady find the missing cannon, the Duchess would still be alive.

“How did you make the connection to the broach?” Holmes thought for a moment and repeated:

“Like I said...She wore a Crimson Rose.” He began to play his fiddle...awfully if you ask my opinion.

© Allan Shipham 2013

Inspired by the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Author's Note

Creativity I have, grammar, editing and punctuation I lack