Author's Note: I recently saw Sherlock Holmes, and it inspired this fanfic. I am sorry I am putting my Inuyasha and Bleach fanfics on a hiatus for a little bit. Enjoy this one though! Remember, I take requests.

Another Day, Another Case

Solving crimes is what their lives revolved around. Even with Dr. John Watson married, he found himself rushing to Sherlock Holmes's aid whenever there was a case that needed attention. Watson found them to be nuisances, while Holmes found them to be comforting and a sense of peace. He would rather live on the streets than to stop solving crimes. Mary Morstan kept herself at ease by knitting or reading during her husband's absence. However, cases kept coming their way, and he was taken away from her often. She wanted to do something about it, but she knew Watson was happy with what he did, and she would be a horrible wife if she took his happiness away from him. During their case, Holmes and Watson had to find out who had murdered a man's wife. She was found on the bed, covered only by a towel, and blood gushing from her sides. There was no weapon found, which meant the murderer took it with him. There was a purplish mark on her neck, telling Holmes that he first tried to strangle her, but was unsuccessful. Outside of their bedroom window was a ladder that was used by the person in order to get inside the house. As he climbed, he slipped a bit, which was proven by the smudges of dirt going down the ladder. Having slipped, one of his shoes fell off. He paid no attention to it, as he did not go down to retrieve it, and instead, carried on into the house. The shoe was a man's dress shoe, which proved the murderer was a man. The case did not take long.

"After much thought," Holmes started. Watson scoffed in the background, knowing it take long for him to say "I've solved the case!" He shot a glare at him, but smiled nonetheless, "I have come to a conclusion. Mr. Jones, it is with great sorrow that I tell you what happened."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" Nicholas asked.

"The murder of Mrs. Jillian Jones was committed by none other than…." He raised his hand and pointed his index finger at Nicholas. "…Mr. Jones himself!" There were gasps and murmurs. Nicholas couldn't believe his ears.

"What?" He yelled. "How could you think I would murder my wife?"
"What's the answer, Holmes?" Watson asked, interested in Holmes's answer.

"He had a rock-solid alibi!" Lestrade screamed. Holmes sat down in a chair, his eyes closed, rubbing his temples. It was completely silent safe for a cat meowing outside.

"I'll tell you!" Holmes yelled out of nowhere, jumping from his seat. Everyone else jumped at the sudden break of silence. "The person, Miss Morrison, was it? She was paid to make up a fake alibi for Mr. Jones."
"Preposterous!" Nicholas spat. "Have you any proof?" Holmes stayed silent, and Nicholas smile in triumph. It seemed to Watson Holmes had met his match.

"Indeed, I do." He smiled. He nodded at a dark figure, which scrambled to its feet and came into the room. It was a man in his early thirties, wearing pinstriped pants and a dirty white shirt. A faded black hat sat on his head. He kept it covering his eyes as he was extremely nervous. "Hello, Mr. Peters."

"H-hello." The man muttered.

"Peters?" Nicholas repeated, going to the man and removing the hat from his head. "My old colleague?" Holmes glanced over at Mr. Peters, who was staring at the ground. He and Watson both kept a firm grip on their canes in case Nicholas would attack. He did not, but they did not relax. "What proof is he, Mr. Holmes?"
"More than you know." Holmes replied, striding to Mr. Peters. "Go ahead, sir." It took Mr. Peters a few moments to become brave enough to step up and tell his story. Even when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He sighed, taking out a handkerchief and wiping it dry. Still, no words came out.

"Sir," Holmes said, "you needn't worry. If things get out of hand, Watson will be able to stop it."
"Me?" Watson asked. "Why me?"

"Because…" Holmes smiled. "… You have the skills." Mr. Peters looked over at Watson, who nodded curtly.

"Alright…" He sighed, "I saw Nicholas outside of the market with Miss Morrison. He was talking with her, and then he handed her approximately one hundred pounds, maybe more. I, being an incredibly sneaky fellow, hid behind a wall to listen in."

"Eavesdropping is illegal!" Nicholas pointed out.

"Not in this case." Holmes interrupted. "Go on."

"He told her to tell officials he was out with her all night. When she questioned as to why, he whispered his plans, I believe. I did not catch that part."

"Please, this is no proof, Mr. Holmes!"

"Is it not?" He thanked Mr. Peters and let him go on his way. He then approached Nicholas and grabbed his hand. "Interesting."
"What is it?" Lestrade approached as well, staring at his hands. He did not see anything out of the ordinary. "What?" Holmes was in thought for a few moments. Watson rose from his seat to see what it was.

"There are smudges on his hands." He finally said.

"Who cares?" Lestrade snapped.

"If you remember correctly, Lestrade, there were smudges on the ladder from when the murderer slipped." Watson eyes lit up as he remembered. "There was dirt on his hands, but as he slipped the dirt smudged. Hence, the smudges on his hand and on the ladder."

"You're right." Lestrade said. He apologized for his rude behavior.

"As for the shoes," Holmes said, kicking Nicholas's feet, "I found the same type of shoe in the closet." Nicholas let out a big laugh.

"Many men have the same type of shoe, Holmes!" He yelled. Holmes paid no attention, and continued to address Watson and Lestrade.

"The thing that intrigued me the most was the fact that there was only one shoe in the closet. The other was outside next to the ladder. And he also has splinters on his hand."

"When we found the knife in the street, it had a wooden handle and splints were sticking out." Watson explained.

"Exactly." Nicholas said nothing and he knew he was defeated. However, a few moments later, Miss Morrison came in, shaking from head to toe.

"You said I wouldn't get in trouble, Nick!" She yelled, her face stained with tears.

"Thank you for pointing out that you were an accomplice, Miss." Holmes said, smiling down at her. He helped her into a chair. "Now, tell me, what grudge did you bear against Mrs. Jones?"

"She was taking him away from me." Morrison admitted, tears falling down her face. "I love him and he loves me. She knew something was going on, and so she tried to keep him away from me. She deserved it."
"And she's telling the truth!" Holmes grinned. "Take them away, officers." The officers nodded, taking the two away from the apartment. "Let's go, Watson." He nodded to his friend, who nodded back and followed him out.

"Interesting case." Watson said.

"Indeed. You better hurry home before Mrs. Watson gets angry." They walked together until they had to part ways. Holmes shook Watson's hand and headed to his house on Baker Street. He paid no attention to Mrs. Hudson, his housekeeper, and retired to his bedroom.