John Watson was surprisingly invited to spend a weekend at Pemberley mansion. The doctor from a middle-class family was invited to spend his weekend with the higher gentry, how could he say no? Especially since his wife, Mary Watson, was fascinated with observing the behaviors of the higher society. The couple was ready to go, packing their things, their daughter, a two-year-old beautiful Rosie was cheerfully playing with her nanny, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. Mrs. Hudson was preparing their sandwiches for a long journey, with the help of her "friend" Jeremy. They were looking sheepishly at each other, finally, they are going to have the house for their own.
The journey to Derbyshire went swiftly, Rosie slept most of it, Sherlock was reading the London Times and eyeing the countryside. He has never been much of a fan, especially since he spent most of his childhood being there and being bored most of the time until he was sent to the boarding school. John, on the other hand, was happier than ever to spend a day or two away from the city. Little he knew that his idyllic little holiday was going to change into the Sherlock show once again.
As they were reaching Pemberley the Darcys were waiting for them. Lizzie, who became a fabulous host of the socialites, was excited to finally meet the famous detective, someone who she imagined would be as she read in her novels, and a doctor, someone who was actually working for his money, that was always a pleasure.
Lizzie, her sister Jane, Jane´s husband, Lydia and her husband Wickham (the Wickhams could never miss an opportunity to bite off a bit of the Darcys) were all expected nervousness and excitement. Of course, not everyone was so excited to meet Sherlock Holmes and his company, but there was always someone for everyone.
When the Watsons reached Derbyshire, it was clear who was hosting the party. The carriages were all moving in the same way, the horses were standing without movement, but people were less stable, everyone was moving, everyone was running. Something has happened. "Oh no" John cried. "Oh no, why?!"
But Sherlock, Sherlock could feel his blood running. Something HAS HAPPENED and he knew it, he knew this was going to come. He knew he could not let John enjoy his family weekend. The excitement woke up little Rosie, who frowned and moved closer to her mother.
A couple of men were running into the forest. Someone fired a gun. There was a sudden panic, ladies were screaming in their high-pitched voices. "What has happened. Oh God, help us!" Ladies were asking their coachmen to take them home. Many decided to leave Pemberley, some of them were attracted to some excitement in their lives and they chose to go to Pemberley and be in the middle of the havoc, at least they would have something to talk about. Plus, wasn´t Sherlock Holmes coming to solve all the crimes? They were really excited to meet the detective. One of these who liked to be in the middle of everything was Irene Adler. She lived and breathed for scandals.
Sherlock and John immediately found themselves running into the forest, they were quite quick. Not many men were eager to go so far, most were standing afar, waiting for the first runners to give them an echo. Mr. Darcy, the host of the party, was on the spot, so was Wickham, the well-known gambler and a bad boy of the elite society.
"Make way, Sherlock Holmes here." Sherlock announced in his typical style.
"The detective?" asked Wickham stupidly.
"Yes, THE detective" Sherlock made a very quick deduction of the man covered in blood. He had a gun in his hand.
It took Wickham a second to shake off the surprise of seeing the famous detective to get back to the fact that he was holding a gun over a man who was presumably murdered couple of seconds ago.
"I swear I didn´t kill anybody" he looked from Holmes to the gun in his hand.
"They always say so" John couldn´t stop himself.