Note: This was a challenge set to me by another of my friends. The rules; it must be the Sherlock Holmes 2010 movie universe where Sherlock and Watson first meet. It can be exactly canon or it can be completely factitious. So I took the later and decided to completely remake it. It could either go very well or very badly! I hope my efforts go well and so I hope everyone enjoys the first chapter of a story- remastered. (And I would like to apologize now if I have ruined it completely!)

(An entry from Dr Watson's personal Journal)

Chapter 1; Piano Accompanied by a Violin

For once in my life, I cannot remember the last time I wished to write in my journal with the greatest of need nor want. Perhaps it is this feeling that I shall not have time to recall such a range of events- I am lacking! But it seems my Journal entries will grow shorter in these new found depths of excitement, all thanks to a change of events even the gypsies could not comprehend. And so, with what time I have this evening, I will recall the meeting with a man who would change my life.

It was the closing night of the German orchestra which was visiting London's most proudly owned theatres. Merely a week or so ago if I recall correctly... A Thursday evening to be precise... Never was the evening full of life… but would end with a fatality far more real than provided in the entertainment. That was the first night I was called from the 'Swan's Crown' inn.

It was three months since I left Afghanistan, fighting with my fellow friends for the King's honour. I was sent back to London after facing a terrible injury to my left shoulder. The injury was so critical that I had no choice in the matter. Even though I was happy to return to the bustling streets of my fair country, I was saddened that I was not yet prepared for the sudden return. With little money and little plans for my future, I returned and rented a room at a inn, deep within the ports of the Thames. Luckily, my dear old friend Peter's gave me some wonderful news- Scotland Yard was in need of recruits for coroners for their investigations. So I was referred to a Detective 'Lestrade'. A rather straight forward gentleman who wasn't afraid to show his suspects the occasional rough manhandling. Lestrade was a man who was tough; he lived from the rougher side of my fair country. When I first met the short, stout fellow I almost mistook him for a fighter who could be found in the local sultry boxing rings, hidden in the local public house. As soon as I gave him my history, both military and medical, he took me on immediately. Apparently he was fond of men who knew how to look after themselves and he was right. I preferred (and still do) to carry around my revolver and swordstick, both treasures and memories.

I digress- I wish to note down everything- It was late, the orchestra had begun their evening party with drinks behind the stage. All in celebration of their superb show of course. However, on the very stage they performed… a young woman was left dead. She was a ballet dancer, a small performer who danced in one of the Orchestra's songs. I was called by a panicked police man who was on the 'beat' that evening. One of the violinists got the man to send a telegram to Scotland Yard and apparently Lestrade told them to call me since I was closest and I could look at the body to gain a good understanding before they would arrive.

When I got to the theatre, there was panic. The orchestra, knowing very little English, were in the rooms the theatre owners had prepared for them. Their manager was the only one who spoke any English. He was snide, immediately I did not like him from the scrawny eyes, messy black and thick beard and sleek hair- sleeked back. He was tall and thick, my first ideas were of a frightening black bear. I immediately introduced myself in order not to cause any trouble or confusion.

"Doctor John Watson- I am with Scotland yard. A police officer told me there was an injured girl here?" I was never so glad to have my cane. I was using it mostly every day, since I left Afghanistan I had a persistent limp and a slight feeling of anxiety by myself.

"She is this way." His English was good but his German accent was very thick. "It is big tragedy. She was a good performer- very friendly with the other people and our Orchestra." The man spoke, leading the way through the grand hallways. "My name is Gilbert Hermanski. It is a shame that such a thing would happen on the first night here. No one knows what has happened. Me and my friends were drinking at the back of the stage. No one had heard anything."

We continued to pass through the large hallways, beautifully decorated by hand crafted posters and wondrous architectural beauty.

Eventually Mr Hermanski led me to the grand stage- right there. It was a grand sight which could take anyone's breath away. It was though I was walking out onto a stage of my own. Little did I know this was merely the prologue.

"Over here." Gilbert spoke to me, waving a large and hairy hand towards a wooden stage, decorated with blood red curtains. It was difficult to spot her while I was standing before the stage, since it was elevated. As soon as I began to climb the stairs onto the actual dramatic veranda was when I saw her…

Three times- she had been shot three times. I showed no recoil or fear, I could see it in Gilbert's face he was shocked with my reaction. Little did he know I had seen far more traumatic things… Instead, I continued to walk towards her. She looked like a very admirable thing, only eighteen and looked as pretty as a tin doll dancer. Beautiful, was another word I was thinking. There, she had a bullet wound in her head, a wound in her shoulder and another in her left knee.

"Thank you. A detective will be coming any minute. Perhaps you should gather your orchestra and await for word from them. I'm sure the young police officer at the entrance will be sufficient to wait with me while I look over her. Did she have a name?"

"Maria. I do not know her second name." With that, he merely walked off. Luckily, a police officer was right there. I wasn't sure if having a single police officer would make me feel better- the stage was huge and the actual performance area was almost the size of barn. It was worrying yet I no longer worried too much. This was the first work I had done since the war and I would not throw away the only career I had to build my dreams.

As soon as Gilbert left, I felt as though I was the only one on that stage… I looked out towards the seats where the audience would be perched- it was difficult to see anything with the lights continuing to blind me from above. The heat was not only blinding, but stifling; I could barely see the police officer at the entrance.

I took a small breath and turned to Maria. It didn't look as though the poor thing had been gone long. Her cheeks still rosy, her skin barely warm to the touch. It was obvious that she had died with the single shot to the head- But as I kneeled there, watching, it became apparent that she had made a struggle. The shooter was precise- looking as though they had made her suffer before she fell. Once I took a small look around, I saw blood drops, something I was sure the police would be interested to see.

As I worked, my paranoia (or what I thought to be my paranoia) seemed to capture my interests far more then Maria's predicament. I heard things, small shuffled and scuffles. Of course I brushed them from my mind and eventually got back to my feet in order to record my notes in my small leather notebook I keep in my right hand breast pocket of my jacket.

Another sound echoed now from the seats- I looked up and saw nothing. I took a small and weary look towards the doors and saw the dark silhouette of the policeman and felt with some confidence I was safe enough to walk from the body. It felt as though Lestrade and his men were taking far too long to get her. So I decided to take a small moment to 'look' around the stage myself.

There was blood drops, like I noted before, and nothing else I could see off hand. But what took my curiosity was a piano, not yet wheeled away for storage. It was a grand piano. Beautiful, large and strong… Standing alone on the wooden pedestal.

I approached it and found the panel covering the ivory teeth had not been placed down. Already my finger's twitched like a curious child. The white teeth glimmered in the light; they seemed to shine with temptation. Personally I only knew a few bars of a song and already my fingers were stroking the white, pristine surface. I took a small glance over my shoulder to the woman lying there and couldn't help but wonder what beautiful dances she could have performed to this piano.

I pressed a single note and it echoed across the hall. I pressed another and soon enough, I played a small tune I remembered from my army days… it was simple, beginning to end. A small tune I played three times-

And on the third time I began the tune I was accompanied by a violin. I stopped as soon as I heard it's shrill tone. For a moment I thought I was hearing things- this wasn't my own imagination, I promise. I called out and I had no return, not even from the police officer and once again I only saw his shadow.

My heart was beating thick and fast in my chest. It felt as though I was suddenly surrounded by spectres. But curiosity once again caught me off by surprise. I played again… and as soon as I played the violin began to play once again. I wasn't sure what to do! This mysterious sound- I thought it was one of the orchestra violinists yet little did I realise was the person behind that violin was also a genius in so many ways.

I played only three more times until coming to a stop. I then realised how loud the violin was playing and turned… only to see a dark figure standing merely a few feet away from me. I thought I had startled him as soon as I saw the scruffy and dark features. I was not able to see him at first but as soon as I laid my eyes on him- he suddenly ran at me! A violin was in one hand while he raised the other. I went to defend myself but only found him running straight past me and striking a uniformed officer with the musical instrument! Little did I realise the officer had a gun and was pointing it right at me! All I could do was watch in a slight terror as some man dressed as a musician was attacking a police officer… with a violin!

A single gun-shot was fired and I found myself tumbling backwards- not because of being possibly shot but because this stranger pushed me out of the way! Never will I forget that sight… or feeling of adrenaline rushing through my veins.

Before either of us could get up, the policeman was already out of the door to me… flat out on a stage… with some scruffy maniac violinist on me!

"Awfully sorry about that." Came a small cough from above me. Now I had a better chance at looking at this man. Slowly he began to peel himself away- he wore glasses and had shoulder length, grey hair and a large- no… he wore a fake, large nose and had dark brown eyes. "I had to stop him before he blew your brains over this crime-scene… Would have been terribly messy."

I sat there, utterly confused as I stared at this… half-wit. He stood and looked back at me with the same confusion, almost looking a little distraught as I tried to speak. Instead, I just blatantly pointed at his nose. Once he realised what I was pointing at, he touched, what appeared to be, the plastic make up.

"Oh my… If you would excuse me- I have a nose to fix and a fake copper to catch- forgive me for this."

Before I could even chase after this strange fellow- he leapt for the backstage and grabbed one of the many levers, unbeknownst to me was which lever he was about to pull. "Wait! I have some questions for you!" I snapped, about to leap for this stranger but found myself falling into the darkness of a trap door…

When I opened my eyes next- was when I peered upwards through the open door. I had landed in some crates full of old and worn costumes (to my great luck). There, standing above me were a few police officers and Lestrade, all looking with both confusion and slight worry.

"What the bloody hell are you doing down there?" The inspector called, waving a hand to one of the incompetent officers to help me up. After a good five minute struggle to get me out of the dusty darkness, I found myself surrounded.

"Well- I was taking a nap… I was attacked! By some strange man in a fake nose and one of your officers!" I barked, clearly agitated by my experience. But as soon as I told Lestrade of my evening, he turned slightly pale.

"Did you say fake nose?" He asked, clearly disturbed by this thought.

"Yes! … Why… do you know anything of this?"

"I might know the fellow…"

"Who was it then?" By this time I had become tired, agitated and worried. I was certainly in no mood for any more tom foolery. Lestrade merely cleared his throat and looked to his right hand man; Clarkson aka Clarkey.

"You'll find out tomorrow morning with Clarkson here… for now, tell us what you know of the body and you will be paid and sent back to the inn with a police officer. Tell us everything and then you will get your answers tomorrow."

I sighed, patting the dust from myself and eventually nodded. Little did I know of what was coming my way… With clearing of my throat, I handed them my note book, looking at them wearily.

"I bloody hope so…"