A Study In Garnet Ch 1
Happy anniversary to Holmes and Watson! To celebrate, I am posting Chapter 1 in A Study In Garnet, book 1 in the Ladies of Baker Street Series. This is a mostly-canon-compliant, Victorian-set, female, and queer (f/f) retelling of the Sherlock Holmes stories. For the next 10 weeks, I will be posting one chapter a week on my website, in hopes that you will support my writing and continue enjoying the story by becoming a supporter on Patreon. Thanks for reading!
Chapter Summary: January 29, 1881. It's the worst blizzard London has ever seen. But for Dr. Siân Watson, injured, and friendless in a cheap hotel, it's the chance she needs to change her life.
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In the year 1878, I was the first woman to take my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and then, disguised as a man, I proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. How shocked and humiliated our army had been, only thirteen years ago, to discover, upon his death, that their celebrated doctor, Inspector-General James Barry, a contentious, fiery man who revolutionized the British armyâs medical department, had the body of a woman. As much as Barry inspired my own actions, given how humiliated the army was over his deception, it was a matter of considerable delicacy and stealth for me to then also infiltrate those fraternal ranks. I wouldnât have succeeded at all if it hadnât been for a well-placed uncle and my good friend and orderly, Gideon Murray, who kept my secrets well, as I kept his.
The script ran for pages in my journal. Eleven days of snowbound rambling while the worst blizzard of the century mummified London.
What, exactly, had I been thinking? I couldnât commit this story to paperâif it were discovered, it would harm not only me, but also Murray and the reputation of my recently-departed uncle Ian.
I doubted Uncle Ian would give a damn at this point, rest his soul, but Murray was still in Peshawar, and itâs bad form to defame the man who saved oneâs life. I carefully ripped the pages from the journal and stuffed them into the squatty coal stove in the corner of my hotel room where the flames breakfasted on the incriminating words.
Barely interested in my own meager breakfast cooling on the small table by the chair, I limped to the window to peer down at the street. It was January 29, 1881, the second Saturday after a blizzard that would surely go down in history, and the city was finally throwing off its snowy shroud and shuddering back to life. Crews of men had spent days clearing the streets, and now I could hear the muted crunch and slide of hooves and wheels as horses pulled cabs and omnibuses between the heaps of already filthy snow on either side.
I hated having to sit idly indoors the past week. Who knew how many people needed medical care for injuries and exposure to cold and hunger? But I was in poor health myself, and I wouldnât have known where to offer my services even if Iâd had the strength to brave the weather.
Alone in this cheerless room, listening to the howling wind, Iâd tried to ignore how much a snowstorm sounded like a sandstorm, pretending my pulse didnât race and my hands didnât shake. Telling myself that there was indeed plenty of air in the room and that all I had to do was breathe.
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Read the rest of the chapter for free on my website!
(I'm posting the chapters on my website to keep them all In one place and because some of the chapters are a bit long for posting here.
I'd love for you to take a look, like, comment, reblog, and please share with people you know who are looking for historical f/f fiction or who enjoy Sherlock Holmes stories. Thank you! Look for the next chapter in a week!)
