The Case of the Lady in Distress
A/N: This is something I shouldn't do. I do not have the time. I really don't. But then His Last Vow, while being a very good episode, simply calls for someone to write the missing scenes, the pieces of the story which happened off-screen – and I was so far not able to find a fic that would properly deal with the drug den/crack house scene – one of my favourites in ACD's canon, btw… (-:
Not beta read or britpicked – you have been forewarned.
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One week after John's wedding
Mrs. Hudson was just about to go and scold Sherlock for his tonight's violin screeching (terrible, horrible sounds, which were pulling at her ears – so unlike the pleasant waltz the dear boy had composed for John and Mary, a pity, really), when the sounds abruptly stopped (to Martha Hudson's great relief) and her tenant's curly head appeared above the railing of the staircase, beaming at her: "A client, Mrs. Hudson!" (the boy seemed comforted himself, Mrs. Hudson noticed – probably didn't like the sounds himself, poor dear) "Bring the Lady in – and don't forget we shall need tea!"
(Mrs. Hudson was about to give him a smile for calling a woman "a lady" – he wasn't usually that polite, was he? – but the demand for tea forced her to change her mind.) "Not your housekeeper, dear!" she reminded loudly so that even he would notice (poor Mrs. Hudson hadn't realised yet that Sherlock was filtering her most of the time). More quietly, more or less to herself only, she added: "I really need to speak to your mother, Sherlock. It's becoming a list already." (Probably shorter than Sherlock's own and definitely no file of Mycroft's, though.)
The bell rang then and Mrs. Hudson opened the door to an aristocratic looking woman in her late fifties. "Lady Elizabeth Smallwood to see Sherlock Holmes," she announced, offering a card.
"No need, dear. Mr. Holmes will see you," Mrs. Hudson smiled pleasantly, happy that one of Sherlock's clients looked so smartly – and not caring a tiny bit she possibly might not be calling a Lady a dear. (Mycroft, whom the Lady reminded her off, had never exactly minded either, had he?)
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock bellowed from above in exactly that point, clearly becoming impatient, starting her.
"No need to cry, dear, we are on the way!" she replied aloud – and then leaned to her tenant's visitor in a much lower, confidential tone: "He was a tiny bit bored, poor dear, with Scotland Yard not having any interesting cases and his partner, Dr. Watson, a newly wed. But even Sherlock Holmes has enough manners as to not disturb a honeymoon (although he very much yearned for doing just that, she added quietly to herself, good that I was able to talk him out of that idea!). But you are bringing him a new case now, so all will be well in just a moment."
Mrs. Hudson and Lady Smallwood reached the top of the staircase then and Martha Hudson pointed invitingly at Sherlock's open sitting room door. "Lady Smallwood, Sherlock, dear, to see you," she announced loudly while the lady entered the messy room. Then the "not-your-housekeeper" landlady turned to the young man's kitchen to make the requested tea. Yet, as the kettle obviously served for experiments once more (did Sherlock indeed heated or boiled blood in it? Mrs. Hudson hoped it wasn't human at least – but opted better not to ask for the calm of her mind), she finally decided to better return to her own kitchen and prepare the tea there (Sherlock was getting her more herbal remedy for her hip for this! – he knew the right people after all).
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In the same time upstairs Sherlock was proving that his mother raised him up a decent human being after all – when he decided to act upon it.
"Lady Smallwood," he acknowledged. "A pleasure to meet you." Sherlock even slightly bowed his head – but not enough as to loose eye contact with his visitor. His mind was rapidly cataloguing: member of the aristocracy – worried – employed as a lawyer or a politician judging by her attire – upset – no monetary worries judging be her jewels – her husband then? – annoyed – not with the husband, though – someone who threatened him then? – or them both? – not a lawyer then for her to be affected so much as to search out assistance of a private detective – not a low positioned politician either – someone from the government? – no, they wouldn't visit themselves, remember the Belgravia case (no, do not think of Irene Adler now!) – a member of the shadow administration then – someone who trusts in my abilities – search for Mycroft then…
"How is Mycroft these days?" Sherlock asked politely, showing his visitor to John's armchair and taking a seat in his own.
Elisabeth Smallwood looked up at him, clearly startled. "How could have your brother possibly known I shall search you out?"
She obviously thought Mycroft called him, Sherlock smirked. But she didn't seem boring and he didn't want to loose her case – so he rapidly clarified: "He didn't know, Lady Smallwood. I haven't even spoken with my brother for almost a week now. But you are obviously one of the people who are ruling our country from the shadows – such as my dear brother. Conclusion: you must know Mycroft. And then the other indication: you obviously know about me. And by knowing I mean trusting in my abilities while believing me discreet enough. I understand that this is not an easy trait these days, not with John Watson's blog documenting most of our cases, despite my colleague likes to romanticise our "adventures" as he tends to call them. You must know Mycroft well enough then for him to have spoken with you about me – most likely in connection with one of the cases I solved for him. My question once more then: How is my dear brother?"
"I am starting to truly believe in your abilities, Mr. Holmes." Lady Smallwood smiled softly, avoiding to answer Sherlock's question. Mycroft was his brother, for heaven's sake – it wouldn't hurt either of them to pick up a phone and make a call to find out how the other was doing once in a while.
"I am in dire need of your help, Mr. Holmes," Elisabeth Smallwood went on. "I need you to acquire a compromising set of letters for me. While their publication possibly would not initially harm my own reputation, they would greatly damage the name of my husband. His discrediting would consequently affect my position in the government to a great extent, I believe."
Sherlock nodded, interested. "What sort of letters are we speaking about?"
"Very personal ones," Lady Smallwood clarified, then fell silent again.
Sherlock had a strange sense of déjà vu. No, he was not falling for the same trap again – there would be no repeating of the Belgravia case. He shrugged his shoulders: "I'm not interested in such a case, I am afraid. Ask Mycroft for a MI5 agent."
Elisabeth Smallwood frowned. She tried to recall what the problem was Mycroft Holmes requested his brother's assistance with prior to his disappearance two and half years ago. The Bond flight, right? And Mycroft and Harry tried to cover it with some ridiculous story of stolen compromising photographs…
"I am searching for a very particular set of letters written by my husband to one Helen Catherine Driscoll in 1982, Mr. Holmes," Lady Smallwood explained. "The girl, while looking older, was fifteen. The letters, shall we put it mildly, are of erotic nature. They are currently owned by Charles Augustus Magnussen – and while Mr. Magnussen no doubt is in possession also of numerous other compromising documents and sensitive information, I assure you that this case is just what it seems to be – I and neither any other member of the British government including Mycroft shall not expect you to obtain any other documents from Mr. Magnussen." The lady looked up at Sherlock in that moment and requested: "Will you take my case?"
Sherlock Holmes was eyeing her with well hidden interest. To his visitor he looked almost bored. But then he gave a nod. "Yes, I will take your case," he assured and Lady Smallwood smiled in relief.
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Liked it? Then please review. If the reaction is good, I shall go on with another behind-the-scenes piece(s) from HLV soon.