Prelude
It had been three years since the tragedy that destroyed the Watsons' world. Mrs. Mary M. Watson, Julia's mother, had been brutally murdered before her five-year-old eyes. One of the killers had been shot dead by Watson; the other was arrested with numerous broken bones and a gunshot hole through his left hand. The survivor was indeed General James Frances; he was also the one who left the note and poison. The dead man was a Spanish mercenary by the name of Dante Corala.
The remaining Watsons returned to Baker Street. Julia moved into the previously spare room, and Watson returned to his old room.
Since the tragedy, Julia had been silent, except for whispers and sobbing herself to sleep.
1
It was a lazy day in London. There was a steady rain rat-tat-tatting on the windows of 221B South Baker Street.
That downcast day, there came a knock on the apartment door. Since the visitor had a key, he let himself in. The rooms appeared empty, until he noticed light seeping out from the crack underneath a door. He knocked, no answer; he thus opened the door to see eight-year-old Julia sitting at her bay window wearing a small black dress and holding a candle up, as if looking for something in the rain.
"Looking for your father, Julia?" the man asked approaching the girl slowly.
"No." was her whispered response; she did not take her eyes off the rain outside.
"Then who, or what, are you searching for?" he asked. By now he was kneeling next to the girl.
"Hope, that is what I am looking for. Hope that my mother is still there watching over me, as an angel." she whispered, putting her small, delicate hand to the window.
"What do you mean, child? Your mother is at your home, is she not?" the man asked turning the child so he could see her face. She had pale features, she was thin, and her eyes, her blue gray eyes, were red and brimming with tears.
The door burst open as Watson and Holmes came rushing in. "Julia! Julia!" they shouted. They had found the door unlocked and thought the worst.
"She is in here, with me, Sherlock." the man said, leaving the girl.
"Oh, Mycroft, could you have not waited. You could have stood in the parlor or somewhere other than in here!" he said, shaking hands with his elder brother and simultaneously pointing out the door and down the stairs to the parlor.
Watson walked into Julia's room, picked her up, and brought her to the sitting room. "Julia, are you all right, it was only Mr. Mycroft. What is wrong?" he asked, wiping the gushing tears from her eyes.
"He spoke of Mama." she said, in-between sobs.
"Will someone please tell me what she is blubbering about?" Mycroft shouted, truly exasperated.
"Julia, you should go to your room. We do not want to upset you more." Holmes said, shushing his brother before he could open his mouth again.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes." she whispered, sliding out of her father's grip and trudging back to her room.
"Now listen to me, Mycroft! You are not to upset my daughter!" Watson whispered in a sharp and deadly tone.
"But what upsets her then?" Mycroft shot back, eyeing his new opponent.
"Talk of her mother; that is what upsets her." Holmes said, forcefully sitting Mycroft down in a chair.
"What is the matter with her mother? Did she walk out on you?" he laughed, not realizing the severity of what his brother and Watson were talking about.
"How dare you think that! She was beaten to death in front of Julia three years ago! It has scarred her, and thus she will not speak, she barely eats, and she sits by her window every day with her candle. And you think my wife walked out on us?" he cried, almost tearing.
"Mycroft, make our meeting brief; what have you come to tell us?" Holmes snapped, stepping between the feuding men.
"I have received an assignment from the Diogenes Club. A trip to Wales, I thought that you four, or three, would enjoy the trip. That is all." he said, standing to retrieve his coat and hat, which he had deposited on the seat next to him.
"What exactly is your mission?" Watson said; his attitude had reached a decrescendo.
"To check on a new branch of our club, of course; nothing more, nothing less." he said, glancing between the two men, both twice his strength and one carrying a revolver.
"We will consider it." Watson growled. Holmes and Watson looked down after feeling simultaneous tugs on their coat sleeves.
"Oh, please, may we go?" Julia whispered as she stared up at them with pleading eyes.
Everyone laughed after they realized that they had been spied on by an eight-year-old girl!