A.N. - My first Sherlock Holmes story! A bit of a departure from my usual style (and century!), but I have so enjoyed writing it!
I hope you will 'give it a go'!
oOo
A Night to Remember
1
Many years have come and gone for me, but I still recall as though it were yesterday, that wet September evening when I first met Mr. Sherlock Holmes the most famous of English detectives and his companion Dr. Watson.
The year was 1886. I was a schoolgirl back then, idealistic, full of optimism and eager one day to make my mark on the world. Autumn term had just started and I was a fourth former at St Elizabeth's, a school for young ladies in the New Forest.
At this point I should probably tell you, patient reader, that, at that time, I was not described by anyone who knew me as a model or even a typical pupil. I noticed things that others did not... I constantly looked for details in everything. My masters and mistresses found me infuriating, a fact of which they often reminded me.
The finding of inconsistencies in everything and everybody I encountered was becoming a kind of hobby for me, and, combined with my overall lack of lady-like decorum it had brought me several times to the attention of our headmistress, Miss Hammond.
Nora, she would say, a lady does not question her betters and Nora, a lady does not bunch up her petticoats and Nora, a lady does not ... and so it would go on.
Well, there happened to be, in the extensive grounds of the magnificent stone building that was our school, a disused dwelling of some size and age. We girls were not allowed to go there - it was unsafe we were told.
But in recent days I had seen a mysterious flickering glow, shining out at odd hours of the night, causing some excited speculation on my part as to the meaning of this phenomenon, and leading me to wonder what could be occurring there when all the world was asleep.
My suspicions had also been aroused by a new master who had arrived that term - I had already had him under my microscope as it were. In him, I felt sure, were inconsistencies in abundance. However, over the course of these first two weeks, I had not managed to discern them all, a fact that had left me rather frustrated.
I had concluded quite quickly that he was not a member of the teaching profession, and my hypothesis, one that was yet to be either proved or disproved, was, that he was a doctor.
In class I watched his every movement, a series of observations of which he was quite oblivious. It was my opinion that he handled pipette and syringe with far more familiarity and skill than an inexperienced school master had any business doing. That, in addition to his quick thinking and obvious medical knowledge when Annie had sliced her hand with a scalpel, led me to my conclusion.
Yes, I had already made up my mind and in my mind the deduction was sound; a doctor he most certainly was.
And so, being the sort of girl, even back then, who considered herself made of stern stuff and never content to simply let things happen around me I decided to investigate the phenomenon of the lights and if in doing so I discovered the complicity of our so-called science master along the way, well, that, I told myself, would be a bonus.
I spoke to no one of my plan and late on that September evening, darkly dressed and carrying no light for fear it would give me away, I crept out of the dorm and through the rhododendron bushes towards the old house.
The night sky was full of clouds and no moon shone out to aid me; a light drizzle fell. Over my uniform blouse I wore a black jacket of coarse wool, which concealed the stark whiteness of the blouse admirably, and this attire, along with a pair of boy's britches - purloined from the laundry room - made me into a suitably 'rascal' figure. I pushed my shoulder-length brown hair under a gabardine cap.
As I came around the back of the house I felt a thrill of excitement as I saw lights glimmering from below ground... I would solve this mystery tonight, I could feel it in my very bones.
There was a skylight above part of the cellar. I climbed onto a parapet and, leaning over, I was able to look down through dirty, cracked panes of glass. Below, I could see machinery and what I quickly recognised as a printing press. My father took me once to Cafferty's in Bond Street, where he was conducting some business. I remember the smell of the ink and the rattle crash of the mechanical presses.
I saw indistinct figures moving around the basement below me. I used one finger to clean the grimy surface of a pane, and now I could discern what it was they were printing...
Money... they were making bank notes and of course I knew, even at my young age, that this practice was highly illegal.
My first thought, I am slightly ashamed to recount, was that Millicent Vine would simply shrivel to hear of my discovery! I would go straight to Miss Hammond and tell everything I knew. She would hug me, inform me of how wrong she had been and make me Head Girl ... I would be photographed for the front page of The Times, and I would receive flowers... flowers and medals.
I carefully began to inch back from the surface of the skylight. It was slippery from the earlier rain shower and as I scrambled my feet for purchase, something gave way beneath me and with feelings of both terror and disbelief, I fell.
I was insensible from that point until I awoke in a small and dimly lit room. My first sensation was that of coldness, a damp and all-encompassing coldness that had me trembling. I felt sure my heart would explode, for it was beating hard and fast like the hooves of a galloping pony.
I was horrified to discover that I was laid out upon the dirty floor of this dreadful room and although I willed it so, I could not rise, however hard I tried. Above me was an intact though grubby ceiling, and around me there were no signs of broken glass, so I quickly surmised I had been brought here by the perpetrators of the crime that I had just this night discovered.
I had lost my hat. My right arm and wrist hurt intolerably; I cupped my elbow with my good hand, pulling the limb closer and I felt my eyes sting with tears. My eyelids fell and I drifted in a kind of haze for what was probably many minutes. When I opened my eyes at last, I realised with a sharp pang of fear that there was someone in the room with me!
A shadow moved across my vision and then the light burned suddenly brighter, as someone turned up the gas. I blinked, my heart racing in panic.
I looked up into a grave and surprisingly familiar face.
It was Mr Beddoes, the new master!
At least that was what he called himself, although I felt sure it was a pseudonym. They had said he was newly trained, but Mr Hall was also new, and he was so poor he fixed his shoes with rubber bicycle patches... I had seen them. Mr Beddoes, however, was impeccably dressed and had an air of someone who was definitely not a schoolmaster.
He leaned across me and his eyes seemed very dark. He said, "Young lady, you are not to worry. No cause to be afraid"
I was not very afraid, only a little confused about my arrival here.
He sat back and asked "How are you feeling?" and I watched him as he pulled something from his overcoat pocket. I did not answer immediately as my apprehension rose somewhat by the realisation that it was a gun he was examining in the lamplight.
"So you are an imposter... I knew it from the start." I eventually said in as brave a voice as I could muster. I was still cradling my injured arm, and I realised that if required to make a daring escape from this blackguard I would be sadly incapable.
"Young lady... Nora, is it? I do not know how you came to be here in this predicament, but we have no time for explanations. Only know this: I am not in league with these counterfeiters"
He put the gun away and regarded me steadily. I was, even back then, a fair judge of character and somehow I knew immediately that he spoke the truth.
There was blood on his forehead… some of his curly hair was stuck there.
"Your head is bleeding" I said, and at once he reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief that he used to dab at the swathe of red that had run down one cheek and dropped onto his white starched collar.
He then turned his whole attention to me once more, saying,
"Now, Nora, we do not have much time. I believe your arm is broken and I need to apply a splint. Will you permit me?" and he made a movement towards me as if he intended to examine my injured arm. I was in such pain and was feeling so dreadful that I whimpered in spite of myself and pulled back from his touch.
But he persevered and only gazed down kindly at me and said, "It will be alright, I promise."
I closed my eyes and nodded, hoping he would understand my meaning and he said, "Courage now, Nora..."
He gently took my arm and then I knew no more, for I immediately fell into a swoon and did not mark the passage of time while I was unconscious.
oOo
TBC and thankyou for reading!