Dialogue

"Well, Watson, it seems that yet another case has been closed because of my immense genius and crafty plans of action!" Sherlock said, lighting his pipe and sitting back in his armchair.

"So it seems, Holmes." Watson responded.

"Ah, yes, but it is all in a day's work, is it not?" He said, pretending to sound humble. "So many cases have been taking over my mind of late and I find that I must recall this one to you, for it greatly perturbed me."

"Of course." Watson said, becoming a bit puzzled.

"This case, the one with Mlle. Carere and the unfortunate Mme. Montpensier, has taken quite a toll on my mind, Watson. I, in fact, knew Mlle. Carere and when we all believed her dead, I must say I was heartbroken with grief!"

"Oh dear, what do you mean, Holmes?" Watson asked, becoming more interested.

"Watson, for you to fully understand, I must describe the case to you from beginning to end."

"By all means, go on."

"Very well. Many months ago when this case first came to my attention, I found out that the young Mlle. Carere had gone missing from her home in London. At first, her parents believed her kidnapped or killed, for all her possessions were in place, but there was evidence of quite a struggle. They kept everything as they found it when I came to investigate, and it did indeed look like a kidnapping. Things were knocked over, her bed was mussed up, and there were even black boot prints on the carpet. Every kind of evidence I'd need to solve any case was there. It was too easy, I felt, with all the inexplicably obvious clues lying about. And of course, I was right, but I didn't know it at the time. All the obvious clues had pointed to Mme. Montpensier, Mlle. Carere's neighbour. Even the boot marks matched Mme.'s boots. Everyone involved was convinced it was the Mme., but me; even though the two ladies were not on good terms."

"It did seem too obvious." Watson nodded. "What did you do next?"

"I interrogated Montpensier, and from her words, I knew she was innocent, though no one else believed her. I didn't bother telling anyone, however, because I knew no one would believe me. They were already charging her with murder. I had hit a dead end, so feeling I could do nothing more for the time being, I was forced to leave it alone. However, the thought of Mlle. Carere ever loomed in my thoughts. She and I, you must know, were acquainted more than a year ago when her mother's diamond was stolen. Actually, we became a bit more than acquaintances. A bit more than friends, even." At the surprised look from Watson, Sherlock reddened and added quickly, "For a short time, only. Though I have never told anyone about this…"

"Don't worry, Holmes, I shan't tell a soul." Watson almost laughed.

"Good fellow." Sherlock snapped a bit too quickly. "So, she and I were somewhat intimate, but the thought of marriage was out of the question, for our relationship would be considered quite scandalous; her mother being my client. Not to mention that she is a good ten years younger than I am, being about twenty-five."

"I see."

"Of course. So the thought of her plagued my mind. When she was recorded as dead after three months of being missing, I felt that I could not bear it, though as you know, I've learned to control my emotions of that sort around others." He stood and began pacing nervously about the room.

"However, in my supposed absence from the Baskerville case, I was also examining all the clues and suspects of the case of Mlle. Carere's disappearance. I could not help but blame myself for her prolonged disappearance, and I felt every day that passed was another day I failed to bring her to safety. Eventually, after much investigation, I realized that the one thing a respectable lady brings with her whenever on a trip was missing-- her toothbrush. I traveled in my mind back to the scene of the crime and realized, when I had searched the powder room, it hadn't been there."

"So then you--"

"Yes, yes, elementary, dear Watson. I then knew that she had gone on a trip, and she wasn't kidnapped. After that, I let Cartwright deliver any letters you wrote to me because I'd left Devonshire. Once in London, I found out who her friends were and the name Vladislaus Dragu kept coming up. Upon questioning her parents and sister, they said that they had forbidden her to see him because he was a rather infamous womanizer and gambler. By then I had solved the case. Mlle. Carere had run away to elope with this infamous man.

"In short, Watson, I found that I was correct in my assumptions and eventually followed their trail until it lead all the way to New York. This hardly surprised me, of course. I knew she'd want to be as far away from her family as possible if they ever figured out her villainous plot to frame Mme. Montpensier and elope with the man they had forbidden her to see. I immediately directed the authorities, and told them, when they found her, to tell her, I, Sherlock Holmes, had figured out her twisted plot. They eventually found her, married to that scoundrel as I'd suspected, six months after her disappearance. And that was the case. Though I beg you forgive me, Watson, for my mind is still dwelling upon… other matters. I may have forgotten some detail." With that, he sat down once again in his armchair and placed his pipe between his lips, closing his eyes and bowing his head. Watson knew this signified that he should respond in some way because Holmes had finished speaking.

"I'm quite sorry, Holmes. Did you love her?"

"My dear Watson," Sherlock responded in a low voice, slightly raising his head. "Love, with its many trivialities and variables, is, alas, one 'case' even I cannot seem to solve."