Dr John Watson walked towards his shared flat at 221b Baker Street late in the evening, he had just finished an afternoon shift at the hospital and he had thought to walk the day's horrors away. It was raining hard and despite the drops of chilled November rain splashing the back of bent neck, he risked looking up towards the flat's kitchenette window. The faint glow betrayed that his flat mate Mr Sherlock Holmes was at home, and as John wiped the ice-cold water from his eyes, he pondered what mysteries his friend, the worlds only consulting detective may be engrossed in at this moment.
As John reached their front door, it was flung wide by his landlady Mrs Hudson, who forcibly dragged him over the threshold and bundled him into her neat little parlour. 'Oh Dr Watson' the charming widow twittered 'we have had some excitement here this afternoon' John searched the old ladies face, it was the strangest mix of fear and excitement, a look John had seen in hospital waiting rooms and more recently on the victims of crime.
'For goodness sake Mrs Hudson, what is wrong? Are you ill? Has something happened to Mr Holmes?' Aware she had scared the young man Mrs Hudson took a large gulp of air, and started to explain.
'I've been here all afternoon you understand Dr Watson?' She didn't wait for a reply or seemed to have expected one as she plunged on 'And I'd heard nothing, you see? Well it was about 7pm, I know because my program had just started, when I heard Mr Holmes come home. You know he's never quiet don't you Dr Watson?' She fumbled with a china dog from her mantelpiece, shifting it from hand to hand as she spoke. 'Well the next thing I hear is a yell, then Mr Holmes shouting my name like the devil himself was up there, so I run up the stairs to find Mr Holmes in an utter state of white shock. Well Dr Watson you know I've never seen Mr Holmes flustered like that?' John beckoned her to continue and she put down the china dog. 'Well he starts berating me he does, telling me I shouldn't let strangers into his home, telling me I should have warned him, left a note he says. I didn't know what to say, and then I see her Dr Watson. This young girl, laughing her head off, says Mr Holmes should leave me alone and that he should know that she'd broken in through the kitchen window! Well Dr Watson they've been up there now for 2 hours quiet as mice, Mr Holmes just sent me away and told me I had to tell you what had happened before I let you go up, so I have. Very mysterious I must say!'
John stood reeling from this jumble of information, trying to make sense of the landlady's tale. 'I think Mrs Hudson I will just go upstairs now' he said turning towards the door, the slight confusion and hesitation still in his voice 'Thank-you for your update, I'll let you know what is going on when I know.' He closed the door somewhat brutally in the older lady's face, needing the few moments of solitude offered by the long staircase to order his thoughts. They'd had a break in; a young girl by Mrs Hudson's account had spooked the unflappable Sherlock Holmes. What mystery would await him upstairs?
When John entered their small living room he was surprised to see that Holmes was not lounging in his usual chair, but sitting uncomfortably upright and alert on a tall wooden kitchen stool. The woman, for regardless of Mrs Hudson's description their guest was most definitely a woman, was perched in a state of some agitation on the edge of the worn sofa. She sat with her back towards him, but her dirty blonde her was pulled into a tight bun and her tight black T-shirt and combat pants showed a neat but shapely body. As he walked in, she turned her head towards him and fixed him with the darkest of blue eyes. Her skin was pale and clear and seemed to John in contrast to her somewhat rounded face. It seemed to him that their visitor was scrutinizing his very being with her fixed gaze, giving him an uncomfortable reminder of his first meeting with Sherlock Holmes himself.
Holmes stood, stretching his long frame from it's cramped position 'Ah Watson' he called clearly no longer shaken, and in the overly friendly way reserved for clients or tragic victims 'May I introduce you to The Honorable Professor Lucille Steadman.' Holmes grinned widely, but John looking at his eyes saw nothing but a dark coldness. Professor Steadman stood and gently pushed Holmes out of the way; John registered a moment of shock equaling his own in his friend's eyes, before the professor's eyes filled his vision.
'Nice to meet you Dr Watson, I've been keeping up with your adventures on your blog, most interesting I must say.' Her eyes lit somewhat as she smiled in shark like way showing all her perfectly formed teeth, 'Come and sit down and I'll tell you all about my problem'.
As John still reeling from this strange woman commanding him in his own home, sat listening to her tale, Holmes stalked the room like a cage beast. Asking questions and clarification on a tale he must have been listening to since his peace had been disturbed earlier in the evening.
Professor Steadman was the daughter and only child of Sir Herbert Steadman the landowner, former cabinet minister and celebrity entrepreneur. Professor Steadman and her 7-year-old son Simon split their time between Sir Herbert's 300-acre estate in Sussex, and their town house in fashionable Brunswick Gardens, Kensington. The previous afternoon Professor Steadman, who was an expert in Military Analysis at the University College London, had been working on her latest article, while Simon was at his Prep school a minutes walk from their home. Her gardener had been working on a broken water feature in the garden, and her cook and housekeeper Mrs Artington had been busy in the kitchen. Professor Steadman, Lucille as she insisted John call her, didn't employ a nanny preferring to keep her household simple, and had left the house to collect Simon herself early in the afternoon. Lucille said she had left the house for around 20 minutes, but when she returned the house had changed. She had initially realized that the front door now stood open, and so giving Simon instruction to call upon her neighbor Rahni Singh she had run up the front door into a scene of terror. Mrs Artington lay dead in a pool of blood, as Lucille had dialed 999 on her iphone she ran through the house. The gardener was nowhere to be found, and she had been searching through the house for anything missing, when she had stumbled into Simon's bedroom. Written on the bright blue walls in Mrs Artington's fresh blood were the words 'He's Next' at this Holmes handed John a pile of Crime Scene photographs, and a photo of Simon lying asleep in his bed, which Lucille had found pinned under the gruesome message.
When she finished her story John noted she seemed neither strained nor upset but exhilarated. Holmes in contrast was pale and quiet.
'Why have you come to us?' John asked a little bemused 'surely the police would be…'
'Of course we will be investigating this case John'. Holmes interrupted, 'Where is Simon now?' He asked Lucille.
'With a school friend, his mother will take them both to school tomorrow, and then I thought we could pick him up tomorrow. As it will be Friday I thought to take him straight to Daddies afterwards'
'Good good' Holmes murmured, 'right we'll start looking into it first thing in the morning.' He dropped his voice to barely a whisper and added 'are you staying here tonight Lucy?' He looked straight into her dark eyes, and John was suddenly aware he was a spare part in this play and sloped off to the bathroom. He showered quickly and went to bed, to tired to think much on their strange visitor or her effect on his friend.
When John awoke the next morning it was to find Lucille now dressed in a loose white shirt and her black combat pants, her hair now loose and shoulder length, cooking bacon and eggs.
'Good morning John' she sang brightly, 'Sherlock has gone for a walk but he said you were to eat heartily then pack a bag' John sat down on one of the wooden stools, and waved vaguely at his rucksack leant against the bedroom door. Lucille was quiet as she served up to full plates, and sat next to him.
'How long have you known Holmes?' John asked her getting up and pouring 2 glasses of orange juice from the fridge.
'Ages' she murmured 'years and years' Anything else she might have said was cut short by the arrival of Holmes.
'Are we all ready?' He said again in his bright voice, walking over and drinking all of Johns orange juice in a gulp. 'Lucy's car is downstairs we can go to Kensington now if you're ready?'
Lucy fished in a small bag John had only just noticed and removed a electric car key, she threw it to John, 'Black Mercedes SLK downstairs, bit of a squeeze but I think we will all fit.'
John looked startled but looking between Holmes and Lucy decided not to argue, picked up his bag and slinked towards the door.
'Watson, take my bag down as well will you?' Holmes called pointing to a small black holdall on the old sofa.
John gave him a dirty look, but hoisted the bag and went downstairs. Mrs Hudson was standing in her doorway a look of utter anticipation on her face. John motioned to the bags; 'we will be going away for a few days Mrs Hudson, and no I don't know what is going on!'
Holmes and Lucille had been 30minutes on their own upstairs, before they had returned to find John in the back of the small coupe. Time enough for John to have walked to Kensington if he had any idea where Lucille lived, in turn the uncomfortable drive had been swift, but long enough for John to dread the promised drive to Sussex later in the afternoon.
When they arrived at Lucille's house, it was obvious which residence had suffered an horrific event less than 48 hours earlier. Police tape enshrined the front steps of the elegant Georgian townhouse, and a bored uniformed police constable stood on the front steps. This is where Holmes came into his own; he strode up to the steps, whispered to the Police constable and walked straight into the house. Lucille followed a few steps behind, a position John was sure she did not relish, and he feeling like a clinging puppy followed in her wake.
The scene of the murder was still blood spattered and Holmes kneeled on the floor and looked up the staircase. While John walked down the corridor looking out into the garden, Holmes sprinted up the stairs and straight into Simon's bedroom. John turned and followed, not asking how Holmes knew which room was the boys, but while Holmes attempted to find the exact point Simons photograph had been taken from John again looked out into the garden.
'I suppose your going to tell me it wasn't the gardener?' A deep male voice called into the room, making John jump but not having the slightest visible effect on Holmes. Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard walked in to the room behind John, 'isn't this a little boring for you Holmes?' he asked nodding to John and finally getting Holmes to turn. 'Oh, yes sorry I hadn't thought' Lestrade suddenly stuttered and laughed locking Holmes with a curious look, 'well carry on, if you need our help let us know' he stated cryptically. Steering a angry looking Lucille back downstairs, 'Professor Steadman and I will be having a little chat in the study if you want to join us.' Lestrade finally shouted as he swept down the hallway towards Lucille's garden view office.
'What do you see Watson?' Holmes finally asked about 30mins later
'Erm.. an open aspect onto the garden' John started 'easy access for the photograph'
'No!' Holmes shouted 'the room, what do you see?' Holmes waved Simon's picture at him.
'I don't know? Blood I suppose?' John stuttered
'Yes, well very good' Holmes said with full irony, patting John on the arm 'should we go and stop Lestrade arresting Professor Steadman?'
At 3pm Holmes insisted on Lucille walking them through her actions from Wednesday afternoon, she left the house at exactly 3pm, Jason the gardener had been working in the garden and Lucille had seen neither him nor Mrs Artington since about 2pm. She had left the house and walked to the school, she had been waylaid by Mrs Eccleshall the schools crossing patrol and asked whether she would be helping with the schools Christmas fayre. This discussion had lasted about 12 minutes and Lucille had reached the school gates at exactly 3.15pm. When she had got to them, Mr Partridge, the schools deputy headmaster, had met Lucille. Earlier in the day a woman had reported seeing a suspicious gentleman hanging around school, and the children where being accompanied out of school one by one when their parents arrived.
However today this precaution had been relaxed and children were pouring out of the gates into parked cars and parents arms. John was just reeling from this shocking oversight on the schools part when a dark haired, dark eyed boy emerged at the top of the school steps. His eyes swept the crowd of awaiting parents, focusing briefly on Lucille; the boy came running towards them. Opening his arms wide the boy screamed 'Daddy' and leapt into Holmes waiting arms.
The journey to Sussex was uncomfortable and quiet. John was reeling from this shocking revelation about his friend, and was now very aware he was a spare part in a family trip to the country. He had spent a lot of time looking from father to mother to son, seeing similarities in Holmes and Simons hair. In Lucille's eyes and that of their sons, he had only once asked Holmes about his personal life, and had received such a blunt response he had never asked again. Now a million questions entered his head all at once. Simon was 7, meaning he was born when Holmes was barely out of University, and obviously he and Lucille were still close, the boy knowing who Holmes was, yet no picture of the boy was obvious in their home. John spent most of the journey rehearsing a series of questions to ask his friend, rejecting them mentally, and rehearsing the new.
Sir Herbert's estate Blengingdale was deep in the heart of East Sussex, and by the time they arrived it was already getting dark outside. His mother picked a sleepy Simon out of the back seat, while Holmes helped John out from behind his own seat. He blinked as he struggled to take in the large regency mansion, but had little time to concentrate before the large Sir Herbert bustled out, one arm was draped immediately around his daughter while the other was extended to Holmes.
'Sherlock, my boy so glad you could come down, feel better already' he shouted jovially still shaking Holmes hand whilst peering at John.
'May I present my colleague, Dr John Watson' Holmes introduced
'Oh yes of course' Sir Herbert remembered grasping Johns hand in a vice like shake 'Lu has been showing me your blog, good stuff, good stuff'
They were steered into the house, while a pair of uniformed retainers took their bags from the SLK. John's first thought was how old fashioned the house seemed, he had visited similar homes but they had always been National Trust set pieces, he had difficulty imagining this as a real home. Lucille was still carrying Simon, and shifting his small body in her arms she excused herself to put him to bed for a nap. Her father called to her that he'd arranged dinner for about 7pm and he would expect to see her and Simon washed, awake and dressed then.
Sir Herbert asked Holmes to step through to his study with him, and Holmes rather brutally told John to stay where he was, and he'd catch up with him in a while. At a loss and left alone in the cavernous entrance hall John took an opportunity to explore the range of glass cabinets and portraits arraigned against the walls. He had no ideas about the case, and he was feeling more and more like a spare part. He was mulling over the last few hours of silence in the car when he felt a hard tap on his shoulder.
'Dr Watson?' he turned to face an older, dumpy women in a black and pink piped overall. Her wide smile creased her wrinkled face and reminded John of classic TV cooks. Her voice was a soft and deep broague and he found himself nodding and returning her smile in the oddest way. 'I'm Nelly' she said plainly 'Ms Lucy asked me to come and find you, and show your room.' She took Johns hand and started to lead him towards the large double staircase. 'Ms Lucy asked me to put you in the room adjoining hers, that way you're the next closest person to Simon, poor little soul he is, and she is so very worried, I'm glad you've come with Mr Holmes, so kind.' She continued in this vein while leading John through a maze of corridors.
Finally she stopped to draw breath and John jumped at his chance 'Er, Nelly' John started 'tell me what you know about Lucille and Holmes, and I mean everything. They won't tell me what is going on and well I feel left out.' Nelly fixed him with the saddest of looks, and stopped walking, she looked guiltily from one end of the empty corridor to another, then took his hand again dragged him through the closest door. She checked the door, then turned the light on. The room was richly furnished but had not been used in a while. Nelly pulled a chair from the dresser into the middle of the room and settling herself on the corner of the Queens sized bed beckoned John to sit on it.
'You have to understand Dr Watson that I don't know everything myself' Nelly started, 'and most of this tale comes from Ms Lucy herself. Lucy thought she was dying, you see? She wanted Simon to know everything. She was so ill with the baby and so poorly I nursed her day and night, and she told me the tale very piecemeal. Mr Holmes was there of course, but, well I'll get to that.' Nelly settled herself again and started her story.
'I don't know when it exactly started but you know by now that Mr Holmes and our Lucy are about the same age. She was so very bright and went to study history Sidney Sussex Cambridge. Her mother, Lady Eirawin had been a mathematician, and Lucy had picked up from her a love of logic puzzles. I was lady Eirawin's maid you know? I came with her from her daddy's estate in Cork, when she married Sir Herbert. Well Lucy is a bit of a loner, lovely and everything but sad and inward and she would sit for hours in the library figuring puzzles. Not you understand games and jigsaws, but mathematical puzzles and physic problems. One afternoon she had been sitting there and this lad was struggling with a puzzle further along the table. She thought at first it was a logic puzzle like hers and was about to offer her help when she saw it was a cipher. She became very interested and sidled closer to him, as he was engrossed she was able to read over shoulder. Lucy started jotting the cipher down and a few moments later had translated it. She told him the answer to his puzzle, and was taken a back when instead of thanking her, he had glared picked up his things and stalked off. She didn't think anything of it, but the next day on her usual seat was a cipher. She was amused completed it, looked round for the boy, but seeing no one, left him a cipher of her own design thanking him for his puzzle. This continued for weeks, and the ciphers got harder and harder, the messages longer and longer. He told her that he was taking in ciphers from all around the world as a hobby, that he was being paid by all sorts of people to complete them and he'd be honored if she'd help him. So they did, they spent over a year deciphering codes, and puzzles, sometimes he'd meet her and bring math puzzles and more and more parts of criminal cases that intrigued him. You'll guess by now that this boy was Mr Holmes himself, ever so clever even then.'
'Lucy told me there was never anything romantic between them, neither of them being particularly interested in that, but they became very good friends, interested in similar pursuits, fascinated by the intricacies of the human mind, and utterly uninterested in anything but the chase. It was towards the end of their final term, that Mr Holmes started looking for things to do after he graduated. He sent letters out to his clients asking if they had anything for him to do. Lucy was very concerned about him he started talking about travelling the globe, and was becoming obsessed with the darker aspects of the criminal cases he worked upon. Then after her final exam she met him in their normal spot in the library he was so very animated. A man in Argentina had offered him a lot of money to come and help him decipher some codes for him, and he was leaving that afternoon. Lucy didn't know what to say she was hocked and scared for Mr Holmes. All of a sudden he asked her to go with him, and without thinking she said yes.'
'I don't know what happened then Dr Watson honestly I don't, Lucy didn't come home from University we were so worried her father went to the flat she had been renting, and found a note explaining she'd gone travelling with a friend and would be in touch. A few months later Mr Holmes brother came to the house, asking if we knew where they were. That was the first time I ever heard the name Sherlock Holmes. Mr Mycroft had followed his brother's journey from Buenos Aires to Lima, from Lima to New Orleans, and from New Orleans to Havana. However after Havana Lucy and Mr Holmes had realized they were being followed by Mr Mycroft's friends and somewhere in that city had found away to loose their unwanted companion. Mr Mycroft was ever so worried and he and Sir Herbert spent weeks and thousands of pounds of government money trying to find them. All to no avail, we heard nothing from them for months, Mr Mycroft kept in touch but Sir Herbert began to think we had lost Lucy forever. That's when the postcard arrived, dated months previously and posted in Sydney, it showed a picture of the Sphinx on the front. Lucy mentioned that they were both well, but that her friend was worried about being followed and so she couldn't put any details on the card. Well Mr Mycroft was round like a shot, and Sir Herbert was so happy that for a while they started to search again.'
'Well while Mr Mycroft and Sir Herbert searched Lucy and Mr Holmes had reached Afghanistan, Mr Holmes was employed by the Wazir Tribe of the Khost Province. They were working for a village tribal elder who had a number of sons. Mr Holmes thought it safer for he and Lucy to make it known that they were a couple, as a girl like Lucy would be a prize possession for any of the Elders sons. Everything was going fine until some CIA agents visited the village elders, I don't pretend to understand Dr Watson but they were rather unhappy about Lucy and Mr Holmes presence and decided to tell the village Elder that they had been lying to him. That they were not a young married couple as pretended and using Lucy's passport as proof brought them to the tribal Jirga. The Wazir tribe you see are very conservative and as Lucy and Mr Holmes had been sharing a tent and bed for weeks they had committed the most awful crime in the eyes of the Jirga. Lucy was in the most awful danger and Mr Holmes begged for anyway to keep her safe. The Jirga would only accept a marriage, and so Lucy and Mr Holmes agreed. They thought a marriage in a backwater province of Afghanistan would never count and hastily accepted any ceremony the Jirga arranged. The Jirga however were wise to this and asked the CIA for help, a US priest was called in and our Lucy and Mr Holmes were married tighter than a kilner jar.'
John was visibly shocked at this Holmes was married with a son, but he remembered Nelly's first words and suddenly asked 'What went wrong, why was Lucy so ill when they came back, Nelly?'
The old lady took a big sigh as if the story had tired her and the unfamiliar words drawn out from forgotten memory had a hard effect on her voice. She took another heaving sigh, settled herself back and continued the story.
'When they were in Afghanistan, Lucy and Mr Holmes started experimenting, you understand Dr Watson they were very young, cast into the world alone for over a year then, maltreated by everyone but themselves. I even now don't know why or when but Lucy said they tried everything, heroin, and all kinds of opiates, hashish, and cocaine. They also started, well forgive me Dr Watson experimenting in other ways, sex in all forms, they traveled in India, and Indonesia all over Asia and Australasia. Ms Lucy told me she wouldn't go with anyone but Mr Holmes, it made him mad but she stuck with him like glue. I think Doctor he was her first, probably her only and I think for all the drink and drugs she was just a scared little girl and he her only protector. They were so stoned that Mr Mycroft could trace them again, but when he did he didn't tell Sir Herbert. He contacted me, told me about their life, I was so scared for them but did not know what to do, I asked Mr Mycroft to rescue my Lucy, get her safe, but his only real concern was Mr Holmes and he would not be rescued. I could have throttled him then, Mr Holmes, Mr Mycroft the lot of them.'
The old ladies eyes were filling with tears, and John found a handkerchief for her, his head swimming with this new information. It made sense of course, the darkness in his friend, the addictive personality the disregard for his wife and child. However the story was shocking, something from a gothic novel not a twenty-first century couple. Other thoughts came to mind Holme's otherworldliness, his old fashioned mode of speech and lax moral compass. In Holme's mind it was the 19th Century, this tale was straight from the great tours of Byron's peers. He gestured Nelly to continue, and sat back in reverie.
'Well the next thing Ms Lucy could remember was an opium den in Phuket, she had been asleep on a large double bed with Mr Holmes lying next to her, she didn't know what she'd taken but for the first time in months was able to think straight. She got up to find a shower, her clothes felt sticky and she could taste alcohol on her lips. In the room she found a full-length mirror, and as she stood in front of it, got the shock of her life. She was always slim Dr Watson, so slim and she realized to her horror that she was pregnant. Imagine her shock Doctor, she woke up and in her fuzzy brain discovered herself pregnant. She woke Mr Holmes, and he was no use, so stoned he didn't know his name or who she was. All she knew was that she had to leave and so did Mr Holmes. She stumbled outside and by the grace of the almighty into the arms of Mr Mycroft's spy. He arranged flights, and getting them home. He arranged a doctor to see Ms Lucy, who believed her about 8 months pregnant, and he warned Sir Herbert to expect them home.'
'It was 2 weeks later in the middle of the night they arrived. Oh Dr Watson what a sight it was a frightful night black as your hat raining ever so and the bell rang at midnight. I went down to answer it and there they stood so, as I'd never recognise my Lucy. Both as pale as sheet paper shivering mightily and supporting each other. Where they had walked from I know not but she was in the thinnest of dresses covered in mud and just about ready to pop. He stood there first time I'd set eyes on him in my life, like a skeleton he was Doctor, shivering and muttering. She begged me to help him, screaming that he was sick to die, when all I could think was my poor Lucy. Sir Herbert came at the noise and took the boy away, and I carried my Lucy upstairs. I bathed her and cleaned her but it was soon obvious she was going to have the baby in no time. I called for an ambulance you see, but one just didn't come. She lay there screaming she did for 2 hours, goodness knows how long it had been going on and I fair believed the babe dead. All the time sobbing out her story convinced she was dying, begging for me to help her. Then she went deathly quiet and Mr Holmes entered the room, careful and bowed he was, she stared at him, gave a massive push and yon Simon was born.'
'Mr Holmes stayed with us for 6 months, and I began to think they might be a happy little family, Simon was such a bonny bairn he was, and Mr Holmes seemed to dote on him. Ms Lucy was happy after a few weeks, and all 3 put on weight and started to plan their future. I was happy then Doctor, my Lucy safe at home, married with a handsome baby. Then one day Ms Lucy came to me and asked me to help her convince her father to let her return to University, she wanted to continue her studies, an MA in military history of all things. Sir Herbert agreed, paid for the little family to have the house in Kensington, you've been there Doctor you know how lovely it is. In the September they left here as one family, but you know by now where this is going. Mr Holmes never stayed with them; he went off travelling leaving Lucy and Simon alone. She was sad at first, but he always wrote, such long letters, sent her his work as he'd once done, and asked her advice. He came back to them little but often visiting us here, and sending such gifts to us all. That's the way it was for 6 years Dr Watson. Till you started to work with him, now he visits them every week, brings Simon such gifts he does, you've been such a good influence on him you know?'
John was startled by her tale, especially her description of him. A good influence on Holmes didn't sound like him at all. The old lady looked at her watch, 'Oh Doctor' she said. 'I'm so sorry you'll be late for dinner, and Sir Herbert will be so angry I'll show you your room, you must shower and change, and then back down to the great hall, I'm sure you'll get to the dining room from there.' She pushed him out of the room, down another anonymous corridor to a set of three carved doors facing the same way. She showed him to the closest, and toddled off down the corridor muttering to herself again. John entered the room and discovered his bag unpacked and fresh towels laid out for him. He showered and changed and went downstairs for dinner.
At dinner John found himself seated by little Simon with Holmes opposite him. Lucille sat opposite Simon and Sir Herbert sat between Simon and Lucille at the head of the table. John fresh from his enlightening chat with Nelly found it difficult to sit facing Simon's parents. They in turn seemed to have relaxed around John for the first time since Thursday evening. Sir Herbert broke the tension in John's mind by asking where they were in the case.
'Do you think Simon should really here this' John started, looking at the small child beside him.
'Simon' Lucille started 'Tell Dr John what you know about the case.'
'At 3pm on Wednesday afternoon Mummy came to pick me up from school' Simon started a nod from his father and the boy happily continued in a sing song voice. 'There had been a strange man at school and so she was late getting me out of school. When we got home the door was wide open and so Mummy sent me to Mrs Singh's. When she got to our house Jason the gardener was missing and Mrs Artington was dead on the floor in all her blood, she had 5 stab wounds to her trunk and one to her jugular.' At this Holmes stopped him.
'Well done Simon, you can stay' he stated firmly staring at Lucille.
'So do you think it's all this gardener chappy then?' He said in a booming cheery voice.
'No Daddy!' Lucille yelped, long before Holmes said a word.
John was waiting for Holmes great insight, as did the others around the table by the intake of breath.
'It seems to me' Holmes started slowing, chewing the top of his long encircled fingers 'that we need to wait for his next move, he will try and harm the boy and I suppose that will be in the next few days. We will then be able to gauge his motives.' Holmes stopped suddenly, interrupted by a high pitched scoff from beside John. Simon was now the centre of attention for the first time, the table was hushed and he began to speak.
'Daddy' his high infantile voice began, slowly and methodically like his fathers. 'It is obvious that this killer will not try and harm me. Also I suspect that he will leave you another message here this weekend. He may try and harm Mummy or Dr John but definitely not me.'
They sat stunned, Lucille's dark eyes and straight façade started to break, a corpse smile started, and she looked at her husband. Holmes in turn smiled broadly, John had only seen that smile once before, earlier in the day when he had first seen father and son together. Mother and father looked at each other with clear pride, a dysfunctional family indeed where such precocious analysis was a cause of joy.
'Why do you think this Simon?' John asked, as clearly neither parent deemed this question pertinent.
'I feel that's elementary Doctor' he said turning, mimicking his fathers finger chewing. 'I believe that this person had easy access to the Kensington house for days, I had not worn the jammies seen in my photograph for over a week. Also I don't see that either myself for Mrs Artington had done anything to instigate this attack in recent weeks, so I assume that the actual target was Daddies state of mind. I also assume that this person had only fairly recently discovered the connection between Daddy and Mummy, as even after all your recent work on your blog Doctor this is the first attack of this kind we have ever suffered.'
'
They parted from the dinner table at 9pm; his parents took Simon straight to bed while John and Sir Herbert sat in the Library drinking brandy. After 30 minutes Lucille returned, and Sir Herbert made his excuses and went to bed. As her father left the room Lucille sat on the worn leather sofa directly opposite John, not knowing what to say to her, or how he should address all he had heard earlier stuttered an appreciation for dinner. Lucille sat straighter reached out her hand and took his;
'Do you think I did it John?' she asked using a voice so dusky and seductive John was taken a back for a moment. He started to deny it but again she interrupted; 'He does you know, Sherlock, I mean. He asked me when he sent you to my car in Baker Street.' She looked deeply into his eyes and John thought for a moment his answer should probably be yes. At that moment Holmes walked into the room, the sight of his best friend and his wife sitting so close absorbed into one another seemed to have no effect on him. He sat in a Windsor chair close to the roaring library fire, and started chewing his fingers again.
'Did Nelly talk to you John?' Lucille asked in a sleepy but not concerned voice, curling herself up on the sofa.
'Yes' John confirmed 'erm I don't really know what to say' he stuttered
'Nothing Watson, it's no secret but I'd appreciate your confidence.' Holmes started
'You have it, Holmes, but I…' John stopped suddenly this was not the time. 'I'm going to bed' at which he turned and left the room leaving husband and wife, father and mother alone in the library.
John was woken in the middle of the night by a high pitched scream. He was out of bed, pulling on a dressing gown before he realized he was awake. When he got to the door of his bedroom it was to find Holmes dressed in blue stripy pyjamas emerging from the middle door and wrenching open the door to his sons room. The child was sitting up in his bed, his face profiled in the garish glow of his fishtank nightlight. He had stopped screaming but his face was a mask of terror. The window in the room was gaping widely and the curtains were flapping in the breeze. As Holmes ran to the window, John flicked the bedrooms main light on, the infantile bed was covered in fresh blood, it dripped from the covers onto the floor. Holmes turned from the window to his son 'John?' he begged staring at his friend, eyes wide in shock.
'I'll see to him Holmes' John assured, not knowing what he would find on examining the boy, the next thing John became aware of was Holmes leaping out of the window after the unseen assailant.
As John tore back the duvet on the infantile bed relief washed over him, the blood was limited to the top of the covers. As Simon started sobbing, Lucille entered the bedroom.
'Simon?' she murmured the usual pale of her skin had taken on a greenish haze, and as John turned he was sure she was going to faint. Running up to her, he pulled her into his arms.
'He's fine, he's fine' John whispered 'he's had a scare but he's fine, not a scratch on him.'
Lucille pulled away from him and walked to her son, as she hugged him close she checked his little body for obvious trauma and wiped his tears on the sleeve of her dressing gown.
'Where is Sherlock?' she suddenly asked looking around the room, taking in the 2 sets of bloody footprints to the open window and the open wardrobe doors.
'He dived out of the window after the intruder' John said, suddenly remembering his friend. 'Are you two going to be okay if I go and look for him?' he asked
'Yes, oh goodness yes of course John.' She stammered, 'I'll clean Simon up and he can come and sleep in my bed.' Thankful for her practical nature, John turned and left the room.
A few minutes later found John walking across the expanse of lawn in front of the house, he had changed into jeans, shirt, trainers and large coat. Frost was in the air, and the grass was crunching under his feet. His friend had dived out of a window into the freezing November night wearing only a pair of thing pyjamas. He had brought a spare coat and shoes, but was seriously worried. John was reluctant to shout his friend's name in case it spooked his prey, but was at a loss on how to find him. He couldn't see any footprints and more out of instinct than sense he walked towards a small copse. Fallen crispy leaves made his footsteps sound like cymbals crashing, and his heart was thumping from cold and adrenaline, rushing in his ears. John's breath swirled around him and even dressed in warm clothes he was chilled to the bone. He was seriously concerned about Holmes, and reached into his coat for his mobile phone, gave up on the softly, softly approach and started to dial Holmes's number.
'You don't need to phone me Watson, I'm right here' Holmes was slumped against a tree, shivering. 'I see you've brought me shoes and a coat, how thoughtful.' John went over to him, as Holmes had made no attempt to move. John draped the coat around his friend who was ice cold to touch. 'I can do my shoes Watson.'
After a short while John found himself walking with Holmes deeper into the wood, 'Did you see anyone Holmes?' he asked shivering slightly, his friend must have been freezing but since putting on a coat and shoes showed no more sign of it.
'Someone came into the copse' Holmes started distractedly, 'but I lost them very quickly. I think they knew this wood well, better than me, and yes Watson; I know this wood very well indeed'.
'Do you think, well could it have been' John stammered 'Was Lucille with you when you woke up?'
'Yes, John' Holmes using Johns first name on a rare occasion. 'Lucy was with me, I might have noticed if she wasn't. I asked her very calmly if she had committed the murders, she denied it, I doubted her.' Holmes statement shocked John; he wasn't used to his friend being so blunt. 'I don't doubt her now' Holmes continued, 'the child is too precious to her, she wouldn't scare him like that. So now I'm looking for someone else. Someone who knows this wood better than anyone, would not be worried about scaring the boy, who was capable of murdering a middle aged woman and a fit man in his early 30's, also someone who has easy access to this house. You didn't see it in Kensington, the picture was not taken there, it was taken in his bedroom here.'
'Two murders?' John asked stopping his friend dead.
'Yes, Watson of course there has been two murders, Mrs Artington and Jason the gardener. When you arrived here I realized that Simon had not been hurt. There was so much blood in that room that whoever donated it must now be dead, the logical answer is that the killer had no time to kill Jason in Brunswick Gardens, bundled him into a van to kill him later. That they have either saved the blood or killed him tonight, and emptied it over Simon's bed to spook me.'
Holmes and Watson went back to the house after an hour of fruitless searching. What Holmes expected to find John didn't know, but he suddenly demanded to go back to the house, and John had followed in his wake. When they entered the house all was dark but a roaring fire had been lit in the library and Holmes took his favored chair beside it. 'Do I owe you an explanation, Watson?' Holmes asked, his shoes steaming slightly as they thawed. John just shrugged so Holmes continued. 'I was so very young and the world was so exciting and boring all at once, and I've been no saint. Lucy, well she's not a saint either, possibly darker than me, more worldly than me certainly. Before you ask yes we experimented with all the darker vices, occasionally Doctor we still do. I thought she might had murdered the housekeeper and threatened Simon to get at me. She worried that you would be jealous of her.' John's eyes widened but Holmes just continued. 'She reads your blog, she e-mails me the answers to the cases on my website. I worried she was lonely and jealous in turn, and would set up a case I had to investigate just to tempt me. She told Lestrade who Simons father was, but told him not to contact me. She broke in instead, apparently Mrs Hudson wouldn't let her in, but she didn't wait for me, she used her darker skills to break in. All either desperate attempts to reconnect properly with me, or just as she says a general interest followed by a horrid event.' Holmes had stopped talking to John; he had the faraway look he used for deduction. 'Someone new I had started visiting them regularly, not Watson I never mentioned it, someone she told.' Suddenly Holmes looked John straight in the face. I think I know who's doing this, I'm going to bed, we may all be safe now',
The next morning John awoke his brain in complete disarray; Holmes had the answer to the case. Whereas John still doubted Lucille, Holmes self-inflection of the night before had proved to John that Lucille was a distinct suspect. He was confused, and more he was hungry. Nelly had failed to explain about breakfast, so John dressed and went downstairs to the dining room. He found the oddest scene, Holmes was sitting with Simon on his lap, Lucille had her head on his shoulder, her hair trailing over his chest and all 3 had the happiest smile on their faces. 'John come in' Holmes boomed, aping his father-in-laws boisterous voice, 'we have been having a jolly time, we've been talking about the future'.
'Oh' said John blandly 'are you all alright?' He took a seat and a beaming Nelly put two slices of toast and a cup of coffee in front of him.
'Isn't it lovely Doctor' she said giggling slightly 'what things to bring a family back together.'
'Of course Nelly' Holmes started 'we have you to thank.'
Nelly seemed taken aback 'Oh Mr Holmes, not at all. I'm glad you've seen sense at last'
'Well, yes Nelly. If of course Lucy hadn't told you how much Simon liked my more frequent visits to them, and how she regretted that I had spent so little time with her.' Holmes voice went serious, Lucy sent Simon out of the room, and Nelly sat down. 'If Nelly, you hadn't thought about the best way to interest me in my family was to start a case to draw me to them. If you hadn't killed your rival in Lucy's affection, and the man you thought was my wife's lover, I might have never introduced Watson to them.' He stopped talking and looked at her. 'If Nelly you hadn't done all of those things, I would be home with Dr Watson, Lucy and Simon would be safe at home in Kensington and you wouldn't be facing the rest of your life behind bars.'
Lucy had dropped Watson at Baker street on Saturday afternoon, before she and Holmes and Simon had returned to Brunswick Gardens. It was late on Monday afternoon when Holmes returned, his normal sanguine state.
'Well Watson ask away' Holmes sighed.
John did not need the answer to the case that had been explained in the dining room. The old woman strong and hard of Irish stock, had only ever sort to protect Lady Eirawin and her child. When her Lucy confided in her a slight sadness about her situation, she had a duty to rectify it. Watching Lucille and Holmes discussing Lucille's relationship with Jason the gardener was time John would have preferred to spend elsewhere, but explained what Lucille and Holmes had seen at the murder scene John had missed.
John steeled himself to ask his friend the question that had been bothering him all weekend. 'Holmes, you and Sir Herbert, what do you say to him? Nelly mentioned you talking to him, Lucille mentioned it, you disappeared to talk to him, is there something else I should know?'
'Watson, this must not go on your blog, I do not want my brother knowing this, understood?' John nodded sitting forward. 'Lucy is Sir Herbert's only child, Simon his only heir, the circumstances of his birth very convenient. I have no doubt that whatever Nelly or Lucy told you about our meeting was probably true. We met at Sidney Sussex, we worked well together, I asked her to accompany me to Buenos Aires and she agreed. I was aware Mycroft had us followed, and we worked hard to lose him. When we finally did he immediately contacted Sir Herbert. What they agreed I don't know, but we were lured to Afghanistan. Our marriage was hastily but tightly arranged by Mycroft's friends, we were caught in a terrible trap. Young and stupid we fell into the culture of that country, whether we were tricked or just susceptible I don't know. I remember little and I believe Lucy even less, but she conceived and I was trapped. Mycroft sort to trap me at home in the Gordian knot, Sir Herbert needed a male heir, legitimate and born at home. Whatever they gave Lucy sobered her early enough to insist of travelling home, but late enough that Simon was born not only in England but in the very house he will inherit. How they knew Simon was to be a boy I have my theories, what would have happened if we'd conceived a girl leaves me with a dread. That's what Sir Herbert needs to talk to me about, he needs to ensure that I stick to my honorable agreement, remain married to his daughter, acknowledge his heir, and stay close enough to the family to be brought out and displayed on occasion.'
John looked Holmes up and down, 'cup of tea?' he asked.
'Yes', my dear Watson 'I think we've earned one.'