One
It was a normal evening at 221B Baker Street. Outside the window was a raging storm. Holmes was at his desk writing his new book: "The Successful Detectives". I was sat on the sofa, so enhanced by the dancing of the flames in the fire; I was almost asleep until Mrs. Hudson barged in with tea and brandy.
It was a normal evening until the doorbell rang.
"A young lady to see you, Mister Holmes," said Mrs. Hudson
Holmes lit his piped and replied with;
"Show her in Mrs. Hudson,"
I stood up, dusted my trousers off and cleared my throat as the young lady entered the room. She was a very tall lady; slim at the top put not as much at the bottom half of her. She had long, straight black hair with heavy eye makeup. She wore a high neck, long purple dress with lace and ruffles. Holmes eyed her with suspicion.
Mrs. Hudson left us alone and the lady sat down on the sofa.
"So young lady, what's your name and why would you want my help on a night like this?"
The lady looked up at him, her sea-blue eyes staring up into his brown ones.
"My name is Megara Murmour. I…I…I have…." she trailed of and began to cry. I went to comfort her. She took some reassuring but then she gathered herself and carried on. Holmes sat at his desk and made note of the things Mrs. Murmour said.
"I was at home, mourning over a picture of my late husband, he died last week, Mr. Holmes. Then suddenly, I heard a terrible shatter of glass. My maid, Anna, went to see what was happening but was struck down." Mrs. Murmour smoothed down the dress over her stomach.
"This group of men dressed in black took everything, including my clothes. This is the only dress I have left. It happened yesterday and I have been travelling here to see you ever since but the storm has caused chaos everywhere!"
Holmes stood up and puffed on his pipe. He stared at her and his gaze went from the bottom half of her to the top and back again.
"I see. So, er , when are you due?" he asked.
"Due where? I'm not going anywhere," Mrs. Murmour told him.
"We both know what I mean, Mrs. Murmour." Holmes sat in the armchair opposite her.
"I'm lost, Holmes! What are you talking about?" I inquired scratching my head.
"You see Watson, this young lady, if you don't mind me saying, Miss, is with child. So, Miss, when is your baby due to be born?" Holmes replied, looking at me with disgust, then at his pipe as it went out.
"Holmes! You don't think she has gone through enough already?" I exclaimed
"I'm curious, Watson, all detectives are. Surely you should know that by now!" Holmes re-lit his pipe.
"Five more tiring months to go. And I know what you are going to ask now, Mr. Holmes, and the answer is yes. This little one is Henry's child." Mrs. Murmour said, impolitely.
"Is, I mean was, Murmour your husband's name or…"
"It's my maiden name; I prefer it to Henry's. It was Barlett." Megara interrupted me. "Any chance of a cup of tea?"
"Of course, Watson ring for Mrs. Hudson." Holmes puffed on his pipe as I did as I was told. "Now, have Scotland Yard investigated this?"
"Yes, but the gang has not been caught yet."
"Would you mind if we investigated it too?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I would mind."
"Can I ask where you are staying at this present moment?"
"At the Rifle and Pheasant Inn in Whitewater, where I live."
At that moment, Mrs. Hudson came in.
"Ah! Mrs. Hudson. Dear Mrs. Hudson," Holmes said alluringly.
"What do you want, Mr. Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson asked sternly.
"Please take Miss Murmour here to the spare room where she will sleep for the night. Oh, and please lend her a nightdress of yours and make her a cup of tea. And Mrs. Hudson? Give her a bath, would you? She's very wet."
"Of course, Mr. Holmes. I wasn't expecting you to do it." She said reluctantly and sarcastically and with that, led Miss Murmour into the spare room.
I checked my watch.
"I better be going, Holmes. But I'll be back in the morning."
"Dear fellow, let me ring for a cab!"
I shook my head.
"No no; I will, as long as you give me permission to use your telephone."
"Of course, Watson. I'll see you tomorrow, old chap!"