Disclaimer: I still do not own Sherlock Holmes.
A distant bang woke me that night. Blinking sleepily, I lifted myself up in my bed. As I listened, another, softer, thud came moments later. Now completely awake, I scrambled to my feet. I shivered and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. The fire that had been blazing in my room when I had gone to sleep had gone out.
Moving quietly, I made my way to the door. I stepped out into the hallway. Everything was dark. Again, I heard the sound of something falling. This time, the sound was followed by a man's voice. Though I listened carefully, I couldn't hear the words, but the man's tone was definitely angry.
"How can Leigh not hear this?" I whispered to myself. Shaking my head in puzzlement, I hurried towards the library. Even wrapped in the thick blanket, I shivered in the cold. Leigh had not been able to complete boarding up each broken window, so the cold winter wind blew right through.
A light shone underneath the library door. I crept up to it and peeked through the ajar door. A man's back was to me. Where I had cleaned up was once again strewn with papers. The man tossed a book to the floor, causing another thud. "I told you to stop that!" a second man hissed.
"No one's going to hear us," the first man answered. And then, I knew: it was the tall man from the train station. "Let's just finish the job."
Drawing back, I took a deep breath, trying to get my bearings. Whoever these men were, they definitely no one I should take on alone. I leaned forward again, drawn by the fact that more light was shining through. There came a sharp cracking noise, and smoke rolled out from under the door.
Gasping, I stared at the fire that was in the middle of the room. As fast as I could, I ran past the library to the stairs. Barely moments later, the two men came out and headed up. Towards my room. It was clear I needed help, so I kept going towards the lower levels of the house.
I easily wound my way through the darkness, every detail of the house memorized. I found the door to the Leighs' room and knocked loudly. "Mrs. Leigh? Leigh?" I called out, fear making my voice tremble.
Deep snores came from within. Praying that I wouldn't regret it, I grasped the knob and turned it. I pushed the door open, flinching at the loud creak it made. I wanted them up, so I didn't worry too much about the noise, only prayed the intruders above stairs wouldn't hear. The Leighs' were asleep in their bed. Their fire had also died down.
"Mrs. Leigh!" I shouted, hurrying to the bed. I shook the housekeeper's arm. "Mrs. Leigh, wake up!"
The woman mumbled something and rolled over. Horrified, I scrambled around the bed and shook Leigh's arm. "Leigh, wake up!" I pleaded as I got no reaction from the man. Something was very wrong here and, puzzled, I backed away. There was nothing I could do except save my home, so I ran out.
It didn't matter if I made any noise now. All that mattered was getting something to quench the fire. I banged through to the kitchen, searching for the pail that hung beside the old fashioned pump. Hastily, I filled the pail with water, letting the blanket drop to the floor.
Turning, I made my way back to the library, where the fire was growing in strength and size. I flung my bucket of water at the fire. The flames hissed, shrank back, and then flared up again. I recoiled instinctively, staring at the inferno in horror. What was I going to do now?
Somebody pushed roughly past me. I caught myself on the door frame as a man, most definitely not Leigh, tore a drape from the window and beat at the flames. "Get more water!" he snapped, glancing back at me. It was the second, shorter man from the train station.
At least he was here to help, it seemed. Nodding, I scrambled back down to the kitchen and hauled another bucket of water up. The stranger had beaten the fire back to a more manageable state. I dumped my bucket water on top, and it fizzled out of existence.
"There," the man said, satisfaction in his voice. The room was once again dark. "Stay here, Miss Norton. I'll be right back."
Astonished, I watched his black form rush out. I trailed him to the library door and peered up the dark stairs. I heard him run up the steps and then down the hallway to my room. I smirked as I heard him curse and then he returned much slower than he'd gone.
"Are you alright, Miss Norton?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered, shivering. Wet feet and a wet nightgown made me even colder in the cold air. Despite this, I was very annoyed. As I've been told a good defense is a good offense, I demanded, "Who are you? How do you know my name? How did you get in here?"
"You may call me Johns," the man answered. In the dim moonlight, I saw him turn in a circle, taking in the destruction that the shadows just barely disguised. "The door was left open by those two who started this. As to knowing your name, I was sent to keep you safe, Miss Norton."
Rubbing my arms, I shook my head. "Why should I believe you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Johns answered. "Your home has been vandalized and just barely escaped destruction. Do you think it's just a coincidence?"
"I acknowledge the fact that my home is not safe," I responded, primly. "However, I fail to see what that has to do with me. And when I asked why I should believe you, I was referring to why I should believe that you are here to keep me safe. For all I know, you could have been with those two men and are merely trying to trick me into putting confidence and trust in you."
Johns was silent for several long moments. "You are quite the young skeptic, aren't you," he finally commented.
"As my mother has told me: it's wonderful to believe the best of people, but sometimes, it's smarter to doubt every word," I answered. I've gotten some lovely words of wisdom from both my parents on the subject of trusting people.
"Will it satisfy you if I have my employer send a reference?"
Seriously, I considered that. "If it is accompanied by an explanation, then yes, I would be satisfied," I replied, with a sigh. "I don't understand why the Leighs didn't wake up."
"I suspect their nightly drink has been drugged," Johns responded, moving towards the door. "Your butler and housekeeper will remain asleep until tomorrow. However, the men won't return again tonight, so you have no reason to fear. I will return at dawn."
With those final words, the man left. I followed him down to the front door, taking care to bolt it shut securely behind him. Finding a candle in its normal place on a side table, I lit it and made her way back to the library to take stock of the damage.
The middle of the room was the worst. The desk where the fire had started was charred. The books I had so carefully put into place were again on the floor. "Oh, Papa," I said wearily. Though I would never have admitted it out loud, the man's words had left me unnerved.
I sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, and stayed like that for several minutes before I shook my head. "All right," I decided, straightening up. I rubbed my fingers together to get some feeling back in them. "I need to figure out what I'm going to do.
"I need to consult the facts I know," I went on. "One: someone has repeatedly drugged Leigh and searched everywhere in this house; two: those same men just tried to destroy Lynbrook Manor. So the logical conclusion is that they found what they were looking for."
I stood up and frowned at the shadows. "Which also points to another fact. Since my father had something they wanted and they came here searching, there is now the possibility of those men having my parents. And that would explain why I have not heard from my parents."
Going to the broken window, I looked out at the moonlight lawn. "Why wait two months, though?" I wondered. I shook her head. "I am not qualified to work through this!" I exclaimed in frustration. And an instant later, I had my answer. "But I know who could!"
Only...a mere telegram from a fourteen year old would hardly bring anyone out of the city. There was one option left for me, and I knew I had to take the chance.
Fired with determination, I hurried up to my bedroom. There, I found that it had been destroyed as the rest of the house had. It only reinforced the feeling of not being safe that I now had. It was clear: I had to leave Lynbrook Manor before those men tried again.
I searched through her wardrobe for her simplest dress. Finding the black dress I'd only worn to my great-aunt's funeral in New York, I slipped it on and twisted my hair into a chignon. I pined my simplest hat on and dragged out my carpetbag to fill it with the barest essentials.
From my desk, I located what little of my allowance I'd managed to save up. It wasn't much, but hopefully enough to get where I needed to go. Picking up my candle in my right hand, and my bag in the left, I left my bedroom and went downstairs. I set the candle on the sideboard, and scrawled a quick note to the Leighs':
"Don't worry. I've gone to get help. I will be back as soon as I can.
Serena"
Blowing out the candle, I walked to the front door and unbolted it. Slipping out, I shut the door behind myself. Carpetbag in hand, I took a deep breath and set off down the lane.
It was early morning when I reached my destination: London. Dressed as plainly as I was, no one seemed to take much notice of me. Thankfully, the ticket master hadn't recognized me as the daughter of the Nortons of Lynbrook Manor. I'd made the journey without incident.
Amidst the crowd, I made my way out of the busy train station. I adjusted my hat with one hand and tightened my grip on my bag in the other. I set off in a random direction to avoid getting noticed. The weather was cold and damp, making me glad I'd thought to find my oldest yet warmest coat.
At a street corner, I willingly spent one of my coins on a newspaper. I managed to glance through the news, all the while walking down the street and keeping a tight grip on my bag. One notice caught my eye almost immediately:
Wanted: Maid for temporary position. Apply 221 Baker Street.
Folding up the paper and filing that information in my mind, I smiled and stepped to the curb. I raised my hand to a passing cab and the driver stopped. I gave him the address I wanted and sat back to enjoy the ride. I spent the trip curiously watching the passing buildings and people.
In no time at all, the cab pulled up in front of the requested address. Stepping out, I paid the man and regarded the structure critically. On the outside, it appeared a normal residence, but inside lived one of the greatest minds of the nineteenth century. And the only man I would trust to help me.
Swiftly, I dodged my way across the street. I rang the doorbell and waited. After a minute, I knocked firmly on the door. Several minutes passed and just as I was about to give up and leave, I heard slow clumping. The door opened to reveal a grey haired, tiny woman.
"Oh, ma'am!" I exclaimed before she could say a word. I'd seen the bandages wrapped around the woman's left ankle. "You shouldn't be on that foot!"
Despite the pain that creased her forehead, Mrs. Hudson looked me over, taking in my plain clothes and the carpetbag I held. "You're here about the position?" she asked.
"Oh, no," I answered swiftly, though the idea amused me. "I'm here to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
She was already shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Miss," she said kindly. "Mr. Holmes is away at the moment. If you'll leave your card...?"
"No, I'll just come back," I responded in disappointment. She smiled once more and closed the door. Heaving a sigh, I turned and considered what I should do. Clearly, I would now have to find a way to stay out of sight in London for an unknown amount of time.
My first impulse was to find my mother's house here in town, Briony Lodge. My mother kept it for sentimental reasons, I think, because we'd never once gone there. In fact, she avoided London most of the time. Father had brought me a few times, but was always anxious to return to my mother.
But, whoever threatened my family would know of the Lodge. I considered my options as I walked along the sidewalk.
Both of my parents had been only children, so I had no family to turn to. I knew none of my father's colleagues and my father had cared for all legal matters, excluding a kindly old solicitor most heroines turned to in novels. I was going to have to go this alone.
I couldn't go to any hotel since I was only fourteen and, in any event, I would have been easily found out there. I had only a limited supply of funds that would hardly last me long enough and returning to Lynbrook Manor was a choice I was determined not to make.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to finding a position. Even with this decision, my options were limited. I was far to young to be a governess. I did not know how to type. While I could apply to be a clerk in a store, I would be in a public area and perhaps be seen by someone that would not have good intentions for me.
I was left with only one option: becoming a housemaid.