Chapter 2, e Voila!!

I can't spell or speak French to save myself, so that was probably wrong haha. I know there isn't a lot of action so far, but bear with me and I'll try to shift this thing along. There's a lot of backstory in this one so I'm sorry if it's bit slow but, trust me, there is a point to all this! So, yes, read on! 'Tally ho' and all that! (One of the view advantages of being British is being allowed to say that!)

Chapter 2 – All is not as it seems

The next day I arrived to find Holmes in his living room at Baker Street where he was chatting amiably to a young man of about twenty-seven years of age. I glanced up at the clock. It was a quarter past eight. I had overslept, yet there was no sign of Mrs Roxburgh.

The moment I entered the room and made myself known, the boy stood and out his hand eagerly, as if he already knew me.

"Watson, this is Klaus Roxburgh, brother to Emma Roxburgh. Seems you and his father attended university together," Holmes remarked as the young man shook my hand enthusiastically.

The youth was taller than his mother and painfully thin, although this looked natural enough judging by the healthy glow on his cheeks and apparent strength. His brown hair had been plastered onto his head with water but even still I could tell it was only a matter of hours until it sprang up in what I imagined to be an unruly mess. A tiny mustache adorned his upper lip and an elegant suit adorned his body.

"Mother couldn't make it this morning," said he as he let go of my hand and sat down. "She was so overcome when she heard you were going to help find Emma..." He let his voice trail off as Holmes and I tried to imagine the lady who had presented herself yesterday being 'overcome' in any sense of the word. It was a difficult task, to say the least.

"I'm afraid I don't recall knowing a Roxburgh at university," I said, taking the seat opposite him. "Perhaps you are thinking of another John Watson?"

"What about Roxberg? My father changed his name to Roxburgh on account of his father's...On account of his father."

I struggled not to share a curious glance with Holmes before replying.

"As a matter of fact I do remember a Friedrich Roxberg. I always thought he intended to go back to Germany."

However, before I could set to reminiscing about my old acquaintance, Holmes spoke up.

"And now to business, gentlemen."

Both Klaus Roxberg, or Roxburgh as I should call him, and I looked up and sat back in our seats, once more aware of why we were there.

"I'm immensely grateful to you for agreeing to help find Emma, Mr Holmes. If there's anything I can do you have only to ask."

"Thank you, Mr Roxburgh. In fact there are several things I would like to ask you. What was your sister's frame of mind before she left Cape Town? Did she seem perturbed at all?"

Roxburgh seemed surprised, for he had leaned forward as soon as Holmes had acknowledged his pledge, but he answered nonetheless,

"I don't think so. She was a little upset about Julia, her maid, leaving but other than that she didn't seem perturbed at all. Maybe a little annoyed, but..." He trailed off, as if not wishing to say any more. But Holmes was ready with his next queston.

"Why was she annoyed?"

"Well...What you must understand, gentlemen, is that it was very hard for Emma, being the only girl. Father treated her just like another boy, but mother kept insisting that she be more ladylike. I'm not saying she didn't need to act with more decorum at times...but mother always was rather hard on her when it came to those sorts of things."

At this point the young man gave us a sort of helpless grimace, as if to communicate his confusion over the workings female mind. This was appreciated by Holmes, who gave a small smile in return before motioning him to continue.

"To be fair she had her fair share of proposals but did not appear to have any interest in that sort of direction. So I can well understand the decision to send her to England, only I don't think Emma saw it quite that way. Only last year father stopped trying to marry her off to every single German fellow that came through Cape Town. She seemed to think that now it was the English's turn. I have to admit the whole thing was getting kind of ridiculous. I mean, no man likes to see his sister become an old maid, but really, I do think they could have handled it better."

Holmes smiled wryly at the gentleman and steepled his fingers before asking his next question.

"Did your sister know anyone in London? Besides your aunt, I mean."

"No, none that I knew of. We have some cousins up north but I've never heard her speak of anyone and she's certainly never written to anyone in London. That's why I'm so worried. She's just turned twenty-one and has never been outside South Africa, so lord knows what sort of people could take advantage of her..."

As he spoke Roxburgh pulled out a wrinkled photograph from his breast pocket and handed it to Holmes. I leaned over and inspected it for myself. The photograph was of three children, the eldest boy looked to be no more than twelve years old, seated on a velvet settee. A young girl of about eight years of age sat between the two boys, her face creased in a broad grin and her small figure smothered in a white frock that took up half the seat. Even though the girl would undoubtedly look different at twenty-one, her eyes did seem to be vaguely familiar to me. Who knows, Holmes or I might have passed her on the street yesterday or even this morning!

"I didn't think to bring any other picture of her," he explained as we studied the picture. "When I heard she was missing I just grabbed the first one I could lay my hands on before accompanying Mother out here..."

Holmes observed the picture for a second or two before handing it back to the young man. I could tell that he found Klaus Roxburgh's replies far more helpful than the boy's mother's had been. His eyes burned with a thinly-veiled energy that only appeared when he was working on a case of significant interest to him.

"Well, I think that is all for now, Mr Roxburgh," Holmes said, rising from his chair. The boy rose as well and shook our hands before turning to go. On being asked if he would stay for breakfast he merely replied that he had to get back to his hotel and if we needed any help whatsoever he would be only too glad to assist.

After the young man had left, Holmes lit his pipe and smoked meditatively for a few minutes, digesting all the new information that had been presented to us that morning. Eventually he broke the silence.

"Unusual family, eh, Watson?"

"Quite, Holmes."

"Any idea about why the family name was changed?"

I frowned slightly, unsure as to why my friend would choose to ponder on this seemingly irrelevant detail, instead of the myriad of other questions that needed answering. Nevertheless, I replied,

"I'm afraid I do, Holmes. In his last year of university poor Roxberg received a letter telling him his father had been hung for murder in Bloemfontein. Several people gave him a rather hard time of it, and then when he was posted to South Africa..."

I did not finish my sentence and Holmes only nodded and relapsed into silence again. When it looked like he wasn't going to say anything more I sat down at the typewriter and started to type up the unfortunate disaster of Dahlquist, the taxidermist, whose dramatic death had been the culmination of a rather lengthy investigation by Holmes and myself.

Suddenly I recalled Holmes's evening excursion down to the docks yesterday night. I had completely forgotten to ask about it in the excitement of Klaus Roxburgh's interview, but now I resolved to ask about it now, as he didn't seem inclined to tell me himself.

Oh, that," said he. "Oh it went very well. I journeyed down to the docks, garbed in the attire of a young sailor. At every tavern or inn I came to I inquired as to where I might find the captain of The Lueewkop, the ship you doubtlessly remember Mrs Roxburgh naming as the ship her daughter was traveling on. Eventually, when I had begun to despair, I found him at The Lion's Head Inn drowning conveniently in gin. An hour later I left him to his drinking, armed with the firm knowledge that this was not a kidnapping and that the police are desperate for a conviction, however lacking in motive it may be. I eventually arrived home around one o'clock to find that you had gone to sleep and that Mrs Hudson has taken to hiding the spare key in her pocket, as apposed to under the door mat."

At this last my friend looked a little disgruntled and I stared at him, exasperated at his coolness.

"And now what do you propose we do? There are a million and one places the girl could be hiding and so far we haven't the faintest inkling where she is!"

"I propose," said he, choosing his words with care. "that tomorrow we visit Emma Roxburgh's aunt and try to glean any details from her."

After this brief exchange Holmes withdrew completely into his thoughts and his pipe, and I let him alone. At first glance this case had seemed simple, but I was slowly learning that sometimes even simple mysteries can be the hardest.

Well, that was chapter 2! What did you think?

Many thanks go to my beta, VHunter07, for her time and advice, not to menton the URL to a site with all the Holmes stories! Thanks also to Sherlock Holmes, who has taken to living in my head and telling me how he wants to be written. The little egotistical victorian also demands credit for all of his lines. So there.

Disclaimer: Ok, I actually forgot to put one on chapter 1 (something I intend to go back and fix) so I'll put one here now. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Watson, or any other canon charactors that appear in this story. They belong to Arthur Conan Doyle. I own all original charactors, however unsplendid they may be. End of.

Read, flame, review, whatever!