I followed him downstairs and into the living room where a petit woman clad entirely in black sat. She looked about forty and her hands were clasped firmly in her lap. She was sat bolt upright, however her head was bent so she was staring down at her hands as she toyed nervously with the lace on her sleeve. She glanced up when the door creaked open and hastily rose to her feet.
"Mr Holmes!" she exclaimed holding out her hand for him to shake. He shook her hand quickly and brushed past her to take his customary place leaning against the mantelpiece.
"This is my companion, Dr Watson. You may speak as freely to him as you do with me." Sherlock informed her. I took her hand and shook it as Sherlock had before me.
"What brings you to my home?" he asked.
"My name's Mrs Taylor. Unfortunately I come here concerning the death of someone close to me."
"Your recently deceased husband if I'm not mistaken."
"How could you know?" she gasped in shock.
"I take it I am correct?"
"Of course, but how did you guess?"
"My dear lady, I don't guess. I know."
"But how on earth could you know?"
"Simple. I observed a small tan line on your third finger on your left hand. It had to be a ring that was recently removed after being on your finger constantly for at least a year. I did think you might be having an affair with another man and took your ring off to make it look like you were unmarried but the tan line wouldn't be as distinct. Of course your clothing revealed you were in mourning before you informed us." He shrugged nonchalantly.
"Remarkable!" she breathed, awestruck.
"Please continue with your tale."
"I was not born into a fortunate or wealthy family. All my ancestors were simple farming folk in Devon. But there wasn't much work for a young farm girl in my small village. I was forced to move here to London when I was 18. I quickly got a job as a governess in an extremely rich house hold. I looked after their three boys till they had grown and I was no longer needed. I was dismissed by the master of the household and left homeless. It was while I was searching for a job that I first met Charles. I suppose it was love at first sight when a mutual friend of ours introduced us both. We were married within a year of meeting and bought a cottage in the North of Hampshire. Charles had grown tired of the busy city and I longed for a family home where we could raise our children. We longed for a real family but unfortunately I found out could not have children. My heart was broken and I become depressive and barely spoke or ate. I wept for days on end and sometimes I grew almost suicidal. Charles of course was terrified for my safety as well as the pain he felt after being told our family, that we had dreamt of, could never become real. It took years for me to accept the news and finally start living my life again. Once I had recovered, Charles confessed his longing to travel. I hoped it would make me forget my upsetting past. We travelled around the world. I saw things I could not have imagined in my wildest fantasies. We trekked through Indian jungles on the back of elephants; we saw waterfalls cascade down rock faces and we got showered in flowers by friendly Indian women as we arrived off the boat. I was in love with the life I had found with the man of my dreams. It had to end though. Eventually, our money ran out and we were forced to return to our tiny cottage in North Hampshire. However, neither of us were happy to be back. Slowly we drifted apart. Charles began to drink more and more and I hardly saw him. Days would go by when we hardly exchanged a word. Last Thursday he went out to the pub as usual and didn't return till midnight. This wasn't unusual, so I didn't bother to investigate when I heard him stumble into the living room. I had just fallen asleep when I again heard my husband downstairs. He was coughing loudly and started crashing, uncontrollably around the room. I rushed into the living room but I was too late. My husband was lying dead on the floor with a glass of brandy in his hand."
At this point Mrs Taylor started weeping and grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket. I glanced over at Sherlock and saw his eyes were firmly shut in thought.
"Please Mr Holmes, I must know how my dear Charles passed away. The police are convinced it was alcohol poisoning and so refuse to investigate further. I know he was murdered Mr Holmes by someone most sinister but no one believes me, saying that I am delusional."
"I assume you were in your husbands will?" Sherlock inquired.
"Yes."
"I will take your case Mrs Taylor."
"Thank you! Oh thank you Mr Holmes!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet.
"Watson and I will travel to Hampshire on Monday as I have business to attend to."
"Of course Mr Holmes, I cannot thank you enough. I should go. I was going to meet a friend of mine for tea." she announced. "Good day Mr Holmes." She turned on her heels and left quickly.
"I admit that this case has left me stumped. Any ideas about cause of his death Holmes?" I asked, curiously.
"The very idea that I could've failed to deduce anything from her tale is laughable my dear Watson."
"My most sincere apologies. Care to enlighten me?"
"Well for starters I believe this matter is far more serious than our client believes."
"How so?"
"I have no doubt that Mrs Taylor is in grave danger."
"Dear me! Hadn't we better inform the lady?" I suggested, a little shocked at his words.
"If I am correct in my deductions she will be perfectly safe."
"And if you are incorrect?"
"Impossible. I am never wrong. Now, I believe you have some train tickets to purchase."

A/N Thanks for reading this if you have read this you're great :D xx Review if you want xxx