==Chapter 4==

Do You Hear What I Hear?

"Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all thirty feet tall."
— Larry Wilde

A special train awaited the trio at the station, which Lord Granville explained was mostly kept for estate business or emergencies – and there was no denying that this case constituted both! The journey to Hertfordshire took the better part of an hour, during which time Granville exerted himself as host, plying his guests with refreshments and engaging them in light conversation. Holmes noted with approval that Granville was taking special pains to draw Beth out of her shell and put her at ease, his wife appearing much more relaxed in the peer's presence by the time they arrived at Hawkswood Station. The snow was much deeper out here, and Beth was delighted to learn that the only way to get to the manor from the station at present was by sleigh.

The scenery could have been pulled straight out of a classic Christmas card, white and beautiful and quiet. Beth wanted very badly to break out into all the Christmas songs she'd ever known—although 'Sleigh Ride', 'Jingle Bells', and 'White Christmas' may have been at the top of that list for appropriateness.

At last, they came to the estate, fully as large and better-maintained than she had ever seen Rosewood—that was a matter of course, but it was also her only point of reference. Inside, the lovely old manor house was bright and warm, brimming over with greenery. "Lord Granville," Beth breathed, "your home is beautiful. And wonderfully festive."

Granville inclined his head modestly with a gratified smile.

The butler of the house cleared his throat discreetly and bowed. "Welcome home, milord." Two liveried footmen had been standing nervously outside a pair of closed doors, which Holmes supposed must lead into the dining hall, neither quite able to conceal their relief at being permitted to leave their posts to take coats and hats.

Granville nodded to the butler, casting a speaking glance towards the double doors. "Thank you, Simmonds. Where is Lady Granville?"

"Her ladyship took the children up to the nursery."

As if to confirm the butler's words, running footsteps and shrill voices sounded from the floor above. "Papa! Papa!" A fair-haired boy of about six and a slightly taller girl – Matthew and Lavinia, Holmes recalled – came dashing down the grand staircase, well ahead of a lady in a simple but elegant morning dress, and flung themselves at their father. "Please, Papa," Lavinia said plaintively, "won't you tell Mama not to shut our fairies up?"

Lady Granville seemed to be only a few years older than Sally; she had a sweet face, but just now, she looked decidedly harassed. "I had the doors locked, Robert – the children would keep slipping back in!"

"But, Mama," said Matthew, "the fairies..."

"Are very naughty fairies, Matthew," said Granville, "and until they can learn to behave, they will have to do without the pleasure of your company."

The children moaned in disappointment.

"That will do," Granville said sternly. "Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Harriet Granville."

Lady Granville bowed gracefully, and Beth and Sherlock echoed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for coming!"

"The pleasure is ours, madam," Holmes answered, striving to conceal his impatience. "Shall we, Lord Granville?"

"Papa, you w-won't hurt the fairies, will you?" Lavinia faltered, suddenly sounding on the verge of tears.

Hearing this, Granville crouched to look both children in the face, hands on their shoulders. "Now, don't you worry, my dears – we're going to do everything we can for them. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes have even come all the way from London to help." He straightened and gently ushered the children forward. "Come and say hello."

Beth sank to one knee to be closer to eye-level with the children and smiled reassuringly at them, extending her hand to Lavinia. "Hello." A wave of homesickness suddenly crashed over her—Lavinia was maybe just a year younger than Beth's own sister, and it took effort to not let that homesickness show. "I'm Beth."

The child took her hand and curtsied, every inch the little lady. "I'm Lavinia. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Beth's smile widened genuinely, charmed. "Thank you. It's a pleasure to make yours."

Lavinia beamed.

Matthew looked up at Holmes thoughtfully as they shook hands. "Are you the Mr. Holmes, the detective?"

Holmes solemnly inclined his head. "Indeed I am, Master Granville."

Master Granville studied the detective a moment longer, then said matter-of-factly, "You don't look anything like your pictures."

"Matthew!" Lady Granville exclaimed, scandalised, while Lavinia tried in vain to stifle a giggle.

Holmes smiled, greatly amused, although replying with complete gravity, "An excellent observation, young sir – a good detective must never take anything for granted. And I strongly suspect that both of you may be able to help us solve this case." Brother and sister grew wide-eyed. "I have found that children's eyes are often far sharper than many adults'. Have either of you observed anything about these fairies which struck you as especially curious? Any detail, however small, may be of use."

"They don't have any wings!" Matthew blurted out.

"Matthew..." sighed his father.

"Well, they don't! Even tree fairies are s'posed to have wings!"

Beth noticed that Lavinia looked as though she were about to speak and then hesitated. "What is it, Lavinia?" she said gently.

"Matt's right, sort of," the little girl said, frowning. "They... don't look right."

"Besides the fact that they don't have wings?"

Lavinia nodded. "Seedlings look a bit like the plant they come from, don't they? Like the leaves?"

Beth raised an eyebrow and nodded, impressed. "Yes, they do."

"But the fairies don't look like mistletoe, or an oak tree – they don't have any leaves and their skin's the wrong colour. And it's sort of wet and shiny, like... like when you peel the bark off a stick."

"Hm, that is curious," Holmes agreed, more intrigued than ever – not least because the children had been able to observe the creatures so closely where their parents had not. "Is there anything else you've noticed? Anything about their behaviour, perhaps?"

"Well..." Matthew added reluctantly, "they're not being very nice to the Christmas tree. They keep poking the trunk and it doesn't like it."

"What makes you think that?"

Matthew gave Holmes a Look, as if the answer were obvious. "Cos its branches are going brown!"

Beth frowned and looked up at Sherlock, not liking the sound of that information. She tried to rise from her kneeling position and wobbled, unable to maintain her balance in heels—small heels, even—and a corset. Colouring slightly, she raised a hand towards him in a silent request for help.

Holmes took it at once, drawing Beth smoothly to her feet. "Thank you, children, you have been most helpful."

"Can we show them the fairies, Papa?" Lavinia asked eagerly.

"No, you may not," Granville answered firmly, though not unkindly, and gestured to the footmen to unlock the doors again. "Harriet, will you take the children back to the nursery, please?" A mark of the strain the poor couple were under, Holmes silently noted in sympathy: addressing each other by their given names before company!

Lady Granville nodded emphatically and captured the children's hands. "Come along, my dears."

The children pouted but obeyed, Matthew waving at Beth over his shoulder. "Give our love to the fairies, Mrs. Detective!"

Beth grinned, eyes shining at the title given her. "I will, don't worry!" Her grin faded as the reality of the situation sunk in, and she turned to her husband, murmuring, "What if the fairies turn out be parasites?" The children would be heartbroken if anything happened to their new friends!

"Well, if that is the case," Holmes murmured back, "we may have less of a problem dealing with them! But let's not get ahead of ourselves." He couldn't think of a more inappropriate time than this to theorise without further data!

The pair followed Lord Granville into the dining hall, who took care to stop several feet away from the Christmas tree, gazing at it glumly. Holmes's eyes gleamed as he took in the spectacle: the tree was much browner now than Granville had described. "Dear me, they have been busy!" And even if he hadn't believed their clients' tale, there was most definitely something alive in that tree, a faint but distinct rustling sound coming from among the branches, although nothing unusual was immediately visible.

Beth's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Poor tree..." She approached it slowly, carefully, determined to be non-threatening enough to get close and not be hurt.

As Beth edged closer, the rustling noise quickly died away. Holmes felt the hair on the back of his neck rising, the wary gaze of the tiny creatures palpable.

"Madam, I really wouldn't advise..." Granville's low but urgent warning trailed off as Holmes turned back to him, arching an admonishing eyebrow: Beth was quite capable of minding herself. As if you weren't just about to say something like that! No one can caution Beth but you, is that it?

"...well, do be careful," the peer finished weakly.

Beth nodded in response and began to hum 'Greensleeves' softly, soothingly, as she would hum to calm a baby. She didn't exactly have a plan—she was letting her instincts guide her. She lifted her hand as she neared the tree, palm up, her eyes straining for a glimpse of the seedlings, and stopped with her outstretched fingers less than an inch from one of the tree's boughs.

After a few moments of stillness, a tiny head poked up cautiously from behind a paper flower, staring back at Beth, eyes like little black beads of glass. She faltered for a moment in wonder but recovered and continued to hum, holding still but smiling slightly. A few more seedlings started to peep out of their hiding places, their anxiety practically tangible. The one behind the flower spoke in a voice that was tiny and creaky, sounding very much like a tree limb in the wind: "Mama?"

Beth stopped humming, eyes wide, realising quickly that it was talking to the tree—and it sounded like a worried child asking its mother for reassurance. "Oh," she breathed, "it's all right..." She infused her voice with the same tenderness she used when reassuring little Kathy: "It's all right, little one... I'm not going to hurt you..."

Holmes hid a smile at Granville's expression as Beth spoke, his client's eyes wide in wonder. He had to wonder himself what Beth's words to the 'fairies' must sound like to someone who had never travelled in the TARDIS – and she had gotten so close to them! It seemed that a human's age or size had less bearing on the matter than he'd supposed. "Beth?"

Beth raised her voice just slightly, keeping up the gentle tone. "Come on. Slowly." She refocused on the seedling, smiling in wonder—it was exactly as they had been described, and it was honestly one of the most adorable things she had ever seen. "You are beautiful," she murmured.

The seedling perked up visibly, nearly making her giggle, but kept its distance.

Holmes inched forward, remaining behind Beth, gaze focused over her shoulder to where she seemed to be looking. It took him longer than he expected to espy the tiny creatures, they were so well camouflaged, but when he finally did, he almost forgot to breathe. "...my word..." Holmes then noted in dismay that the seedlings seemed to be bristling at his approach – literally, tiny thorns growing out of their bodies like porcupine quills, creaking in warning. "...ah." One needn't speak Tree to understand that! The detective stepped back a couple of paces, just as carefully.

"Shhh, it's all right," Beth told the seedlings soothingly. "He's a friend. You don't have to be afraid..." She started to hum again, and the thorns began to retract, and a few more seedlings came out of hiding. Beth was having difficulty not squealing in delight—they were all so cute!

Deciding to remain where he was, so as not to undermine his wife's progress, Holmes asked quietly, "Beth, can you see any of them doing what Matthew described?"

Still humming, she could see a couple of them piercing the tree's bark with their sharp little fingers for several seconds before withdrawing them, glinting with fresh pine sap. She nodded slowly and stopped humming. ""It's all right," she murmured to the seedlings, "you can trust me, I promise..."

"They keep poking the trunk and it doesn't like it... Its branches are going brown..." But why that plant, and none of the others? Holmes looked back at the mantel over the enormous fireplace, where the unmolested garlands of holly and ivy still lay, then up at the hook set into the bricks of the chimney where the mistletoe must have been hanging last night. "I wonder..." If one stopped looking at the problem from a human viewpoint... or an adult's...

Beth sighed, half ready to give up on trying to befriend the seedlings, painfully aware that she had a limited amount of patience. "What?"

"Beth, what prompted you to speak to the seedlings just now?"

Beth frowned, looking over her shoulder. "Well, the one said 'Mama'—they're obviously sentient."

Holmes nodded, smiling. "And, Lord Granville, would I be right in thinking that the top of your Christmas tree is at much the same height as the mistletoe was hanging last night?"

Granville looked at Sherlock oddly, but measured the distance by eye all the same. "Er, yes, I suppose it is... but why...?"

"I should think your first theory was correct, sir, at least in part: the heat from the chimney did make the berries open –" Although 'eggs' was probably a better description; "acting just like an incubator." And what else would a sentient baby plant imprint onto in this room but a stately adult pine, bedecked with glittering ornaments that couldn't fail to draw the eye of any child?

Beth held her pose, continuing to look over her shoulder. "They think the tree is their mother—that's why it's turning brown: they're literally babies nursing." Poor darlings.

Holmes nodded, proud that Beth had caught on so quickly. "They must have immediately imprinted onto it upon hatching, which would explain why the plants below the eggs were left alone."

Granville shook his head in deepening wonder. "Well, I never..." Then the peer's smile faded, looking worriedly at the tree. "Poor little things... and that surrogate has only got so much to give – it won't be long before they've drained it completely! What then?"

"Well, presumably, for there to be eggs," Holmes said, "there should be a parent of the same species to lay them." One could only surmise at this point, as the seedlings could hardly be expected to know.

"Which," Beth added, "is hopefully near the tree the berries came from... unless she's gone looking for her children."

Holmes patted his coat pocket which still held the pillbox. "And with any luck, we'll be able to communicate to her that they've come to no harm. You said that the gardener found the nest in the Great Oak?"

"Yes, on the northern edge of the grounds. I'll take you to it."

The air outside was sharper with cold now that they were trudging through the snow on foot rather than gliding over it, wrapped up warm. Beth frowned as they neared the oak the berries had come from. "I wonder what the mother looks like—if she'll blend right in with the other trees, or not..."

Holmes hummed absently, inspecting the ground around the tree's roots – alas, no tracks were apparent besides their own in the crisp, even snow. "There's been a fresh fall overnight, I see. When did it stop?"

"Well, it can't have been later than eight this morning, that's when my wife and I arose," Granville said. "The staff would probably be able to tell you more accurately."

Yes, the scullery maids would be up before dawn, wouldn't they? Holmes looked up into the tree, wishing he had thought to request that the head gardener join them – exactly which of these snow-laden boughs had the berries come from? And he couldn't shake the nagging impression that something was out of joint up there... Oh... Of course, once he'd seen it, it was obvious. "And by rights, all of the branches on this tree should be fairly evenly covered in snow..."

Beth's frown deepened. "Um..."

"That branch there," Holmes said, pointing. "See how thinly covered it is, compared to the rest? The collected snow has been knocked off during last night's fall, then allowed to gather again."

"So the mother has been back!" Granville exclaimed.

"And since departed," Holmes frowned in annoyance. "Unfortunately, the last of that snowfall has covered any tracks she might have left."

Granville's face fell. "Then how on earth are we to find her?"

Beth's eyes widened at a sudden, horrible thought. "Maybe we don't have to..." As if in answer, the ground was starting to shake with pounding footsteps, the tops of the trees near the edge of the wood swaying violently as if something huge was forcing its way through them, and rapidly getting closer.

"My God," Granville gasped, "it must be gigantic!"

"Get back!" Holmes said sharply. "Away from the trees!"

Ria: Someone suggested last chapter that the seedlings might be this series' version of the Cottingley fairies. That made us smile, especially since we didn't even consider that hoax while brainstorming ideas for the case! Although, thanks to KIT-10, we're now thinking about having Sally and Beth encounter Doyle at some point next season...