I tried my hand at first person narration and had a blast. And the Sherlock Special just made it even easier to visualise the below scenarios.
It was like watching a drama, where the characters are in the dark about the other person's role. Actions that might otherwise seem obvious were lost in translation. Intentions were given a twisted meaning. The waltz between Holmes and Molly vacillated between funny and frustrating from my point of view. My friend, though terribly clever and possessing a mind that could rival the best, who could find and solve the most obscure of clues, could be perfectly blind and daft in some of the most basic human interactions. Molly, on the other hand, was better versed with the ways of the world, but seemed just so focused on her daily tasks that, on occasions, she almost…almost fell into the same league as her employer… no, I stand corrected, her husband.
As I witnessed the attempts by Holmes to convey his newly acknowledged feelings, and then the fallout of those attempts, I realised it was time to intervene, in order to prevent a blowout of huge proportions. Holmes was perfectly capable of insulting and then outright dismissing people when they didn't fall in line, but he simply couldn't afford to do that this time; his aim was after all to woo his own wife.
Since providing hints or pointing out the direction in which his actions should be addressed to make a positive impact fell on deaf (or I suspect, unwilling) ears, it was time to be direct and spell it out to my dear, floundering friend.
"Do you know anything of Molly's likes and dislikes? I am sure you can deduce the same pretty quickly…" I gently inquired. Holmes had become pretty sensitive whenever the subject of Molly was broached, but there was no side stepping this basic information.
"I have plenty of other things to occupy my mind Watson, rather than identify what gossip she likes or what brain dulling activities she indulges in; embroidery and knitting don't seem too fascinating, nor does scandals occurring amongst the season's debutants.' Holmes huffed, as I mentally acknowledged my good decision to broach this subject beyond the walls of Baker Street; I wasn't sure how strong the threads of matrimony would hold in front of such disparage. "She definitely missed the point of all my efforts. Maybe this current arrangement is apt; she is well suited for the mind numbing menial work and I do what I do. Why disturb a perfectly working mechanism, I ask!"
I dropped the subject, as the more pertinent matter of the mysterious markings on Sir Edward Woodland's will came up. No use distracting Holmes from a case that was occupying his mind and thus helping him put up a more genial persona. After all, I had had my fill of irked aristocracy for the week, thank you very much.
But it was during the quiet period of basking in the satisfaction of a job well done, that the façade of indifference cracked a little. It was in retrospect that I recollected the brief yet regular interaction between Holmes and his housekeeper after each case. A simple exchange of "So the case is solved Mr Holmes? – Most definitely Molly" that put a slight (although smug) smile on my friend's face. I doubt even he was aware of its constancy, but then the most miniscule of things are noticed only by their absence. Today, the almost severe air around Holmes made such exchange impossible, although I was aware that Molly did make the attempt, swallowing her words at the last instant. I couldn't decide if Holmes seemed displeased or relieved by this.
But it seemed my earlier query continued to weigh on my friend's mind; he seemed more annoyed, if that was possible. It was one rainy afternoon that he finally exploded. "Charcoal…She indulges in charcoal sketches." It confused me, since the discussion had been associated with the Queen and her policies in the Orient and the resultant increase in crime.
"The Queen?" The look of confusion on his face surely reflected my own…till the penny dropped. "Oh…oh… that's nice Holmes. Good observation," I stuttered.
He sneered but didn't say a word before raising an impertinent brow and continuing his dissection of the latest article in the day's newspaper.
"Good place to start you know. You could encourage her-"
"What! Frame her art and post it along the staircase? Or get her a tutor?" His tone dripping sarcasm, he dismissed my words.
"I was going to suggest presenting a few charcoals and paper but you seem to have better alternatives."
He seemed a bit miffed that I had wrong footed him, but I knew he was considering it by the very fact that he huffed and immediately dismissed it. Although his method of presenting the said stationary could have been improved on; stalking up to the recipient and forcing your gifts in her hands while putting on a fake smile and then leaving with a saccharine "Do put these to good use" didn't seem the best approach.
I didn't blame Molly for being thoroughly bewildered and looking at me for counsel. I just shrugged, mentally admiring her resilience in putting up with Holmes…till I thought I caught a faint smile on her face as she moved to leave the room. But the bewildered expression was back when she turned to bid me goodbye, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined it.
If I thought the stationary incident would act as a deterrent, I was proven wrong; it instead acted as a catalyst. A few days later, Holmes approached me and slapped an envelope next to my cup of tea. Knowing there would be no further explanation, I opened it, to see a ticket to the latest exhibition on Egyptian relics held at the Metropolitan Museum. "She is interested in pharaohs and mummies."
"I get the interest in history, but embalmed dead bodies…wont that be a bit tough on Molly's sensibilities?" I inquired fully confident that Holmes had given no thought to that possibility.
Instead, he smirked. "Au contraire, dear Watson. Dead bodies and the mechanics of embalming fascinate her, I have seen her trying to be surreptitious and read the books I have on the subject matter. Though I really shouldn't have startled her then, that shriek…" he muttered those last words.
As I took a deep breath and prepared to lecture him on the art of presenting a gift to a lady, the subject of our discussion appeared as summoned. This time though, Holmes stood in front of her, handing over the envelope and raising his brows till she opened it. Her face flushed when she saw the contents, the reaction bringing a small but smug smile to my friend's face. "And of course, you can take the day off as well…a tired mind might make mistakes even in regular tasks," he added with a pleased smile.
Molly had looked pleased, till she blinked at his words and said with a small smile "Thank you sir, you are very kind. I will ensure the household is informed beforehand."
Saying which she left, leaving me sighing deeply and shaking my head at my slightly bewildered friend. "Almost there Holmes, almost there…till you reminded her of her capacity as your housekeeper."
"But wouldn't it inconvenience her if she had to complete her chores and then attend the exhibition?"
"Again Holmes, good intention but incorrect implementation."
It was later that evening when I happened upon Molly clearing away the dining room, that I apologised on my friend's behalf.
"No apologies needed Dr Watson. By now, I am well versed in Mr Holmes' use of the word though I do wonder as to the reason for these largesse," saying which she turned to leave.
"Molly," I interrupted her departure, as I needed to address a few doubts that had sprung up in my head. "If I may ask, how long have you known Holmes?"
She hesitated, visibly weighing her answer. "I knew him for about eight months before we moved to London…when I worked with Mrs Hudson, the housekeeper of the Holmes Manor."
Ignoring her nervous demeanour, I ploughed on. "Pardon my saying so, I mean it only with the highest respect but…it's just that-"
"I am a trained governess Dr Watson." She cut in. "But I was out of work and Mrs Hudson was at her wits end finding someone who could work with Mr Holmes. So, needs must." She shrugged.
"He doesn't suffer fools gladly Molly. For you to work with him…for such a long period of time…you judge yourself too lightly."
She gave an awkward smile, wringing her hands as she spoke, "I look upon him as a man of science Dr Watson, and so are his needs and demands. It's not that difficult to manage his household if you keep that perspective."
"Hmm, I agree Molly. He is indeed fortunate to have found someone who understands him so well. And then there is your… personal arrangement," she coloured a bit at this.
I moved towards the parlour door, fully intending to leave, but turned with my hand on its handle. It had been weighing on my mind for some time now, and particularly after speaking with Molly, my thoughts just refused to remain silent. "For someone so well versed in his ways and methods, it seems improbable that you are missing the point of his recent behaviour Molly…or as you should be rightly addressed, Mrs Holmes."
I knew my behaviour had been almost un-gentlemanly, but the look of shock on Molly's face was the only proof I needed to have my doubts confirmed.
Holmes wasn't doing it wrong; rather it was the reluctance or the deliberate obtuse behaviour of his wife that was proving to be the obstacle. Molly Hooper was proving to be an enigma, and for the sake of my friend (as well as his wife, if I were to be honest and admittedly, a little out of line) I fully intended to get to the bottom of this mystery.