Wow! I am so touched by some of the reviews I've been getting. To my reviewers and readers, please feel free to send me your ideas. If you would like to see Emma do something or just have an idea to expand on a chapter, please contact me. I can't guarantee that it will happen, but I will read your suggests and see what can be done. Who knows, maybe something you want to see is already in the works.

I have had some offers from reviewers to be my beta. I have yet to decide on one. I like to get suggestions from other people, especially on this particular topic. I am familiar with many of the Sherlock Holmes stories, but not all of them. If you feel that I have missed something that needs to be added because it would make the story accurate, tell me please.

Before reading this chapter, I highly recommend that you go back and read the previous chapters. I've added in some new stuff and I don't people going, "When did this happen?" or "Who is this person?" Please do a recap before reading new chapters.

Now to the fifth installment of A Diamond in the Rough, in which Emma solves a mystery.

EMMA-

Watson and I along with Inspector Bauer arrived at the residence of Baron von Schneider an hour later. His in town flat must have been large enough to fit at least two Baker Streets within it. From the windows hung crimson velvet curtains, and the walls was adorned with portraits of various sorts. The first steps I took into the flat, caused me to shudder. Everything about this flat reminded me of a life I had once led, a life of privilege and wealth.

Watson and I were introduced to Baron and Baroness von Schneider. The baron raised his objections about my investigating the case. But was when he was informed that I had come at the recommendation of Sherlock Holmes, he quickly changed the subject.

"How would you like to start Emma?" Watson asked.

"An examination of the body would be the best to start."

Bauer led us to the parlor where the murder had taken place. The poor unfortunate girl lay on the floor. She had been a lovely girl. She had golden hair and pale skin that had been dotted with freckles. Her green eyes bugled out of their sockets, which caused me to shudder slightly with terror and fright. There were large bruises around her neck. Under her fingernails was dried blood. She was still dressed in her nightgown, which had tiny specks of blood on it. Her left hand was by her face and was clenched in a fist. While Watson examined the body, I circled the girl's body.

"She couldn't have been much older than twenty-five," I said. I knelt down next to Watson and looked at the victim's neck. "She knew her attacker."

"How did you deduce that?" Bauer asked.

"Watson will you assist me?"

"Of course."

We both stood. "Now Watson if you were going to strangle me from behind, how would you do it?"

"Well I would put my arm across you neck like this." Watson gently threw his arm across my neck to demonstrate.

"And from the front?" Watson placed his hands gently around my neck. "You see Inspector Bauer, this girl was strangled from the front. You will observe the pattern of the bruising. There are clear indications of the individual fingers. Ergo, in order for the attacker to get close enough to strangle her with his hand, she would have had to have known him."

"Him? You suspect a male?" Bauer said, questioningly.

"Yes, unless you know of a woman who has hands that are larger than Dr. Watson's. I'd say he was just shy of six feet in height with scratches upon his person and light hair."

"Your deductions again, Fraulein Callaway?" Bauer seemed to question every deduction I made. On the other hand, in his mind, I was a woman and what did I know about the science of deduction. I knew more than he did, but not as much as Holmes did. I wished to God that Holmes was here instead of me, but he was unable to leave his bed. Watson and I were the only ones who knew his methods well enough not to bungle the case. I had to maintain the confidence that Holmes and Watson had in me and what I had in myself.

I took a deep breath and replied, "There is blood under her fingernails and upon her nightgown. She fought back once she realized that her attacker meant her serious harm. There are also hairs sticking out from her clenched hand. They are light in color. Lighter than her own hair color, almost white, but not from an old man."

"You can't be sure that she fought with her attacker. I mean she was a woman."

"You have obviously never seen a woman fight, Inspector Bauer," I said with a smile. "When a woman is attacked she does as much damage to her attacker as she possibly can while calling for help." I looked at the girl who lay before me. "Her attacker wanted her to suffer, so he didn't kill her quickly. That was his mistake. He gave her enough time to leave us clues as to who did this to her. Inspector how many males are in this household?"

Bauer pulled out his notebook and flipped through it. "Fourteen. A butler, a valet, two footmen, a page, a groom, a gardener, two stable boys, the baron and his three sons."

"I want to see them all."

"Now?"

I turned to the inspector. "At this very moment."

The inspector immediately left to round up every male in the household. Watson walked over to me. "You're starting to sound like Holmes," he said with a smile. "And you certainly think like him."

"Well when you live with a man like Sherlock Holmes, you tend to learn something. What do you think Watson? Am I on the right track?"

"It seems to me that you are hitting upon every point Holmes would if he were here and I have no doubt that he would support your deductions." He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Bauer's theory about someone outside the house, do you believe it?"

"Not a word of it. She knew her attacker. I'm inclined to think it was a male of the household. But who I cannot say until I've seen them."

For the next few hours Watson and I interviewed every male member of the household, all except one. The baron's valet, Heinrich Steinbach. When I asked the baron as to Herr Steinbach's whereabouts, I received a very gruff reply.

"Steinbach received a message this morning that his mother was very ill. He has gone to see her." I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows in skepticism. "He has nothing to do with this."

"Never the less, I would like to speak to him when he returns," I replied. "In the meantime, I shall like to interview the rest of the household. Watson, could I trouble you for your notebook." Watson handed over the article I requested. I took the pencil from it and wrote a note to Holmes about what I had discovered. I gave Watson back his notebook and handed him the note. "Inspector Bauer, have one of your men take this to Herr Holmes at once. I think he should know the particulars as they are learned." I gave the note to the inspector who turned it over to a sergeant.

When the officer left, I turned to Watson. "Watson, I think it might be easier if I interviewed the female household members alone. You understand?"

"Of course. They might respond to you much more freely than myself. I'll see what more I can learn elsewhere."

I watched Watson walk into another room, before I started upstairs where the ladies of the house were. As I walked up the stairs, I looked at the portraits that hung on the wall. It had an eerie resemblance to a corridor that was in my family home in Yorkshire. The corridor had been lined with portraits of my family on my mother's side dating back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth. At the end of the passage where more recent portraits of my family, mainly my father, my mother, my brother Nicholas and myself.

One of the portraits on the wall of the von Schneider family caught my attention. It was a portrait of the baron and the baroness with their valet and lady's maid. I stared at the likeness of the valet for several moments. His likeness depicted him as a tall man with hair so light it was white. His eyes were the most chilling shade of blue that I had ever seen. My gaze traveled down to his hand, which rested on the back of the baron's chair. It was a large, gorilla-like hand.

The more I looked at his likeness, the more I became convinced that he had committed this atrocity. But I couldn't confirm it until I actually interviewed him. Nor could I yet prove that he had a reason to want to kill Amelia Rosenbach. I continued up the stairs until I came to the landing. I opened one of the doors and found the women waiting for me.

"Good afternoon," I said cordially. "I am Miss Emma Callaway and I am here acting for Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

The women all introduced themselves to me and I began my interviews. The questions I mainly asked were about Amelia Rosenbach herself. I learned that Fraulein Rosenbach was from a poor, but noble family in Switzerland. She had been with the baroness for nearly five years and was liked by all the members of the staff. Then I learned something interesting. It seemed that Peter von Schneider, the baron's second son, had made a proposal of marriage the Fraulein Rosenbach. She had accepted and neither family had raised any objection to the match. The wedding was set for April and all were eagerly waiting for that day. All but one.

I learned from one of the maids, Sophia Vandermeer, who was also Fraulein Rosenbach's friend most interesting pieces of information. I have long forgotten the exact words of the interview, but I do remember the main facts.

Heinrich Steinbach was in love with Amelia Rosenbach. He was not at all pleased with Fraulein Rosenbach. He had also proposed marriage to her, and she rejected him in favor of Peter von Schneider. When I asked why she had rejected him, Fraulein Vandermeer said that Herr Steinbach had a horrible temper and was abusive both verbally and physically.

It seems that Herr Steinbach was a terror to the junior members of the staff. The stable boys were afraid of him, as were the page, the scullery maid, and both the housemaids. He had been seen beating one of the stable boys with a whip by one of the footmen. The footman was threatened with similar treatment if he told anyone. Of course both Fraulein Rosenbach and Fraulein Vandermeer had witnessed this. Fraulein Rosenbach had wanted to tell the baroness about the incident, but was persuaded not to by Fraulein Vandermeer.

As she told me this, Fraulein Vandermeer's hands trembled with fright. I took her hands. "Don't worry," I said reassuringly, "I'll see that he never hurts anyone again."

She nodded and continued her story. It seemed that the day after this incident, Herr Steinbach proposed to Fraulein Rosenbach. She said no. A month later, Peter Von Schneider proposed and was accepted. It was after their engagement was announced, that Fraulein Rosenbach told her fiancée what she had witnessed. Young von Schneider then told his father. After that, the baron had given Steinbach his notice.

At last I had the motive. I thanked Fraulein Vandermeer and ran downstairs. I found Watson in the parlor, sitting in a chair going over his notes. The body had been removed and taken to the mortuary.

"Watson, I've got it!" I said excitedly.

"Have you solved it?"

"I believe I have. The valet, Heinrich Steinbach is our man."

"What was his motive?"

"He had two motives. It seems that Miss Rosenbach had rejected him in favor of the baron's son Peter and also because she had witnessed behavior from him that lost him his situation."

"We must inform Inspector Bauer then."

"I suppose we should, but whether he takes it seriously or not is another matter entirely."

We found Inspector Bauer and I informed him of my deductions and the evidence that supported my deductions. He simply smiled condescendingly and promised to look into the whereabouts of the valet. I felt my blood boil with rage, but I contained it, for it would not be ladylike to have a fit of temper in the present company.

The inspector hailed a cab for Watson and I to take back to Dr. Freud's house.

"That is a poor excuse of an officer of the law," I said as we rolled away. "A baboon would make a better inspector than him. Watson believe me when I say that I shall be happy to see all of the inspectors at Scotland Yard when we get home. At least they have more brains than Inspector Erik Bauer of the Vienna Police Force."

"I must concur," Watson said, grimly. "I think I can say with confidence that Holmes would have given Inspector Bauer an earful at the deplorable way he treated you."

I couldn't help but smile. "It would have been amusing if nothing else."

"Indeed it would have. Indeed it would have brought a smile to my face and I daresay it brought one to yours."

Holmes, we found when we returned, had made progress with his recovery while we were away. He was beginning to walk unaided, but only for a few steps. That night at dinner, he joined us. I, of course, helped him from his room to the table. He sat in the empty chair that was next to mine. I was pleased to see him eat everything that was on his plate. Over dinner, Watson and I informed our dining companions of the events that had taken place during the day. Holmes listened with great interest as to the details that I observed.

"You did well, Emma," he said when I finished. "Every link of your chain rings true. You have evidence that links your suspect to the crime, the motive, or in this case, motives of your suspect, and your suspect had opportunity to kill his victim. Inspector Bauer is a fool not to believe you."

"I think that perhaps the inspector was intimidated by Fraulein Callaway," Dr. Freud said. "In his mind, Fraulein Callaway shouldn't be the intelligent woman that she is. She shouldn't see things the way she sees them, nor should she be able to draw conclusions from what she sees."

Watson rose to his feet and raised his wine glass. "My friends I propose a toast. To Miss Emma Callaway and I'm sure all of us at this table will agree that it has been a pleasant experience to have made her acquaintance."

My dinner companions all raised their glass to me. When Watson sat, I took that time to speak. "I am honored and lucky to have you as my friends and to have your support and confidence. So I say that we all raise our glass to our friendship." Again we raised our glass, not to me, but to all of us.

When dinner concluded, Watson and Freud made their way to Freud's study for a glass of brandy. Frau Freud sat in the sitting room reading a book to Anna. I, however, helped Holmes to his room and into bed.

"You really did a remarkable job with the case today," Holmes said as he removed his dressing gown while I pulled back his bed covers. "Perhaps you should help me with my cases more often."

"I'd rather not. I wouldn't be taken seriously."

"I'd take you seriously."

"I know you would Holmes," I replied as I helped into bed. "But I don't think Lestrade or the other inspectors at Scotland Yard would." I saw his face fall with disappointment. I sat next to him on the edge of his bed. I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Or I could work with you intellectually. I think that the thrill of the hunt should be left to you and Watson. Would that be agreeable?"

"I'd like that." He paused for a moment. The expression on his face gave me the impression he was contemplating something before speaking again. "Emma, you know it's been difficult for me to bring you into my world and sometimes I find myself wanting to push you away, but I can't. You've become too important to me. Emma I want you to always know that I will always stand by you and support you in anyway I can. I will protect and care for you."

My heart began to beat within my chest at a rapid pace. His words were saying in a around about way what I already knew. He returned the love that I had harbored for him, but he didn't say it in clear, concise terms. But I sensed that Holmes was afraid of this new emotional experience. I knew that in our younger days that he never talked to many members of the fairer sex. His experience with females hadn't much improved. However, my own experience with the opposite sex wasn't much better.

I felt my skin begin to become very warm. I bowed my head as my eyes flooded with tears. Like he, I was also afraid. I was terrified from the start about being in love with him. The fact that he had just sworn to always be there for me made it even more frightening. Hot tears of fright ran down my face.

A hand touched my face and guided it up. Holmes brought my eyes level to his own eyes. "I've not seen these for sometime," he said, in reference to my tears, "and the last time I did, you were frightened. Why are you crying, my angel?"

"Angel?" I asked softly.

"You are. You've become my guardian angel these last few weeks. You have nursed me and cared for me. Now why would you do that? Because you care about me."

"I do more than just care for you," I replied, keeping my voice just above a whisper. "That's why I'm crying. Because I'm afraid to tell you."

"What are you afraid to tell?" He looked into my eyes as if searching my soul. He saw what I wanted to tell him. "You are afraid to tell me that you love me?"

I nodded and got to my feet. I walked slowly to the window and stood there for a moment. My face felt red with embarrassment. More tears dropped from my eyes. My secret was out now. What was I going to do? My relationship with him would never be the same as it had been before.

The floor creaking caused me to turn. There I saw Holmes coming to me, using the bedpost as a support. It was a nurturing instinct that brought me to him. I tucked myself under his arm and he supported some of his weight on my shoulder. For that moment, his weakened state distracted me for a moment while I helped him back into a sitting position on his bed.

Once he sat, he took my hand and pulled me down next to him. We were close together. My heart was racing again. He took my chin in his hand and smoothed the other hand over my face. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

"You don't need to be afraid anymore," he said. He began bringing his face closer to mine.

"Neither of us need be afraid any longer," I whispered. Our noses brushed as our lips gently touched.

The anxiety that had once seized me now disappeared. His touch was tentative and unsure, just as mine probably seemed to him. But we soon became comfortable with the touch of the other's lips and all shyness was gone.

Many actors had kissed me on the stage, but their kisses were never real. His kiss was real. It was full of warmth, love, and tenderness. At that moment, I felt like I had found paradise and I didn't want to leave it. My broken heart was beginning to mend itself. I had been through so much heartache in my life and he was piecing it back together.

We regretfully broke the kiss. Our foreheads were still touching and I looked into his eyes. He looked into mine and whispered, "I love you, Emma."

"And I love you," I replied, also in a whisper.

"Emma. Something has been nagging at me for sometime. I need to know your motives for taking cocaine."

How like Holmes to go from one subject to another without batting an eye. I broke my eye contact with him and stared down at the space between us. I twisted my hands nervously and I bit my lower lip. I had hoped never to tell a living soul about my reasons for my use of the narcotic, but there was something inside me that made me feel I had to tell Holmes.

He took my hands and held them in his own. I looked up at him. His eyes searched mine looking for an answer. I took a deep breath and began to tell my story.

"I suppose it started when Nicholas died. You remember that day?" He nodded his head in agreement. "I remember it vividly. It was May 3rd. Nicholas and I had come to North Riding for the afternoon. I remember taking tea with you and your parents. You and I were talking with your parents, while Nicholas ran around the grounds. Then he spotted a tree in the distance. Like most little boys he began to climb it." I smiled through my tears. "Nicholas always used to climb things. It would scare Mother half to death when he climbed, but Father would say that it would toughen him up for sports at school.

When it was time to go home, I called for Nicholas to climb down. But of course he wouldn't. He went higher. I told him he was climbing too high. The branch broke under him and he…he…" I burst into another bout of tears. Holmes put his arms around me and held me as I cried. He smoothed my hair and whispered comforting words into my ear.

"I can still see him in my mind when I sleep," I said, my voice broken and half sobbing. "I can see his head all bashed in, his blood on the rock and on my dress. I can hear his voice calling me. 'Emmy. Emmy.' He cried and nothing more. I remember screaming his name and cradling his broke body in my arms. I remember what him dying felt like. One moment he was trying to touch my face, the next he was nothing. You had to come and pry me away from him."

"Yes," Holmes said in a low voice. "I remember we had to call a doctor to come and sedate you, because we couldn't get you to calm down. I don't think either one of us will ever forget the day that Nicholas died."

"No. We won't. After Nicholas died, Father was never the same. He and I fought on a regular basis from then on. It was then I stopped coming home for the holidays and when I was old enough, I left home. On my own, I needed a way to support myself. I could sing well and I was always mimicking others as a child, so I started to act. But I was feeling guilty about my brother's death, arguing with my father, not seeing my mother or you for so long, I never thought I would feel happy again.

Then one day, a colleague of mine told me that cocaine would make me feel happy and good again. In that brief period of weakness, I believed him. When I realized that I didn't need cocaine to feel happy, it was too late. I had become addicted to it.

Years later I met Irene Adler and became friends with her. She didn't know about my addiction at first, but one day she caught me with the needle in my arm. It didn't take her long to realize what I was doing. At the first opportunity she brought me to Vienna and I think you know the rest of the story."

"I never realized the extent of your emotional distress all those years ago," he said after a moment's pause. "If I had I would have done everything I could to help you. I know you and your brother were very close."

"Yes we were and we still are. Sometimes I can feel his presence around me when I'm in trouble. I think that he may have brought us together again, because he knew that we could begin to heal the holes that have been left in out spirits over the years."

Holmes kissed my forehead and pulled me closer to him. I smiled and snuggled against him. I could of stayed there all night, but I knew Holmes still needed his rest, as did I.

"I should probably go," I said. "You need to get you rest."

"And you need yours," he said, as I got up from the bed. "I would hate to see beauty such as yours go to waste."

I smiled as I helped him into bed. "Be careful, Holmes. You're starting to sound like Watson." I tucked the covers around him. I bent down and gently kissed his lips in a parting kiss. "I love you," I whispered.

I left his bedside and I turned down the lights. As I did, I heard Holmes' voice as he drifted off to sleep. "Good night, my love," he said. I smiled and closed the door.