EMMA-

The next day, I rose early. I hadn't slept well at all that night. I finally gave up around three in the morning, dressed and went down to the morning room. My nerves were all on end. Of course any meeting with my father, former Colonel, now squire, Jonathan Edward Callaway was intimidating.

"I thought I'd find you down here."

I turned and found Sherlock standing in the doorway of the morning room. "Were you looking for me?"

"I wanted to see how you were?"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"Who are you to tell me how I should feel?" I snapped.

"See. You're on edge. You never are. Has your father gotten you to feel this agitated?"

"I suppose he has. Oh I don't know how to feel. Father was in India for so long, that even on his visits home he seemed more like a stranger than a father. And when Nicholas died he shut himself away completely."

Sherlock sat down next to me and put his arms around me. I leaned against him and sighed. "Do you want me to come with you today?" he asked.

"You don't have to. But Mother might enjoy the company and I could use the support after this next conference with my father."

"Sherlock? Emma?" We both looked up to see Aunt Violet coming into the morning room.

"I'm sorry Aunt Violet. Did I wake you when I got up?"

"Oh no, dear. I'm always up first. I'm surprised to find the two of you up so early."

"I couldn't sleep," I replied. "I'm just so nervous about this afternoon."

"Well breakfast is served. Shall we have an early breakfast before everyone else wakes up?"

Sherlock and I got up off the couch and began to walk out of the morning room. As we walked out, I noticed that Aunt Violet gave me a look. A look, which made me feel that she knew what the relationship was between her son and me.

As it grew closer to the afternoon, Sherlock and I prepared to go to Willow Grove, my family home on my mother's side. We sat in silence once again as we were driven across the snow-covered meadows. As the snowy tops of the willow trees that surrounded my home came into view, I felt the air in my lungs grow ice cold. Willow Grove didn't differ any from any other manor in the district. It would as cold, dark, and gloomy as it always was in the winter.

"You won't know unless you knock," Sherlock whispered in my ear, when we reached the front door.

"I fancy I said the same thing to you yesterday."

"You did." He kissed my cheek. I took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy oak doors.

We admitted into the house by the butler, Baines. As at North Riding, we were not expected. Baines informed me that my mother was in the drawing room and my father was in his study as usually.

"If you will follow me Miss Emma, I will announce you to Sir Jonathan."

"No, Baines. I don't want you getting into trouble with Father. I have a feeling he'll be very angry that I've even set foot in this house. No, I must do this without announcements. But if you will show Mr. Holmes to the drawing room, I'm sure Mother would like the company."

"As you wish, Miss Emma. Good luck to you, lass."

"Baines a moment if you will," Sherlock said. Baines bowed his head in response and moved off to a corner. "Are you sure you don't me to come with you?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sure. You faced your father without my help, therefore, I must face mine without your help. Besides there is no sense in us both being yelled at by a man who is used to having things done his way or no way."

"Well, good luck then, my love."

Sherlock bent down and caressed my lips with his. It was a brief kiss, but it filled me with some courage. He broke it and began to walk towards Baines. I held his hand until the last possible moment, before I walked to the large doors that were the entrance to father's study.

I opened them quietly so as not to startle him. He sat with his back to the door, staring into the fire. Something was in his lap. It was a photograph. I couldn't see who the photograph was of, but if I knew anything about my father it was a photograph of my brother Nicholas.

He looked up when he heard my footsteps. "What is it, Eleanor?" he asked, solemnly.

Eleanor? Eleanor was Mother's name. Then I remembered Father had had scarlet fever some fifteen years ago. Mother often wrote that Father's health had deteriorated as time went on. Father's eyesight had been greatly affected by the fever. He wasn't wearing his corrective lens. They were on a table that was just in front of me.

I picked up the spectacles and brought them over to him. "Father," I said handing him the spectacles. "It's me. Emma."

Father took the spectacles from me and put them on. When his eyes refocused, he looked up at me. His face contorted into a distorted mask of vile rage. "What do you want? How dare you? I thought I told you never to dark my door again. You are not welcome back here you unfeeling vixen!"

"I came back because I am tired of this fighting. I want to make amends and move on," I said maintaining my calm.

"There is no way to make amends. You are a heartless and uncaring woman."

"How so?" I asked trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

"You didn't mourn your brother," he replied in a tight voice. "You didn't shed one tear for him. How dare you dishonor his memory by coming back?"

What he said was partial true. When Nicholas died I was given a serious shock. I was still in a state of shock during Nicholas' funeral and was unable to cry. I wanted to cry. Oh God, how I wanted to cry, but could not. But over the years, I have shed many a tear in the night for my dear younger brother. I looked down at the floor.

"Can't even speak to deny it," Father jeered.

"There is nothing to deny. I didn't cry because I couldn't. If you knew anything about me, you would know why I couldn't. But you don't. You knew nothing about me and you knew absolutely nothing about Nicholas."

"Silence woman! How dare you insinuate that I knew nothing about my own son!"

"What caused the scar on Nicholas' left shoulder?" I asked, sharply.

"What scar? He had no scar."

"Oh yes he did. He got it when he was playing in the rose bushes. He was seven years old and you were in India. If you were around you would have known that. Mother and I were scared to death when he came back into the house bleeding. Mother nearly fainted away at the sight of it. If Dr. Prescott hadn't assured her that Nicholas would live, I do not care to think of what may have happened."

"I had no idea," Father whispered quietly.

"You spent more time with your stallion than you did your own children. You didn't even know about when Nicholas spirited Hadrian out of the stables just three months before you came home."

"He did what?!"

"He thought he could ride Hadrian. He wanted to impress you when you came home. Fortunately, MacDougal found the stall was empty and went looking for them."

"MacDougal should have let him ride the horse. He was old enough."

"He wasn't big enough. Hadrian was a magnificent thoroughbred that towered over Nicholas, who was only twelve. Hadrian could have bucked Nicholas off at anytime if MacDougal hadn't gone after them. But you never knew. Nicholas begged Mother not to tell you. He wanted so much to please you. He wanted you to see one of his cricket games."

"Cricket game? Nicholas played cricket?"

"Yes. He was such a natural athlete and leader. All the other boys on his team listened to him and followed his lead. I am convinced that he would have become the captain of his team if he had lived. But you were never knew that either. Nicholas often would ask me where you were. He idealized you. He wanted to be just like you. He wanted to join the army and become an officer and a leader like you!"

I turned on my heel and walked out of his study. I heard Father's voice shouting at me. "Be gone from my house, woman!"

I didn't leave the house. I wasn't finished with my father. Instead I ran up the staircase as fast as my skirts would allow me. I flew down a passageway and to the door of my old room.

It was just as I had remembered it, although somewhat dustier than before. At the foot of my old bed stood a truck. I took the hidden key from it's hiding place from the under part of my bed frame and unlocked the truck.

The truck was full of treasures I left behind when I left. My old stuffed bear, my childhood quilt, and other treasure. With in the folds of my quilt were the many journals that Nicholas and I kept as children. I grabbed a basket and gently placed the leather bound volumes in it.

I walked down the stairs with the basket tucked under my arm. Father was out of his study, leaning heavily on his cane. Mother and Sherlock had also appeared. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I stopped in front of my father.

"These should help you get to know your children better." I set the basket at his feet.

"What are they?"

"My journals as well as Nicholas'. He wrote in it everyday. I believe you'll notice that the pages of my later journals are stained with tear drops."

"Why should I bother reading them? They won't change what happened."

"No they won't. But they will help you get to know a son that you didn't know at all."

"I did know him! He was my son!"

"No, he wasn't! He was a boy without a father just as I was a girl without a father. Do you want to keep pushing the only child you have left away? Do you want to be there for some of the most momentous events in my life? My marriage? The birth of my children? Or are you going to push me and my family away until the end of your days?!"

Father said nothing. He simply stared at the journals in front of him. When he finally looked up, he gave me the coldest stare I had ever seen in my life.

"Get out!" he said, tightly but softly.

"Rest to sure, I will." I brushed past my father towards the door. I heard Sherlock's steps behind me as I put on my coat.

"Emma, are you alright?" he asked.

"How can anybody be alright with a man like that for a father?" I asked in return as I tucked my gloves on sharply. I was very angry and very hurt.

We returned to North Riding and I shut myself up in my room. I didn't go down to dinner that night. Instead I sat in my window seat staring out the window. Outside my window was the tree that Nicholas had fallen from. Sherlock came up later with something for me to eat.

"Did you tell Uncle Siger and Aunt Violet what happened today?" I asked taking a sip of tea.

"Yes. You know that Aunt Eleanor wanted to see you today."

"I wanted to see her too. But I couldn't stand being in that house one more moment."

"She had an idea that you would say that. I told her we were staying through at least the twelfth night."

"I have an idea that you want to stay for Calantha's wedding?"

"I'd like to. But if you're uncomfortable with the idea…"

"No. I think it's a brilliant idea."

The next few days were a bit of a blur. I was fitted for a ball gown and helped Aunt Violet, Virginia, and Calantha with the last few details that were always involved with major social events. Calantha's fiancée arrived two days before the ball.

He was a handsome man. He had very light red hair and blue eyes. But he was a bit nervous. When Calantha first introduced him to Sherlock and me, he was hand was shaking as he shook hands with his perspective brother-in-law.

The day of the ball finally arrived. The house was in frenzy. The servants were kept very busy, as was the family. The ladies helped with some of the lighter cleaning while the men helped with heavy lifting that needed to be done. I eventually found myself minding Thomas and Diana while their nursemaid tidied up the nursery. Sherlock came to help me.

Thomas was very much marveled at the very presence of his famous uncle. Thomas sat in Sherlock's lap as he listened to Sherlock regale him with a tale of his adventure. I made sure that it was an adventure that had nothing to do with murder, violence or anything that would frighten him.

Diana sat quite comfortable in my own lap. She played with my locket, not listening to her uncle. She soon fell asleep, as did Thomas. By that time the nursemaid had finished her cleaning. Sherlock and I carried the sleeping children to the nursery and laid them down.

"You looked quite content," I replied as we walked out of the nursery. "You'll make a wonderful father someday."

"And you'll make an equally wonderful mother."

The guests began to arrive around 7 o'clock. Calantha came to help me dress. She laced up my corset, pinned up my hair, and buttoned up the back of my dress. I returned the favor by doing the same for her.

"You look beautiful, Calantha," I replied. She was wearing a white dress since she was to marry at the end of the month.

"As do you. I think that Sherlock's jaw will drop out when he sees you."

My own dress was an emerald green. Calantha had commented earlier that it brought out shades of green in my eyes. We applied a light layer of cosmetics before walking to the landing where Aunt Violet and Virginia were waiting.

"You know Emma if I didn't know better, I would have said your eyes were green. You look beautiful, dear."

"Thank you Aunt Violet. Has my mother arrived yet?"

"Look over there," Aunt Violet turned my attention to the dance floor. I saw my mother there.

She was a bit older than I remembered. She red hair was flecked with gray. But her brown eyes still sparkled. I noticed that her red dress was trimmed with black to indicate that she was mourning. She had said she would mourn Nicholas for the rest of her days. She glided across the dance floor with Uncle Siger, smiling all the while.

"Excuse me, girls," Aunt Violet said. "I have a mind to dance with my husband."

Aunt Violet walked down the stairs and was announced by Simpson. Uncle Siger looked up and went to meet his beloved wife. Calantha and Virginia followed Aunt Violet's lead and were met at the bottom of the stairs by the men that they loved. I took a deep breath before making my own descent.

"Miss Emma Callaway!" Simpson called out.

So many eyes were on me. I felt like crawling out of my skin. I scanned the room for a familiar face. I finally laid eyes of Sherlock. As Calantha had predicted his jaw had dropped. When he noticed that I had seen him, he closed his mouth and moved towards me. A group of single men had congregated at the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock managed to get in the front. He drew out his hand to me and I took it.

"Thank you," I replied, quietly. "They are like piranhas."

"They are indeed. They all wanted to catch your eye."

"My eye is already caught. I have my eye on a certain consulting detective."

"I wonder who that could be." Music began to play a waltz. "May I have this dance Miss Callaway?"

"I would be delighted Mr. Holmes."

We danced for most of the ball. I could hear voices chattering as we danced. I knew they were talking about Sherlock and myself. I didn't care what they were saying. I was happy and in love. I noticed that as Aunt Violet and Uncle Siger danced, Aunt Violet was whispering into Uncle Siger's ear. Throughout the night I danced with Sherlock, Sherrinford, Uncle Siger, and Captain Bailey. After I finished dancing with Captain Bailey, my mother came out onto the dance floor.

"I want to talk to you," she whispered in my ear. I followed Mother to a quite corner of the ballroom.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked.

"About this afternoon. I was so proud of you. It has been so long since anyone stood up to your father."

"I know. I was surprised that the argument lasted as long as it did. Father used to always stop arguments before they even started."

"I know, my dear. I know. Your father is a hard man. He is not used to someone contradicting him. But don't let that ruin your evening. Go and enjoy yourself."

I found Sherlock nearby and we engaged in another round of dancing.

Calantha's wedding went through without a hitch. Sherlock and I sat with Aunt Violet and Mother. Sherrinford and Virginia were in the wedding party. Calantha looked so lovely. Uncle Siger walked with her down the aisle. He sat with us for the ceremony.

Calantha and Captain Bailey left that evening for their wedding trip. Sherlock and I returned to London the following day. Sherlock was becoming anxious to get back to the criminal element of London. We didn't know at the time that our lives were about to change forever.