Chapter 11

I woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around my waist and someone breathing down my neck. Startled I gave a cry, rousing the man dozing half asleep next to me.

"What has happened?" he asked, opening his eyes in alarm, tightening the grip on me.

"Nothing, I just forgot..." I almost had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but managed to keep a straight face. – Well, almost.

"You just forgot your poor husband sleeping next to you." Sherlock Holmes was now fully awake again, his face assuming an equally amused expression.

"Yes," I admitted, turning around to face him.

"And there I was thinking I had kept you nice and warm enough in my arms that you would remember me. - I must have done something wrong, apparently," he replied in mock exasperation, kissing my lips swiftly. "Remind me to rectify that tonight."

He slid across the wide bed to his initial side of it, getting up from between the comfortably thick sheets, as I did likewise on the other.

Remembering his plans for the day I asked: "Which train are you going to take?"

"The nine twenty. I'll escort you to the hospital first and then walk back to the station. I have to write down some notes still."

"And when will you be back?"

"I cannot say. It might get rather late, so I suggest you ask Hopkins to walk you back to the inn when you have finished work. I also recommend you lock the door behind you."

"I always lock the door – particularly after the shock two days ago and I can just as well walk back by myself."

"No, you will ask Hopkins." he insisted and then, thinking the better of it, added, "Actually I will ask him. Just to make sure."

"Don't you think that might be a bit exaggerated?"

"No, it is not. You should be all right inside the hospital – it's a busy and public enough place to keep you from harm..."

"So are the roads,"I argued.

"Yes, but the roads will be dark by the time you have finished your work and go home."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he took my face into his hands, kissing me with astonishing passion.

"I know you are not afraid of the darkness, I know you love your independence, I know you get along just fine all by yourself, but this once, please oblige me," he begged me between kisses.

"You are impossible, Sherlock." I groaned, enjoying the sensation of his loving caresses.

"I know." he smiled in that boyish manner that suited him so well, before turning serious again, holding me at arm's length: "Promise me?"

I held out my hand, which he took.

"Good. Breakfast? I am starving!"

"We are not even dressed, yet." I pointed out.

"Then why don't you just ring the bell and order some up then?" my husband suggested, beginning to shave.

xxx

About an hour later we where on our way to the small hospital, that had become the centre of so much grief, once more. As we walked arm in arm in comfortable silence we met Rhea Hayward, who had been about to turn into the same alleyway that we strolled along.

"Mrs Hayward," Holmes acknowledged her, tipping the brim of his hat with his walking stick, while I just nodded.

"Mr Holmes, Dr Stephens – Miss." she greeted back with an audacious manner that was in stark contrast to her former warmth and friendliness.

"Mrs would actually be the accurate form of address," Holmes corrected her.

"Mrs.?" she looked at us suspiciously.

"Yes, has she never told you?" he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"No, I never have." I caught up on the cue. "You always said bearing your name might get awkward and dangerous at times and that my maiden name might be safer to use. I stuck to that."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiled warmly, bringing my hand to his lips. "Well, I am not used to so much dutifulness from my wife." Holmes quipped a pleased smirk on his face. "- But since it seems to be an issue of concern for you – even though it is beyond me, why it would be - Mrs Hayward, let me assure you, that this indeed is my wedded wife. And hence there is no need for any concern regarding her respectability."

She looked astounded at this revelation at first, watching us closely for any sign of betrayal. But finding none, she smiled apologetically, reaching out her hand.

"I am sorry, I should have known, I suppose. The two of you are obviously very close, anyone can see that clearly. It should have occurred to me, that you might be married. - It should have done so last morning, when..." she hesitated. "But the difference in name had me quite confused. I hope you can forgive my assumptions and my disrespectful behaviour towards you yesterday."

Holmes just bowed his head politely, but I, having worked with her and liked her a great deal, took her hand and shook it. Though still slightly disappointed in her, I had never been one to hold grudges, usually finding it easier to let matters of that kind simply drop. After all one could never know when oneself had to make amends born from prejudice to another fellow creature.

"So, did you find out something already?" she asked, as the three of us now resumed our path.

I was about to answer her, telling her about our findings, but my husband was quicker than I:

"Not much, I am afraid. We only have established that the children are poisoned, but apart from that? No, nothing. Sometimes it takes a while till one gets a chance of finding all the clues that lead to the solution."

"But the babies?" she reminded him, her face sorrowful. "They are dying, Mr Holmes!"

"Yes, they are. And it needs to end. I will go back to London today and consult with a specialist – he will know what to do."

"Bring in another doctor?" she asked, eagerly.

"No, not a doctor. I said a specialist."

"Ah." she looked confused. "I was not aware that there is a difference..."

xxx

Sherlock Holmes had left me to my work as soon as he had finished with his notes, once more reminding me, that I should not neglect myself and take a break during the day. Smiling I had kissed him and send him on his way, hoping that he would find something to finish this horror. I was actually quite sure he would. There was something in his behaviour that told me he had caught up on something, something I must have missed completely. And yet, I was not there to solve the mystery, I was here to heal the babies brought into my care. The expectation of seeing him again in the evening filled me with a kind of joy I had not known before.

The day passed in relative peacefulness. Only one child was brought in, and the ones that had already been at the hospital where all getting better rapidly. I was sitting in my office when I remembered the news that Doctor Hayward's nephew had also been taken ill. In the confusion of last night, I had forgotten to tell Sherlock and now I felt bad about it. I had a feeling he should know. For a moment I considered sending him a telegram, but then remembered the promise I had made not to leave the hospital unaccompanied and decided, that I could just as well inform him about that as soon as he returned. I wrote a note to myself and stuffed it, neatly folded, into the front of my waist. But even if I could not tell my husband, at least I could ask Rhea about her nephew's state of health. She certainly must be worried about the sick little man, as she was over every unwell child.

"Mrs Hayward – Rhea," I began, approaching her, uncertain as to how to begin such a delicate topic. "Your husband told me yesterday, that your nephew has also been taken ill. I just wondered if he is all right again?"

She looked somewhat surprised, sitting in a corner beside one of the many cot beds stuffed into the ward, trying to calm the squirming infant within down, by gently caressing his temple.

"Oh, I was not aware, you knew about little Rodger. Yes, he is already better. But believe it or not, Alastair thinks he is suffering from the same thing these babes are suffering from." she gestured at the many beds. "But how could that be, if they are poisoned?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Alastair is sure, that it is a disease that is causing all this trouble."

"And I still disagree with him, Rhea. I am certain it is not, and I am about to prove it. It might very well be, that your nephew is suffering from something that has similar symptoms than an arsenic poisoning. - It could be something as simple as indigestion, a colic, a slight fever, swollen glands, stomach flu - all these cause symptoms not dissimilar to what we have here. And an extremely watchful eye can sometimes be as much of a nuisance as a blind one. One ignores, the other might greatly exaggerate."

I was not believing my own words at this moment. But she was right. How was it possible that her nephew was likewise poisoned as where these children? Hoping that my own husband would not take too long to return, I chose to seemingly ignore the obvious and instead rather ease the young woman's mind by blatantly lying.

As she stood before me, she looked so childlike and fragile. She was tiny in comparison to my own tall figure. Willowy to a point where one got the feeling one could break her, by just touching her in any other way than the most gentle one. With her strikingly gorgeous dark red hair, her amber eyes and clear pale skin, almost translucent, she looked like a fairy. I had never taken the time to look at her closely, always too busy to dwell on such insignificant things as outward appearance. Now that I had the time I was taken aback by her otherworldly beauty. Her dress, as usual, was hidden beneath a grey linen pinafore, but I could make out the cuffs of it, being a most stunning velvety green, not unlike an emerald.

"At any rate, if you would like me to, I would be more than willing to visit your sister in law. Does she live close?"

"Oh, that would be so kind. It is not very far, just on the other side of town. I will tell her about your offer, that I am sure she will only be too happy to take." she beamed at me as if I had just fulfilled her greatest hopes.

But then again, she was a kind-hearted and caring person, happiest, when she could be of use for somebody. With a dainty step, she almost danced out of the room. A woman who could be jubilating in one moment and crying her heart out in the next. I appreciated her greatness of mind but at the same time now found it oddly irritating. There was something about her, that I suddenly thought was unsettling. One never really knew what to expect. Then again, from the first time I had met her, her mood had been swinging like a pendulum and it had never bothered me before. I began to wonder if I had really forgiven her as completely as I had thought I had and came to the conclusion, that perhaps I needed to try a bit harder.

xxx

I was about to leave the hospital for the day and was only waiting for Inspector Hopkins to pick me up as I had promised. But he was not due for another half hour and I was growing impatient. The night was already falling and the night watchman was turning up the gas of the street lamps, when a dirt-crusted boy of at most eight or nine, came wavering through the door. The right side of his face was badly bruised and his nose bled heavily, as did a wound on his forehead. He was crying quietly, tears streaming down his face mingling with the blood and dripping down onto his shirt front.

"Dear me, come here!" I cried, hurrying towards him. "Whatever has happened to you?"

"Dunno..." he answered drowsily, his feet staggering across the uneven wooden floor.

"Sit!" I ordered, pushing him towards one of the visitors chairs. He slumped down on one, looking at me helplessly. He was a gangly boy, with large brown eyes and a button nose still that of a child's. His hair was a soft brown and curled into pretty little ringlets underneath his greasy cloth cap. Obviously a waif, he touched my heart as he sat there, desperate and forlorn. Calling for someone to get me the necessary things to stitch the cut and quench the blood flow I was once again confronted with Doctor Hayward.

Taking in the situation, he left and came back moments later with all that was needed to vet the youngster. Holding the boy, so he could not budge Hayward soothingly rubbed the child's chest, while I began my painful administrations. The child bore it with stoic heroism.

"So, and now tell me what has happened," I prompted.

"I truly cannot say, Madam. I walked alongside the stream in that little park around the corner from here and suddenly was struck against the head."

"What have you been doing in the park at this time of day?" Hayward asked. "Should you not be at home?"

"The street is my home, sir. I sometimes sleep in the old dovecote there – it's easy to climb up and it is really comfortable and warm."

"And you crawl in through one of these tiny holes?"

"Well, I ain't exactly chubby."

"No, you are not," Hayward admitted, looking at the boy.

"Have you seen anybody?"

"Only shadows."

"I think we should put him in bed, Miss, don't you agree?"

I chose to ignore his subtle disrespect. He had been helpful when it was needed and I was too tired for another argument, the lack of sleep from the previous night and the night before catching up with me. Nodding in agreement, I helped the still drowsy boy up and to his feet, while Hayward excused himself and left the house through the front door, seemingly wanting to catch a breath of fresh air, as he took neither hat nor coat with him.

Undressing the waif was tedious work. He wore an astonishing amount of clothing and when I had finally managed to strip him down to his drawers I could easily count his ribs, so thin was he.

"Have you eaten anything today?" I asked him. As I had expected, he answered in the negative.

"Put this on and crawl into bed, I'll get you something."

I handed him a clean and crisp nightshirt that was several sizes too big for him and picked up his clothes from the floor, dropping them onto one of the chairs scattering the large and dimly lit room.

As I returned he had followed my orders, lying in bed, the covers pulled close around him and his eyes already drooping.

"There is some nice hot broth for you."

His eyes widened with delight, and despite his sleepiness, and the slight concussion he had sustained, he sat bolt upright, eagerly taking the bowl of soup from me.

"Thank you, madam." he managed to say, between two spoons full of what to him must appear like a feast.

"What is your name?" I inquired.

"Tom. Just that."

"No surname?"

"I never use it." his young and handsome face grew grave, assuming an earnestness that was well beyond his years. Knowing that most of the children living on and off the streets had a very good and very sad reason to do so, I did not inquire any further. When he had finished his meal, I tucked him in, gently caressing his bruised head, my heart flying out to him.

xxx

Once more I glanced at my watch, but the inspector was no-where in sight. I was slightly annoyed, yet knowing that the man presumably had a very good reason not to be punctual. It was not as if he was not working hard and I knew from what Sherlock had told me, that the Winchester inspector I had first approached, was anything but cooperative.

Restlessly I walked around the ward, looking once again at the many little creatures tucked into their cots, most of them sleeping when suddenly I heard a commotion outside.

"Oh, thank God you are here!" Rhea Hayward exclaimed, out of breath.

As I had stepped out of the ward, the entrance door had been flung open once again and she had rushed in, her hair curling down from underneath her fashionable hat that now sat on her head askew as if in her run the hat pin had not been able to hold it in place very much.

"What is it, Rhea?" I asked alarmed, hurrying towards her.

"Little Rodger! He is very poorly and I came here to fetch you straight away. Please hurry!" she sobbed, reaching out her hands in a pleading gesture.

"My sister in law is so frightened that he will die. She asked me to get you immediately. I know you have promised to stay here till that inspector escorts you to the hotel, but please, I don't think we can afford to lose one minute."

This certainly was a good enough reason, to break my promise. How could I not answer this plea for help under these circumstances? Grabbing my coat and hat, I followed her out of the building, slipping my coat on as I ran after her, not bothering with my hat and just keeping it in my hand. In our haste we almost collided with a messenger boy, that was about to climb the stairs we descended.