EMMA-
Sherlock and I settled back into life in Baker Street after being away for nearly five months. Mrs. Hudson was very happy to see us for she had been quite lonely without us. We were both very happy to be home.
March was extraordinarily bitter in 1889. It became so harsh that I had to put extra blankets on all the beds in the house. Watson became extremely busy from a late epidemic of influenza and Sherlock was engaged in several cases that Scotland Yard had fallen behind with while we were away. Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and I tried to help one another with various forms of housework.
I was in the kitchen on one of the rawest days, when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Hudson wasn't at home at the moment and neither was Sherlock. I was in the middle of hanging the linens out to dry in the kitchen. I quickly finished hanging a towel and went to the front door. When I opened the door, I was very much surprised to see standing on the doorstep stood Mr. Godfrey Norton with a small girl in his arms.
Mr. Norton looked somewhat shabby. His clothes were faded and frayed. His hair and mustache hadn't been trimmed for sometime. The little girl looked about two years old. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Her clothes were also frayed. The stings on her bonnet were coming unraveled. Unpleasant times had fallen on Mr. Norton, but where was Irene?
"Is Emma Callaway here?" Mr. Norton asked.
"I am she. Do come in Mr. Norton."
I closed the door behind him and led him upstairs to the sitting room. Mr. Norton sat down in Watson's old chair while I sat in Sherlock's. The girl sat in Mr. Norton's lap and pulled at Mr. Norton's frayed cravat. "Stop it Hannah," he said gently to the girl as he looked up at me. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you, Miss Callaway, but I didn't expect you to be dressed as you are."
I looked down at my clothes. I was wearing an old cotton dress and apron. My hair was covered by a mobcap. Loose strands of hair poked out from the cap. "I must admit that I am not dressed for entertaining company. But what brings you here, Mr. Norton and where is Irene?"
Mr. Norton looked down. "Miss Callaway, I have a great favor to incur on you and Mr. Holmes. I should like to explain it when you are both here." The girl, whom Mr. Norton addressed as Hannah, yawned and rubbed her eyes with her little fists. "Is there somewhere I could lay her down?"
"Yes." I stood and opened Sherlock's bedroom door. "You can put her down in here."
Mr. Norton gently laid Hannah down and covered her with the throw rug at the foot of the bed. He kissed her forehead before following me back into the sitting room.
"Beautiful girl. Your daughter I assume."
"Yes. My daughter, Hannah."
"She has your eyes and Irene's hair. But Mr. Norton where is Irene? I haven't seen or heard from her in two years. Has something happened to her?"
"I have no wish to cause you grief, Miss Callaway, but I fear there is no alternative. Irene passed away as a result of giving birth to Hannah."
I felt my eyes widened with surprise. Irene was dead. My jaw trembled as I suppressed tears. I swallowed them before I spoke. "Oh, Mr. Norton, I had no idea. Please allow me to convey my condolences."
"Thank you."
At that moment I heard the front door open and Sherlock's footsteps upon the stairs. As the footsteps grew louder and the sitting room door began to open, Mr. Norton stood as Sherlock passed over the threshold. Sherlock was surprised to find Mr. Norton in our sitting room but greeted him cordially and asked him to resume his seat. Sherlock himself took a seat on the couch.
"Now, Mr. Norton, what brings you to Baker Street?" Sherlock asked.
"I have told Miss Callaway that I have a great favor to incur upon you both. My story begins after my marriage to Irene. You can imagine our surprise and joy when we learned that we were to expect a baby the following March. We settled in Italy and prepared for the child. The blessed day came and we were the proud parents of a healthy baby girl whom we named Hannah. But it was a bittersweet day. Irene's health was severely weakened by the labor and two months later she died."
"My condolences," Sherlock replied. "Please continue."
"Well, after Irene's death I took to drink. Irene's death was an exceptionally hard on me and it eased my suffering temporarily. But as a result of the drink, my fortunes declined sharply."
"What of your daughter?" I asked.
"She remained in my housekeeper's care. Eventually it became hard for me to maintain the housekeeper, in fact it became hard for me to provide for my daughter and cover my medical expenses."
"Medical expenses?"
"Yes, Miss Callaway. The drink has ruined my health and the doctor informs me that it has come to a point where there is little doubt that I will be dead within a year. I want to be sure that my daughter will be cared for when I am gone."
Sherlock leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his finger intertwined. "You wish to leave your daughter in the care of Miss Callaway and myself."
"Yes. I know it is a great deal to ask, but Irene would have wanted it. She always talked of the both of you with the highest regard. I know that Hannah will be in safe hands."
Both Sherlock and I were silent for many moments. I couldn't be sure of what Sherlock was thinking, but I knew one thing. Hannah Norton was going to stay here at Baker Street if I had anything to say about it.
"Emma, could I see you privately in the kitchen?" Sherlock said at last.
"Of course," I replied rising from my seat.
"We will be back shortly, Mr. Norton."
"I understand. I will wait for you," Mr. Norton replied his hands trembling.
Sherlock followed me down to the kitchen. The linens I had been washing were still hanging up. The whole kitchen felt damp and humid. Closing the behind him, Sherlock turned to me.
"She can't stay here," he said, flatly.
"And why not?" I asked a bit surprised
"I'm not going be responsible for her. I haven't the patience."
"Nobody said you had to," I said trying to keep calm. "If need be I will care for her by myself."
"And you think that you could handle caring for a two-year-old child?" he asked very coldly.
"I'd rather care for her by myself than have her living on the streets!"
"She could live in an orphanage."
"An orphanage?! Sherlock Holmes how can you be so cold to a child? You showed such kindness and tenderness to your niece and nephew. Why can't you show such kindness and tenderness to this little girl? Do you have any idea what will happen to her when she turns eighteen? She'll either be sent to a workhouse or worse -- she'll be working the streets as a prostitute! I will not allow such a thing to happen to her. Not while I live and breathe! If you won't help me, so be it. I understand perfectly. I am perfectly willing to do it alone!" Sherlock looked away from me. He went to the kitchen window. Looking out of it, he leaned against the counter. He then bowed his head and stared into the empty sink. He was thinking.
I knew if he gave Hannah a chance, he would love her, just as much as I did. I hardly knew Hannah, but seeing her without a mother and soon without a father had raised a maternal instinct in me. I wanted to care for her. I wanted to love her as a mother.
"Sherlock?" I asked tentatively, putting my hand on his shoulder.
"You won't have to do it alone," he said quietly. He turned to me. He cupped his hand over my cheek. "Forgive me, my dear, dear Emma. I didn't mean to be so cold hearted towards the child or you. I'll help you with her, in anyway I can. But I must admit that I know absolutely nothing about raising children."
"Neither do I. But Mrs. Hudson knows. Heaven knows she's raised a few. She can help us along."
"I'm sure she would. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have suggested that we send her to an orphanage."
I threw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, my dearest. Thank you. I couldn't bear seeing her in the care of total strangers."
"We are strangers to her."
"Not to her parents. If they trust us with her, we are as close as family."
He took my hand and kissed it. "Come, let us go and inform Mr. Norton of our decision."
"Yes, let us go. Sherlock do you realize what this makes us?"
"No."
"This makes you a father and me a mother."
"What? But we're not married."
"It doesn't matter. We are going to be caring for a child who needs us. She may not be related to us by blood, but spiritual she is ours."
"She's not ours legally either," Sherlock muttered to himself out loud. He stroked his chin. He was thinking again.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, my dear. Come along. Mr. Norton is waiting."
Sherlock led me up the stairs by the hand and opened the sitting room door for me. Mr. Norton now had his daughter in his lap. She played with her dress. She looked up at Sherlock and reached up. Sherlock gently reached down and took the child from her father. He balanced her in his arm. She gripped his nose with her tiny hand.
"Have you decided?" Mr. Norton asked.
"We have Mr. Norton," Sherlock said, passing Hannah off to me. "You may be assured that your daughter Hannah will be perfectly safe in our care."
Mr. Norton stood up and shook hands with Sherlock. "Thank you. Thank you. I am eternally grateful to you both. I know that she will be safe with you. Now I must go. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to say good-bye to Hannah."
He reached for his daughter and I handed her to him. He squeezed her gently and kissed her curls. "Good-bye," he said in a broken voice. Tears dripped from his eyes onto his daughter's dress. He handed Hannah back to me and a box to Sherlock. "Now that it is done, I will not impose upon you further. Good day to the both of you."
He turned to go, but Sherlock stopped him. "Mr. Norton surely you will accept our hospitality. Please let us help you. You may stay with us until it is your time."
"I thank you, but no. You have done me a greater service by agreeing to care for my daughter. You have my thanks. Good-bye and good fortune to you both."
With that Mr. Godfrey Norton put on his hat and walked out of our sitting room. Sherlock and I followed him to the front door with little Hannah still balanced on my hip. We watched him walk out of 221B and disappear into the thick, bitter March fog. We would learn several months later that Mr. Godfrey Norton died from poison of the liver brought on by excessive drinking.
We walked back into the sitting room, where Sherlock opened the box that Mr. Norton had given him. It contained Hannah's birth certificate, photographs of Irene and Mr. Norton, their wedding rings, Irene's locket, and a number of other treasured possessions with the instruction that Hannah be given the items when she was old enough.
Mrs. Hudson returned shortly after Mr. Norton had left. She immediately took a liking to the newest addition to our Baker Street commune. Her first order was to boil some hot water to give the child a bath. When it was ready, I stripped Hannah of her garments and gently placed the girl in the water.
By the time her bath was over, I was very wet indeed. Hannah seemed to enjoy splashing me with water. Mrs. Hudson informed me that small children loved to splash in the bath. Although I had an unintended bath of my own, Hannah was clean. Mrs. Hudson brought clean smock for the girl. I dressed Hannah and took her back upstairs.
The days following Hannah's arrival were extremely different. Mrs. Hudson spent the better part of the time gathering things that Sherlock and I would need to care for Hannah. A crib was purchased and placed in my room. It was agreed that Hannah was to sleep in my room so that I could care for her should she need me in the night. Clothes, toys and books were also purchased.
Since we now had a child in the house, I asked Sherlock to move his chemical station upstairs to the spare room that was down the hall from my room. He readily agreed. In fact he moved a majority of his equipment that he used in his work from his room to the upstairs room that had now become his study. I told him it wasn't necessary for him to do that, but he shook his head and said that it was necessary.
Watson had come by with Mary to meet Hannah and to give her an examination to make sure that she was healthy. He said that Hannah was a little underweight for a child of her age, but that was to be expected since she wasn't far from living on the streets. He said that it was nothing to be too concerned about and she would gain weight as she eats more.
Hannah couldn't speak well just yet, but she found ways of letting Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson or me know what she wanted. She would point to the item and try to say the word as best as she could. She also had a noise for each of us to indicated she which one of us she wanted. She soon learned how to say my name, but since Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson's name were more difficult for her, she continued to use her special noise for each of them. But Hannah had another noise…one that she made when she wanted her father.
Hannah would cry and say 'pappy', when she wanted her father to hold her. I would then pick her up and hum her a lullaby, sending her to sleep without much of a fuss. I knew someday that Sherlock and I would have to tell Hannah what happened to her mother and father, but that day was still far into the future.
It was about five weeks after Hannah had come to us that I walked into the sitting room to find Sherlock standing in front of the fire, waiting for me. I had just put Hannah to bed and was ready to sit down for some dinner. Sherlock and I had fallen into the habit of not dining until after Hannah had put to bed. It seemed to be the only time we had together these days. He would be off solving whatever mystery had come his way, while I spent the better part of the day watching Hannah and helping Mrs. Hudson with housework. Hannah had taken to helping with the housework. She liked catching the dust bunnies that were under the furniture and in the corners. Getting Hannah to help pick up her toys was a bit more of a challenge. I resolved to bluff her into it. She had to help me put all of her toys away or all the fairies came to steal them away to fairyland. She was quick to hand me her toys so I could put them in their proper place after that.
I sat down at the table and Sherlock followed suit. I unfolded my napkin and placed it in my lap. Sherlock and I made up our plates and began to eat.
"Hannah got to sleep alright?" he asked.
"Yes. She'll sleep through the night I hope. She's been having nightmares. Its come to a point where I've had to bring her into bed with me in order to get her to calm down."
"I know. I've heard her crying from down here. Emma, do you regret our taking Hannah in?"
"It has made me a bit tired chasing her around the house. But do I regret it? No. In fact I would give it up for anything in the world. Do you regret taking her in?"
"No. In fact Hannah has helped me come to a decision about something that has been weighting on my mind for a while now."
"Really? About what?"
"About you, Emma."
"Me?" I asked putting down my fork.
"Yes. Emma, these last six months have been the best six months of my life, especially the last five weeks of it. I have felt that I have people to care for that care for me in return. But it is not enough. I still feel that my life is incomplete. You remember what I said about Hannah not being ours legally?"
"Yes."
"Well I want to make it legal. I think that we should adopt Hannah."
"Sherlock, we can't do that. You know as well as I do that the law won't give a child to an unmarried couple, no matter how capable they are. The only way we can adopt Hannah is if we…" my voice trailed off. Something was preventing me from continuing. It was the look that Sherlock was giving me.
"Get married." he finished for me. He stood and came around to me. He took my hand and helped me to stand. He cupped his hands around mine and held them to his chest. "Emma. You and Hannah mean more to me than anything else. For the last two and a half years you have been the closest thing to a wife I have ever had. Hannah has become the closet thing to a daughter I've ever had. I want now to make the three of us a complete family emotionally, spiritually, and legally." He reached into his jacket pocket. From it he drew a ring. I gasped when I saw it. It was a simply beautiful band of gold with a small pearl set in it. He knelt down on one knee and took my left hand. "Will you, Emma Grace Amelia Callaway, allow me to be your husband?" He slid the ring onto my finger and waited for my answer.
I took his hands and helped him up. He held the ends of my fingers in his hands and looked at the ring. I looked at the ring as well. I felt a drop fall on the back of my hand and another and another. I realized that the drops were tears falling from my eyes. Sherlock also saw them.
"My dear. Have I upset you?"
"No. To be honest, I don't know why I'm becoming so teary. As to your earlier question, I can think of no other man whom I would rather spend the rest of my life with than you. I accept you as a husband. But will you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, accept me as a wife?"
"I do, until death do we part."
He leaned down and caressed my lips. I circled my arms around his neck and kissed him back. We broke the kiss and just held each other. We were getting married.
We wrote home the next day to inform our families of our engagement. Thanks to the wonders of the British telegraph system, we received responses that day. Sherlock's family was pleased, as was my mother. However I received a letter from my father demanding that I break off the engagement: the letter promptly placed in the fire.
We decided to have the wedding as soon as possible. June was the best time we felt, since my birthday was that month and I wanted the wedding to be outside, provided the weather held.
Two weeks after our engagement, Sherlock, Hannah, and I were returning from a walk in the park, only to be informed that two women were in the sitting room. We were very surprised to find our mothers waiting for us.
"Our children get engaged and they don't expect a visit from us," Aunt Violet said, when we asked what they were doing here. "Eleanor and I have some wonderful ideas for the wedding. Now Emma, do you have a dress yet?"
"No."
"You have one now," Mother said. "Go look in your room dear."
Sherlock picked up Hannah and followed me up to my room. Our mothers were right behind him wearing the smiles that almost made me nervous. I began to wonder if Mother and Aunt Violet had been planning this for years. When I opened my door, my breath was taken away. Before me was my mother's wedding dress.
In was a cream colored dress with lace for sleeves. Lace was sewn onto the neckline. It had a moderately long train and upon my pillow laid the veil.
"Oh Mother. It is beautiful. Thank you so much."
"My dear. This is your wedding. It is to going to be one of the most important days of your life. Violet and I want to make it special."
"Just don't make it too big," Sherlock said from the doorway.
"Oh don't worry about it, Sherlock. Eleanor and I have everything under control. But who is this little angel in your arms?" Aunt Violet asked reaching for Hannah. "Wouldn't you and Diana make just the prettiest little flower girls?"
"Mother, Aunt Violet. This is Hannah. Hopefully you'll both be able to call her granddaughter someday."
"She's not yours, is she?" Mother asked, worriedly.
"Oh no. No, no. Her parents were friends of ours. Her mother died shortly after she was born and her father is dying or maybe is dead now. He brought her here to be looked after. We hope to adopt her after we've married."
"Whether or not you have legally adopted her, she will always be one of my granddaughters," Aunt Violet said, passing Hannah to my mother.
"And she will be one of mine too," Mother replied bouncing Hannah up and down.
"Emma, do you think that our mothers are trying to drop subtle hints to us?" Sherlock asked.
"I rather think they are. You both can't expect grandchildren from us within our first year of marriage."
"And why not?" Mother asked. "Do you know how long I've waited for grandchildren?"
"Mother. Sherlock isn't here for most of the day. He goes out and sometimes doesn't come home until after midnight. There have been times where he leaves for weeks on end." Mother's face fell as she put Hannah down. "But I can guarantee that you will have more grandchildren. Just not right away."
"Of course. But we have another gift for you my daughter. Actually for both of you."
Aunt Violet took a box from her handbag. Inside the box was a ring. The band was solid gold. There were engravings all around the band and tiny diamond chips inlayed in the gold. "It was your grandmother's wedding ring," Mother explained. "The diamonds came from Sherlock's great-grandmother's wedding ring."
"It is exquisite. What do you think, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked at the ring. He took my hand and slid it on my finger. "I think that it suits you very nicely."
"I think so too. What do you think Hannah?"
Hannah took my hand and looked at the ring. "Vewy pweety," she replied.
"I think that it has received unanimous approval," Sherlock said.
Taking off the ring, I handed it back to Aunt Violet. "Now, what time in June did you want to have the wedding?" Aunt Violet asked, putting the ring in the box and back into her handbag.
Mother and Aunt Violet took tea with us and continued to talk about the wedding. Sherlock was visibly uneasy, but he said nothing. I knew he was nervous, as was I. We took Mother and Aunt Violet to the train station a short while after tea. Hannah came with us and the three of us watched the train roll away towards Yorkshire.
Hannah yawned and snuggled against Sherlock shoulder.
"We should take her home and put her to bed. She's had a busy day," I whispered into Sherlock's ear.
He nodded. We found a cab and returned to Baker Street. Hannah was fast asleep by the time we arrived. Sherlock carried her up to my room. He watched in wonder as I got Hannah ready for bed. I was about to put her in her crib, when Sherlock reached for her.
"May I put her to bed?" he asked.
I smiled and gently handed him Hannah. He laid Hannah in the crib and tucked the blanket around her little body. Sherlock bent down and kissed Hannah's forehead before following me down to the sitting room. It was little moments like this that helped me keep my sanity in the coming weeks.
