A/N: Hi guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a few days but I'm in the middle of getting ready to move so I haven't had that much time between that and work. I'm also getting ready to return to school (yay!) so that adds to the madness! I know this is short but I wanted to give you something because it might be a week or so before another update. I felt bad that I haven't been keeping up since I usually update fairy regularly. So please enjoy what little I have written and please please please leave a review. I feel like nobody reads it even though I know you do. Please make my day and review!
Chapter Ten
They arrived at Cambridge just after dusk. Augusta had fallen asleep during the ride, lulled to sleep by the motion of the train. She had been shaken by John once they arrived, Sherlock holding her suitcase. She went to grab it from him but he walked out the cabin before she could. She followed him out, John bringing up the rear.
"I can carry my own suitcase, Mr. Holmes," she said as they walked down the platform.
Sherlock did not release his hold on her case, "I've got it, Ms. Prince. Now, where exactly is it that your grandfather lives?"
She sighed, not feeling like arguing with him over the suitcase, "He has a house in the country, just outside the city. If I'm right, he's already sent Timothy with the car."
"Car?" John asked as they exited the train station.
Augusta smiled and raised her hand in the air with an excited wave. Sherlock noticed that her smile was genuinely happy, her white teeth showing as she laughed softly. He followed her gaze and saw an elderly man approaching. He wore a uniform, topped off with a cap on his graying hair. He stopped in front of Augusta and was engulfed in a hug by the small woman, "Timothy!"
The man, Timothy returned the hug and patted her shoulder, "Hello Miss Augusta. It's been far too long."
He turned to Sherlock, "May I take the bags, sir?"
Augusta rolled her eyes and forced Timothy's open arm down, "He can put the bags in the car, Tim."
The chauffeur turned back to Augusta, "It's my job, Miss Augusta."
Sherlock began walking towards the car's trunk, "She's right, Timothy. It's quite alright."
Timothy stuttered a bit, "Well, i-if you insist."
"I do," Sherlock said as he set the bags in the trunk and opened the back passenger seat door, motioning for Augusta to get in, "Ladies first, Ms. Prince."
Augusta raised her brow. Why was he being polite? First he carried her bags and now he was opening doors for her. What was going on?
John set his own bag in the trunk and shut it before making his way to the other side of the car. He too looked at Sherlock strangely before getting inside. She smiled up at him thankfully, further surprised when he helped her in by the hand before sliding in after her.
She saw Timothy raise a fluffy eyebrow in question, motioning towards Sherlock with his eyes through the rear-view mirror. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, seeing the smirk forming on the old man's face.
"Home, Timothy," she said in a mock posh voice, earning a chuckle from John and an invisible smirk from Sherlock.
"Right away, Miss Augusta," Timothy said as he started the car.
TOP
"Dear lord, that is not a house," John exclaimed as Timothy pulled the Rolls Royce to the front of Bertram Prince's country home. John was indeed correct. Northwick Hall was two stories high with more than seven bedrooms and three bathrooms. The property seemed to roll on forever, disappearing into the small patch of forest in the distance. It had been in her grandfather's family since his great grandfather, Percival Prince. The Prince family seemed to have been blessed (or cursed) with nothing but male children until Augusta that is. She had been the first female Prince in ages, according to Bertram.
Sherlock stepped out of the car and held out his hand for Augusta to take, which she did (though still curious at his behavior) and slid out of the car. Timothy opened John's door for him, at which he seemed unaccustomed to. He nodded his head in gratitude, "Uh, thanks Timothy."
Timothy nodded and began removing their luggage from the car. Augusta flew to his side and began pulling suitcases out, "Timothy, I told you we could get them."
The chauffeur slapped her hands away, "If you so much as touch that case again, I shall report it to your grandfather. You don't want that, do you Miss Augusta?"
She huffed, "Fine! But I'm only trying to help Tim. You don't have to threaten with such drastic measures."
He patted her shoulder gently, "I know Miss Augusta, but it's my job so buzz off!"
She gapped at him and gave a mock scoff, "Fine then!"
She turned around and a wide smile emerged on her face at the sight of her grandfather walking out of Northwick Hall. He walked casually in his usual tweed jacket. His white hair was kept neat and proper, and he walked in his usual calm gait with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he approached. She met him halfway, arms outstretched, "Grandpa!"
He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and swayed slightly from the impact, "Easy does it, darling. Now,"
He pushed her back and took her hands in his as he examined her, "let's have a look at you."
She allowed him to look her over, looking back at John and Sherlock who stood by the car. John was looking over the grounds and Sherlock was watching her. She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his gaze. She gave him a look that said, "What?" before turning back to face her grandfather, "Well, what's the verdict?"
He let go on her hands and crossed his arms, "You're thinner than the last I saw you."
She scoffed, "Really, is that all?"
"Well, you don't look like a blueberry anymore," he said turning to John and Sherlock. He approached them, dragging Augusta with him by the hand, "Can you believe that she actually colored her hair blue? What a ghastly color. Thank the gods for her coming to her senses!"
Sherlock tilted his head as if trying to picture Augusta with blue hair, a smirk forming on his face, "I'm sure she looks lovely no matter what color her hair is, Mr. Prince."
Augusta stopped in her tracks. Okay what was going on here?
John seemed to be thinking the same think because he did a double take, his face quirking into a befuddled expression. Bertram chuckled, "Of course she would. But flattering her won't make me like you, Mr. Holmes. Now who the bloody hell do you think you are dragged my granddaughter into your schemes?"
Sherlock blinked, appearing surprised that the professor knew who he was. After all, he hadn't identified himself to Augusta's aunt when he text her, nor did Augusta tell him on the phone during the train ride. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
Augusta's hand was released and she watched as her grandfather approached Sherlock, a frown on his face, "No, Mr. Holmes, we haven't. But I read the paper and I've seen your face. And judging by my granddaughter's wonderful imitation of a goldfish, I can assume that your use of flattery towards her is an attempt to win my good graces."
Sherlock folded his hands behind his back, "Has it worked?"
Bertram chuckled, "Of course not, Mr. Holmes. But good try."
Turning on his heels, Bertram smiled adoringly at Augusta and wrapped his arms around her shoulder as he guided her towards the house, "Now tell me, rabbit, how was your trip?"
She stared back at Sherlock and glared. She knew there were ulterior motives! Trying to win her grandfather's good graces? Ha!
Wait.
Why on earth would he want to do that? She turned back to her grandfather, "Oh it was alright. Fell asleep though."
TOP
Augusta was unpacking in her old room when Sherlock walked in, wearing only a white dress shirt and black slacks, "I'm sorry."
She jumped slightly and turned to face him from where she stood in front of the dresser, "Excuse me?"
He approached her, "About earlier, back at the flat. I was a bit...insensitive, I suppose."
She leaned against the dresser, "What are you talking about?"
"The case files, Ms. Prince. According to John, I owe you an apology for being too brash. About your mother," he said.
Augusta swallowed and turned to finish filling the dresser with her clothes. She could hear him turn to leave when she spoke, "Their not trivial, Mr. Holmes."
She turned back to see him looking at her curiously, "What's not trivial?"
"Emotions," she said, approached him carefully, "They can tell you a lot about a person; what they're feeling, what they're thinking. It's my emotions, Mr. Holmes, that make me want to find my mother's killer. I loved her. She didn't deserve what happened to her. To you, this is just another case to solve, another puzzle. But not to me. But go ahead and play your game. It doesn't matter because as long as you solve this, I don't care how you see it."
Augusta motioned towards the door, "If that's all Mr. Holmes, I'd like to get some sleep."
Sherlock looked uncertain. His blue-green eyes flickered with something before he turned and sharply walked out the door, closing the door behind him, "Good night Ms. Prince."
"Good night Mr. Holmes," she said as she continued to unpack her suitcase, her voice shaking.
This caused Sherlock to stop in his motion of closing the door as he heard her voice crack. Her shoulders shuddered and he could hear her sniffling. Her hand rushed to her face and he could tell that she was wiping away a tear. Looking away, Sherlock closed the door softly and stood outside her door, staring at it. He stayed there for a moment, thoughts running through his head.
He had never questioned his methods before and he wasn't about to start now. Straitening his back, Sherlock turned and made his way back towards John, where he had left him in the parlor.
TOP
Thanks for reading, please leave a review
v
v
v
v
v
v
