September 1, 1891, continued…

I left Wiggins asleep in the guest bedroom and headed down the stairs where the sounds of Mary's conversation could be heard. I paused on the final stair to hear her words. She was consoling a distraught Tommy who had been so shaken; he had had to eat five of Mary's homemade biscuits.

"There, it's alright. You don't need to cry."

A pitiful sniff and a mumbled reply.

"No, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful doctor. It just takes lots of practice, that's all. Don't give up."

I smiled at her motherly tone. She worries about being unable to raise a child, but I know she will do just fine.

Taking the final stair at a jump, I made myself known as I walked into the kitchen. The rest of the Irregulars had all gone their separate ways and the house had resumed its quiet, empty feeling. Tommy was sitting at the table, a biscuit in each hand as he listened to Mary continue to boost his spirits. Seeing me, he turned a deeply embarrassed shade of red and scooted off his chair saying he had better go.

"Would you like to take another biscuit with you?" Mary held out the plate and giving her a shy glance, Tommy took the offered treat and fairly fled out the door.

She seemed to have recovered from her breakdown earlier this morning, but I could still see the worried stress that filled her eyes as she silently began tidying up. I took one of the biscuits and watched her as she filled the sink with water and began to wash the dishes.

"You seemed taken with the Irregulars. I hope they weren't too much of a nuisance for you." I said, trying to make conversation.

"They were fine. Lovely children." She said rather stiffly.

"Do you want to talk about this morning?"

"No, John, I most certainly do not." She shut off the sink with some force and I took the hint to remain silent.

We sat some time in silence; only the sound of her rinsing dishes could be heard. I was thinking of reaching for another biscuit when she violently put the last dish down and stomped out of the room, leaving me frozen in my chair.

I decided to give her some time with whatever this new problem was and after spending a good hour in my study, I walked quietly up the stairs, mentally preparing myself on how to address this new difficulty.

I turned towards the bedroom, but noticed the guest bedroom door slightly ajar. I crept closer and peered in. The image inside both warmed my heart and broke it.

Mary was singing softly as she stroked the hair back from the peacefully sleeping Irregular. She was crying while she sang and I had to force myself to look away and not interfere with her private moment. Such an interference would only make it worse.

I walked heavily down the stairs and back into my study where I sat and penned this letter to you. This was a little over two weeks ago and those, my dear Holmes, are the facts. What do you make of them?

Watson