Oops! Here's one more chapter than I was expecting! Think of it as a bonus for all you lovely readers!
Chapter Twenty
Three months on, and Friday, 13th June was a very significant date in the Hooper-Holmes family diary. They were about to move into their new home.
Molly had overseen all the refurbishments and project managed the entire renovation. The building work had been completed a month earlier – though two months over schedule, because the builder and his boys proved singularly lacking in one rather essential skill – the ability to accurately follow the architect's plan.
For the painting and decorating, Molly had enlisted the services of Mycroft's interior designer, the one responsible for the new nursery at Colbert House. The themes for the children's bedrooms were highly personalised.
William's room had a scientific bent, with the planets of the Solar System adorning three walls and the ceiling, Vitruvian Man on the fourth wall and a Periodic Table rug on the floor. As well as the usual bedroom furniture, there was an antique kneehole desk and chair, a smaller version of the one in Uncle Mycroft's Whitehall office, and a bench for his microscope and other scientific apparatus.
Freddie's room had a Thomas the Tank Engine theme, with Thomas, Henry, Edward and the Troublesome Trucks stencilled on the walls, the Fat Controller on the back of the door and a railway track woven into the rug. It also had lots of shelves for Freddie's toy engines to be displayed and for his vast collection of Thomas books.
Designing Violet's room had been Molly's favourite part of the project. She had resisted the urge to go overboard on the girly pink and gone for the Fairy Grotto look. There were glittering stars on the ceiling, a toadstool fairy ring and cobwebs, glistening with dew, painted on the walls, along with woodland flowers, soft foliage and fireflies. And, of course, lots of Arthur Rackham fairies.
The colour scheme was inspired by Violet's eyes, which were gold-green in the centre, fading to blue around the edges, with amber flecks in both irises. Like her brother, William, she had inherited heterochromia from her father. With her heart-shaped face, golden curls and startling eyes, she had a pixie-like air about her, hence the fairy grotto theme.
The guest bedroom furniture, from Sherlock's mother's room, had been brought over from Colbert House and installed already. This room had a pale green colour scheme, inspired by the suite in Caro and Henrique's house in Rio, which Sherlock and Molly had occupied during their stay there, the previous summer.
The rest of the house, including the master bedroom, was quite traditional in design, with antique wall paper and heritage colours, stripped oak floor boards and doors, and Indian rugs - elegant and understated. Molly was especially pleased with their bespoke kitchen, hand-built from white oak by the artisan, Mr Ross. With the gas Aga and central kitchen table, it gave a cosy farmhouse feel to the room, set off by the Welsh blue slate floor tiles.
The nanny's basement flat had been decorated and furnished to Marie's own taste, with a modern fitted kitchen, a sitting-dining room and two en suite bedrooms. Having a concrete floor, it was carpeted throughout, with tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms.
The garden had been redesigned and landscaped, but retained most of its well-established features – a beautiful mature magnolia in the front garden, wisteria arching across the front of the house and Virginia creeper covering the rear aspect. The back garden was mostly laid to lawn, with an Edwardian conservatory, paved patio, perennial borders, brick wall boundaries – a safe playground for the children – and, right down at the bottom, three ancient apple trees.
Because of Ada's early arrival and the delay to completion of the work on the house, Marie had been using Freddie's room, now that she was their full-time live-in nanny, so Freddie and William had been sharing. This had led to a bit of tension between the brothers – mostly when Freddie messed up William's orderly storage systems. It would be good for them all to have their own space, once again.
'Are you sure you don't need me to be here?' Sherlock asked, the night before the big move, confident that the answer would be in the affirmative.
'Absolutely sure, darling,' Molly assured him. 'Your absence will be greatly appreciated.' She knew her husband far too well. Sherlock and removal men? A bad mix.
In fact, the less the other Hooper-Holmeses were involved, the better, if she wanted all their possessions to make it safely to their new home, even though the distance to be travelled was a mere few yards. William would be going to school, Freddie would go to the crèche and Marie would take charge of Ada, leaving Molly free to oversee the whole operation. Sherlock would, in fact, be otherwise engaged on Removal Day.
ooOoo
The consequences of the collusion between Dr Stapleton and George Bridges, to revive the genes of past thoroughbred champions, were still unfolding.
Thanks to Sherlock's testimony, Edward Dunham, Marquis of Hadfield, was charged with illegal betting practices and released on bail, to await trial. But the national press had a field day. There was, apparently, nothing like a disgraced peer of the realm to boost newspaper sales. His financial affairs were plastered all over the front pages. He was a broken man.
Fortunately for him, his wife was far more astute than he was. Lady Hadfield secured a deal with English Heritage to buy Newham Abbey – the ancestral home of the Dunhams – and the entire estate, for the nation. It had huge historical significance, having been given to the Dunham family by King Henry VIII, as a little 'thank you' gift, for supporting his divorce from Catherine of Aragon.
The charity intended to open the house to the public, but had agreed to take over the management of the estate and all its tenant farmers and to allow Lord and Lady Hadfield to continue to live in the house, in a private apartment. The money EH forked out, for the house and the land, paid all Lord Hadfield's debts and left enough for the couple to live on, reasonably comfortably, for the remainder of their days. Sherlock felt that his god father had gotten off rather lightly, but the marquis was yet to face trial, so justice might still be done.
As a result of the events which took place at the satellite yard in Lambourne, The trainer, George Bridger, and his Travelling Head Lad, Harry Lucas, were both arrested and charged with Conspiracy to Commit Murder. They were also charged with race fixing, and both remanded in custody. The British Horseracing Authority rescinded Bridges' trainer's licence, which left the yard in limbo, without a licence holder.
Diana Potter, as Head Lass, was next in the hierarchy and, as such, suspected of being involved in the race fixing but it soon became obvious that she was completely unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. The owners of the other horses in the yard, who all had a great deal of respect for Diana, suggested that she should apply for the trainer's licence. She did apply and was successful, so the future of the yard and its staff was secure.
Dr Stapleton's laboratory was raided and all her records confiscated, and studied by Home Office appointed experts, in order to decide whether her research work should, in the interests of science, be continued or abandoned. She was a leading light in her field, after all.
The police investigation concluded that the doctor, somewhat naively perhaps, was not aware that she had been doing anything illegal when she cloned the DNA of a champion race horse from the past. They also confirmed that she had been unaware of the trainer's intension to substitute G14 with G2, so she was cleared, posthumously, of any guilt. For her, it had always been The Work.
Kirsty Stapleton, whom, as a child, had once written to Sherlock about her pet rabbit Bluebell, wrote to him again, as a young adult, to thank him for helping clear her mother's name and bring her killers to justice, and to ask whether the lady had suffered, at the end. Molly helped him to compose a reply which would comfort the daughter rather than traumatise her still further.
For the two horses involved in the scam, however, the outlook was less than rosy. Once the circumstances of their inception became known and their registered pedigrees proven to be false, their status as racehorses became null and void. Horses bred in such a manner could not be allowed to compete with animals bred in the traditional way. As racehorses, therefore, they were worthless. For the past three months, their lives had hung in the balance. They remained at the yard and Sherlock paid for their livery but, other than that, no one really knew what to do with them.
Except Sherlock.
G2 was a fit, healthy, uncomplicated individual. He would make a fine hack for someone, or an able hunter, perhaps even a police horse. His bombproof temperament would be his greatest asset. Re-homing him would not be a problem. G14, however, was a different kettle of fish, entirely. But Sherlock had an idea about his future, too. He had made some phone calls, turned the charm dial up to maximum, and arranged to meet a certain individual, at the yard, on Moving Day.
He turned his hired car into the driveway of Diana Potter's yard and parked next to the American Barn. He was pleased to note that the car he had abandoned there, on the night that Ada was born, had been collected by one of Mycroft's minions, along with Lars Sigerson's other belongings, and returned to London.
As had the blond wig and the latex skull cap, which he had left in the indoor school, that night. The wig and skull cap had given the local bobbies quite a headache, trying to figure out their significance to the case, until the 'minion' asked for them but said their purpose was subject to a D-notice. The police had to be satisfied with that.
The other mystery was the fate of the missing Swedish journalist but, again, the police were instructed to erase him from their records – so they did. Sherlock could always rely on Mycroft to clean up after him, he mused, more than a little smugly.
He was reminded, by that thought, of a conversation he'd had with Molly, earlier in the week. He'd been required to intervene in a spat between his two sons that erupted when Freddie accidentally knocked over one of William's experiments. William was too upset to be easily assuaged and told Freddie he hated him and never wanted to see him again, ever.
Having calmed the situation and given Freddie the opportunity to apologise – 'I solly, Willum. I divn't do it delibelatley. I mend it for you!' – Sherlock reminded the boys that, as brothers, they should be best friends and never let petty squabbles come between them. He knew, even as he said it, that he was being hugely hypocritical. Molly lost no time in pointing that out, too.
'You really should take your own advice,' she chided him. She was, as usual, correct. It was about time he stopped sulking over the house and accept it for what it was – a very generous gift. He would speak to Mycroft, at the earliest opportunity, and clear the air.
Making his way around the front of the barn, to the entrance next to the office, Sherlock spotted Diana, writing on the chalk board pinned to the wall outside the tack room. This board was where the day-to-day instructions were posted – who would ride work on each horse, the names of horses due to see the farrier or the dentist or the physio, the names of any horses due for special treatments or dietary supplements, and so on. It was a low-tech solution but it suited the environment very well.
Diana looked around, as Sherlock's shadow fell across the board.
'Good morning, sir. Can I help you?' she said, without the slightest flicker of recognition.
'I hope so,' he replied, with an amused smile. 'My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm Lord Hadfield's godson. I'm here about his horses.'
'Oh, yes, we're expecting you,' she said, giving Sherlock an appreciative once-over. 'The lady is here, already. She's over at the satellite, having a look at the horses. I can take you there, if you like.'
'No, thank you,' Sherlock replied. 'I know the way.'
Yes, of course, it made perfect sense that the two horses would be kept elsewhere, since they were no longer in training.
Diana looked extremely disappointed, as Sherlock returned to his car, to drive the two miles to the satellite yard, where he parked next to a utility vehicle with 'Greenwood' stencilled on the side, along with the silhouette of two horses, one grazing and one with its head up, ears pricked.
As Sherlock climbed out of his rented car, a lady, with short brown hair, wearing a bottle green baseball cap and polo shirt, bearing the Greenwood emblem, and khaki combat trousers, jumped out of the Ute.
'Mr Holmes!' she greeted him, offering her hand. 'I recognise you from the 'papers.'
'Miss Hobson,' he replied, shaking her hand. 'I hope I haven't kept you waiting long.'
'No, not at all. I had a wander round but couldn't find anyone to announce myself to, so I decided to wait in the truck. Couldn't find the horses, either.'
'They're in the indoor school,' he explained and led the way over there. Sliding the door open – the hasp and staple had not been replaced since the police forced them with a tyre lever, three months earlier – and they stepped into the barn. Miss Hobson looked around the arena, as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer indoor light levels, and settled on the three loose boxes at the far end.
There was an identical horse in each of the two end boxes, one casually hanging his head over the stable door and the other standing at the back of the box, looking around, suspiciously. The middle box, it appeared, was furnished for human occupation. The door was wide open and the two visitors could see a camping cot, against one side wall, one packing case against another, with a hurricane lamp sitting on top of it, and a second packing case bearing a stack of magazines.
And Larry was standing in the middle of that loose box, having obviously just risen from the cot. As Sherlock and the lady approached, he visibly relaxed and stepped forward to meet them.
'Hello, Larry,' Sherlock greeted him and received a nod in reply. 'This is Miss Hobson. She's come to have a look at Gee and his brother.'
Larry nodded again.
'Could you bring him out for us?'
Another nod and Larry turned towards the left hand box.
'You need to watch how he does this,' Sherlock advised the lady. 'He does it in exactly the same way, every time.'
Miss Hobson watched as Larry unhooked the head collar from its hook, opened the stable door and stood with his back to the horse, hands in pockets, mumbling. The horse walked forward and nuzzled his shoulder, he reached up to pull its ear then turned and fitted the halter over the animal's head, unwound the coiled lead rope and led the horse from the box.
'Is it safe to walk round him?' Miss Hobson asked. Sherlock relayed the question and Larry nodded. The lady walked around the horse and lad. Gee followed her with his eyes but did not start or flinch or toss his head.
'Can I touch him?' she asked. Larry nodded and she ran her hand down the animal's neck, over his shoulder and along his back to his haunches. His skin twitched as she did this but he stood still and didn't kick out or try to bite.
'Would you trot him up, please?' Miss Hobson asked. Larry clicked his tongue and set off, walking, down the school. After about ten paces, he broke into a run and trotted the horse to the far end of the arena, turned him around in a big arch and trotted him back up, toward the boxes, coming to rest in front of Sherlock and the woman.
'Well, he's a beautiful animal and I'm sure we could do something with him but he does seem to be very dependent on the lad,' Miss Hobson concluded.
'Yes, they do come as a set,' Sherlock agreed. 'But I think Larry would be a huge asset to your organisation. He is very good with all the problem horses.'
'But would he want to come, too?' the lady asked.
Sherlock shrugged then turned to Larry and said,
'This lady wants to give Gee a home, Larry. And she wants you to go and work for her. It would mean you could stay with your horse and work with other horses, too.' Sherlock explained. 'Would you like that?'
Larry took a moment to process that information but then he nodded and said,
'Yuss, I like that very much.'
Miss Hobson looked at G2, also, and agreed that he would be very easy to rehome – far easier than most of the ex-racehorses that came to Greenwood for rehabilitation and rehoming. G14 would most likely become a permanent resident, since he clearly had some serious psychological issues, but it was felt that a lot could be done to help him become less aggressive.
So it was settled. The deal was sealed with handshakes all round. Larry's skills as a horse whisperer would be put to good use and he would have a job for life. Sherlock would become a patron of the Greenwood Charitable Trust, which would cover the cost of the two animals' care. Miss Hobson agreed that she would return the next day, with a horsebox, and collect all three of the new residents of Greenwood. All that remained was to go back to the main yard and explain the situation to Diana.
'We'll miss Larry,' she said, 'but I know there is no way he would want to be separated from Gee. They're just made for each other.'
Sherlock departed, mission accomplished, leaving Diana and Miss Hobson to work out the final arrangements.
ooOoo
So, that was a surprise! I hope it was a nice one. The Epilogue will - definitely - be next!