Winter

Mrs. Carson kept her eyes on the clear tracks left in the new snow by her husband's shoes and felt like Mr. Doyle's esteemed detective. Although, if she was Mr. Holmes, she'd probably have figured out where he was going and what he was doing by now.

"Daft man," she muttered, concentrating on her footing and hoping the snow didn't get any deeper ahead. "Where does he think he's going on a day like today?"

He'd disappeared mysteriously after lunch, not telling her he was leaving. As she needed several things done in town, she wasn't best pleased about that. Mrs. Patmore said he'd bundled up and headed out without a word.

"But he was humming to beat the band," she'd mentioned with a wink.

Elsie had rolled her eyes at her friend, but after two hours had passed with no word or return, she was starting to get concerned. So, after making sure everything was in order for the rest of the afternoon, she determined to see if she could find him.

She looked ahead to see that his footprints were still going in this direction and gave thanks again for the fresh snow last night. Master George could have tracked him, clear as his trail was. And it was a trail, she was beginning to notice, that led down the "shortcut" to their cottage. They hadn't been taking it in the winter; the track might be longer, but it was usually more clear.

"So…he's gone home?" she asked herself. "Whatever for? And why not say anything…?"

As she made her way through the drifts, concern began to give way to irritation.

"It's too cold for this," she muttered, pulling her coat a little tighter. There was smoke trailing up from the chimney and a cheerful light streamed from the window. The warmth beckoned to her, but didn't exactly thaw her temper.

"Charles?" she called as she hurried in and shut the door behind her. "Charles? Are you…?"

She drew in a quick breath as she saw him stretched out on the settee, and in a moment her anger vanished, replaced by horrid dropping sensation in her stomach. She froze by the door, her eyes wide over the top of her hand covering her mouth.

Then he let out a harsh snore, and the overwhelming feeling of relief made her legs wobble underneath her. She sat heavily in the armchair and stared at him as her heart resumed a normal rhythm.

Suddenly, she heaved an embroidered cushion at him, smacking him in the face with admirable accuracy. He bolted straight up, snorting and sputtering. Wiping his eyes, he saw his beautiful wife glaring at him from the armchair, hefting another cushion in her hand.

"What?! What in the…? Did you just throw that at me?"

"I did," she said firmly, narrowing her eyes, "and it's no less than you deserve for giving me such a fright."

He blinked at her and then looked around in confusion.

"I must have dozed off…" His eyes grew wide with realization that it must be very late indeed if Elsie had come home to find him. "Erm…what time is it?"

"Time for you to explain yourself," she snapped, shaking the cushion at him menacingly. "Why in the world were you home by yourself in the middle of the day? Not a word to anyone where you were going? And on the coldest day of the year…"

"Yes, that's why I lit the fire as soon as I got here," he began to explain, one wary eye on the cushion. "I had only intended to be here a short time, but the fire warmed everything up nicely. I suppose I must have laid down for just a moment…"

"Hmph. When I walked through that door and saw you lying on the settee, I thought…" her voice choked up a bit and she swallowed hard. "I don't know what I thought, but it wasn't very pleasant."

Charles sat up and scooted down to the end of the settee closest to the armchair. He would have gotten up to go to her, but she still had the cushion clutched in one hand, and he didn't think the tears in her eyes would impeded her aim all that much.

"Please believe me, Elsie," he said pleadingly, "I never meant to worry you."

"Why did you sneak off and come home then?" she asked, still angry.

"Well…I had left something important and thought I'd have time to hurry home and get it—"

"And what could be so blessed important that couldn't wait until we came home tonight, so we only had to make one trip out into this cold?"

He smiled sheepishly and pointed towards the table. Elsie looked over and saw a pile of fur and fabric.

"I've been keeping them for Christmas, but it got so cold, I thought I'd better give them to you now," he explained, as Elsie stood up and slowly went over to better see the fur hat, lined gloves and long, tartan wool scarf. "I couldn't find the scarf where I thought I'd left it, and had to look everywhere for it, so it took longer than I thought it would. Then I sat down on the settee…" He stopped as her eyes filled with tears again.

"They're lovely, Charles," she finally said, smiling into his worried eyes. "I only wish you hadn't thought you had to come home in the middle of the day to get them."

"How else could you wear them on the walk home tonight?" he replied with a smile, reaching out for her hand. She clasped it tightly and allowed herself to be pulled towards the settee. "I was going to surprise you with them before we left," he grumbled.

"Oh, I've had quite enough surprises today, thank you," she said as he pulled her into his lap. "And we've no time for this," she scolded as he ran his hand down her back.

He sighed heavily and stood her up. "I suppose you're right," he agreed. "We'd better be getting back."

A harsh gust of wind rattled around the cottage and they both looked dismally out of the window.

"Goodness! It's started snowing again. I can barely see the end of the walk," Elsie exclaimed.

Charles looked with dismay at the snow falling heavily and the drifts already piling up against the cottage. It was going to be difficult just to get the door open, much less trek back to the Abbey through the sudden storm…

"What?" Elsie asked when a smile crept across his face. She couldn't see anything amusing in their situation.

"I don't think we should risk it, Elsie," he replied. "It looks like we're snowed in."

"You can't be serious?" She looked at him in amazement, then took another look out of the window. His hands came around her and clasped over her stomach, pulling her back against him. "You are serious…"

"Quite serious," he mumbled against the back of her neck. "As much as I would like to see you in your new winter things, I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow."

She turned around in his arms and wrapped her arms around his broad back. "Poor dear. I'll have to make it up to you somehow."

"Can we leave the cushion out of it?" he asked.

"I can do more with it than just throw it, Charles..."