Prompt: "Most unladylike, Mrs. Watson!" from Winter Winks 221
It was in the early afternoon, right after John had gone out on his midday rounds, when my maid announced that Mr. Sherlock Holmes was waiting in the parlor. I at once dropped my mending and went to meet him. We had seen little of him since our wedding, not out of any desire not to, but simply because we had been so busy and caught up in our own little world of domestic bliss that other considerations fell by the wayside, unfortunately. I had been intending to suggest to John that we should invite our friends to dinner, though I had lately given up on that idea once I discovered that he had few friends himself save for Mr. Holmes. I hardly thought Mr. Holmes would enjoy an evening spent with my friends, and so had not said anything. Though I had still intended to mention to John that he ought to spend more time with his friend; after he had figured so prominently in the story of our meeting, I had no wish to see him disappear from our lives. It appeared now as if our fears had been for naught.
"Mr. Holmes!" I said. "Welcome. I am so glad you've come. I've been meaning to send John to ask you to dinner."
"Ah, good afternoon, Mrs. Watson," Mr. Holmes said with a charming smile. "I see you have been engaged with some mending of socks, do not allow me to keep you. Is Watson in?"
I had to laugh, for I had indeed been mending socks. "You are quite correct, Mr. Holmes. No, unfortunately, he isn't. He's at his midday rounds. Shall I tell him you called? It will be some time before he returns."
"No, no, do not trouble yourself," Mr. Holmes said, though he looked more than slightly disappointed. I wondered if he had thought to find John always at the ready, as he had been when he lived at Baker Street. John had told me his friend was more than a little eccentric in his ways, though I had seen little evidence of this so far. Mr. Holmes was a perfect gentleman to me, though I knew from reading John's stories (so far, all unpublished save the story of their meeting) that this was not always the case! "I merely wished to see if you and he wished to accompany me to a concert tonight. I have seats for a new rendition of Mozart. His great symphony in G minor, I believe. If you would be so good as to have him send a telegram to Baker Street with his answer when he returns…?"
"Oh, you do not need to wait for that. I can tell you we have nothing on for tonight and shall be delighted to attend," I said.
"Excellent, I shall be here at seven precisely," he answered, before taking his leave. I beamed to myself, happy that John should have the chance to spend some time with his friend. I had never been to a concert before, and found myself quite looking forward to it.
"I do not know why I agreed to come!" I said in anguish to John later. It had occurred to me, not long after Mr. Holmes left, that I had led a most sheltered life and was not accustomed to being out in society. Certainly not among the grand ladies and gentlemen who were sure to attend such a concert. "I have hardly anything to wear!"
"The gown you are wearing is lovely," John said, looking quite perturbed at my state of mind.
"Oh, perhaps, but I know little of music," I said.
"Did you not learn to play the piano at boarding school?" John asked.
"Yes, of course," I said. "It is expected of women training to be governesses."
"Well, then, of course you know something of music. More than I do, I'm certain," he answered.
Dear John is so patient and kind, but as Mr. Holmes says, he is hardly observant. "Yes, but I know only enough to play the instrument. I certainly do not know much of the great composers and the workings of a great piece like the one we are to see. And you've always said Mr. Holmes is such a great student of music." It was expected of women to play an instrument, yet as in most things, what we were taught was far less than what men were taught in the same subject.
"So he is, when he decides to actually play that blasted violin instead of scraping the bow across it," John said, though the fondness in his tone belied his words. "I assure you, Mary, he does not attend these concerts to pick apart the musical performance."
"No?" I asked.
"Well," John said. "Perhaps he does, but only when it does not meet with his approval. No, he attends concerts because there is no greater opportunity for the trained observer and deductive reasoner than a concert with all of London society in attendance. As he says." He smiled. "Believe me, Mary, he will be the most entertaining thing about tonight."
"Ah, Mrs. Watson. That is a lovely gown. It comes from _ and Sons, does it not?" Mr. Holmes arrived in a four-person cab, dressed resplendently in black. "I took the liberty of bringing along two extra pairs of opera glasses for you." He handed us two small pairs of opera glasses, which I am somewhat ashamed to say, made me smile like a child.
"I have always wanted to use a pair of these!" I said.
John chuckled fondly and even Mr. Holmes smiled. We arrived at the same time as what appeared to be most of London, and I took John's arm as we went inside. I immediately felt a trifle self-conscious, as my best gown seemed drab compared to the finery some of the grand ladies wore.
"Ah, there is the Countess of Rothes. Do you know, I returned that very diamond she is wearing to her after her stepson made off with it. It only narrowly escaped a long sea voyage to Australia," Mr. Holmes said.
"Did you really?" I asked, looking at the woman in question. On her head was a tiara which appeared extremely top-heavy, so large was the diamond in its center.
"Oh, yes. You see how she is avoiding my gaze? She knows I know of her perfidious stepson and wants nothing to do with me," Mr. Holmes said. He smiled languidly, and I had no doubt that he knew secrets about most of these people they would not like to see made public. Still, I gazed after the Countess, contemplating that if any of the women of my acquaintance had had such a stepson, she would be whispered about and thought ill of. Wealth went a long way toward hiding one's family sins, it seemed.
We made our way to our seats, where Mr. Holmes trained his opera glasses on the stage. "Ah, Redson is back. You see, Watson?" He pointed out the man in the first violin chair. "He has a most peculiar way of holding his violin. Likely the result of a childhood wrist injury, do you not agree, Watson? In any case, it produces the most unusual sound and I believe it galls his fellow violinists that he is made first chair because of it." This last speech was given to me, as I had no doubt that John had heard it before. Yet I appreciated Mr. Holmes's kind attention to me, for I was feeling rather overwhelmed by it all.
This feeling soon passed, for I was lost in the music once it started, and I quite forgot I had ever been nervous. We were all one once we were listening, and I considered that music is the one joy that appeared to be shared by all humanity. We are all equal when listening to a beautiful composition, and I was quite disappointed when the intermission began.
"I think I would like to get some air," I said, for it had grown very hot in the concert hall.
"Allow me to accompany you," Mr. Holmes said graciously, offering me his arm. John waved us on; I knew that he would find the crowded halls difficult with his leg, and was grateful Mr. Holmes had seen fit to see to me.
"Thank you for a very nice evening," I said to Mr. Holmes. "I have never attended such a concert before."
"It is my pleasure," he answered.
"My husband says you attend mostly for the opportunity to watch your fellow concert-goers," I said conspiratorially.
To my delight, Mr. Holmes laughed aloud. "There is no better school for observation and deductive reasoning than a mass of people all attending the same event."
"That is exactly what he said you would say!"
"Well, Mrs. Watson, let us take that lady over there," Mr. Holmes said, pointing to a lady of middle age wearing a large feather in her hair that stuck straight up to a point. "That ostrich feather is no mere decoration; it is her point of pride. You see it is not so straight as it could be, and that its feathers are wrinkled and out of sorts?"
"Yes," I said.
"We can deduce that the feather is not one she purchased, but one that was given to her by someone, and that this fellow, whoever he is, told her that he killed the bird himself. I would guess a brother, as there is no ring which would indicate marriage on her finger. Yet the quality of the feather suggests that the bird was not as prime a specimen as one would hope, and has a thinness of quality that is associated with captive birds rather than wild ones. One may only come into contact with a captive ostrich in one place: a zoo. So we can deduce that, instead of having bagged a bird himself, the fellow simply plucked one from an unsuspecting bird at a zoo and has fooled his sister into wearing that as her prize!"
I could not help it; after his speech I burst into loud laughter, letting go of Mr. Holmes's arm in the process. The image of someone sticking their hand into an ostrich's cage and then bequeathing the result to their sister to wear in her hair was too funny to resist, and several bystanders looked scandalized in my direction.
Including, I realize too late, Mrs. Forrester. "Most unladylike, Mrs. Watson!" she said, coming up next to me and taking my arm. Her tone was horrified. "Where is your husband?"
My former employer must not have realized I was not alone. "He is back at our seats," I said, masking my laughter into a contrite expression.
"I have accompanied Mrs. Watson out for some air," Mr. Holmes said smoothly, appearing at my side.
"May I introduce you to Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" I said, having finally got my breath back. "He is my husband's closest friend."
"Charmed," Mrs. Forrester said. "Well, do enjoy the rest of the concert, my dear." She looked rather disappointed she could not deliver me back to my husband, perhaps with an admonishment about my behavior.
"She means well," I said. "She has always rather looked after me, alone in the world as I was. Even though I was her employee."
Mr. Holmes was silent for a moment. "I do hope," he finally said, "that you no longer consider yourself alone in the world."
"Not at all," I said, taking his arm again. "I am far richer than I ever thought to be. Tonight has been most entertaining."
"I am glad," he answered. "Though I will refrain from making you laugh again until we have taken our seats, when I will tell you about the cellist, who has a twin he often switches places with."
"I take it you are the only one who notices this?" I asked with a laugh.
"Indeed," Mr. Holmes said. "That is not to mention the conductor, who bears distinct signs of having escaped from the Russian army."
"You must tell me when we return to our seats," I said, extracting a promise from him that he would. I reflected that John had been right. Mr. Holmes was quite as entertaining as any concert in his own right. I would have to invite him to dinner soon. In fact, I would have to scold John for not telling me how very enjoyable his friend could be. Eccentric, indeed!