Chapter Thirty-Four
I have healed these waters; there shall not be from thence any more death or barren land.
2 Kings 2:21
It was a very quiet ceremony as they had only told the Watsons, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson and Mrs Laidley. If they had told anyone else, there would have been a cast of thousands which both Holmes and Sarah would have hated. In Victorian times, only the upper classes had big fancy weddings. Sarah didn't even need to buy a new dress.
It wasn't long before Holmes was embroiled in the case of the Red-Headed League. It was always interesting to Sarah to occasionally see the case play out from the sidelines when she already had read the answer centuaries into the future. She had to be careful not to let slip any hints. It did annoy Holmes when she could tell him the key to the case before he had told her himself, so she always let him explain it all first.
Rehearsals for the next season were almost finished. Vladimir had decided to have a season of Petipa and produce a full version of Swan Lake and La Bayadere. Sarah was quite excited, but it didn't leave her much spare time. Rehearsals ran most of the day and into some of the evenings.
Occasionally, if Sarah managed to get home at a reasonable time, she would find Holmes sitting cross-legged on an arm-chair smoking like a chimney in front of the fire looking perfectly at home. Other times she would wake up in the morning and the smell of tobacco would lead her to the same sitting room where she would find Holmes in silent contemplation of infinity. She never knew when he would be there. Sometimes he would come by three days in a row. Other times Sarah may not see him for an entire week. He always knew what she had been doing though.
The next eighteen months passed in this way. Sarah had put her foot down with Vladimir and told him she wasn't doing any long tours on the Continent for the time being. Holmes would not have dreamt of stopping Sarah if she had wanted to go, but she knew he wasn't happy about her being away for so long and she didn't want to go for such long periods without seeing him either. Sarah would do guest appearances for enormous sums with other companies on the Continent for a week instead. Vladimir pocketed a substantial sum each time, so he did not mind.
Holmes found it much easier to focus on his work these days. There wasn't the constant niggling worry about Sarah. Now that it was known that she was officially married, her admirers kept their distance. She was also traveling less, so he was able to check on her quite regularly.
At the end of a twelve month season in London, it was with high hopes that Sarah made plans to holiday in Kettleness in North Yorkshire in the company's annual month long break. Sarah had always been curious about the place after reading Bram Stoker's novel way back in her Brisbane life – just morbid curiousity, she figured. It was not fashionable, so she was guaranteed some peace and quiet.
Kettleness lived up to her hopes. It was quiet; almost still and had a brooding quality that she quite liked. The sky and sea were grey more often than not and Sarah could have all the solitude she wanted. After a busy London season, she wanted a lot of it.
Sarah expected to see Holmes during the month. He had just been called away on a case to Switzerland, so she expected it to be a good fortnight before she did.
About a week after Sarah arrived, she received a telegram from Watson. It was about Holmes' death. It gave her a nasty shock for a moment and her legs were just about to give way under her when she remembered that Watson had indeed believed Holmes dead for 3 or 4 years. Sarah knew with the benefit of twenty-first centuary knowledge that Holmes had killed Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls and survived pursuit by one of Moriarty's men. Watson would not learn this fact for years. He truly believed his friend dead. Sarah felt very sad for Watson but suddenly quite comfortable in her knowledge that Holmes was alive, if not perhaps well, and would return to his old life and friends in time. Sarah expected, with a heavy heart, that she would not see Holmes for a long, long time.
That night, there was a strident rapping at Sarah's door.
"Mrs Holmes, its Mrs Norton," she heard a familiar voice call. It still gave Sarah a start when she was called Mrs Holmes. She used her maiden name professionally still.
Sarah cautiously opened the door with her small revolver in her hand which she always kept handy when she was alone.
Irene stepped into the cottage. Sarah would not have recognised her. Her glorious hair was covered in a scarf and she was wearing very simple clothes. Sarah realised she was trying to blend in to her surroundings.
"Mrs Holmes, I'm here on behalf of the Society. Mr Norton asked me to come and tell you that Mr Holmes is still alive and well," she said quickly, looking at Sarah with great concern.
Sarah didn't have to pretend to be relieved. Although she knew Holmes probably still was alive, it was good to get confirmation.
"You are very kind. Imagine coming all the way out here with the message," Sarah said, immediately putting the kettle on.
"Of course I would," she said dismissively. "You're holding up very well," Irene said, observing Sarah compassionately.
"I had a feeling that Mr Holmes was too clever to get himself killed. Why doesn't Dr Watson know?" Sarah asked.
"He's not a member of the Society and only Society members know. They will be protecting him now," Irene explained, taking the coffee Sarah offered.
"Good, then I know he'll be fine," Sarah said confidently, "Do they know where he is?" she asked.
Irene frowned. "Not yet, although they expect him to make contact soon. He had to get away from the Reichenbach Falls quickly and no-one is sure which way he went. As soon as we hear anything, the Society will let you know," she promised.
She gave Sarah back the coffee cup.
"I must go. Mr Norton is waiting for me at the local hotel. We'll be in touch, Mrs Holmes," Irene said and was gone as swiftly as she arrived.
Sarah thought she would not see Holmes for a long time. In this, she could not have been more wrong. He showed up on her doorstep only two nights later, in a terrible state.
Sarah had been sipping tea in front of the fire before getting ready for bed when there was a timid knocking at the door, like someone who wanted to be heard by those inside and not by anyone else. Sarah found it unnerving to be alone in cottage on a desolate piece of coast and hear knocking late at night. She picked up her small revolver and cautiously opened the door. Holmes nearly fell in. Not that she knew it was him at first, his head and face were mostly covered by a scarf.
"Don't shoot, Sarah!" he said feebly, "It's me, Sherlock."
Sarah recognised his voice, put the gun down immediately and wrapped her arms around him. "Sit down in front of the fire, Sherlock," Sarah said sternly, "You are in a dreadful state."
He did as he was bid and she poured hot, sweet tea for him. "I don't have any brandy, I'm sorry," she said as she handed him the tea.
He took the tea with a fleeting twitch of the lips, probably meant as a smile of thanks that he was too exhausted to complete.
"When did you last eat?" Sarah asked in a no-nonsense tone.
He waved a thin hand weakly to indicate that he did not remember and sipped his tea.
"I think you'd better start on nothing more difficult to digest than broth," Sarah said, going through to the small kitchen. She had some chicken soup that she'd made that morning (not trusting local cooks in the least in terms of hygiene) and put it over the fire to warm.
"You don't seem surprised to see me," Holmes said, putting down his empty cup which she promptly refilled. He was starting to look slightly less ghastly.
"Sherlock, I once told you that I wouldn't be surprised to see you in the middle of the Kalahari Desert. Neither am I surprised to see you alive after being told you are dead," Sarah said briskly.
Holmes started to laugh but it turned into a dreadful cough. Sarah frowned at him. He was certainly not well.
"Besides, I had read about your supposed death at Reichenbach Falls and your actual survival a long time ago," Sarah added, going to fetch him some soup in a large cup.
"Of course," Holmes said with some resignation, "I suppose there won't be too many surprises for you."
"I can promise you I get surprised every time I spend five minutes with you, Sherlock," Sarah said dryly.
"Can't I have a bowl and spoon?" he asked querulously, looking with disfavour at the cup.
"No, you're weak and sipping from a cup is easier," Sarah said bossily.
"Is that black band for me?" he asked after awhile, indicated the band on her arm.
"Yes," Sarah said, "I had better keep wearing it as I'm sure you don't want anyone to know you're alive."
Holmes looked at Sarah keenly, "What makes you say that?" he asked, nursing his soup.
"Because if you did, you'd be in London now and not in Kettleness," Sarah replied frankly.
Holmes managed a smile this time, "Very clever of you," he commented, "I've often thought you'd be of great use as a spy, Sarah," Holmes said thoughtfully, "You think like one."
"I've been here for twenty-four hours already but I had to be sure that no-one in these parts recognised you," he added, "I couldn't risk someone recognising me as your husband as well."
"Does the Society know you're here?" Sarah asked.
"Not yet, I need to contact them. I'll need your help with that, Sarah," he replied.
Sarah merely nodded.
"The Nortons have been here," she said.
Holmes looked surprised.
"When?" he asked.
"Two nights ago. Mrs Norton came to tell me you were still alive. I'd just had a telegram from Dr Watson about your untimely demise," Sarah said frankly.
"I owe Norton a favour although it wasn't really necessary as you already knew," Holmes said soberly, "At least you didn't get a fright. That's one good thing."
"You're too clever to get yourself killed," Sarah said with a smile, "There is always a game afoot, isn't there?"
Holmes smiled grimly, but said nothing. As he had finished his soup, Sarah gave him more tea.
"What are your plans?" Sarah asked curiously, although she had some vague ideas that he went off for three or four years traveling and doing research.
"I'm not sure yet, I need to speak to the Society," Holmes said, "I'll be relying on them for information for the time being."
"Well, you need to get your health back first," Sarah said firmly.
"I need you to help me with some correspondence with my brother, Mycroft as well as the Society," Holmes said earnestly.
Sarah nodded assent, but wouldn't discuss it when he was so weak.
Holmes and Sarah fell into a routine. She would feed him two soft boiled eggs and toast with tea for breakfast (and the eggs had to be soft boiled, he was very particular). Then he would go outside and sit near the cottage wall wrapped up warm and staring out to sea and smoke like a chimney while she did her three hours of practice from 9am to noon. As he became more well, he would go for longer and longer walks during this time. They would then have lunch. After that, Sarah would often venture out for a long walk and he would either doze by the fire or work on various pieces of correspondence to Mycroft or the Society which Sarah would be obliged to send under a false name. They would dine fairly lightly as Sarah didn't like big meals at night and then they would retire. Holmes insisted on sharing Sarah's bed each night from the time he arrived although he was obviously weak and sick. She knew that she should have been stern and sensible, but she had missed him too much. He knew perfectly well all he had to do was kiss Sarah and the argument was over.
Although it was the first time they had actually lived together instead of Holmes just visiting Oxford Street, it was surprisingly easy for the two of them to rub along in this way. They didn't interrupt each other or annoy each other particularly and as neither of them was in a particularly social mood, they were able to get along quite peacefully.
About two weeks after Holmes arrived, Mr and Mrs Norton visited the cottage again.
"Come for a walk with me, Mrs Holmes. I have an idea you may be interested in," she said persuasively.
Sarah glanced at Holmes who was watching her closely.
"I need to speak to you as well, Holmes. It's about a Society matter," Mr Norton said.
Mrs Norton dragged Sarah out the door and onto the seaside path where there were benches with views over the brooding sea.
"The Society has had an idea for how to protect Mr Holmes until the Society can take care of his enemies, but we need your help," Mrs Norton said, her turquoise eyes sparkling.
"Of course," Sarah replied.
"How would you like to undertake a joint billed tour of the United States with me? It would take at least two years to travel through the major cities plus another 2 months to get there and back. Mr Holmes could travel with us and undertake some commissions for the Society; they want to establish a branch there. It would keep him out of harm's way. Mr Norton could manage the tour for us both. And Mrs Holmes, we would both make a fortune!" she added excitedly.
Sarah found it hard not to get caught up in her enthusiasm. She did see the benefits both for Holmes' protection and for her career.
"What about Vladimir?" Sarah asked, not wanting to betray the man who had given Sarah her start.
"I think the dollars will persuade him to take the company across the Atlantic, don't you? There is no point him staying in London without you, he won't make any money," Irene said with an airy wave of one hand.
"I need to speak to Mr Holmes, of course," Sarah said to the entrancing woman before her.
"Yes, of course. Mr Norton is discussing aspects of it with him now," Irene said comfortably and then looked out over the view.
"Why did you want to come here for a holiday?" Irene asked with a small frown.
"I was looking for a large, phantom hound," Sarah said, obliquely referring to Dracula's landing at Kettleness.
Mrs Norton looked at Sarah oddly and then realised she was joking and laughed charmingly.
Sarah reflected that her holiday had produced more drama than any novel she had ever read to date, including Dracula.
By the time Irene and Sarah went back to the cottage, the men were smoking like chimneys and appeared to have reached some kind of mutual understanding.
Sarah put the kettle on and made tea. She knew Holmes was watching her every move, trying to see what she was thinking.
Sarah sat down and then realised that everyone was staring at her.
"Why are you all looking at me?" Sarah asked.
"Because it will be your decision, Mrs Holmes. You and Mrs Norton will have to be willing to put yourself through a grueling tour. I know Mrs Norton is very keen, so it really comes down to you," Mr Norton said.
"The tour can be as grueling or not as we choose. We don't have to dance or sing every night of the week and we can plan breaks," Sarah said. She glanced at Holmes. He had his poker face on and there was no way to tell what he was thinking. Knowing Holmes, Sarah suspected he would love to try his powers in a new milieu. There would be plenty of millionaires with conundrums to solve. He was afraid the tour would be too hard on her, so he wasn't going to state his preference. "I think we should go. I would like to see the United States. It's only for a few years," Sarah said with a deep breath.
Irene cheered and hugged Sarah, and Mr Norton grinned broadly and shook hands genially with Holmes. Sarah looked over Irene's shoulder at Holmes and saw that the tension in his body had relaxed. She had been right, he had wanted to go.