Day 17 - From V Tsuion: Someone is a time traveller

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I could tell Holmes was starting to itch for a new case. The bees and his violin kept him from descending into the depth of the foul mood that usually accompanied his growing boredom, but he was still growing restless, spending long hours at the window watching people on the street below, and making small observations about their professions, and the likelihood that they would require his services.

"It's no use Watson," Holmes said, switching back to watching his bees in the observation hive instead of people on the street. "Baring murder or a very time-sensitive case, most people are quite content to put aside matters for which they might need a detective until the end of the yuletide season."

"Yes," I agreed. "Though that will give me time to finish writing about our recent escapades." I paused in thought as a high-pitched barking began from downstairs. "Though perhaps Mrs Hudson will hire you to find where the dog she acquired belongs."

"An excellent suggestion, Watson," Holmes said, standing and searching for his coat and gloves.

Mrs Hudson agreed, saying she'd feel better if she knew the little dog wasn't being missed by an owner, with the caveat that if the small dog's owners were neglectful instead of unfortunate, that the dog would stay with her. Holmes found the terms acceptable, and with the price for solving the case set at one baked mincemeat pie, we were off to search Baker Street.

It was an unfruitful search, with very few having seen or heard of a missing dog, and none of them matching the description of Mrs Hudson's. The midday sun began melting the snow on the street into gray slush and we still hadn't found a single clue.

"We'll continue our search until dusk, Watson," Holmes said.

I nodded, and pulled my coat closer around me and scanned the street for any pedestrians searching for a lost dog, or doing something out of the ordinary. After a time, my eyes happened to fall upon a young woman on the other side of the street.

She was tall, for a woman, and handsome, with rich brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders, and her blue eyes widened in recognition when she caught sight of Holmes and me. Whether in horror or shock, I could not tell, since the expression was gone as fast as it had appeared, and she smiled to herself and ducked her head. It was a most unusual reaction since I had never seen her before in my life.

Holmes honed in on her reaction in an instant, crossing the street to introduce himself, and bluntly inquired why she seemed shocked to recognize him.

"My name is Jadzia," she said. "I'm afraid I recognized you both from Dr Watson's stories."

"Jadzia? That's an unusual name," I remarked. Her accent was unusual as well, and I found myself unable to place it.

"I'm not from around here," Jadzia said, and her eyes seemed to dance with mischief for a moment. "Just visiting."

"I see," Holmes said. "You appeared to be searching for something. Perhaps Watson and I could assist."

"I really shouldn't take any of your time, with such a simple task, but I'm actually searching for a replacement part for one of my…inventions," she said. "You don't happen to know a blacksmith who would let me make my own piece?"

It was an unusual request, but Holmes and I assisted her, and as she thanked us and bid us farewell, she leaned close and whispered in my ear, "I'd appreciate if you never wrote anything about this, Doctor." Then she was off to make her piece, leaving Holmes and I to spend the rest of the day searching for anyone missing a dog.

We returned to 221B Baker Street with the news that as far as Holmes could tell, Mrs Hudson was now the new owner of a dog. She didn't seem displeased with that information, and paid us in one mincemeat pie, though we hadn't really uncovered any evidence.

After we had eaten our fill of mincemeat, and were relaxing in front of the fire, I tried to return to my manuscript, but found my thoughts consumed by one person who requested not to be written about. If Holmes knew more about her, he hadn't said, and finally I could no longer contain my curiosity.

"Where do you suppose Jadzia is from?" I asked.

"I have my suspicions, Watson," Holmes said, turning to regard me with a piercing stare. "What did she say to your before we left?"

"She asked me not to ever write about her," I said.

"That settles it," Holmes said, as if I had solved the mystery for him. "If all goes well for her, I don't suppose we'll ever meet again."

"Whatever do you mean, Holmes?" I sputtered. "Who was she?"

Holmes just chuckled and took up his pipe. "Watson, some mysteries are better left unsaid, at least for all parties concerned."

I puzzled over Holmes' words for the rest of the night, but could never figure out what he had meant.