As Mrs. Hudson prepared tea service for her lodgers upstairs, she could hear a familiar argument coming through the walls. Disagreement was one of Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson's favored pastimes, from astronomy to philosophy to fried kippers, but this argument had only been added to the repertoire since the Ripper case last autumn.
"My point is that, from your actions, it would seem like you're already courting her," came the steady voice of Dr. Watson.
A yelp came from the violin. "All my actions can be perfectly mapped within the bounds of friendship," Mr. Holmes fired back.
"You have danced with her at every social engagement you two have attended for the past eight months."
"We have a standing agreement to rescue each other from boredom when forced to appear at society functions. A waltz is merely the best gateway to the study or the liquor cabinet. We even caught a jewel thief that one time. No one complained then."
Mrs. Hudson could hear the doctor's eyes rolling. "You've also bought her several gifts."
"You're the one who suggested Fae Tithe."
"A fully Warded ball gown is a little beyond Fae Tithe."
"If Director Grimm is going to continue throwing Officer Lefay undercover in formal settings, he needs to either provide her gowns or raise her salary."
"Holmes, it was to her exact measurements."
"And she often wears trousers. I'm not blind, Watson."
As she brought in the tea service, Mrs. Hudson could have sworn she heard a muttered "Neither am I," from the doctor. Holmes huffed sharply behind her.
"And furthermore," continued Watson. "She has spent the night in this flat, sleeping in your bed."
Holmes sat back in his seat, playfully scandalized. "She was deathly ill with a virus seriously contagious to Fae. She quarantined under our roof in need of your considerable medical expertise, Sir."
"Don't distract with flattery. We have a cot."
"You would put a sick woman in that rickety disgrace? For shame, Doctor. And to think Officer Lefay considers you a friend."
Watson glanced sidelong at Holmes. "Why is she only 'Officer Lefay' when we have this conversation?"
"What conversation are we having, exactly?" Holmes asked, his tone much less playful.
Watson leaned forward. "You tell me."
Mrs. Hudson chose this moment to push the tea service between them. "Back to your corners, my Dears, while the tea is warm."
Both men sighed and obediently took their tea, thankful for the distraction.
"Are you two talking about that lovely young Fae lady?" Asked Mrs. Hudson as she cut the lemon tart. The boys snapped back to attention as if they'd been goosed.
"You know she helped get rid of those boggarts who took up house in my stove last week. Volunteered to do it and wouldn't take tithe in return. She said it's a thanks for always knowing how she liked her tea and biscuits. What a lamb, that girl." She leaned conspiratorially over to Watson. "Though it might be for the best Mr. Holmes was out that day. She had the most darling smudge of coal on her cheek, and he would have teased her mercilessly for it."
"It was on her nose, actually," said Holmes, trying to look casually disinterested before he realized his mistake and froze. Watson and Mrs. Hudson smiled at each other and raised their eyebrows at him.
"I was tending to an experiment in the back garden and happened to look into the window," he said grumpily. "You were both engrossed in conversation, so I chose not to intrude. My memory of Officer Lefay's appearance holds no bearing here, and you two will not gang up on me." He finished with an indignant nod and opened his paper to pointedly ignore them.
Watson deliberately chose the smaller piece of lemon tart as Mrs. Hudson topped off Holmes' tea. Twin gestures of truce he accepted with a nod as he relaxed back in his armchair. For all the ribbing between the three, they knew when the others needed a break. Watson gave Holmes a clap on the shoulder as he went to his desk to write.
Mrs. Hudson busied herself with cleaning up after tea and passed by the front window. A flash of black and iridescence crossing the street below them caught her eye. She looked out, turned back, then took a second look just to be sure.
She spun around with an excited gasp. "Speak of the Fair Folk and they shall appear! Guess who's coming to visit us?"
She whispered a quick "behave" to Holmes on her way to greet the incoming Officer as the gentlemen slightly panicked. Watson tried to clean off enough surfaces for their friend to sit down while Holmes slicked back his hair and straightened his tie. As they heard the door open, accompanied by Mrs. Hudson's cooing greeting, both boys made their way to the door. Holmes was going deliberately slow, fussing with his waistcoat, as if trying to prove his flatmate wrong with through lack of eagerness. Watson just rolled his eyes and strolled to the top of the stair. Celeste Lefay stood, tall and lively and wild as ever, speaking quietly to Mrs. Hudson at the door. However, something was different about her demeanor that cast a worrisome edge on the interaction. She looked up at his step and Watson noted how Miss Lefay was missing her characteristic confident, crooked smile. In its place was an anxious look, even a little lost. Whatever brought her to their door today was dire indeed.
Holmes, who soon appeared beside him on the landing, sensed the same unease in her expression. Her eyes met his, and Watson heard a sharp intake of air from him as he bounded down half the stairs.
"My dear Leopard, I am sorry," Holmes said, holding out his hand for her. "Tell me what they did to you."
