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Holmes was silent on our train journey to Gravesend. He stared out the window, his brows knitted and arms folded over his chest as if in deep consternation. I attempted to engage him in conversation, but my efforts were wholly futile, and I finally left Holmes to himself. Once we arrived at our destination, we made our way to the home of Doctor Montand. It was set off a ways apart from the center of Gravesend, down a suburban row of trees and quaint cottages. At once the home impressed me at the undeniable apex of the town. It was a large brick affair with all the appearance of an upper class home, but the air of the place was relaxed, almost like one's home although one had never visited. Holmes and I approached and rang the bell. The woman who answered was not Doctor Montand.
"May I help you gentlemen?"
"Good morning, madam." Holmes said, bowing formally. "I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and-"
"I know quite well who you are, Mr. Holmes." The lady replied sharply. The wrinkles in her old face seemed much more severe with the impeccable gray bun atop her head, and even more so when coupled by the disapproving frown she was giving Holmes. Her reply intrigued me. Where in Holmes' past did this woman figure in? However, Holmes cast a sideways glance in my direction, and not an entirely favorable one. I reasoned that apparently my tales of Holmes' exploits reached far and wide, and perhaps too many knew my friend simply based on my narratives.
That must be it.
"Then I fear you have a disadvantage over me, madam." Holmes replied, staring pointedly at the lady.
"And I am Doctor John Watson, Mr. Holmes' colleague." I quickly interjected. The woman nodded curtly at me.
"I am Mrs. Sotheby, the housekeeper. I assume you are not here for a medical problem?"
"We are here at Doctor Montand's request to investigate the disappearance of her son." Holmes said. Mrs. Sotheby's face immediately made a complete change, from that of a strict guardian to a concerned, tired friend.
"Yes of course, sir. I shall show you in." We followed the housekeeper into the home. The front room, which was right off of the large foyer we were ushered into, afforded an excellent view of the road leading up to the house. It appeared to be where most of the living in the house was conducted. Personal effects and medical instruments were lying haphazardly about the room, and a massive desk near the window was strewn with papers and documents.
"Doctor Montand is with a patient at the moment, gentlemen, but she will be with you presently."
"Just a moment, Mrs. Sotheby." Holmes murmured, gazing about the room as if it were a museum exhibit.
"Your mistress has already given me the facts of the case as it stands. Can you add anything more to it?" The housekeeper sighed, wringing her hands.
"It was the greatest shock of my life, sir, when we found that young John had gone missing. He runs off often enough, but he always returns. When Doctor Montand herself finally gave up hope, I knew it was no idle wandering."
"When did you discover his disappearance, madam?" I asked.
"Just 3 days ago, Doctor. I thought at first he may have locked himself in his room, but when we opened it and found he wasn't in it, even Doctor Montand was at a loss for explanation. She hurried straightaway to London, going to every place she could think of him possibly being."
"Have you any idea of where he may have gone, if indeed he has left of his own free will?" Holmes said, picking up various items around the room and inspecting them.
"Until this morning I thought perhaps he had gone off to London to see you, sir."
"To see Mr. Holmes, madam?" I inquired. Why on earth would the boy seek out Holmes? He certainly could have no case for him, and no attachment to Holmes in the slightest.
"Why, yes, Doctor Watson." Mrs. Sotheby replied, a strange look of confusion coming over her face. "It seemed the only other place he might-"
"Well gentlemen." Doctor Montand walked briskly into the room, interrupting her housekeeper. She was rolling down her sleeves, obviously just finished with an examination.
"You are a trifle early."
"Excuse me, Doctor, but Mrs. Sotheby was just-"I began, not wanting to lose this perhaps important detail.
"Ah yes. Thank you, Mrs. Sotheby, that will be all." The lady said curtly. I turned to glance at Holmes, perhaps for his assistance in not allowing this clue to be overlooked. But Holmes seemed entirely oblivious to what Mrs. Sotheby had said, indeed, was completely ignoring it even. The housekeeper gave a slight nod and exited the room.
"I have no doubt, " Doctor Montand said, crossing to Holmes and taking the stethoscope he was examining idly, replacing it upon her desk. "That you wish to make a thorough inspection of my son's room and the area surrounding it?" Holmes straightened up.
"Of course, madam. Please, lead the way." Doctor Montand turned, quick and direct. Suspicions again began to play at the corners of my mind. How could the boy know Holmes or have possibly fled to him? Why did both Holmes ignore this thought? I determined I would get the answer to this question before the case was ended.
"Holmes, about what that housekeeper said-"
"Pay it no heed, Watson. I've no doubt that it's simply a mixture of stress and your lurid tales that are feeding that woman's imagination." Holmes replied simply. I sighed at being put off so efficiently. Doctor Montand opened the boy's room with her key.
"Why have you kept it locked, Doctor?" I asked.
"I have not ruled out the possibility that my son's disappearance may not have been of his own doing, Doctor Watson. Many strangers enter this house throughout the day, and I did not want to risk the chance of perhaps important details being disturbed." The lady replied. It was quite an amount of foresight, but then again this lady had already surprised me beyond quite a few measures.
"You believe it may have been one of your patients then?" Holmes said, glancing at Doctor Montand and pausing in the doorway.
"I do not suspect any of my regular patients. There may be those who are not as fond of me however, that I would not entirely rule out." At this last sentence she stared at Holmes with that same suspicious glance as she had back in Baker Street, as if he was somehow to blame for her son's disappearance. Holmes ignored it however, and began his inspection of the room. It was a normal enough room, save for the fact that it looked as though it was rarely used, perhaps for sleeping and little else. The window had a layer of dust on its edges, perhaps meaning that it had not been opened for a good while. Holmes stared at it.
"You say this window was fastened and shut?" The lady raised an eyebrow.
"You can see that for yourself sir. It is still fastened and shut." Holmes smirked.
"Then I fear madam, you may have made a mistake. This window has been opened recently. Look, here on the sill." Both the Doctor and I moved to inspect. Indeed, barely noticeable but there all the same, within the layer of dust there were unmistakable fingerprints.
"Whether young John has left of his own will or not, it was out of this window that he exited." Holmes said, almost smugly. The Doctor narrowed her eyes.
"Yes Mr. Holmes. Now we are aware of how he has left the house. I am a bit more concerned with where he is and why he is there." Holmes frowned.
"Details, Doctor Montand, are how we shall discover that. If you did not believe in my methods, you ought not to have sought my help." The Doctor looked as though she wished to retort but instead said nothing. Holmes then led us out of the room and out of the house to inspect the grounds outside the boy's window. The outside of the house was layered in a thick trellis of ivy.
"Could the boy have climbed down this ivy?" I asked as Holmes pulled on the layers, testing their strength. The lady shrugged.
"I have never attempted it, but I suppose it could be done." For a moment I began to laugh, but one look at her serious face told me that the lady scaling a wall of ivy was perhaps not as preposterous a suggestion as I took it to be.
"He was carried down the ivy. Or pulled off of it." Holmes muttered.
"And why do you say that, Holmes?"
"There is, no doubt, an unmistakable trail of broken leaves and ripped stems leading from the boy's window and down to the ground. But in several places away from the trail, great patches of ivy have been ripped from the wall, showing perhaps that the boy attempted to leap to another section to elude his kidnappers." I followed Holmes' eyes to each section of the great mass of ivy. The ground below them, however was clear, devoid of any of the broken leaves or stems Holmes spoke of.
"To the casual observer, one would have never noticed. Without any evidence on the ground, one hardly inspects the wall above it." Doctor Montand said defensively, perhaps in response to the look Holmes was giving her. It was almost disappointment, as he expected more and was quite let down.
"Well, madam, I believe there is little else to be learned from your home. I have two other paths I wish to follow, and I believe that I shall send you upon one of them, Watson." I straightened up. Holmes trusting me to do the detective work was an occasion that seldom occurred, and when it did, I was eager to live up to his expectations.
"And what would that be, Holmes?"
"You are to go into town and ask after John Montand, Watson. Find out if the boy had any recent skirmishes, entanglements, and the like. I doubt the townspeople will give you much trouble when they discover that the boy is missing." I nodded. We all three walked back to the house, Doctor Montand and Holmes going into the lady's study, and I in the foyer, retrieving my hat and coat. Although the lady believed her door to be firmly shut, it was slightly ajar, and I could make out distinct parts of their conversation.
".That, Doctor, is hardly the point of this visit." Holmes' sharp voice came through, but I was unable to make out what the lady had said beforehand.
".rather I told him the truth?" Came heatedly from Doctor Montand. Their conversation suddenly became hushed, as if they realized that I was on tiptoes, straining to hear. I sighed. There was more mystery in the victims and detectives in this case than in the mystery itself. I made my way into the town, determined that before it was all over, I would discover what connection Doctor Montand and her missing son had to Holmes.
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Holmes was silent on our train journey to Gravesend. He stared out the window, his brows knitted and arms folded over his chest as if in deep consternation. I attempted to engage him in conversation, but my efforts were wholly futile, and I finally left Holmes to himself. Once we arrived at our destination, we made our way to the home of Doctor Montand. It was set off a ways apart from the center of Gravesend, down a suburban row of trees and quaint cottages. At once the home impressed me at the undeniable apex of the town. It was a large brick affair with all the appearance of an upper class home, but the air of the place was relaxed, almost like one's home although one had never visited. Holmes and I approached and rang the bell. The woman who answered was not Doctor Montand.
"May I help you gentlemen?"
"Good morning, madam." Holmes said, bowing formally. "I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and-"
"I know quite well who you are, Mr. Holmes." The lady replied sharply. The wrinkles in her old face seemed much more severe with the impeccable gray bun atop her head, and even more so when coupled by the disapproving frown she was giving Holmes. Her reply intrigued me. Where in Holmes' past did this woman figure in? However, Holmes cast a sideways glance in my direction, and not an entirely favorable one. I reasoned that apparently my tales of Holmes' exploits reached far and wide, and perhaps too many knew my friend simply based on my narratives.
That must be it.
"Then I fear you have a disadvantage over me, madam." Holmes replied, staring pointedly at the lady.
"And I am Doctor John Watson, Mr. Holmes' colleague." I quickly interjected. The woman nodded curtly at me.
"I am Mrs. Sotheby, the housekeeper. I assume you are not here for a medical problem?"
"We are here at Doctor Montand's request to investigate the disappearance of her son." Holmes said. Mrs. Sotheby's face immediately made a complete change, from that of a strict guardian to a concerned, tired friend.
"Yes of course, sir. I shall show you in." We followed the housekeeper into the home. The front room, which was right off of the large foyer we were ushered into, afforded an excellent view of the road leading up to the house. It appeared to be where most of the living in the house was conducted. Personal effects and medical instruments were lying haphazardly about the room, and a massive desk near the window was strewn with papers and documents.
"Doctor Montand is with a patient at the moment, gentlemen, but she will be with you presently."
"Just a moment, Mrs. Sotheby." Holmes murmured, gazing about the room as if it were a museum exhibit.
"Your mistress has already given me the facts of the case as it stands. Can you add anything more to it?" The housekeeper sighed, wringing her hands.
"It was the greatest shock of my life, sir, when we found that young John had gone missing. He runs off often enough, but he always returns. When Doctor Montand herself finally gave up hope, I knew it was no idle wandering."
"When did you discover his disappearance, madam?" I asked.
"Just 3 days ago, Doctor. I thought at first he may have locked himself in his room, but when we opened it and found he wasn't in it, even Doctor Montand was at a loss for explanation. She hurried straightaway to London, going to every place she could think of him possibly being."
"Have you any idea of where he may have gone, if indeed he has left of his own free will?" Holmes said, picking up various items around the room and inspecting them.
"Until this morning I thought perhaps he had gone off to London to see you, sir."
"To see Mr. Holmes, madam?" I inquired. Why on earth would the boy seek out Holmes? He certainly could have no case for him, and no attachment to Holmes in the slightest.
"Why, yes, Doctor Watson." Mrs. Sotheby replied, a strange look of confusion coming over her face. "It seemed the only other place he might-"
"Well gentlemen." Doctor Montand walked briskly into the room, interrupting her housekeeper. She was rolling down her sleeves, obviously just finished with an examination.
"You are a trifle early."
"Excuse me, Doctor, but Mrs. Sotheby was just-"I began, not wanting to lose this perhaps important detail.
"Ah yes. Thank you, Mrs. Sotheby, that will be all." The lady said curtly. I turned to glance at Holmes, perhaps for his assistance in not allowing this clue to be overlooked. But Holmes seemed entirely oblivious to what Mrs. Sotheby had said, indeed, was completely ignoring it even. The housekeeper gave a slight nod and exited the room.
"I have no doubt, " Doctor Montand said, crossing to Holmes and taking the stethoscope he was examining idly, replacing it upon her desk. "That you wish to make a thorough inspection of my son's room and the area surrounding it?" Holmes straightened up.
"Of course, madam. Please, lead the way." Doctor Montand turned, quick and direct. Suspicions again began to play at the corners of my mind. How could the boy know Holmes or have possibly fled to him? Why did both Holmes ignore this thought? I determined I would get the answer to this question before the case was ended.
"Holmes, about what that housekeeper said-"
"Pay it no heed, Watson. I've no doubt that it's simply a mixture of stress and your lurid tales that are feeding that woman's imagination." Holmes replied simply. I sighed at being put off so efficiently. Doctor Montand opened the boy's room with her key.
"Why have you kept it locked, Doctor?" I asked.
"I have not ruled out the possibility that my son's disappearance may not have been of his own doing, Doctor Watson. Many strangers enter this house throughout the day, and I did not want to risk the chance of perhaps important details being disturbed." The lady replied. It was quite an amount of foresight, but then again this lady had already surprised me beyond quite a few measures.
"You believe it may have been one of your patients then?" Holmes said, glancing at Doctor Montand and pausing in the doorway.
"I do not suspect any of my regular patients. There may be those who are not as fond of me however, that I would not entirely rule out." At this last sentence she stared at Holmes with that same suspicious glance as she had back in Baker Street, as if he was somehow to blame for her son's disappearance. Holmes ignored it however, and began his inspection of the room. It was a normal enough room, save for the fact that it looked as though it was rarely used, perhaps for sleeping and little else. The window had a layer of dust on its edges, perhaps meaning that it had not been opened for a good while. Holmes stared at it.
"You say this window was fastened and shut?" The lady raised an eyebrow.
"You can see that for yourself sir. It is still fastened and shut." Holmes smirked.
"Then I fear madam, you may have made a mistake. This window has been opened recently. Look, here on the sill." Both the Doctor and I moved to inspect. Indeed, barely noticeable but there all the same, within the layer of dust there were unmistakable fingerprints.
"Whether young John has left of his own will or not, it was out of this window that he exited." Holmes said, almost smugly. The Doctor narrowed her eyes.
"Yes Mr. Holmes. Now we are aware of how he has left the house. I am a bit more concerned with where he is and why he is there." Holmes frowned.
"Details, Doctor Montand, are how we shall discover that. If you did not believe in my methods, you ought not to have sought my help." The Doctor looked as though she wished to retort but instead said nothing. Holmes then led us out of the room and out of the house to inspect the grounds outside the boy's window. The outside of the house was layered in a thick trellis of ivy.
"Could the boy have climbed down this ivy?" I asked as Holmes pulled on the layers, testing their strength. The lady shrugged.
"I have never attempted it, but I suppose it could be done." For a moment I began to laugh, but one look at her serious face told me that the lady scaling a wall of ivy was perhaps not as preposterous a suggestion as I took it to be.
"He was carried down the ivy. Or pulled off of it." Holmes muttered.
"And why do you say that, Holmes?"
"There is, no doubt, an unmistakable trail of broken leaves and ripped stems leading from the boy's window and down to the ground. But in several places away from the trail, great patches of ivy have been ripped from the wall, showing perhaps that the boy attempted to leap to another section to elude his kidnappers." I followed Holmes' eyes to each section of the great mass of ivy. The ground below them, however was clear, devoid of any of the broken leaves or stems Holmes spoke of.
"To the casual observer, one would have never noticed. Without any evidence on the ground, one hardly inspects the wall above it." Doctor Montand said defensively, perhaps in response to the look Holmes was giving her. It was almost disappointment, as he expected more and was quite let down.
"Well, madam, I believe there is little else to be learned from your home. I have two other paths I wish to follow, and I believe that I shall send you upon one of them, Watson." I straightened up. Holmes trusting me to do the detective work was an occasion that seldom occurred, and when it did, I was eager to live up to his expectations.
"And what would that be, Holmes?"
"You are to go into town and ask after John Montand, Watson. Find out if the boy had any recent skirmishes, entanglements, and the like. I doubt the townspeople will give you much trouble when they discover that the boy is missing." I nodded. We all three walked back to the house, Doctor Montand and Holmes going into the lady's study, and I in the foyer, retrieving my hat and coat. Although the lady believed her door to be firmly shut, it was slightly ajar, and I could make out distinct parts of their conversation.
".That, Doctor, is hardly the point of this visit." Holmes' sharp voice came through, but I was unable to make out what the lady had said beforehand.
".rather I told him the truth?" Came heatedly from Doctor Montand. Their conversation suddenly became hushed, as if they realized that I was on tiptoes, straining to hear. I sighed. There was more mystery in the victims and detectives in this case than in the mystery itself. I made my way into the town, determined that before it was all over, I would discover what connection Doctor Montand and her missing son had to Holmes.
