The sun still came up. The weather was still as dismally cold as it had been the day before. My mind told me not to be silly - that just because I had insulted my best friend and partner to the point of the dissolution of our relationship would not change the reality of the world outside. What had possessed me to act so childish, I could not fathom.
Wait a minute... now I remember. I shivered as I threw on my robe to ward off the chill. The heat in the building was intermittent at best, non-functioning on all the other days. Shuffling into the kitchen and lighting the stove, I realized where everything had gone wrong. Nothing like being literally dragged out of a ballroom by a very angry consulting detective. Irritation at his high-handed behavior came to simmer at the surface once more. I set the kettle on to boil and sat down on the gradually warming floor, directly in front of the stove, basking in the meager warmth for what it was worth.
How dare he do such a thing?
It's not like he held any ownership papers for me. I wondered to myself if this row would blow over as some of our disagreements had in the past, or it this was truly the termination of our alliance.
The kettle whistled merrily, the only warm sound in the flat at the moment. As I prepared a cup of tea, I contemplated going down to the telegraph office and leaving him a message. Very seldom would he use his telephone, and even if I could guarantee he would pick it up, I wasn't quite sure what to say to him over the line. It would be easier if I could communicate on paper - to gather my thoughts coherently and not let emotion cloud my judgment. Any tears had been shocked dry by his actions last night. Just another event in my life that I was inexplicably unable to grieve over.
The case wasn't all that important. It was the way he had treated me, as if I was a small child who could not understand the dangers that the cruel world outside the walls of the schoolroom held within its icy grasp. Knowing Holmes as long as I had, there had to be something more to this overly emotional response. I had grown accustomed during our relatively short partnership to the idea that he always seemed to know more about a case than I did. I simply chalked that up to long experience on his part.
As I finished the last dregs of the cup, I contemplated my plan of action... at least for today. I had a lunch appointment with the handsome lieutenant from the night before. I even thought about canceling that, but decided that course of action at the moment would be fruitless. I had better make this case worth something, if my friendship with Holmes was to be sacrificed because of it. Going to my closet, I chose a jaunty silk and tweed number, another piece created by my elves, and slipped into it. Wrapping and pinning the honey blonde strands of my hair into place completed the outfit. Shrugging on my dress coat, I went outside and walked down to the garage where my Morris was kept.
The garage operator offered to pull the car out for me. I watched him slip behind the wheel and turn the key, a frown slowly creeping upon his face. The car wouldn't even turn over. He got out of the car and looked at me with confusion. "I don't rightly know what's wrong with it, Miss Russell. It ran just fine t'other day." A scratch of his bald head topped off the scene of disbelief. "When me son comes in, I'll have 'im take a look at it for ya. If anyone can fix it, he can."
"Would it be at all possible to give me a lift to the station? I really have an urgent appointment to meet and if I can get to the station in the next few minutes, I could just make the train into London." The air was growing colder and I didn't want to have to stand around her all day waiting for the garage owner's son to show up. How odd that the Morris would decide to do this now. I pushed it to the back of my mind as the older man pulled his sedan out of the garage and opened the door for me. Inside it smelled of the mechanic owner that maintained it, all oil and grease and pungent gasoline. The man muttered an embarrassed apology for the state of his vehicle, to which I reassured him I would not complain of the choice of chariot.
I arrived at the station a few minutes before the next train was destined to pull in. Purchasing the ticket from the seller, I went out onto the platform to wait. The wind whipped my coat, reminding me of the inclement weather of the previous evening. Not wanting to remember but unable to forget the horrid words said on both sides. I so wanted to give in and throw myself at Holmes' mercy, hoping beyond hope that he would forgive me and all would be set to rights. So why in the hell was I continuing on the path I had chosen this morning? No rational explanation could be given, only my pride kept me here. If I gave in now, how would he ever respect me? The problem was: was it his respect and admiration I wanted or simply his understanding and comforting presence? One meant a platonic partnership between equals, the latter meant so much more. Was I setting out on a venture that was embarked upon for the distraction it posed as well as the foolishness of a recalcitrant child straining not to be brought to heel?
I stood there in physical silence, but with the roar of my inner turmoil swirling around me. Puffs of oily gray smoke billowed on the horizon as the train puffed into sight of the train station. It chugged and wheezed into the depot and I climbed aboard, unsure of what actions I could take that would remedy the pain I felt deep inside, squeezing about my heart like the constrictive hand of a strangler.