For those of you who are reading my other works, I DO NOT WRITE MARY SUES! This is not a Mary Sue story by any means, and I guarantee you, this romance will be slow and beautiful. REST ASSURED!

"My Father was not a kind man by any means. Often, he would storm back home drunker than an intoxicated rat, and yell at my mother, beat my brother into submission. However, when he was sober, he was much more good- tempered, and you could see the reason that my mother married him.
"You must understand, Mr. Holmes, that I am not at all sad to lose my Father as a person. But it is a very lonely day when you realize that you no longer have a Father figure in your life, and that you are now completely alone."
She bowed her head, and exhaled sharply. "The rest of my family lives in America. It is a very isolated feeling that overtakes you, you know..."
She shook herself, and Julie came in with tea and small sugar cakes.
"Gifts of condolence from the neighbors," explained Elizabeth. "They seem to feel as though I can't manage on my own." She took a bite from the nearest pink frosted one, and gave a small smile. Holmes permitted himself one, while Watson helped himself to three.
"My wife won't be happy," he chuckled, as he delved into one.
Elizabeth smiled politely. "You are married?"
"For three beautiful years now," said Watson happily.
"Any children?"
Watson smiled jovially. "Well, there's plenty of room for that. But as it is, she feels as though my field is a little too dangerous for children at the moment. I have a bit of a black mark against me tagging around with this fellow."
Holmes remained impassive, analyzing her face. Yes, it was true; she was lovely, but again, not a beauty of any means. Her face was pale and had small wrinkles forming in the top of her forehead from excessive reading, which proved that she was very learned. She was a horseback rider, as seen from the rough calluses at the exact position where the reins were held. But it was the eyes that made him pause the most. While they were focused on her tea, he saw the sadness and weight that lingered inside them.
Elizabeth finished her cake, with a bit of pink frosting lurking off one side of her mouth. "Now, as I was saying..." That frosting immeasurably distracted Holmes, so he gave a little "Ahem!"
He mimicked brushing away the crumbs, and Elizabeth paused. She lifted a finger up to her mouth and took it away, allowing herself to laugh again.
"Not quite the civilized young heiress most expect, eh?" she managed in between laughs, sucking the remaining icing off her thumb.
Holmes gave a smile; a genuine smile, one that Watson noted.
"As I was saying, my father refused to speak of his childhood. All we knew was that he grew up in Texas, and struck rich with oil. He was returning back home to England when his ship was lost in a storm, and was never found. Ten years later, he was back in England. He refused to tell us any of this, and threatened to beat us if we asked, so the subject was always closed.
"Oh, but he did love my mother. She was really beautiful, my mother. I received more of my father's looks, but my mother was so graceful. He wooed her incessantly when he returned, and I can honestly say that his money didn't matter to her. She fell in love too, and they were mutually happy. Unfortunately, while her love continued to bloom, his wilted, and we were plunged into unhappiness.
"My brother longed for my father's approval, but sadly, he was never granted it. He grew to be a fine scholar, schooled in the sciences, particularly chemistry, and specialized in botany and other refined studies. It was truly tragic, watching him slowly destroy himself as he desperately attempted to catch Father's attention. I begged him to reconsider, to not care about his opinion, but James was set. The need for Father's approval had become an addiction for him, one he could not live without.
"And it is true: He couldn't live without it. One night, after being accepted as a University Scholar in Oxford, he brought home this exceptional news. Father dismissed it, and told him that he would never make anything of himself. Knowledge was almost as useless as James himself, he said, before turning back to his work.
"Something inside James snapped, and he screamed that Father would regret not acknowledging him as a son. Later, we found his suicide note, telling us that he was going to miss us and he loved us, and he was sad that he was never loved back. He plunged himself into the river, and we never saw him again."
She took a deep breath, her bosom heaving. "You must know that I loved my brother very much. His death was a great shock to us all, especially mother. Later, she could no longer feel any form of happiness, and she became so thin and ill that she passed on. From then on, it has only been my Father and I, and rarely was there ever a word spoken between us. We have haunted each other's presence for the past three years, and it hasn't been painful, really. Just...non-existing.
"Lately, however, he has been very frightened. Several times in the night, he has taken up out of his bed, ran down the stairs, and stare relentlessly out the window. One evening, I was composing to a dear friend, and I saw him come running down. The next evening, I remained awake only to witness the phenomenon again, watching as his shadow passed by my door. I must admit, Mr. Holmes, that this behavior frightened me, but with time, I grew accustomed to it. And we never mentioned it. Speaking was a taboo in this household, and it feels, forgive my words, as though a burden has been lifted, as though my poor father has finally been given some peace."
"Then one morning, during my daily ride, I was intercepted and told of my father's death. Since then, his fortune has been on everyone's lips. It is said that it is over one million pounds, but he left no will. Many are claiming it as kinsmen of his from America, and others, such as business partners, are saying he gave them his word that he would include him in his will. Yet nothing has been found."
She sighed, and shook her head. "Even though it is said my father's fortune is vast (he never discussed it with us), this house was never fully mortgaged. If I do not receive the money, then I will be turned out onto the streets. This prospect frightens me, and I know that his business partners would never think twice about removing me, as they could use this area for offices."
Her hands clenched together. "I must know who is responsible for this, Mr. Holmes! I am desperate! I am sure that he had the will on his person, for he carried all things of value with him. One was an ancient brass key, and the other was a paper. I'm almost positive that paper is the will! Sadly, when he disappeared..."
She stood. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have funeral arrangements to attend to. You have my full leave to wander around the grounds, wherever you want, save my chambers. That I will not permit. I bid you a good morning, and wish you luck on your search."
She bowed, and left the room, while Julie came in to clean up the remainder of their tea. "I told you! Now she'll be in a quiet, pensive mood, and it'll mean hell for me."
Holmes sighed. "I apologize madam. We did not mean to intrude." He stood, his cold gray eyes calculating. "Now let's see if we can make something of this case."
"I agree," said Watson. "After, perhaps, one more cake?"