Somewhere out there in that wide big world walked a girl of
remarkable intelligence, wisdom, life, and independence. She walked the
world alone, but she filled the world with joy and radiant energy with the
love of life and optimism. Everywhere she went she made hearts lifted up
and brought hope and happiness. It was a shame that her gift of life only
went to those that accepted her for who she was and looked beyond what the
eyes could see. I was fortunate enough to know her because of a strange and
mysterious case that brought Holmes and I across her path.
It was an evening of late December in 1887. The holiday was nearly upon us. Holmes and I were discussing a recently closed case in our quarter of Baker Street by the fireplace. It involved a certain secret society in America. The case still left me with chills down my spines. A mild snow storm was raging outside our window telling of the atmosphere of our recent case. Our discussion was interrupted by a bell.
"Who would be calling in this weather, Holmes?" Holmes gray eyes were sparkling with eagerness. London was mild with criminal activities for the last few weeks.
"We'll see, Watson," he replied, "We'll see soon enough."
Mrs. Hudson announced in Inspector Lestrade. Holmes waved him to a seat.
"What brings you here to me, Lestrade?" Holmes inquired, but Lestrade shook his head.
"The immediate emergency isn't for you, Mr. Holmes," he replied, which took Holmes in surprise. "It's for Doctor Watson. I got a patient who needs attention quick."
Lestrade went out and came back with an unconscious young lady in his arm. I inspected the girl while Lestrade told us of his encounter.
"I found on the way out of Sheffield Hall on an investigation. She was lying on the ground at the gate when I was leaving. Not knowing whether the state of her health, I brought her here to you, Doctor Watson."
"It wasn't just because of the girl that you are here, Lestrade," said Holmes, "It was also of the case that you were investigating. You have every intention of going to me even before you found the girl."
Lestrade smiled admitting every word. "How could you have known, Mr. Holmes?"
"It is simple, Lestrade. Sheffield Hall is three miles from here. I know several doctors that would be nearer to reach than here. If you should think that it would be more convenient to come to Baker Street to have a doctor taking care of a patient, then that must means you need to consult me as well as treating a patient. Otherwise, you would drop the girl off at the nearest doctor's door."
"So obvious, yet, it is not easily guessed." Lestrade muttered.
The girl was well. Other than a mere bump on the back of her head, there were no other real injuries. She stirred a little as we talked.
"How is she, Watson?" Holmes asked.
"She has nothing more than a small bump on the head and minor scrapes," I replied, "Although she might need a little nourishment; this girl hadn't eaten in days."
Holmes rang for Mrs. Hudson to bring whatever left of supper up for this young lady. She was no younger than seventeen. She carried the young yet mature look on her face. She didn't lack beauty either with soft yet mildly dark skin and black, ravenous, long hair. She was wearing a simple blue gown. As Mrs. Hudson was walking in with her food, the girl slowly opened her eyes. She sat up gradually and felt her head.
"My head felt like a rock," she slurred obviously still not yet awake. The girl rubbed her eyes and took a close look around the room. Mrs. Hudson smiled at the girl with sympathy. "Eat up, dear," said Mrs. Hudson and walked out of the room. The girl looked at each of us individually, at her meal, then around the room carefully inspecting every inch of it.
"Where on earth am I?" she asked finally.
"You are in my dwelling of 221b Baker Street," replied Sherlock Holmes. The girl raised her eyes brows and nodded slowly. "Really?" she said, "How did I get here?"
"I found you lying unconscious at the gate of Sheffield Hall," Lestrade replied, "I brought you here to Doctor Watson to be treated."
I couldn't make out the expression on her face. She didn't look surprised to be lying on a couch of another person. She was just looking around trying to find out where she was and what had happened. It was as if she knew all of this was going to happen. Though, I might be wrong. I was never good at theorizing like Holmes. She surveyed me and said, "Dr. Watson, huh?" She looked over at Holmes. "You must be the Sherlock Holmes, the Great Detective. Please to meet you under whatever circumstances!" Holmes nodded as she turned lastly to Inspector Lestrade.
"You must be Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. You're very well- known among the new officers in the field." The Inspector Lestrade heaved up his chest let known a little pride and dignity.
"Do you know any officers at the Yard?" he asked
"As a matter of fact, I do," she replied, "His name is Peter Mac Duff."
"Ah, yes, he just made to the Yard about a month ago. Bright fellow, he is, very serious about his work. He'll make a fine inspector someday."
"You seem to know who everyone in this room is," Holmes commented, "but we are still in the dark as to who you are."
"I am." she paused, "Adeline!"
"May I ask your last name?"
"My name is Adeline Timpson!"
"Miss Timpson," Holmes said, but she cut in.
"Please Mr. Holmes, don't call me by my last name just call me Adeline!" She held her hands up in front of as if Holmes had done something fearfully horrible.
"As you wish, Adeline," said Holmes, "I am very curious to know how you ended up in front of Sheffield Hall. Are you an acquaintance?"
She smiled at Holmes, the smile that tested Holmes patient and challenge Holmes' ability, and Holmes always welcomed a good challenge. "That, Mr. Holmes, is for me to know and for you to find out."
Holmes turned to Lestrade.
"Inspector Lestrade," he said, "Weren't you summoned to Sheffield Hall to investigate a case?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes," he replied as Adeline helped herself to the bread and soup that Mrs. Hudson brought up, "About a month ago, Lord Bartley of Sheffield Hall had called Scotland Yard on account of a letter threatening his and his family life. We investigated but found nothing. He kept getting more letters of the same about every three or four days after that. He sent those letters to us. We kept searching for clues, for leads, for anything. We found nothing. "
"Do you have those letters?" Holmes interrupted. Lestrade pulled out a bundle of papers. Holmes opened one of them and read,
"Lord Bartley, It is time for you and your family to repent for any sin you has committed and resolves any quarrel you have with God. We will come to end your life, but you will not know when or where. If you value your life, take great care for we are as shadows. Your time on earth is limited. Use them well."
"It was signed, 'S.A.E'," Holmes said. There was a sound coming from Adeline. She was choking on a piece of bread.
"Take it easy," I said, "If you want more food, I'll call Mrs. Hudson to bring them to you. You must be really hungry."
"I'm sorry! Devilish piece of bread it is. I didn't mean to make such a commotion." The young lady face turned red as she delicately sipped the soup. I called for Mrs. Hudson as Lestrade continued his story, "The rest of the letters are similar to that. They are signed with the same three initials. The last letter was received three days ago.
"Last night, an attempt was made on Lord Bartley's wife, Lady Lilac's, life. We don't know how she survived. Lady Lilac refused to tell us any details on how she survived the incident. All she said was, 'They failed to kill me.'
"I inspected the room and found nothing much significant. There was a broken window, a few slashes on the curtains, and some blood on the floor.
"I spent the whole day interrogating everyone in the Mansion. The servants said they didn't hear anything. Lady Lilac only son was out during the night and didn't found out about the murder attempt until early morning when he came home. Lord Bartley was in his study. He said he heard the glass shattered and ran up to his wife. He found her cowering against the wall in the dark. The lamp was smashed and so was the window. She didn't say much about the murder attempt to him either.
"I was frustrated about not be able to make head or tail out of this. So I decided to come to you. Maybe you can make out things that I may have overlook. That was when I found Miss.Adeline here."
Adeline looked up when she heard her name. "Hey," said she, "I said just call me Adeline. I don't want prefixes either. It makes life so much more complicated on deciding whether I should call someone Madame, Lady, or Mrs."
A moment of silent passed. Holmes was observing the girl with so much concentration that Lestrade and I had to hold our tongue. The peculiar young lady was returning his stare with the same smile when she replied Holmes' question about her being outside of Sheffield Hall's gate. Their gazes were like two blazing fires each competing to see when the other will burn out. Holmes admitted defeat for the first battle and looked out onto the night outside the window.
"The snow has stopped," he said finally, "Watson and I will come tomorrow to inspect and inquire at Sheffield Hall. Right now, we cannot do much except sleep well to prepare for tomorrow's venture."
"What about, uh, Adeline?" said Inspector Lestrade, "She needs somewhere to stay for the night. I can't take her to a hotel. There isn't one nearby and I still have to write a report on this case."
Holmes inquired the girl if she had any relatives nearby that she could lodge with and the reply was no. He called Mrs. Hudson and asked if she had any spare room the girl could stay in for the night.
"The maids have a spare bed in their quarter," she replied, "She could sleep there for the night. She'll need to help out during the day should she needs to stay any longer."
"I am nobody's maid," Adeline said sternly at the suggestion, "There is no way someone like me is going to clean up after anyone. I'll sleep outside in the snow if that's what I have to do to get a bed and a breakfast."
She stood up, dusted her blue gown, and started to march toward the door. Holmes laughed and said after her, "I won't be a gentleman if I let you do that, my dear Adeline, and my friend, Watson, here, wouldn't let a respectable young lady like you sleep in the snow. It's terribly cold outside."
Adeline nodded and then turned to Mrs. Hudson, "No offense intended, Mrs. Hudson. It was a kind offer on your part, but I'm not a maid. Never was and never will be."
"Where would she stay, then?" I asked.
"Watson, have you forgotten about our little spare room?" Holmes replied, "She could stay there for a few days."
Adeline's eyes grew large. "Really? Oh, Mr. Holmes, this is wonderful!"
"It's my pleasures entirely. Watson, could you show her to her room? I think she needs a little rest. I'll show Inspector Lestrade out."
I led the girl to the room next to mine, which often was for guests. As soon as she settled into her room, I went out into the living room and rest in an armchair. I was thinking about having Adeline with us. Holmes returned in a jolly mood.
"It is an interesting night, Watson," he said as he lit a pipe, "Not only did I gain a case but also a most interesting guest."
"Is it wise to let her stay here with us?" I asked.
"Yes, it proves to be most valuable."
"It does. Are you saying she knows something about the case, Holmes?"
"I'm not sure, but I am sure that she knows something. She was listening very intently to Lestrade's account in the Mansion. At the mention of the initials of the author, she choked on the piece of bread."
"Maybe she's just an innocence bystander that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There is no proof that she is involved in this attempted murder."
Holmes smile. "Maybe not, Watson, if that is the case, why couldn't she just say so when I asked her? Do you remember what she said? 'It's for me to know and for you to find out.' No, Watson, she knows something. She even knows who I am and who Lestrade is."
"Yes, that is true. How do you suppose she knows?"
"I do not have an answer yet, but rest assured, I will find out."
It was an evening of late December in 1887. The holiday was nearly upon us. Holmes and I were discussing a recently closed case in our quarter of Baker Street by the fireplace. It involved a certain secret society in America. The case still left me with chills down my spines. A mild snow storm was raging outside our window telling of the atmosphere of our recent case. Our discussion was interrupted by a bell.
"Who would be calling in this weather, Holmes?" Holmes gray eyes were sparkling with eagerness. London was mild with criminal activities for the last few weeks.
"We'll see, Watson," he replied, "We'll see soon enough."
Mrs. Hudson announced in Inspector Lestrade. Holmes waved him to a seat.
"What brings you here to me, Lestrade?" Holmes inquired, but Lestrade shook his head.
"The immediate emergency isn't for you, Mr. Holmes," he replied, which took Holmes in surprise. "It's for Doctor Watson. I got a patient who needs attention quick."
Lestrade went out and came back with an unconscious young lady in his arm. I inspected the girl while Lestrade told us of his encounter.
"I found on the way out of Sheffield Hall on an investigation. She was lying on the ground at the gate when I was leaving. Not knowing whether the state of her health, I brought her here to you, Doctor Watson."
"It wasn't just because of the girl that you are here, Lestrade," said Holmes, "It was also of the case that you were investigating. You have every intention of going to me even before you found the girl."
Lestrade smiled admitting every word. "How could you have known, Mr. Holmes?"
"It is simple, Lestrade. Sheffield Hall is three miles from here. I know several doctors that would be nearer to reach than here. If you should think that it would be more convenient to come to Baker Street to have a doctor taking care of a patient, then that must means you need to consult me as well as treating a patient. Otherwise, you would drop the girl off at the nearest doctor's door."
"So obvious, yet, it is not easily guessed." Lestrade muttered.
The girl was well. Other than a mere bump on the back of her head, there were no other real injuries. She stirred a little as we talked.
"How is she, Watson?" Holmes asked.
"She has nothing more than a small bump on the head and minor scrapes," I replied, "Although she might need a little nourishment; this girl hadn't eaten in days."
Holmes rang for Mrs. Hudson to bring whatever left of supper up for this young lady. She was no younger than seventeen. She carried the young yet mature look on her face. She didn't lack beauty either with soft yet mildly dark skin and black, ravenous, long hair. She was wearing a simple blue gown. As Mrs. Hudson was walking in with her food, the girl slowly opened her eyes. She sat up gradually and felt her head.
"My head felt like a rock," she slurred obviously still not yet awake. The girl rubbed her eyes and took a close look around the room. Mrs. Hudson smiled at the girl with sympathy. "Eat up, dear," said Mrs. Hudson and walked out of the room. The girl looked at each of us individually, at her meal, then around the room carefully inspecting every inch of it.
"Where on earth am I?" she asked finally.
"You are in my dwelling of 221b Baker Street," replied Sherlock Holmes. The girl raised her eyes brows and nodded slowly. "Really?" she said, "How did I get here?"
"I found you lying unconscious at the gate of Sheffield Hall," Lestrade replied, "I brought you here to Doctor Watson to be treated."
I couldn't make out the expression on her face. She didn't look surprised to be lying on a couch of another person. She was just looking around trying to find out where she was and what had happened. It was as if she knew all of this was going to happen. Though, I might be wrong. I was never good at theorizing like Holmes. She surveyed me and said, "Dr. Watson, huh?" She looked over at Holmes. "You must be the Sherlock Holmes, the Great Detective. Please to meet you under whatever circumstances!" Holmes nodded as she turned lastly to Inspector Lestrade.
"You must be Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. You're very well- known among the new officers in the field." The Inspector Lestrade heaved up his chest let known a little pride and dignity.
"Do you know any officers at the Yard?" he asked
"As a matter of fact, I do," she replied, "His name is Peter Mac Duff."
"Ah, yes, he just made to the Yard about a month ago. Bright fellow, he is, very serious about his work. He'll make a fine inspector someday."
"You seem to know who everyone in this room is," Holmes commented, "but we are still in the dark as to who you are."
"I am." she paused, "Adeline!"
"May I ask your last name?"
"My name is Adeline Timpson!"
"Miss Timpson," Holmes said, but she cut in.
"Please Mr. Holmes, don't call me by my last name just call me Adeline!" She held her hands up in front of as if Holmes had done something fearfully horrible.
"As you wish, Adeline," said Holmes, "I am very curious to know how you ended up in front of Sheffield Hall. Are you an acquaintance?"
She smiled at Holmes, the smile that tested Holmes patient and challenge Holmes' ability, and Holmes always welcomed a good challenge. "That, Mr. Holmes, is for me to know and for you to find out."
Holmes turned to Lestrade.
"Inspector Lestrade," he said, "Weren't you summoned to Sheffield Hall to investigate a case?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes," he replied as Adeline helped herself to the bread and soup that Mrs. Hudson brought up, "About a month ago, Lord Bartley of Sheffield Hall had called Scotland Yard on account of a letter threatening his and his family life. We investigated but found nothing. He kept getting more letters of the same about every three or four days after that. He sent those letters to us. We kept searching for clues, for leads, for anything. We found nothing. "
"Do you have those letters?" Holmes interrupted. Lestrade pulled out a bundle of papers. Holmes opened one of them and read,
"Lord Bartley, It is time for you and your family to repent for any sin you has committed and resolves any quarrel you have with God. We will come to end your life, but you will not know when or where. If you value your life, take great care for we are as shadows. Your time on earth is limited. Use them well."
"It was signed, 'S.A.E'," Holmes said. There was a sound coming from Adeline. She was choking on a piece of bread.
"Take it easy," I said, "If you want more food, I'll call Mrs. Hudson to bring them to you. You must be really hungry."
"I'm sorry! Devilish piece of bread it is. I didn't mean to make such a commotion." The young lady face turned red as she delicately sipped the soup. I called for Mrs. Hudson as Lestrade continued his story, "The rest of the letters are similar to that. They are signed with the same three initials. The last letter was received three days ago.
"Last night, an attempt was made on Lord Bartley's wife, Lady Lilac's, life. We don't know how she survived. Lady Lilac refused to tell us any details on how she survived the incident. All she said was, 'They failed to kill me.'
"I inspected the room and found nothing much significant. There was a broken window, a few slashes on the curtains, and some blood on the floor.
"I spent the whole day interrogating everyone in the Mansion. The servants said they didn't hear anything. Lady Lilac only son was out during the night and didn't found out about the murder attempt until early morning when he came home. Lord Bartley was in his study. He said he heard the glass shattered and ran up to his wife. He found her cowering against the wall in the dark. The lamp was smashed and so was the window. She didn't say much about the murder attempt to him either.
"I was frustrated about not be able to make head or tail out of this. So I decided to come to you. Maybe you can make out things that I may have overlook. That was when I found Miss.Adeline here."
Adeline looked up when she heard her name. "Hey," said she, "I said just call me Adeline. I don't want prefixes either. It makes life so much more complicated on deciding whether I should call someone Madame, Lady, or Mrs."
A moment of silent passed. Holmes was observing the girl with so much concentration that Lestrade and I had to hold our tongue. The peculiar young lady was returning his stare with the same smile when she replied Holmes' question about her being outside of Sheffield Hall's gate. Their gazes were like two blazing fires each competing to see when the other will burn out. Holmes admitted defeat for the first battle and looked out onto the night outside the window.
"The snow has stopped," he said finally, "Watson and I will come tomorrow to inspect and inquire at Sheffield Hall. Right now, we cannot do much except sleep well to prepare for tomorrow's venture."
"What about, uh, Adeline?" said Inspector Lestrade, "She needs somewhere to stay for the night. I can't take her to a hotel. There isn't one nearby and I still have to write a report on this case."
Holmes inquired the girl if she had any relatives nearby that she could lodge with and the reply was no. He called Mrs. Hudson and asked if she had any spare room the girl could stay in for the night.
"The maids have a spare bed in their quarter," she replied, "She could sleep there for the night. She'll need to help out during the day should she needs to stay any longer."
"I am nobody's maid," Adeline said sternly at the suggestion, "There is no way someone like me is going to clean up after anyone. I'll sleep outside in the snow if that's what I have to do to get a bed and a breakfast."
She stood up, dusted her blue gown, and started to march toward the door. Holmes laughed and said after her, "I won't be a gentleman if I let you do that, my dear Adeline, and my friend, Watson, here, wouldn't let a respectable young lady like you sleep in the snow. It's terribly cold outside."
Adeline nodded and then turned to Mrs. Hudson, "No offense intended, Mrs. Hudson. It was a kind offer on your part, but I'm not a maid. Never was and never will be."
"Where would she stay, then?" I asked.
"Watson, have you forgotten about our little spare room?" Holmes replied, "She could stay there for a few days."
Adeline's eyes grew large. "Really? Oh, Mr. Holmes, this is wonderful!"
"It's my pleasures entirely. Watson, could you show her to her room? I think she needs a little rest. I'll show Inspector Lestrade out."
I led the girl to the room next to mine, which often was for guests. As soon as she settled into her room, I went out into the living room and rest in an armchair. I was thinking about having Adeline with us. Holmes returned in a jolly mood.
"It is an interesting night, Watson," he said as he lit a pipe, "Not only did I gain a case but also a most interesting guest."
"Is it wise to let her stay here with us?" I asked.
"Yes, it proves to be most valuable."
"It does. Are you saying she knows something about the case, Holmes?"
"I'm not sure, but I am sure that she knows something. She was listening very intently to Lestrade's account in the Mansion. At the mention of the initials of the author, she choked on the piece of bread."
"Maybe she's just an innocence bystander that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There is no proof that she is involved in this attempted murder."
Holmes smile. "Maybe not, Watson, if that is the case, why couldn't she just say so when I asked her? Do you remember what she said? 'It's for me to know and for you to find out.' No, Watson, she knows something. She even knows who I am and who Lestrade is."
"Yes, that is true. How do you suppose she knows?"
"I do not have an answer yet, but rest assured, I will find out."