"My dear Russell, what you propose is not only positively reckless, it is also ill-considered and foolish. I will not hear another word."
My dear mentor, Sherlock Holmes, could not possibly have an idea of how wounding his words were to me. At seventeen, I had learnt by now that soft words rarely passed betwixt us, particularly when I suggested something of the sort I had just done, but all the same, his callous words hurt.
"My dear Holmes," I mocked him in return, "it is not half as ill-considered as you seem to believe. Why should I not take the night watch for you? It would benefit us both, in that you would get a reasonable amount of sleep and be less acerbic, and I would have a chance to exercise my skills."
I stated my reply in such a way that the benefits were fairly obvious. What I failed to mention, was that I had noticed him becoming thinner again, and more melancholy while I was away (my aunt had found a new way to keep me to the house, which I was near to finding a way around, but had not as of yet, escaped for longer than an hour). I was seriously concerned for his health; winter was long and cold this year, and he seemed to miss London more than usual. I made a mental note to telephone Uncle John, and ask him to come down for a few days next week.
"Russell." His voice grated firmly. " Why should you miss valuable rest for the sake of my bees? It is highly unlikely that they will be disturbed again, and the dog is becoming better at his job. I only watch because…"
I interrupted him. "…because you suspect they will be back."
He raised an eyebrow.
"They?"
I nodded reluctantly.
"Yes, they. I looked at the flowerbed more closely this morning as I came in. There are the footprints of one man. By the hedge, however…"
His eyes were shining appreciatively.
"Excellent, Russ! I did wonder…"
Another test. I longed for the day he would trust me to act more on my own. He still treated me as the fifteen year old who had stumbled across him watching bees on the Downs. But all the same, I warmed inwardly with pleasure at his praise. Damn, damn, damn the man!
"Come, Holmes. More argument is ridiculous. If we have no further signs in three nights time, I will agree to re-negotiate."
Holmes looked mulish, and for a moment I thought his stubbornness was going to be the cause of one of our rare, protracted arguments that ended in shouting and, in my case, the occasional bout angry silence, which was possibly even worse than the shouting. In fact, I much preferred the shouting- we both knew where we were in a shouting match, and it often turned into a test of wits which shocked Mrs Hudson and Uncle John on the times we allowed ourselves to be overheard. I twisted a thin ring on my right hand absently while he thought, scowling, for a dangerous minute.
"Very well. But two nights, not three. Done?"
"Done." I agreed in relief, before he could change his mind. We shook on it, and then moved our attention to the delicious repast that had been prepared by Mrs Hudson for lunch. It was cooling fast; another reason to be glad of the early ending to the argument.
After lunch, it was time to return to the farm and my aunt. Her 'clever' plan (which was low even for her) to keep me in the house involved two things. My parents few remaining belongings and cleaning solutions. To sum up the idea, if the collection of things she set out when I left the house wasn't clean in an hour and a half's time, it would be thrown out.
This plan was working so far, but I had already come up with three ways to deceive her before I had left the house today. Namely-
(a) Don't let her discover you are out- i.e. Leave at night.
(b) Simply remove the things she sets out as soon as they are put out, to Holmes' cottage (I had received permission before leaving today) and keep doing so until she runs out of them.
(c) Find all of my parents things and lock them in my room- permanently.
I had lulled her into a false sense of security, I could tell: she was smirking in a most unattractive manner as I returned, early, for I did not trust her to keep them a second over time. I walked past her, into the house, and began my onerous task. Plan a would be put into practice tonight. Plan c would be begun today, and Plan b was a safety net, in case Plans a and c failed. I worked carefully, thinking out every detail of the tasks I had set myself for the next few days, planning, planning.
Every item cleaned with the utmost care; photographs, ornaments, my father's favourite pen, my mothers jewellery, the old clock I could remember since...well, forever.
How could my aunts malicious nature have reached such depths as to suggest that these be taken for rubbish, pawned or sold? They were more valuable to me than all the money of my inheritance. I was instructed to take them away 'and do what you like with them, so long as they stay in the house'.
What a woman, I thought, as I lifted the box up the stairs and far along the corridor to my small room. What a woman. Soon they were safely locked away in my wardrobe, but I could not help but feel glad that I could begin taking them to Holmes tonight.
I began to pack one of my larger knapsacks, with a small torch (for reading), large torch ( for intruders), warm sweaters, socks, and all the minutiae that might be needed, as well as the most crucial of my treasure trove. I was concerned mostly about a ring of my mothers- her engagement ring. She had loved it most of all her jewellery, as it was made for her, to my fathers design, and showed in a very beautiful way, their strength of love for each other.
I knew, however, thatmy auntwas leaving it until the end, to be sure I was kept on my best behaviour. It was the type of thing I had come to expect from her.
Once ready, I locked everything away, and went downstairs to help with the chores. It was a small victory for my aunt, but as I could see, one that counted for much, and inside I had to supress a feeling of glee that once again, I had won. With a little help from my friends..