A/N, sorry for the delay in posting these final chapters, wretched network was down and I couldn't upload anything...However, the delay does mean I get to post all the final chapters at once, so the story is now complete! Hope you enjoy...

'Who…' Prudence stared for several shocked seconds, 'Ida?'

'Yes,' said Ida, holding a looking glass and trying to secure her hat with the other hand. She had decided that brazening it out would work better than trying to explain.

'Wha..' Prudence stepped into the small bedroom which she and Ida shared, 'What are you…'

'Careful,' Ida indicated the basin on the floor she had used to dye her hair.

'Ida, what have you…'

'Do you like it?'

'Your hair…'

'I've got another job, Pru.'

'As what?'

Ida couldn't help but admire how Prudence could go from shock to disapproval in under 3 seconds.

'A secretary.'

'A secretary?'

'That's right.'

'I don't believe you.'

Ida put down the looking glass.

'I'll be off then,' she said

Prudence moved as though to block her way

'You're working for the rest of this week…'

'I'm going out.'

Prudence gaped, but seemed to realise there was nothing left to use as a threat.

'Ida…' she said, hopelessly, 'whatever it is you're doing…be careful, alright?'

'I will.'

Ida smoothed down her new skirt, and waited while Prudence stepped slowly out of the way.

…

Holmes nodded curtly as Ida re entered the parlour. He was seated in the wheelchair once more, and had donned the wig and false beard of Dr Smythe.

'That will do,' he said, 'though you must be sure not to make eye contact with anyone, particularly Clarence. You understand?'

'Yes.'

'Right then, Dr Smythe,' said Watson, in his dreadful Scots accent, gripping the handles of the wheelchair, 'off we go…'

Ida did not let the slightest flicker of amusement pass across her countenance.

'Very good,' murmured Holmes.

There was a knock at the door. Ida jumped, and looked fearfully at Holmes

'Who…' she began, but Watson said

'That will be the carriage Lord Fortescue said he'd send.'

Another knock came, but Ida resisted the almost instinctive urge to go and open the door. She heard Prudence's footsteps thump down the staircase.

There was a large mirror over the fireplace in the parlour. As Watson wheeled Holmes out into the corridor, Ida stole one last look at her disguise. Several ringlets of her newly vivid hair had come loose and dangled on either side of her face, making her skin look all the more pale in contrast. Her mouth seemed smaller, more pinched than usual…she realised she was unconsciously chewing at the inside of her cheeks. The trepidation apparent in her eyes, even though they were half obscured by the spectacles, would surely give her away the second they entered the house…

'Miss Dawkins?'

came a slightly irritated voice from the hallway. So that was to be her made-up name. She would have preferred something a little more exotic, but never mind. Taking a deep breath, Ida left her reflection and made for the door.

….

The journey to the Manor passed without event, Holmes staring fixedly in front of him and Watson admiring the view of the lake out of the carriage window. Ida was so nervous that the mere task of sitting still seemed to have become something requiring thought. Her limbs seemed to have become huge, ungainly things that threatened to go out of control. She clasped her hands firmly in her lap and counted her breaths in and out.

Gravel crunched beneath the carriage wheels, and it juddered to a halt. The door was opened from the outside, and Ida's heart jumped into her throat as she saw Eddie the footman peering in.

'Miss,' he proffered his hand, to help her out. Ida gulped. He did not seem to have recognised her then...but surely her agitation was obvious…

'Thank you,' she heard herself saying, in a voice that so surprised herself with its calm tone that for a moment it seemed as though it must belong to somebody else. But no, this was her hand that firmly clasped Eddie's, this was her stepping out of the carriage and looking down her nose at him slightly as he respectfully stepped backwards, without meeting her eye. She was Ida…Dawkins…private secretary to Dr Smythe. And if she believed it, the rest of the world was a piece of cake.

Eddie and another footman whom Ida had not seen before helped Watson to manoeuvre Holmes out of the carriage and into the wheelchair again. Then Watson wheeled Holmes towards the front door. Ida followed.

……………

Ida relaxed a little when Lord William greeted them at the door without either of his sons present

'Dr Smythe,' he said, 'thankyou so much for coming…'

'…the pleasure is mine,' replied Holmes, 'and I hope you don't mind me bringing along my secretary, Miss Dawkins. As I mentioned earlier, I am in the process of writing a small treatise and I was hoping I might be able to make a few notes regarding some of your collection? You would be acknowledged, naturally…'

'…of course, of course! Miss Dawkins is most welcome. And you will be pleased to hear that another friend of mine has arrived…'

'Really?'

'Yes, Professor Hayes,' Ida noticed Watson tense slightly at the name. She hoped that her own recognition of it had not been as obvious. Lord Fortescue continued:

'The Professor is a renowned expert in the field of palaeontology…He has some very interesting, if somewhat radical new theories…there's not all that much evidence, but he claims that he's found some new specimens which he hopes to present soon…'

'…oh, I've heard of him, believe me…I look forward to meeting him' said Holmes, the earnest voice of Dr Smythe betraying nothing of his reaction, or whether he had expected this.

'Do come through into my study,' said Lord William.

……….

Ida had been priding herself on her performance thus far, but the sight that met her eyes on entering the study needed all her self control. Not only was there a white haired, bulging eyed, slightly portly man poring over a display cabinet in the centre of the room, whom she could only suppose was Professor Hayes, but Clarence was seated on the windowsill. And his eyes were fixed firmly on a spot by the fireplace, where a thin, pasty faced youth stood…

Grimshaw! But that meant…Ida scanned the rest of the room, and saw, seated on a leather armchair in the corner, Horace.

'My, this is quite the party,' came the reedy voice of Dr Smythe.

The door of the study clicked shut behind them. Lord Fortescue walked over to Professor Hayes,

'I say, Peter, here's the fellow I was talking about, Dr Smythe…'

Ida was aware of movement behind her, as Watson wheeled the chair into a slightly different position. She glanced behind her, and saw that the exit was now completely barred. Another scan around the room revealed that there were no other doors. The window provided the only other means of escape, and, for the time being, Clarence was its unwitting guardian.

'Doctor,' Lord Fortescue addressed Holmes, 'I think that this specimen would interest you…'

'…No,' said Holmes, in his normal voice, 'I have seen all the specimens I need to.'

Lord Fortescue stared at Holmes in shock,

'Dr Smythe?' he said,

'No. Apologies for the deception, Lord Fortescue, but as you shall see…'

Holmes reached up and removed the false beard and wig, whilst the occupants of the room looked on, aghast. 'Doctor Smythe was a mere fabrication…'