A/N, A big apology for the massive delay in posting this chapter. If anyone's still interested in reading it, I hope to be able to post the chapters more regularly from now on!

Ida carefully removed the reference from her bag and peeled away the blotting paper she had hastily stuck to it when leaving the house. Thankfully it was un smudged, and now the ink was dry. Clarence, despite many protests at being asked to forge a reference, and demands to know what she was planning, had done an excellent job. The crest of the Fortescue Family of Keswick adorned the top of the page, and the looping copperplate handwriting beneath expressed nothing but praise.

The bus in which she rode jerked to a halt.

'Miss!' called the conductor, 'this is the stop you want for Victoria Crescent.'

'Thanks,' said Ida, rising from her seat and making for the door.

The wide tree lined streets and tall windowed houses of this area exuded affluence, as Ida had anticipated. She scanned the names of the residential roads she passed, and looked out for someone to ask for directions. The only other person in the street was a girl of about her age, wearing a black cotton dress and a sour expression…

'Excuse me, Miss?'

'What?'

'Would you happen to know the way to Victoria Crescent?'

The girl looked her up and down with a sneer

'After the maid's job advertised in the Times I suppose?'

'Well…'

'…so was I. There's no job.'

'It's been filled already?' said Ida, disappointment evident in her voice

'No.'

'Then, I don't understand…'

'…there never was a job! I spoke to the housekeeper, she's been sending girls away all day. The lady of the house is off her head.'

'…so it was she who placed the advert?'

'Yes. The housekeeper says she's gone daft ever since her daughter ran off with some rogue…'

'…really?'

'…I say there's no excuse for getting people's hopes up like that. I can't afford to waste a bus fare coming over here on some crazy old woman's whim…'

'…too right!' said Ida, 'I'd like to give her a piece of my mind!'

'Me too!'

'So…um…do you suppose you could tell me the way to the house?'

The girl stared at her

'Are you serious? They'll never listen to you!'

'Probably not, but…you know…'

A scowl suddenly passed over her features,

'You think there is a job, don't you, you think they turned me away because I wasn't good enough!'

'No…no…'

'Hah, you can't trick me! I know your game. But it won't pay off. If you're so cock sure, Miss, just keep going the way you're headed. You'll soon see I told you the truth!'

'I…um…'

The girl shoved past her and continued towards the bus stop. With a shrug of her shoulders, Ida carried on in the direction she had been going in.

'Victoria Crescent', muttered Ida to herself under her breath as she saw the road sign. She smoothed her skirt and self consciously stood up a little straighter before making the turning.

The houses in this cul de sac were even grander than those she had been walking past since the bus stop, and had sizeable front gardens with tall hedges and lawns clipped to bowling green-smoothness. She walked past numbers 2, 4, 6 and 8…and then saw that a pair of men were standing, deep in conversation, in front of the next house but one. She stood for a moment, taking in their appearance. Something about the taller man seemed somehow…familiar, but she couldn't quite place…

Mr Holmes!she exclaimed inwardly, as he happened to turn his head slightly to the left, revealing the unmistakeable profile. She had stumbled on something much bigger than she had expected. Neither man seemed to have noticed her yet, so she walked a few more steps then dropped to one knee in the shadow of the hedge, and fiddled with her shoelace, straining to hear their conversation…

'Mr Hertford…I wish I could be of more help.'

'Sherlock, please! If you cannot assist us then there is not a man in all England…'

'Mr Hertford, again…you have my deepest sympathies, and…'

'Damn it all, Sherlock, if you won't do it for me, at least do it for Morris's sake!'

'Mr Hertford. Believe me when I say that if there was anything I could do…'

'…are you telling me my daughter is lost to me forever?'

Ida saw a flicker of pain flash over Holmes' already drawn face

'Good day, Mr Hertford,' he said stiffly, 'Please give my regards to your wife.'

The other man merely turned on his heel without a word. Holmes made a brief motion towards him, then shook himself, stood up a little straighter, and began to walk towards where Ida crouched, beginning to wish she had found a more discreet place from which to eavesdrop. It seemed as though he were going to walk straight past, when his hankerchief fluttered to the ground beside her. Swooping to pick it up, he spoke without looking at her

'I know who you work for and…'

'…Mr Holmes,' Ida whispered, 'it's me!'

He flashed her a look, and his eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise.

'I…sort of…live in London now…' Ida babbled, feeling as though the silence ought to be filled, and wishing that she could stand up so she felt less like a schoolgirl being scolded.

'I have no interest in how you live, Miss Greene,' he said, 'provided you keep out of this business. I don't know what brought you here, but leave now. This family has had enough grief without fools like you blundering about…'

'I came here to apply for a job!' exclaimed Ida. She detected no sign in Holmes' face that he knew what she was talking about. It could be that he was very good at acting…or that he did not in fact know about the strange advert in the Times.

'The Hertfords don't need a maid.'

'Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to ask them myself…'

Holmes exhaled sharply, and stood up, suppressed anger written every line of his form.

'Mr Holmes…' she whispered, as loudly as she dared, but he paid her no heed. He stalked off down the road like a stiffly jointed automaton. Ida shivered slightly to see him go.