Miss Emma Bentley walked into the living room.She was a girl of twenty-five or twenty-six,a queenly figure with long,blond hair,dark emerauld green eyes.She wore a purple dress decorated with emerauld green pearls.From her expression I could see that she had a terrible business, but she remained unusually calm.Too calm for a young lady in trouble, in my opinion.
I glanced at Holmes,and saw, on his face, a look of love and admiration.One glance and I knew that Holmes was actually in love with her,and the love was deep,into the most inner part of his heart.
Holmes's action was also explanining the perfectly true love he felt for the girl: his hand was placed on his heart, which I knew was beating fast.
The girl was by no means ordinary. She did not, like other clients, sit down and tell her story ,butwalked aroundthe living room, observing everything with care, even passing her fingers through it. What she observed the most was not our modest furniture,but something both Holmes and I were proud of: his case collections. It was hung up on the wall by Mrs Hudson. At the end of it, Miss Bentley pointed at a picture extracted from " The Hound of the Baskervilles", lookesd at Holmes with her mouth open in admiration. Holmes seemed to be a little embarrassed, but nodded all the same.
" It's sure, Watson, that I felt something , but what is it ?One minute I wished she'd look at me, but when she really did, I-Watson, I wish she didn't!But how could I ever feel like this Watson? It isn't-"
" Love?" I inquired.
Holmes said nothing, but pondered in silence. Miss Bentley sat on the client's chair. I touched Holmes on the shoulder. He jumped.
"Oh, good morning, Miss Bentley." Holmes said, trying in vain to keep his voice and air normal. "If I am lucky enough to be right ,you are a professional sister of mine-you are a detective."
Miss Bentley nodded. She did not seem too surprised. " Pray tell me the method of your deduction and observation, Mr Holmes?"
Holmes turned to me and whispered: " I deduced nothing. I half guessed it. Help me, will you?"
I nodded.
"You observed everything with professional attention.And also, I wouldn't have understood what you mean if we do not have anything in common.utual understanding only existes between two people who have something in common.."
Miss bentley smiled, took a deep breath and began her story(A/N: I didn't write all that Emma
Said so that you guys can see my story soon)
Two days ago,while she was with her sister, Isabella, somebody knocked at the door. Emma opened.It was a man in black. Isabella was worried. The man told her that she had five minutes to talk to her sister, but Isabella said she didn't need all that time.She hugged her sister and gave herter a letter that asked her to go to Mr Holmes if anything happened. That night she died.And she- Emma- came to my friend as she was told.
After telling Holmes her story, her tears began to fell .Holmes comforted her and assured her that the murderer will be found,but he, for the first time in his life,was unsure of his succes. Emma arranged a meeting with Holmes on the moor(A/N: Forgot to tell you guys Isabella's killed on the Bentley's Moor).Then Holmes bowed and watched her go out of the appartement.
A/N: Please read and review