"I believe that's the last of them," I declared into the luggage-filled sitting room of our temporary flat in London, setting down a final suitcase with a soft thud.
I paid the cabby and let myself fall onto the settee with a sigh of relief.
I had hardly a moment to catch my breath, however, before my travelling companion burst into the room from the inner chambers of our new flat. I still was not accustomed to the sight of the slightly dumpy, middle-aged woman who had replaced my dazzling Irene. She was not the only one who was transformed; at her instruction my moustache had been shaved off, my hair coloured, and I was dressed in clothes a few sizes too big, with clear glasses over my eyes.
I reluctantly pushed myself to my feet. "If the rooms are all satisfactory, shall we put our belongings away before we are caught up in our investigation?"
However, Irene was already eyeing the door to the flat. "I should like to pay a visit to a friend of mine before it gets too late."
"A friend?" I asked, surprised. "From the opera?"
"I should rather say a new acquaintance. I would hope to have made some progress before we meet with the dear colonel."
"Darling, you're not going to leave me with all of the unpacking?"
"And what if I did?" she asked with an impish smile that I recognized as my own dear Irene beneath all of her layers of makeup and costuming.
"Then I'm certain I would put everything in all the wrong places."
"Thank you, Godfrey." She gave me a kiss and hurried for the door. "Good-bye, Mr. Albert Drebber. And don't forget to convey my tidings to our landlady."
"I won't forget. Good-bye, Victoria."
She waved, and left with a tinkling laugh.
When she was gone, I finally picked up one of our bags and carried it into the bedroom to begin unpacking.
I had plenty to think about as I worked. We had both read all of Dr. Watson's writings about Mr. Sherlock Holmes during the week-long voyage across the Atlantic and found them an enlightening read, though Irene put little stock in their contents. Indeed, she had declared that had she not met the man herself, she would have assumed that the stories were entirely fictional, as many of our acquaintances in New York seemed to believe.
However, I did not have long to ponder before my packing was interrupted by a knock at the door to the flat. I hurried to answer it and found neither Irene, nor a messenger from Colonel Moran, but a stern, middle aged woman, with dark, greying hair up in a tidy bun.
"Mr. Drebber, is it?" she asked.
"I am he."
She handed me a note on fine paper. "This arrived for you with yesterday's post. I am Mrs. Hudson, the landlady here. Is there anything else you require at the moment?"
So this was the landlady Dr. Watson had mentioned in his stories. She was not the grandmotherly woman I had expected, but that said little. Irene had pointed out how little description there was of anyone in Dr. Watson's accounts - aside from Mr. Holmes.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said. "I'm quite alright, thank you, but I'm certain my wife, Victoria, will have a thousand questions for you - she adored 'The Study in Scarlet' and 'The Sign of the Four.' She just ran out to visit a friend of hers, but she should return soon."
Mrs. Hudson gave a curt nod, but she answered with a touch of humour, "Mr. Holmes has been getting more than his share of publicity of late."
"He's very well earned it, from what I've heard."
She smiled a little at that, but it didn't last long. "Earned it or not, he's a very private man and he would rather be left to solve his cases in peace and quiet. With all the visitors we've gotten, it is probably for the best that he's taking some time abroad, though who knows what he's getting himself into." Her description matched Dr. Watson's depiction of Mr. Holmes almost exactly.
"Brilliance rarely knows its own limits." I belatedly remembered that the sentiment could hardly apply to Mrs. Drebber, but especially under the circumstances, it was difficult not to sympathise.
"Very true. I have work to attend to, but when your wife returns, you can tell her I may be able to answer a few questions."
"Thank you, she would greatly appreciate that."
"Not at all," Mrs. Hudson said, and took her leave.
Meanwhile, I returned to my work. I was surprised by how well Mrs. Hudson's description of Mr. Holmes agreed with Dr. Watson's accounts, but it was only a few superficial details that hardly confirmed the rest. And there could be many reasons for the detective's love of privacy.
It was another few hours before I was interrupted by another knock at the door. I put aside a pair of trousers and went to answer it, to find that Irene had returned at last, the flush in her cheeks exaggerated by a rouged complexion.
"How was your visit?" I asked as she sat down upon the settee to catch her breath.
"Positively lovely! Did you have a chance to speak with our esteemed landlady?"
"Yes, I said what you told me to. She was a little reluctant, but she's agreed to talk to Victoria and answer a few of her questions about the renowned Mr. Holmes."
"How kind of her, I'll have to take her up on it. Anything else?" Irene asked, astute as ever.
"She came by because she had a note from our patron."
"Already? What does it say?"
"I wouldn't presume to read it without you." I picked the weighty envelope up from the table, still sealed.
"Very considerate of you, Godfrey. Go on, then."
I tore it open to find a formal invitation. "It appears we have been summoned to see the colonel, rather than him paying a call on us."
Irene impatiently stood to peer at the note over my shoulder. "The day after tomorrow at nine in the morning - it appears we'll be joining him for breakfast."
"It's kind of him to give us an opportunity to relax after such a long voyage."
Irene grinned. "I'm sorry, Godfrey, but I fear relaxation is not on the schedule."
"I can hope, can't I?"
"Would you be amenable to bringing your hope to a meeting with the landlady?"
"Very well."
"I am quite taken with those stories of Dr. Watson's, after all," Irene continued as I pulled on my jacket. "I wouldn't waste any time in asking their distinguished landlady about the famed detective."
"Yes, and I am also curious what she has to say."
I followed Irene out the door. From the landing, we could hear Mrs. Hudson puttering about upstairs, and so Irene led the way up to the famous flat.
Irene knocked once at the door and it swung open to reveal our landlady attempting to make some order out of a sitting room in total disarray.
"It's even more amazing than I imagined it!" Irene exclaimed, her demeanour and even her voice no longer her own. Instead, I was now in the company of Mrs. Victoria Drebber.
I exchanged an exasperated smile with Mrs. Hudson and she waved us inside.
"Mr. Drebber told me you read-" Mrs. Hudson began to say.
"Yes! I adore them! 'Victoria' interrupted, overflowing with enthusiasm. "I cannot wait to read the next story that Dr. Watson writes! When I heard he was writing again I forgave him immediately!"
"Forgave him for what?" Mrs. Hudson asked, though she sounded like she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the answer. "Do take a seat," she added with a sympathetic glance in my direction.
Victoria ignored the suggestion and remained standing, staring at everything with wide eyes. I knew somewhere in there, Irene was taking meticulous account of everything she saw, but even I wouldn't have been able to tell.
"My apologies for the intrusion," I said to Mrs. Hudson. I stepped toward Victoria. "Come on, dearest, you don't need to stand."
She paid me no heed. "Can you believe it, Albert? We're actually in the home of the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"
"That we are. And you can even sit in his chair." I led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, hoping it was the right one, and sat myself in the other.
"I do not mean to pry," Mrs. Hudson said, "but what did you mean about 'forgiving' Dr. Watson?"
"For leaving Mr. Holmes," Victoria replied, as if it were obvious.
Mrs. Hudson gave her a weary smile. "That's what love will do to a man."
"Still, Mr. Holmes must have been devastated!"
"Victoria," I warned, "That's a very personal question."
"Don't worry yourself about it." Mrs. Hudson waved it off and answered Victoria, "He was, it's as simple as that."
"How could Dr. Watson end it like that?" Victoria cried.
"They still solve cases together, every so often. Though I doubt they've been able to see each other with Mr. Holmes in France. It is a shame, but life goes on."
"Were they really such good friends, as in the books? They had to be! Weren't they?"
"Let Mrs. Hudson answer," I chided - part of me couldn't help but wince at the whole charade, but I knew there was a reason for it.
"They still are friends, Mr. Holmes doesn't have any closer. As for Dr. Watson, well I'm sure he's as social as any married man now, but that's how it goes, isn't it?"
"That's so sad! I wish Mr. Holmes were here now. I could tell him how much he means to all of us, Dr. Watson or none!"
"He really has no other friends, or acquaintances, even?" I asked quietly, remembering what Dr. Watson had written in his accounts.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "It is a real shame. There are a few Inspectors with the Yard who call on him frequently enough, and there are those dirty boys who occasionally come by to deliver messages, but that's all business."
"He must at least have a club, like that place you go to in New York, Albert," Victoria said.
"Mr. Holmes only goes out for work, though I can occasionally convince him to take a constitutional when he's had himself cooped up for too long. I'm afraid he's been even more reclusive than ever since Dr. Watson left."
"The poor dear!"
Mrs. Hudson nodded in agreement with Victoria's overeager sympathy. "My apologies, but I really must be getting back to work. It's very nice to have you around; it gets lonely here with Mr. Holmes away."
"Thank you so very much!" Victoria said, leaping to her feet to ring Mrs. Hudson by the hand.
"Thank you," I said, shaking Mrs. Hudson's hand as well.
"You are welcome to join me for luncheon tomorrow. I doubt Mrs. Watson will mind the addition."
"That would be marvellous!" Victoria exclaimed with a glance in my direction.
"I believe we'll be available," I said with her encouragement - I had no actual knowledge of our plans. "Thank you very much."
"My pleasure," Mrs. Hudson said, and showed us out the door.
Victoria and I returned downstairs and thankfully it was Irene who joined me in our flat. She paced across our sitting room, around the bags I had yet to unpack, while I seated myself in the chair in the corner.
"Did you notice?" she remarked, though the question wasn't really directed at me. "Dr. Watson's stories seem to line up almost perfectly with the reality, at least as far as Mrs. Hudson recounts it. I wonder if he is truly so candid, or if she's in on it."
"She seems to be a perfectly respectable gentlewoman," I attempted, though I know I am hardly the judge of character that Irene is. "But perhaps that is why she was so willing to speak with us. I confess I am not so keen on our Albert and Victoria."
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson must not like Mrs. Watson very much if she invited Victoria to join them for luncheon tomorrow. You're not the only one who loses patience with the dear; she'll have to undergo some small adjustments when we meet with Mrs. Hudson next. But you won't have to change a bit; you're perfect just as you are."
"It helps that I don't have much to do."
"It is a shame that you're not quite good enough at acting to play a proper role..."
"I was acting," I insisted, "I would never marry your Victoria."
