Under the mistletoe – Part 2

Sherlock:

As I had never claimed that my father was dead I was taken by surprise that everybody must have thought so. Thankful that Harriet had provided me with an escape I carried on with my story.

"So the next morning I was on my way to Oxford stuck in a third class carriage. There I arrived well before noon and was glad that the lady had been true to her promise to send a gig to pick me up as the house was further away from town than she had led on. It was situated in a small village right on the green and judging by the close proximity to the church once must have been the rectory.

'Good morning.' I greeted the maid who opened and was promptly admitted into the house without further ado. It seemed as if I was urgently expected.

'We have seen her again.' Mrs Bellinger announced. 'This time it was Miss Henderson the governess.'

'On the landing again?' I enquired, as this seemed to be the one spot where this mysterious chap always appeared to make an appearance.

'Yes,' the lady answered breathlessly. It was fairly obvious that by now she was rather disturbed by the situation. And who would not have been? Aside from the young master, who was a mere five, there were no men in the house who could come to aid the women should something sinister occur."

"Is it not sinister enough in itself that there seems to be an unknown man walking through the house?" Jane shivered, while my wife frowned, presumably recalling her own experience.

"At this point, one almost wants to believe in ghosts. To think that someone broke into the house does seem to be even more alarming than if it had been a spectre." was Mrs Hudson's remark.

I smiled. Yes, this had been a pretty little mystery indeed and back then at this point I had been as bewildered as my audience was now, lacking some of the experience of the many years to come.

"Perhaps it was really a ghost..." Tom piped up, having listened with eyes round and mouth open.

Harriet ruffled his hair affectionately and I went on, smiling warmly at the two of them: "After interviewing the servants, all of whom told me the same story, I obviously searched the house, beginning at the infamous landing. The landing was quite dark, with no windows on this level of the building, only illuminated by the stained glass windows of the entrance hall below and by a single gas jet right in the middle of it, which on top of that did not work properly. It was a mere passage between the servants quarters and the nursery and as with it being an old place there were no separate servants stairs this was the one and only way to get there."

"Could there have been a secret passage the lady did not know about? After all, she had moved there just recently." Watson now threw in. Again I smiled, taking a sip of mulled wine before I continued my tale.

"Ah well, that was exactly what went through my mind as well, good old friend and I carefully examined every wall but to no avail. If there was a secret passage anywhere in the house, it was not in this corridor. - Which of course did not rule out, that it was not anywhere on that level – nor did it rule out that there was not any passage at all. But for the time being I, of course, had to assume the former, thinking that perhaps it was tucked away in one of the rooms which led off the corridor. It was hard to discern where this man had come from and where he had disappeared to, as the rest of the passage was simply too dark to see anything properly especially once night had fallen. But this again might have well accounted for the man's sudden appearance and disappearance – he had simply vanished into the shadows where he might have quietly slipped into one of the rooms. Which led to the question of which one. I started with the ones that were in the darkest corners, which proved to be the cook's bedroom on the right from the stairs and the bedroom of the young master to the left."

"But of course it was in neither." Harriet smiled and I got the idea she had already solved the mystery. Or at least parts of it.

"No, it was in neither, nor in any other of the rooms."

"So where was this man then?" Mrs Watson asked, looking bewildered but the colour of excitement on her cheeks was most becoming.

"Ah well, that was the question. As simple as this mystery had started out, I had never come across something like this before. - At least not back then."

"Could one of the maids have had a lover?" now Martha asked, blushing.

"And again, that was the next trail I followed. One of the maids indeed had a lover, but she met him openly and at the time was engaged to him, with the knowledge of her mistress, who in turn told me, that the stranger did not resemble the man in question in any way, being taller and of a stockier build. There must be something I have overlooked then, but what? Sitting down on the top of the stairs I began evaluating the information I had been given this far."

"Which was not much." Watson mused. "You knew the lady had moved there a few months back, that her husband had died and that she had taken all her staff with her to her new home, so this Mrs Bellinger must have known them quite well and must have thought them trustworthy."

"She had three children the youngest being but one and the oldest, the only boy, being five. - But actually, the governess was new. The old one did not accompany the family if I recall it correctly." my wife carried on. "There were no passageways and the house had only one staircase leading to the top floor. - Which I presume was also the only access to all these rooms?"

"It was." I agreed. "So, what do you make out of it, my dear?"

"Not much," she admitted.

"But you have formed a theory?"

"I have."

"Oh, then let us hear it!" Mary Watson begged.

"Well, if none of the ladies had a lover – apart from one whose sweetheart did not match the description and there was no other way this stranger could have come into the house, then he must have been in the house all along..."

"But they said they searched the house," Tom interjected.

"They searched the house for an extra person, but did they look for anything else?" my wife enquired.

"They did not."

"Did you?"

"Only after the same thought had crossed my mind that you seem to have." I smiled proudly while the rest of the people assembled in our dining room looked as bewildered as before.

"So, it was clearly not a ghost who haunted the landing, and there seems no other way down than the staircase on which the witnesses had stood. There was no place to hide – or no secret place where anyone had hidden, which means that this mysterious stranger must hide in plain sight." Hattie grinned. "Eliminate all factors and what is left, no matter how unbelievable, must be the truth."

"Exactly."

"I am afraid you still speak in riddles." Mrs Watson cried out laughing. "The two of you are quite a pair, indeed!"

"It was the governess, of course," I replied to everybody's, aside from Harriet's, surprise.

"The governess? But she had seen the man, too, had she not?" Jane was incredulous.

"Yes, but after everybody else had seen the man, had she not, someone might quite easily have gotten the idea she knew who he was."

"But where did she hide this chap?" it seemed that with our audience the penny still had not dropped.

"Underneath her skirts." Harriet and I laughed.

"But how can she hide a man underneath her skirts?" our page asked innocently.

"Of course… - Because the governess IS the man!" Watson cried out in triumph. "I just fail to see why she – he would do this."

"That is because I have neglected to describe Mrs Bellinger. The lady of the house was an extremely pretty woman and this poor man had the misfortune to fall head over heels in love with her. - In town, he used to live across the road from her, where being a student he had rented a room with an elderly lady. When she moved and he heard she was looking for a new governess he took the opportunity and dressing in women's clothing and donning a wig he assumed his new position."

"But why would he go across the corridor dressed like a man?" Mrs Hudson wondered.

"Simple – he did wear his night clothes, a pair of pyjamas and a house jacket. Sleeping closest to the nursery he on occasion was woken up by and needed to tend to the children and sometimes before anybody else was woken he just slipped out without changing, hoping he would not be seen."

"But the children might have seen him."

"The girls' nursery during the night was only dimly lit and remember, the two girls were very small – the second daughter was only a little over two. Either would have been happy enough to see any familiar face, even though the hair looked different. And the boy knew."

"He knew?!"

"Yes, Watson. This young man had done the exact right thing. Remember when you were a lad? I for my part was mightily proud to keep my secrets – especially from my father and on occasion brother."

"Yes, me too." the doctor admitted, smirking at the memory.

"Now, the boy had been greatly affected by his father's death and this young man gave him something special – the knowledge of his true identity."

"Hence the mother's remark about secrecy having been introduced into her house," Jane concluded.

"Yes Jane, hence the remark the mother had made. The 'sightings had become more frequent as the baby was teething and he had to get up more than once during the night. - thinking about Clara I actually wonder how it was that he did not come up with a plan over time as he must have been up and about quite often during the dark hours."

I chanced at my wife who chuckled.

"You are right, but children are different. Some sleep through much sooner than others and some nursemaids have the one or other trick up their sleeve. There had been another governess – or nurse or whatever her real position was, presumably a bit of both, who might have taken care of that matter already so that by the time this young man became their governess the littlest one slept through."

"And what happened to the young man?"

"He stayed as the governess."

"He did? Now that surprises me." Watson exclaimed once more looking quite bewildered.

"Mr Stephenson, that was the man's real name, was good at what he was doing and there was no reason to give him the sack. He just swapped his petticoats back to his suits – which admittedly suited him better and carried on with his good work."

"Did he marry Mrs Bellinger?"

"That I do not know, my dear. I think it likely however as the lady was quite charmed by his dedication."

xxx

Harriet:

"It was a lovely day, was it not?" I enquired as we prepared for bed.

"Yes, it was." Sherlock smiled contently, running his fingers through my hair.

It had been a day full of smiles and laughter of joy and cheer it could not have been better.

"Harriet, I have not given you your Christmas present yet." my husband suddenly stated reaching into the pocket of his dressing gown. "I forgot it up here."

He handed me the small parcel and reached for what I had given him and which he had not yet unwrapped.

"Thank you."

Opening the small box I found a pretty little locket on a gold chain. The craftsmanship was extraordinary and I was astounded.

"Sherlock, you should not have..."

"Yes, I should have, Harriet. I had never thought I would be such a happy man and you deserve all I can possibly afford and more." he told me earnestly and grinning boyishly he added: "And besides it contains my photograph so I can always be with you and you won't forget this grumpy husband of yours."

"Grumpy you are on occasion – as am I. Anyway, I like the idea, as I love having you around nonetheless."

"Harriet!" he cried out at opening his own present. "This is most wonderful. All this work you took upon yourself. And this is lovely, too. Where did you get it?"

I had given him a set of embroidered handkerchiefs as he had asked into which I had wrapped an engraved silver case containing a patent fountain pen so he would never have to deal with a blunt pencil again.

"Do you like it?"

"Very much so. Thank you, my love."

As we snuggled up in bed another matter came to mind.

"Sherlock, you once told me you grew up with your uncle. What exactly happened to your parents?"

Sighing he pulled me closer.

"That my dear is a bit complicated, I am afraid. You see, when I was seventeen I received a letter from my late mother's solicitor which she had left with him shortly after I was born. This letter turned my whole world upside down and for years to come, I would have difficulty trusting in people. The man I had grown up with and of whom I had always assumed that he was my uncle and which I also called uncle, turned out to be my father, making Mycroft and I only half brothers and in consequence the man I had always thought to be my father my uncle."

"Good grief!"

"So, the people I had always thought of as being my parents have died when I was three years old. There was a gas leak in my grandparent's house, as far as I could find out and my grandparents, as well as my father, died instantly while my mother clung to her life for a few more days but at last succumbed to her injuries. My father's brother took us in. - Or at least so I had thought till I turned seventeen."

"So you did grow up with your father?"

"Yes, I did. I just did not know it – though many people had remarked on how similar we look and are. And there indeed is a striking resemblance."

"It must have been a shock to realise your mother and uncle had an affair."

"It was at first – and for several years I refused to listen to what Uncle Aldwin – father - had to say. The very day when I was engaged by Mrs Bellinger was the first time in years that we spoke and I then found out that there had never been an affair, but that my supposed father had been severely ill, having had a stroke and that they thought he would not live to see the next day. In their desperation, they comforted one another and I was the result."

I was speechless.

"My actual uncle, however, did survive though he never recovered fully as far as I know from Mycroft and father. My real father feeling guilty began teaching at a public school for boys and after our parents and grandparents death took us in, moving to a small village where he took up the position as a teacher once again. It's close to Lewes."

"What is the village called?"

"Langfield in the Downs."

"I know it. It's very tranquil."

"It was not while I was a lad living there." Sherlock Holmes grinned, kissing my forehead affectionately. "I was always up to something, I can tell you. Now I realise my father must have had the patience of a saint."

"That I do believe in an instant. So that day Mrs Bellinger called, you, at last, got talking again?"

"Yes. After that, we wrote to each other occasionally but it took the Reichenbach-incident for me to really forgive him. I had never felt so lonely in my life and suddenly I could understand how my mother and he could have behaved like that. During that time more than once, I was short of paying for the comforts of a woman but never did, knowing it would make me feel even worse."

Caressing his cheek I mused for a moment before asking: "I know you travelled the east and you said he lived in Egypt for many years. Did you meet him?"

"Yes. I was overwhelmed by the joy he showed in seeing me and he told me a family would be worth all the trouble and heartache in the world and that no matter how I acted or what I did I would always be his beloved son. It took me all my journey to realise that I was not meant to be single and I vowed to myself that whenever I would find a woman who could love me and whom I loved to marry her and built a family. And when I held you in my arms on that fateful morning two months ago I knew I had found her – the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Then I am very grateful to your father for giving you this sound piece of advice." I smiled, though tears ran down my face so moved was I

"Yes, me too. He is a great man and I cannot wait for the two of you to meet."

"Does he know you are married?"

"Not yet. I would like to surprise him. But in my last letter to him, I have mentioned that I had recently met a very lovely young lady."

"You know what, Sherlock Holmes? You truly are impossible! And I love you even more for it."

His answer was a very passionate kiss.