A needle in a haystack - Part 3

Harriet:

After Sherlock and the inspector had left I had decided to take some action myself and thus went down to Lisson Grove. With a heavy heart, I entered St. Anne's to a full waiting room and many familiar faces.

"Ah Doctor, I did not expect you to come in today." the nurse behind the desk greeted me with a surprised expression on her tired face.

"It is but a short visit, Miss Harris. Who is on duty today?" I enquired.

"Doctor Flannegan, Madam. Shall I call him? He is currently making his currently making his round."

"No, thank you. I just want to sort some things out in my office and then will be off again." I replied, feeling tremendously sad and once more was close to crying. Dear me, I really needed to start to control this. It was getting out of hand and started to be quite embarrassing.

Sitting down at my desk I quickly went through my letters, all of which were rather insignificant and could be dealt with easily. Then I pulled out my accounts book, closed it, packed it into my carpet bag and left to go see my superior at the more prestigious St. Mary's Hospital.

"Doctor Stephens, what a surprise to see you. Is something amiss?" I was promptly asked by Doctor Carter, the director of both St. Mary's and St. Anne's, as soon as I had entered his office. "You look pale. Are you ill?"

He was an elderly man with side whiskers and a pair of gleaming gold-rimmed glasses behind which two brilliant blue eyes kindly glanced at me.

Taking a deep breath I took out the accounts book and handed it to him the book.

"You are early with your accounts. They are only due by the end of January," he remarked, taking the volume nonetheless.

"Yes, Sir, I know. But as of today, I will resign from my position."

Carter stared at me aghast, shaking his head slightly as if he wanted to ascertain whether he had heard me right or not.

"You might not have heard yet, but I have gotten married and..." I carried on.

"Your husband does not like you working? Is it not always the same old thing?!" he interrupted, sounding almost angry and slightly disappointed.

"No, Doctor, he does not oppose me working at all. Quite the contrary. He is very supportive. It is my own decision to leave."

"Has there been an issue? Did you have problems with anyone at the hospital?"

"None at all, Sir. It is with a heavy heart that I leave, but..."

"Then I don't quite understand why you do so. If your husband is supportive and you like working at St. Anne's why would you…" suddenly he stared at me before his face broke into a wide smile. "Oh! Of course. You have turned into one of your own patients, so to say. Well, yes, under these circumstances I understand your decision and accept your notice."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Can we still apply to you, Doctor – well Stephens is obviously not your name anymore?"

"No, I mean yes, Stephens is not my name anymore – well, technically it never was, as you must be aware that it was only a pseudonym in the first place. Now it's Doctor Holmes, Sir. And yes, you may still ask for my expertise." I smiled back.

When I had started to work at St. Anne's I had asked to work under my pseudonym to avoid confusion and also to keep my family name out of it for my brother's sake, but that had been shortly before Doctor Carter had taken over his position.

He chuckled again: "Yes, you don't look much like a Reymond. Well, Doctor Holmes, then I wish you all the happiness in the world. And even though I am fully aware that a doctor never likes to take advice, least of all from a colleague, in this instance, I would say you should find yourself something to occupy your brain with. There are only ever so many baby clothes a child needs, but you yourself wrote in your book that a well-rested and happy woman will have less trouble during her pregnancy. With you, I cannot imagine that mental dormancy will do you any good."

He had gotten up to shake my hand and smiling I answered: "Yes, my husband thought so, too, and we have agreed that we should find something to avoid such a thing as 'mental dormancy', while at the same time avoiding any danger of infecting myself or the child with disease."

With that I left for home, tears streaming down my face at thinking that this part of my life was now irretrievably lost to me. But as I climbed into Hansom the thought that it was replaced by something even more wonderful made me smile again and by the time I arrived at Baker Street I was all content.

xxx

Sherlock:

Even though it was getting increasingly dark I returned to Gracechurch Street and positioned myself at the very spot Constable Smith had described. Indeed, even if I crossed the road, which had quieted down since the early afternoon when I had been here with Gregson, I could not see any further than the rest of Gracechurch Street and a few yards up Bishopsgate but not beyond. The curve was barely noticeable unless, like me in this instant, wanted to look further – and towards Threadneedle Street. Did it have any significance that the carriage had taken a route that would lead it basically back towards the Bank of England? It would have been a stroke of genius, to be sure, to have a good dozen policemen struggle on one end, while behind their backs the very gold they were supposed to watch passed them unnoticed.

On foot I made my way towards the Bank of England, which of course by the time I arrived there was closed, to follow the path the transport had taken. Walking down Mansion House Place I turned into St. Swithin's Lane and sure enough, the narrow passage was as dark and deserted as I had expected. And one more thing caught my attention. The place where the crates and rubbish barrels stood was drenched so deep in shadow that aside from some shapeless form one could impossibly make out anything distinct.

Once more I walked the length of the street to get back to Cannon Street and take a Hansom from there to return home. For today I had done enough walking and admittedly I was starting to feel the cold. Mulling things over sitting in my armchair with a pipe or two would be more helpful than pacing the streets of the Metropolis at any rate.

xxx

When I did return home it was past nine and Harriet was waiting for me already, her face all eager curiosity.

"I presume you are working on a new case then?" she asked, taking my hat and coat from me.

"I am," I replied smiling, pecking her on the cheek. "A curious little problem, but nothing out of the ordinary I fear."

"If anyone else would say so I would believe it, but with you 'not out of the ordinary' is usually still quite extraordinary in comparison to what normal people would consider such." she teased.

"So, I am not normal then?" I tried to bait her, successfully.

Laughing she replied: "No, not normal at all. If you were normal I would not have married you, my dear."

"Hm, then I am glad I am not 'normal'. For a moment I was wondering whether it was a good or bad thing."

"Oh very decidedly a good thing, Sherlock. I'll just go and get your dinner. I have to admit that I have eaten already."

"Which is just as well as it is almost half past nine. How are you at any rate? I hope you got some rest."

Sitting down at our dining table Harriet went down to the kitchen where Mrs Hudson usually kept my meal warm when I had been out and about. A couple of minutes she returned with a generous piece of roast pork, some potatoes and beans as well as an enormous slice of apple pie.

"My dear, I fear I will need help." I sighed theatrically at seeing the immense amount of food. Mrs Hudson still would not give up on trying to make me eat more it seemed.

"What do you need help with?" Hattie looked puzzled. "What is the case about anyway?"

"I don't necessarily need help with the case, but I would, of course, appreciate it if you would listen to the details. No, in this instance I meant help with the food. Please tell me, how many people did our dear landlady expect to feed with this portion?"

"Hm, I would estimate around six?" my wife grinned.

"That was also my guess. Wait till she finds out you are expecting, I can almost see you being force-fed." I chuckled, pushing the pie in her direction.

xxx

Harriet:

When we had finished eating we changed into our night clothes and snuggled up in front of the fire place, each in one of the well used and extremely comfortable armchairs while our feet shared the upholstered stool, at least till my husband decided to tickle my feet with his toes and I curled up in my seat instead.

"Spoilsport!" he teased and I was greatly tempted to throw a cushion at him.

"So, what is your new case about? I was tempted to eavesdrop, but actually fell asleep after telling Tom to bring up a cup of coffee for the inspector."

Sherlock, pipe between his lips, which made him mumble slightly, described the situation while I listened in silence.

"So tomorrow morning I will mobilise my Baker Street irregulars and have them have a look around the area, while I will speak to the directors and, if possible, the client whose gold got lost."

"Who has such an amount of gold lying about?" I asked bewildered, trying to figure out how many pounds of the metal would equal the sum of eighty thousand Pounds Sterling.

"I have been wondering as well. But considering that the Bank of England mainly deals with high profile clients, and Gregson also said it was indicated to him that it was a most illustrious person, though he did not know who, I dare say it might be either an industrialist or one of the peers of this country. What I would like to know is, why it was necessary to actually transfer the gold. It is fairly unusual even with smaller sums, and it would have been a lot less risky if they had issued a promissory note instead. Then there is this thing why it was done at such a late hour, in the middle of the night, on a weekend and most and for all, why they used these dingy alleyways instead of the main roads that are easy to oversee and where in case of an incident, the police could have reacted accordingly."

"So I presume you think that this robbery was planned right from the start?"

"Yes." he simply answered, re-lighting his pipe. "I do get the idea that the reason why the gold was transported in the first place was to steal it. But this, at present, is nothing more than a hypothesis which I cannot prove. That is what I am going to try tomorrow. So what have you been up to, my love?"

"I quit my position at St. Anne's," I replied offhandedly, though I still felt the loss greatly.

Sherlock looked surprised but then smiled.

"Then I will, among other things, go and see Dr Bell tomorrow. And for now, I think you should go to bed."

"Will you not come, too?"

"Yes, in a moment. I just want mull things over a while longer and then I will come to bed..." he trailed off and I could see his mind had already strayed back to the problem, as he stared into the fire without taking anything in.

Smiling I kissed his temple and crawled into bed, tired and oddly at peace with myself despite the slight melancholy due to my quitting.

xxx

When Sherlock joined me I do not know as I was fast asleep by that time, but when I woke up at first light I could feel his arm around me and turning around I could not resist kissing him, which produced a small smile on his lips.

"I thought you were still asleep." I yawned.

"No, I was enjoying the moment," he smirked widely now, kissing me back. "But I fear I will have to get started. There is a mountain of work ahead of me."

"Do you by any chance need help?"

"I can always do with a companion, you know that." was his reply which quite surprised me. I had almost expected him to tell me to rest some more.

"And as I intend to drop by Dr. Bell anyway, perhaps you can start there right away. And if not you are welcome to come with me." he carried on, grinning: "Even though I am quite convinced that most banks commit greater crimes than most criminals they are usually safe places for people to go. Just not for their money."

Laughing I slipped out of bed to get myself ready.