So, another part of case 8 - oh dear, have it been so many already?. Not that I mind, but time really has been flying.

I am not sure when I manage to post the next part, but I try my best not to keep you waiting for too long. But at any rate, Merry Christmas to you all and thank you for all your kind words and your support.

Nic

The Saunderson-Mystery – Part 2

Sherlock:

When I got up the next morning it was to an empty bed, though I heard my wife walking around in our sitting room, presumably tidying a little, as she was in the habit of doing. Since she had come to be in my life, my bachelor rooms at Baker Street had lost a lot of their previous chaos, though other than Mrs Hudson, Harriet took great care not to get my things into too much of a disarray. My cigars were still kept in the coal scuttle, my tobacco was still housed in the old Persian slipper and my laboratory table was still littered with vials, bottles, Bunsen-burners, and all the other stuff I needed for my experiments.

For my papers, which previously had littered my room in various untidy stacks, she had managed to find a way to put them together without shuffling them about too much. One day, shortly after we had returned from Bognor Regis, she had begun to tie them together with strands of wool from her knitting, and while she could have ended there, she then had added a top sheet on which she marked the dates of the papers and if possible the case they concerned or their general topic, before putting everything into a neat stack next to our bedroom door. It was a considerable pile to be sure but stacked like this, it looked astonishingly neat and it was also surprisingly easy to find something.

When I had told Harriet this, she had laughed: "Well, I know you are a dedicated detective, but seriously, you are busy enough already solving various crimes and searching for my keys, so there is hardly any need for you to waste any more time with your papers."

My wife and her keys were indeed an issue that frequently made me shake my head. How she constantly managed to displace them was beyond me, but she certainly had a talent for it. - As I had the talent to clutter my room with stacks of papers till there was no chair left on which one could sit. But at any rate, either made for a good tease and thus I had replied: "My dear, you are the only person in the world, who engages a consulting detective twice a day if not more, to find your keys."

"And you are the only consulting detective, who asks his wife if she has seen a particular scrap of paper."

"I am the only consulting detective, my dear."

"Well, then I have not even exaggerated, have I?"

"Hm," I had huffed in mock indignation, before both of us had started laughing.

It seemed a man really needed a wife to sort out some habits and to restore some order in one's home. - Well, I had always known that and had consequently tried convinced myself, that it would not be for me. Now as a married man, I had come to disagree with my former opinion. It certainly had something to it, to have one's violin carefully propped up in a corner instead of having it lying around here or there – sometimes on the sofa where it on occasion had been almost hidden by the many cushions Mrs Hudson had brought into the room over the years, so that there had been the constant danger of someone sitting on it.

Yawning I entered our sitting room and indeed found my wife piling the many teacups, that oddly enough always seemed to accumulate in our rooms, onto a tray so they could be washed.

"Good morning," I greeted, and was rewarded with a warm smile from her.

"Good morning."

"Have you slept well?"

"I have. And you?" she answered brightly.

"As long as you are there, I always seem to sleep well."

"Good. Me, too, actually. And what are you up to today? Are you really going to inspect Saunderson's house?"

"Of course I am. Are you going to join me?" I inquired, hoping she would.

"I would love to, but remember, I have promised Anne to visit, and have a look at little Lou? She is getting her first tooth and is consequently quite cranky and her mother in turn very worried."

Of course, I had forgotten, as I did so often with things that had nothing to do with my work. We ate breakfast and then I took off in the hopes of finding anything that might give me a hint as to what had really come to pass.

xxx

The Saunderson-house was nothing like I had imagined it to be. I had thought that a man as rich as Mr Saunderson, would live accordingly and the pictures had suggested this likewise, but instead, I found myself in front of a plain and unassuming little cottage close to the railway line, where the properties usually were quite cheap. However, the inside was much different, as rich and clearly expensive carpets covered the floor throughout the building, the furniture was of good quality, the curtains heavy and the china, on display in a showcase in the dining room, was of exquisite delicacy and taste and must have cost a fortune.

Mrs Deacon, the late man's housekeeper fortunately still lived only down the road, Another thing that I found rather curious. Well not her still living there, but that she had not lived on site as would have been customary.

"He liked his privacy, sir," she said and I was quite impressed by her compliance, which shortly after was explained by the fact that Jones had informed her that I might come round.

"There he lay," she carried on when we had entered Saunderson's study. An impressive room, probably the biggest in the whole of the otherwise small house. The elderly woman shivered as she glanced about herself.

"Can you still remember the circumstances under which you have found him, Mrs Deacon?" I inquired.

Nodding she stated that never till she died herself she would forget the sight that had met her that morning.

"There he lay, spread out as if he had been crucified. His face looked so ghostly white and his eyes stared at the ceiling while his mouth was gaping open as if he was about to cry out in agony." she pointed at the magnificent Axminster we had as yet only seen in the black and white photograph, where aside from its lovely pattern one could hardly imagine just how radiant its colours were.

"I come in here as little as possible, though on occasion I have to clean, of course," Mrs Deacon carried on. "I swear he is still here, Mr Holmes. He has not found his peace. I can feel his presence."

Biting my tongue I refrained from telling her that a person's death was final and that ghosts belonged into the realm of fairy tales but had no place in a criminal investigation.

"This chair, is that its normal position?" I instead asked, pointing at the chair under which the dead man's coat had been trapped.

"Yes, he always sat in it after dinner and stared into the fire."

"But it was not where it had stood on the morning you have found your employer?"

"No, Mr Holmes."

"Did he ever move it before?"

"Never. It was put there when he moved in and there it had stood ever since."

"So it was unusual that it had been moved?" I dug deeper.

"Very much so," she answered thoughtfully as if only now she realised just how odd it had been.

"Had there been anything else that had struck you as being different?"

"Only that it smelled different. It was as if I had entered a Catholic church. - I have a friend who is Catholic, you must know, and every time I have joined her, it smelled like it had that morning."

I startled. Smell was one of our basest senses, one that was the most likely to awaken memories long since buried in our subconscious.

"Frankincense you mean?"

"Yes, that is it," she exclaimed, folding her thin hands as if she was about to pray.

If it indeed had been Frankincense, then there must be a burner for it somewhere. But I could not find one. Instead I found a battered old bible, the only book safe for the man's accounts that I had as yet seen in his study, a rosary, and a medallion sporting St. Suitbert, at least that was what the engraving underneath it said, on its outside and a prayer within that clearly indicated that the saint was the patron of those suffering from a heart disease.

"I presume Mr Saunderson was a devout Catholic then?" I inquired and was once more surprised when she shook her head.

"No, Sir, he was a Presbyterian."

Now that really contradicted the fact that he had owned a rosary and seemed to have believed in saints. Or why else would he have such an emblem around if not because he believed it would help him with his most prominent malady? Well, admittedly sometimes when nothing else would help, people clung to every straw within their reach. I would have to speak to his former doctor anyway, so I could easily enquire how severe his heart disease really had been.

And then there was, of course, the issue of a missing motive. With all the valuables still in the house, it clearly had not been a robbery. Two impressive silver candelabra stood on the mantelpiece, framing a gilded clock, that long since had stopped.

Pulling out the man's account books I once again was flabbergasted, as they contained virtually nothing. And I don't mean nothing in the sense of 'nothing of importance', they were completely empty. Not a single line was written into them. And yet, each year Saunderson had bought a new book, with a gilded embossment proclaiming the year. Almost frantically I looked through the man's papers and found, to my astonishment, that he had left not a single written document, safe for his will, which as yet had been for nought, as I had only been given a typewritten copy and the original was kept at the dead man's solicitor.

A curious suspicion crept up on me and asking Mrs Deacon if she had ever seen Mr Saunderson read or write all but confirmed it.

"No, Sir, never. Though I was not there all of the time, of course."

"What about his correspondence?"

"Oh, he hardly received any letters, Mr Holmes, and in regards to his business affairs, I am hardly fit to give you any information at all. I was, after all, only his housekeeper, and nothing more."

"Thank you, Mrs Deacon, you have helped me a great deal indeed," I answered sincerely.

In truth, I had hardly made any progress, and yet, the man who had once lived here took on more and more of a shape and, hopefully, this would, at last, lead me to his killer.

xxx

Harriet:

"Oh, Harriet, I have not slept a wink!" Anne Fraser exclaimed as soon as she had opened the door for me.

We had not seen each other in a while, and I was quite surprised to see my friend so haggard and worn.

"You do not look well, Anne," I greeted back, "what is the matter? It surely cannot just be the teething, can it?"

"Oh, Hattie, it is horrible, but James has been moved to yet another regiment and he will leave for South Africa in two months time."

That was shocking news indeed. Though as the wife of an officer Anne very well knew that it was to be expected.

"And, are you going to join him?"

"I honestly don't know. And then there is the issue that he wants a son and heir. I do not know how I will go through all of this again. What if I fall ill again? What if it is another girl and he...? - Oh, I honestly don't know what to do!"

While with any other woman I presumably would have found her to be hysteric, I was well aware that giving birth to little Louise had almost cost my friend's life and her fears were thus more than justified.

But first things first and so I glanced over my little charge who I found to be perfectly healthy safe for her teething troubles, for which I recommended clove oil and violet root and then handed the squirming baby back to her troubled mother, well aware that in a year I would have to deal with these kinds of worries myself.

Only when the Louise had calmed down and been given into the care of her nurse, I sat down with Anne to talk over my friend's other issues, explaining to her, that her case had been a peculiar one due to her malady and that it was not very likely that under normal circumstances she would suffer any complications or at least none that were quite as severe. One could never tell, of course, but aside from when the fever had hit her, she had had no troubles at all, and I saw no medical reason why the next time around this should be any different. Anne was healthy and strong, her overall condition was a good one and there was usually a time lapse of two to three years between her bouts of malaria.

"So, perhaps now is as good a time as any," I concluded, smiling reassuringly.

Like a soldier bracing himself for battle, she stood and with some determination said: "Well then, what must that must."

"You could, of course, speak to your husband and see whether you can change his mind after all," I carried on.

"Oh, you know James, he is not the sort of man to do such a thing as change his mind," Anne sighed and I was well aware that she was right.

We chatted a while longer and when I, at last, returned home, I was once more fatigued and my nausea threatened to return with a vengeance. The swaying of the carriage did nothing but increase this feeling and when I alighted at Baker Street I felt horribly dizzy and was more than relieved to find my husband had also just arrived and was busy unlocking the door.

"Harriet!" he cried out, as soon as he saw me, "whatever is the matter?"

Pulling me into his arms I began sobbing. My friend would soon leave for South Africa, I would not see her for years, nor would I see my goddaughter and on top of that, I felt horrible once again, tired and wound up and nauseaous.

With a smile, I was led into the house and promptly brought to bed, gently tucked in and provided with some biscuits and tea to once again soothe my revolting stomach.

"Thank you," I whispered, suddenly aware that Tom was standing in the doorway.

"Mr Holmes, there is a client waiting for you, Sir." our page announced. "He came shortly after you have left this morning and has been waiting patiently since. Mrs Hudson brought him some tea and a sandwich."

"If he has been waiting this long, after all, we have been gone for hours, then it must be something of importance," Sherlock mused, gently kissing my forehead as he rose from the side of the bed on which he had been sitting.

Never in my life could I have imagined what was about to ensue, but every time I think back to this day, it brings a smile to my face.