I hope you are all having a lovely weekend and for those celebrating the first of May, I hope you'll have a wonderful day. Here is the next part of this case, unedited, I fear, but better than nothing, I hope.

Methinks the Lady absent – Part 6

Sherlock:

It had been a very eventful morning, and it was not as successful as I had hoped, but for now it was time to go home and change, for I had taken great pains to look as disreputable as I possibly could. I was tired after a long night of work, and hungry after skipping three meals and besides, I wanted to consult with my wife, just to clear my head a bit. But upon coming home I realised she was not there. Oh well, I thought at first, seeing her work basked on the bedside table as well as several of her skirts hung up over the backrest of a chair, she might have gone to run some errands. I shortly stepped back into the living room, to ring for a cup of coffee, when my eyes fell on the ransom note on the table, as well as a sheet of note paper with my wife's writing on it, and suddenly I knew that she was not running errands, but that she had gone to Cavendish Square. Worried I hurriedly hailed a cab, and had jumped in before the driver could voice any protest. I needed to get to Harriet, before any of the criminals I was chasing did. What they might do to her then, I did not even want to think about... - Though I could not help the images of Harriet bound, bleeding and lifeless on a chair appear in front of my eyes. And this time it was not only her, it was our baby as well.

I think never in my life have I prayed so fervently as I did then in the twenty minutes that it took to get to our destination, but by the time I got to No. 13 Cavendish Square I was close to promising the Lord a chapel if only my wife and child were all right and well.

xxx

Harriet:

Upon feeling the heavy hand on my shoulder I wheeled around in some alarm. I had not heard anybody approaching and part of me dearly hoped it was only someone who wanted to ask, what I was doing there, lingering around in the backyard of this villa, but no such luck. The man I stood face to face with now, was a tall unkempt fellow with an unshaven face and the distinct smell of alcohol wafting around him. There was a scar disfiguring the left side of his face as if he once had been caught in a fight involving a knife or two, and all in all, he did look as shady as any creature I had ever laid my eyes on. But what struck me most, was the livid gleam in his narrowed eyes as he stood there before me. However, he seemed determined to contain his anger for he was breathing hard and with some deliberation and as yet had not said anything.

Tom by then had seen the man, too, and was hastening towards us, all alarm. The stranger raised his hand to indicate that the boy should stop, and Tom did. Lowering my eyes, I was thinking hard of what I could do now. Well, keeping calm was usually a good idea – and not panicking. With sudden fear I thought of my unborn child – or children, and my hand subconsciously slid down towards my stomach. I could feel the blackguard's eyes follow my every action, saw his hands clanch and unclench.

Where the deuce was my husband? Hopkins? Anybody? And why, oh why, did I come here in the first place? It had been foolish – and at the very least, when I had found no-one to be around I should have left instead of staying behind and then, in an impulse of immense stupidity round the house to such remote a spot as the backyard of a deserted house. I knew now, that I had made a massive mistake, but it was too late. For a moment I was in danger of panicking.

At last the man did speak, and my head shot up in surprise: "Damn Harriet, why did you not stay at home? Have you any idea how worried you had me, when I returned to find you gone, no note, no message left with Mrs Hudson? – NOTHING!"

I had never seen Sherlock Holmes angry before, or at least not to this extent, and in his current disgraceful appearance, he was some sight to behold. And yet, the relief I felt at realising it was my husband, was beyond anything. Tears threatened to brim my eyes, but I managed to keep them at bay.

"I thought I would find you here," was all I could stammer in my surprise, confusion and relief.

"You thought...? It does not seem as if you have done much thinking, Hattie. What was there to misunderstand from my note? Or telegram?"

This now startled me even more. I had received neither.

"When I returned home and found you had gone out, I was hoping for a moment you had simply gone to run some errands, but then I saw the ransom note on the table. And thank goodness you have left it there, for otherwise it would have taken me a lot longer to realise what you were on about. I don't even want to think what could have happened to you had they found you here where I just found you – out of sight and almost out of earshot. Though we have found Lady Penelope, and she is safe and well, we only got one of the men, while one escaped us and the others are still on the loose AND in London." Sherlock stopped to catch some breath, after this tirade, but he was by no means done. "This is not a game. What if one of the others would have turned up and had taken you? Confound it, Hattie – you are pregnant, for heaven's sake. You are my family."

By then tears were streaming down my face. My husband was right, and yet, had he taken the time to tell me what he planned on doing...

"Message?" I managed to half-sob, before my ire rose likewise. "There was no message. Since we returned last night, you have completely ignored me! You hardly noticed when I went to bed. Had you told me what you were on about, I would not have..."

Well what would I not have? Sought to find a solution to the problem we had been faced with, for then I would have known that my help was not required and all was well. Or that my husband thought it to be too dangerous for me to continue on it. But like this I had no indication as to what was going on. Within the blink of an eye, my husband had cut me from the investigation and had not even given me any instruction.

"I did not ignore you, Hattie. You know how I am when thinking things over, that you should hold that against me now, is ridiculous! I thought of waking you when I left, but since you had not even woken up when I got changed, I wrote a message for you. Do you really think I would just leave like that? I left it on the dining table before I went."

"There was no note," I insisted, thinking hard if I might, after all, have overlooked it.

After all, I had breakfasted on the very table, but safe for the meal, said table had been devoid of any letter. I was absolutely certain.

"I think I can explain that," Tom spoke hesitantly. "I set the table and I..."

"Yes?" Sherlock, though sounding more exasperated now than angry turned towards him.

"I put it on your desk with your other papers, sir."

"And the telegram?" Sherlock dug deeper.

"Well..."

Putting his hand in his pocket, Tom produced the missing telegram.

"Don't tell me you forgot about it?"

"Mrs Holmes had gone out and Mr Holmes gave me some mathproblems to solve before he left for work and... - and I fear I forgot about it."

The little boy swallowed hard, not daring to meet Sherlock's or my eyes. Clenching his fists, my husband let out a sharp breath lest he should explode.

"I will pack my things as soon as we are home," little Tommy added, looking so thoroughly crestfallen that I could not help turning from the still very angry detective to give the boy a comforting hug.

"No-one said you were to leave," I tried to soothe, though I felt just as miserable as the child before me. "We all make mistakes. It happens."

"We are going home!" my husband commanded in a tone of voice which brooked no opposition.

It was some time until we managed to halt a cabby willing to drive us, which was not to be wondered at. Neither of us looked particularly respectable. The drive commenced in silence, though we were quite crammed into the Hansom, but with some relief I felt my husband's arm snake around me and pull me closer. At feeling his affection I could not contain my tears any longer.

"Can you forgive me?" I whispered, just as the cab turned into Baker Street.

"Of course, my dear. Of course I can forgive you. I already have."

Tom, in the meantime had not uttered a word, his head was hanging low and all in all he still gave the impression of a condemned man on his way to the gallows. Sherlock, having conquered his anger addressed him in a gentle voice: "Come now, I will not tear your head off, boy. And you have already been told that there is no need for you to leave."

"But...?"

Ruffling Tom's hair, Sherlock earnestly told him: "No but, my boy. We have taken you in to give you a chance in life, and though you have messed up today, what kind of people would we be, if we threw you out only because you took your chores seriously? As far as that goes, I even have to praise your discretion, for others would have read the letter I wrote to my wife, leaving it lying open on the table – yet you did not. However, we do need to find a solution that such a thing does not happen again. So, in future when I leave a note for my wife – or father on the table, I will, hm, let us see – yes, that might work: I will fold it into a little boat."

At that Tom could not help grinning, while I gratefully squeezed my husband's hand, which earned me a peck on the cheek. Dear me, he really smelled of alcohol! Good thing that we had not been able to hail a four-wheeler...

xxx

Sherlock excused himself as soon as we were at home and I asked Mrs Hudson for a couple of sandwiches to be brought up, before going over to Sherlock's desk and retrieving the note he had written.

It went thus: Good morning my Love,

I hope you slept well. I am sorry for having been so distracted last night, but I think I have found the solution and as you read this, Hopkins and I will be in Newmarket to search for the abductors. I will be back by your side as soon as possible.

Oh, and whatever you do, please stay away from Cavendish Square, for it will be too dangerous for you (well, the two of you, I should probably say) should we not get hold of our man or men after all. Debenham has instructions to bring the counterfeit money there should we fail to find and free the lady before midday. I will send you word as soon as there is any development, so as to not keep you pondering for too long as I know you will, my Darling.

With all my love

Sherlock

I then retrieved the telegram Tom had handed me on entering the house and read that likewise.

Miss Bentham free. One man caught, one escaped. Stay home, they know now I am hard on their heels. On our way back. Sherlock

Dear me! I suddenly felt faint. What if it had not been my husband who had found me there? Once more my hand slid down to rest on my stomach and it had just settled there, when the door swung open and Mrs Hudson brought in the sandwiches.

"Dear me, you do look pale, Mrs Holmes. Are you quite all right?" she inquired, at which I only nodded.

Her gaze scrutinised me and suddenly her eyes fell on my midsection and I thought she would drop the tray as her eyes widened.

"But why did you not say anything?" she cried out, hastily putting down the tray. "You do need to eat something, madam, and best put up your feet."

"I told you, you will be nagged as soon as Mrs Hudson finds out," Sherlock remarked grinning, stepping into the room through our bedroom door, back to his old respectable self. "Hm, and it does seem as if we cannot keep your condition a secret any longer. I am glad you stopped wearing a corset at last. It cannot possibly be good, can it?"

"It's not so much the corset, but more the fact that women tend to lace too tightly. But at any rate, it seems the child shifted and consequently nothing fits me anymore."

I was not yet prepared to tell him my suspicions. A couple of weeks more and I would know for certain, and then there was always time to say something.

"Just like that? Over night?"

"Obviously, Mr Sherlock Holmes."

Yeah, I know seemingly little development on the case, but it'll get there. At least the lady is freed and in the next chapter, which is still under construction, Holmes will tell Harriet what has happened in Newmarket, and then, of course they'll precede to find the rest of the gang.

Hope you liked this chapter, and please leave me a review. I'll try and update soon, though my garden is keeping me very busy at the moment.

Love

Nic