Hello folks,

yes, I'm back and I am truly sorry for the long wait you had to endure, but I needed to step back a little and clear my head. After more than 250.00 words worth of Sherlock Holmes-stories alone in the last two years, I needed a little break. I had started this case a couple of times already a couple of months ago, but somehow couldn't get the facts straight and so, focusing on my other stories has, hopefully, worked a treat. The updates might still be rather infrequent, but I hope that I'll be back on track eventually.

But here, at last, is a new case for Sherlock and Harriet – or actually Holmes and Watson, while Hattie sits at home being slightly bored. But I have a case for her lined up as well, once this is finished, though a short one and one I have been thinking about a lot lately and which had me thoroughly captured after watching a documentary. So yes, it'll be an actual unsolved historical mystery Sherlock keeps her busy with, soon. Not that I claim to have finally solved it, mind! It'll probably stay a mystery for all eternity, and perhaps that is for the better.

Okay, enough of my ramblings and onto the story. Grab a cuppa and make yourself comfortable and hopefully enjoy.

Oh, and please leave me a review, they mean a lot. ;) - I really appreciate all your support and kind words.

Love

Nic

A case of High Treason - Part 1

Sherlock:

The dinner at the Stanfords' had been surprisingly pleasant, though I could not help worrying about the revelation that there could possibly be two new arrivals come September. One baby was all nice and well, but two seemed quite a challenge. I have to admit that I felt slightly queasy at the prospect, though not so much because there were two, but because of Harriet. I had long since done my homework and read her book and twins meant an immense increase in danger for the mother.

"A penny for your thoughts," Harriet interrupted my musings as I stared at myself in the mirror with unseeing eyes.

"Are you sure they are worth that much?" I asked, turning towards her.

"Aren't they always at least worth a penny, Sherlock?"

"No, decidedly not. At times I would have to pay others for my thoughts."

Laughing she pecked me on the cheek.

"Silly man!"

"See, exactly my point. How much do I owe you?" I grinned back.

"Hm, let's see... - A kiss will do just fine for the moment."

"Just one?"

"One to begin with, and then another and another and..."

"Ah, that's more like the Hattie I know. You wouldn't let a blackguard ever get away so lightly."

"Blackguard indeed! And now, a kiss, if you please."

"But of course, my dear."

There was never as lovely as kissing my wife. Yes, I guess I have to admit that I was a fool for many a year thinking that the last thing I needed in my life was a wife. Then again, there had never been a Harriet before and she had been worth all the wait.

"And now, Mr Sherlock Holmes, tell me, why you were frowning at yourself in the mirror."

Ah, and there I had been thinking that I had managed to avoid the inevitable. Well, my wife could be persistent if she wanted to and this was one of these instances, it seemed. Perhaps that was just as well.

"You expecting twins."

"Sherlock, all will be well. We will manage. It will be some work, but then again, so is just one," she shrugged, smiling reassuringly.

"But what if something goes wrong? I mean what if something happens to you?"

"You are scared."

It was not a question, but a simple statement.

"Yes."

"Sherlock, there really is no need to. All will be well. Just look at Mrs Stanford, she's had three sets of twins and she is perfectly fine. I am still young and I'm healthy and sturdy, so there is no reason why it should not be the same with me."

She was, of course, right there, but I still couldn't feel a certain amount of helplessness.

"Come to bed and tomorrow everything will be brighter. It's just the first shock."

Again, she was probably right with that, and so we both crawled into bed, as always snuggled up together, though it had, for obvious reasons, started to be less easy to wrap my arm around her middle. Now it rested on her swollen stomach and again, I could feel the subtle movements of the new life within. That and Harriet's even breathing, showing that she was already asleep did the trick and my worries gave way to contended joy as I embraced my whole little family.

xxx

It was still very early when someone banged at our front door in a rather frantic manner. The first thought that usually crosses a man's mind in situations such as these is that there is a fire, and often enough that was the case. The persistent knocking didn't stop. If anything it got worse. Jumping out of bed I realised quickly, however, that there was definitely no smoke, and so I slipped on my dressing gown. Harriet also sat up in bed rubbing her eyes before swinging her legs over the side.

"What is going on?" she mumbled, sounding still drowsy.

"I have no idea, but I'll go and find out. At Baker Street, I would guess for it to be a new client, but here? - Well, we'll see."

And looking at the clock I added: Go back to sleep, it's barely five."

When I had just reached the top of the stairs, Martha also rounded the corner, sporting a disgruntled expression.

"Really, that early in the morning and such a racket!" the maid yawned. "Who is it anyway?"

"Considering that there is a closed door covering said person, even I cannot tell. I haven't, as yet, gotten so far as to know every person in the country by the sound of their knock," I replied dryly, earning yet another disgruntled glance from her. "But that much I can tell, it is urgent."

Martha only huffed.

Just when another tirade of knocks started, I ripped open the door to reveal none other than my brother. Well, perhaps I should have known that knock after all, though it had been a while since I've heard it.

"Damn, Sherlock, I thought you would never get out of bed!" he cried out, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe his brow.

It was some sight to see my brother this anguished, and so informally dressed. He didn't even wear a tie around his neck. Not a good sign. Something was seriously wrong.

With a quick glance, I assessed the situation.

Mycroft had obviously been roused about an hour, an hour and a half ago at most. That the news he had received upon waking where concerning didn't require a detective to deduce since it was blatantly obvious. Also not, that it had something to do with the ministry. My brother went about his life so rigidly, that it could be nothing else. But first things first. It was raining and he didn't even wear an overcoat, nor a hat. Two things that in themselves were remarkable enough, as were his unkempt hair and the stubble on his chin.

"Come in and then you can tell me all about the missing papers," I suggested, holding the door open just a little bit wider.

"Sherlock, we need to get going straight away!"

"Yes, and unless you want me to cause a stir by running around in my pyjamas, I recommend you coming in and tell me about the details while I'm getting dressed."

If the situation weren't so obviously serious, the bewildered expression Mycroft now sported would be almost comical, but he stepped into the house nonetheless and followed me upstairs.

"So, what has happened?"

"Well, as you said, we've lost some papers. Vitally important papers. - Two days ago these papers were dispatched via a courier because they are so delicate in nature that we could not possible sent them by post but by one of our own men. One we thought we could trust..."

"But wouldn't that have been less obvious to send the letters by post?"

"Perhaps. But Sherlock, these papers in the wrong hands could cause the downfall of more than just one of our highest ranking persons in the country, and yes, that includes members of the Royal family. On top of that, it would mean war. A war right on our doorstep and at a time when we are not prepared for something on the scale of what surely would follow and when the enemy is basically at arms. And as it is, there have already been rumours regarding their content."

Again he wiped his brow and I could feel my face drain of all colour. I did like a challenge, but dealing with missing papers of that importance meant immense pressure. To even consider I could fail was intimidating.

"As said, we sent a messenger to deliver the papers to our embassy in Paris, but as yet, he hasn't arrived. When we hadn't had a telegram by last night, we decided to follow up on the man but his trace was lost at the port at Dover. He has most certainly not boarded the steamer, his ticket is still there, where he was to pick it up. - It was planned on short notice, as to not give anyone a chance to catch up on our intentions and now THIS!"

To hear my brother rambling like that was disconcerting. And though he hadn't said much about the contents of the dispatch I could, from what had indeed been rumoured in the papers only last week, easily guess that it had to do with recent plans to extend our foreign territory. Indeed, if it came to light, it would be a disaster, even the reaction of the other party involved was a sure sign of that.

I made haste to shave and was dressed in no time, while Mycroft paced up and down the small dressing room like a caged tiger. Since it appeared that I might have to travel, I threw a change of clothes into the first bag at hand and soon the only thing left to do was to kiss my wife good-bye and pray that all would turn out well.

"Hattie, there seems to have been an incident at the ministry. It was Mycroft who was knocking and it appears to be urgent," I informed her matter of factly. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I'll send you not. Love you!"

"I love you, too," she replied smiling, her hair, which had come loose overnight spread out on the pillows in a wild mess.

I loved that

look on her.

"I take it, you might be gone for some time?" she added with a glance at the bag in my hand.

"I cannot possibly say."

Harriet sat up, reaching for my hands with a concerned expression now.

"Sherlock, please be careful."

"You, too," I replied, grinning despite my concerns regarding the case.

"So, you'll never let me live down my misjudgement then?" my wife sighed, though the sparkle in her eyes showed her amusement.

"Of course not, dear. But now I have to go. I'll miss you."

"And I you."

xxx

A moment later Mycroft and I were seated in a Hansom and were dashing towards the Westminster. At least my brother had calmed down enough to now give me some facts.

"We've had suspicions about a leak at the Ministry for some time, Sherlock, but now we can be certain. We never had any proof, however and Mr Morton, that is the young man who was charged with delivering the papers to our embassy in France, as yet has been completely trustworthy and thorough in his work. Which is, naturally he was chosen for the task. He is a young man, at around five and twenty, give or take a year, I'm not entirely certain, unmarried, living in lodgings close to my own, down in Pall Mall, and his background and that of his family had been completely untainted. His uncle, the brother of his mother, is a peer of the realm, though there has been some discontent in the family and as far as I know they are not on speaking terms outside of what regards their work. I have to say though, that Lord Thornfield is difficult to get along with at the best of times."

That coming from my brother made me actually laugh and him grin wryly, if only for the shortest of moments.

"So, as said," Mycroft carried on with a sigh, "the young man appeared very trustworthy and honourable and I hardly need to add that he is a clever young chap, who, if it had not been for this affair, could have made his way right to the top. Besides, in order to avoid any detection only two people knew exactly when they would send him to Paris, Lord Holthurst and Mr Palmer, and until he was handed the papers, he didn't even know himself. - And for that matter, I myself didn't know either until he was thought to be well on the way, though I obviously knew about the papers since I had been consulted repeatedly in drawing them up. Actually, I thought they were in Paris already, for a decoy had been sent to distract from the real messenger. All to no avail."

He sighed and ran his hands through his already much-dishevelled hair, making it stand in every direction humanly possible and beyond.

"Morton left the Ministry at around four in the afternoon to get straight to the station, except for picking up some necessities for his journey, of which, as I have already mentioned, he had no notion up to that point. He was to take the train at six fifty from Waterloo Station to Dover and then go onto the steamer towards the continent."

"Which he never has," I added.

My brother only nodded and the rest of the journey passed in oppressing silence.

Leaning back into the seat I thought about the little I knew. The man could, of course, have bought a ticket of his own and from then on travelled under an alias, but what then? Where had he gone? Or was he still in the country to hand over the papers here? Then there was the possibility that something had happened to him despite all the precautions that had been taken. Well, as yet, I could not possibly say. And I had to stop myself from making the very mistake police so often does, by building a theory without sufficient data.