Sorry for the long wait, real life kept me busy and so I have only posted what I had prepared in advance already in the past couple of weeks. But here now is the third part of this case - as yet unedited. But I didn't want to have you wait any longer. Hopefully the next update wont take me quite that long...

And for now, have fun reading

Love

Nic

A case of high treason – Part 3

Sherlock:

We made our way back downstairs, in an even more awkward manner than going up due to those blasted slippers that still refused to stay on our feet should ever we dare to lift them above half an inch.

"I hope you've not made a mess!" the landlady grumpily remarked as she watched us descend, holding a broom in one hand and the other on her wide hips.

Well, what was there to say, by her standards we probably had, but anyway, that was the least of our worries right this moment.

"We tried to leave the room just as we have found it," Mycroft answered for us, though. "By the way, when Morton left, was there anything about him that was different?"

"Different?" she echoed vacantly.

"Yes, did he act differently in some way?"

"He almost forgot to put on his houseshoes and I had to remind him," was her rather indignant reply. "Though he really should have known better!"

As silly as her reply probably was, it showed that he had been absentminded, perhaps even nervous about the task ahead of him.

"Anything else?" I dug deeper, hoping to get anything to give us a lead.

"Well, he was very short and impolite, hardly greeted me and before I knew it, he had taken one of the old papers I had just collected to be re-used from the stack I was carrying and was off to his room in a hurry."

"He took a paper? Any particular paper or just any paper?" I inquired quite flabberghasted.

"Just took the upper-most paper off the stack. How am I supposed to know if it was a particular paper or whether it had a certain meaning for him. I put the papers in the rooms of my lodgers and pick them up the next day to be disposed of and nothing more. It is not as if I read them. It's not seemly for a woman, you know?"

Hear, hear! I could not help wondering what Harriet would say to that, seeing that she was an avid news-reader.

"But you seemingly haven't disposed of Morton's papers since he has left," my brother threw in.

"No, I thought he might want to read them once he returned," the landlady answered with some disapproval as if the mere presence of several papers in one of her lodgers' room was somehow offensive to her.

That thought, it probably was. This woman was tiring, to say the least, and as if to emphasize that she had chores to take care off, she began sweeping the hallway bustling around as if there was no tomorrow. With a curt nod towards my brother, I indicated that it was time to leave. Just one more thing remained that needed an answer.

"What luggage did he take with him?"

"Only a small suitcase. The same he always takes to go visit his family over the weekend."

"Does he go there often then?"

"Every weekend, Sir. He leaves in the afternoon on Saturday and returns late on Sundays, though I have repeatedly told him that one should not travel on a Sunday, of course!"

Of course... At this point, it was hard to neither roll one's eyes nor give a sigh. Again, if the situation wasn't so very serious, it would be almost laughable. No actually, it would be hilarious.

"Just one more question," I added just as I bent down to reach for my shoes, trying to sound as casual as I possibly could, "did Mr Morton ask you to post a letter for him before he left?"

"Two actually, Sir. One to his mother and the other to a friend abroad."

"In France?"

"Yes. If you know why do you ask?"

I didn't reply to her at any rate rhetorical question.

xxx

Putting our shoes back on we left and once again my brother and I went into a post office to send a telegram and that was quickly done.

"And now?" Mycroft asked, with a sigh. "There is not much of an indication as to where we could start looking for the man himself and even less as to what might have happened to the papers. I mean, for all we know, he could still be in the country somewhere, hiding until he sees an opportunity to leave undetected. He must know that by now we are looking for him."

I could not help but agree and just for good measure added: "And should he have gone to see his family first, against all orders, then we will soon find out, I hope."

"Yes, let us hope so," my brother sighed again, though not sounding too convinced.

Truth be told, I didn't much believe in the latter option myself, but it was a possibility that as yet could not be completely discarded.

Deep in thought already I hailed a cab and beckoned my brother to climb in likewise.

"Where are we off to?"

"Baker Street. I need to think for an hour or two," I replied shortly, again mulling over the few facts we had as yet. "And besides that is the address we've given Howard and the Mortons to answer our telegrams."

"True," my older sibling sighed. "And I guess I could do with a shave and most definitely with a cup of tea."

Though I heard his words, I didn't really register them as we rattled along the streets that by now had gotten quite busy as more and more people poured into town for work.

The paper... Why had he taken a paper? Morton had been nervous and he had taken a random paper.

By the time we reached my old abode my brother almost had to drag me out of the cab for I was so lost in thought, I had hardly realised we had reached our destination just as my father came down for breakfast before he would leave for the museum.

"Morning, the two of you," Aldwin greeted cheerfully. "I see, you are on a new case. Ha, and for once you work together, good! How is Hattie, Sherlock?"

The inquiry after my wife momentarily brought me back to the here and now and with it all my fears regarding her condition. Not a good time indeed, but what husband who sincerely loved his wife could stay calm in such a situation. Certainly not me as inconvenient as it was.

"She is well, considering all," I replied earning puzzled glances from both my closest blood relatives.

"Considering all? Damn, Sherlock, you didn't mention your wife was unwell," my brother promptly scolded, but then again, he was as yet unaware that he was to be an uncle soon.

"She is well, Mycroft. It is just that... - That..."

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Aldwin asked worriedly, comfortingly placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Baby?! I actually wondered when you would make me an uncle, but of course it was only a matter of time," my sibling grinned, slapping me on the back jovially.

"No, all three of them are fine," I answered before I could stop myself.

My worries just got the better of me admittedly.

"All three?" my father and brother repeated dumbfounded.

"So it seems. But yes, we are on a new case. You don't happen to know whether there have been any telegrams?"

"One arrived about five minutes ago," Mrs Hudson, tray in hand piped up behind us. "I put it on your desk."

"Thank you."

Tearing open the envelope I unfolded the slip of paper but was promptly disappointed. Sure, it was from Morton's mother, but as it was, she hadn't seen her son in a good while and he certainly wasn't with her now. So, the question was, where did he spend his weekends if not with his family? The obvious answer was that he spent his time with his lover, and might be there now. But how to reach her? Well, the only way would be by asking the mother once again and consequently, I sent another telegram, sending Tom to do so along with my usual note to my wife if only to make her smile at my silliness. Now all we could do was wait, as excruciating as that was.

At long last, after a nice hot cup of tea, I settled in my usual armchair in front of the unlit fireplace, stuffed my pipe and soon was once again deep in thought while my brother took care of his neglected appearance.

Paper, lover, friend... How on earth did all of this fit together? Actually just one way, really: Morton normally spent his weekends with his lady-friend but obviously had to cancel for this particular one due to unforeseen circumstances. That was the simple part. That he had written to his friend could be an optimistic attempt to lodge with him, or...

Or, seeing that the man worked for the embassy, he might have done the unthinkable and sent the papers to him while by post...

Could it really be this simple? Could it really be, that he had simply posted the papers and made himself a decoy carrying nothing but an old newspaper in his dispatch box to ensure their safe arrival? Seeing that he had been sent on an errand on such short notice, moreover been warned not to speak to anyone about his mission for fear of a traitor amongst the ranks of the ministry, that would have been an extremely clever move and a fairly obvious step to take.

The more I thought about it the more likely this theory became. The question then was, what had happened to Morton himself? Why was he nowhere to be found? Whom did he suspect to be the traitor? It seemed that he must have had someone particular in mind and seeing how secret these papers were not many came into question.

And that aside, why did this blasted telegram from Paris needed to take so long?

After two hours I started pacing the room until Mycroft put a stop to that by asking: "I see you have come to a conclusion and actually, so have I."

"That Morton posted the papers and swapped them with the paper before leaving?"

"Yes."

"So far so good then, now we only need proof of that. But if that is the case, he surely must have had his suspicions. You said that only two people knew when the papers would be sent, but surely others must have known that they would be sent at some point. It is too vexing that it is the weekend and we can do so little. Is there any way you could find out nonetheless?"

"I can at least try. There are the lists of who was present when and why and so forth, but how quickly I will get at them, is a different matter seeing that I wasn't involved originally. But I'll ask Holthurst, he will know, obviously."

"Ask Palmer."

"Palmer? Why?"

"He might be an idiot seeing how he handled the situation, and yes, he is an abrasive fellow, but he seemed almost personally offended by having misjudged Morton, hence, I trust him more."

"Good point, Sherlock. But surely you cannot think that Lord Holthurst has anything to do with it?"

"Perhaps not. No, not really. But seeing that he is more obliging than his assistant, he might unwittingly protect the person who has."

"Right. Again, that is a sound argument. I'll ask Palmer then. Shall I come back here?"

"Yes. Should I be out I'll let you kn..."

The ring of the doorbell interrupted our conversation rather abruptly as finally, the telegram from Paris arrived.

Received letter from Morton this morning with a sealed official enclosure and a request to hand it in at the embassy straight away, which I have just now done. To my knowledge, Morton is not in Paris as yet. Said he would call on me once he arrives. Will inform you should he arrive.

B. Howard

The relief washing over us was almost overwhelming. Our conclusions had been correct and the papers were now where they should be. Time to take a breath, step back a little and then search for the missing man. Thinking about Morton suddenly made my heart heavy again. His absence didn't bode well and looking at Mycroft's face he obviously thought about the same lines as myself.