A/N: Phew! This is my longest chapter yet. (4,518 words) in just three days!
The fight scene between Watson and Steve Dixie is here! However it is not overly action packed or very long because Edward Hardwick was 61 (weird because Watson's supposed to be in his 40s here) and Steve Toussaint (the portrayer of Steve Dixie) had to be careful with him. Also because fight action scenes are still pretty new to me. I hope I did all right and not screw it up!
Also, be sure to check out my profile page to see the next upcoming Sherlene Holmes!
By the time Sherlene arrived at the Duke of Lomand's grand home dusk had fallen at last and a costume ball, put on to celebrate the young duke's upcoming marriage, was in full swing.
The fall of the night allowed torches and colorful sphere-shaped party lanterns to be lit. The fireworks with their almost gunshot-like bangs nearly drowned out the cheerful violin dancing music. Two canoe-like boats were sailing on the pond, the canoe poles easily allowing the boats to traverse the calm water. Everyone was either dancing or sitting in groups to socialize, or running around with sparklers. Most of the guests were dressed in late 18th century wear, but some were togged up in ancient Rome costumes as well. The food and drink was plentiful and well served.
Dressed in her usual dark wear, Sherlene stood out like a black pearl among a pile of white ones. Yet the partiers largely ignored her as she strolled stiffly through and past them. Most of them were too caught up in their fun to take notice of the out-of-place stranger passing through them. The few heads she did turn barely lingered on her for long. Sherlene ignored it all. She was well too used to being different whether it be obvious or not. Once upon a time, it would have bothered her greatly, but not anymore. Now she could walk through the groups of similar people and feel a sense of pride and uniqueness that they could never feel.
She was walking towards the only out-of-place guest in the party. It did not surprise her the slightest that Langdale Pike had somehow got onto the Duke's party guest list in only a few short hours, when he realized where she was, no doubt, going to eventually go. Like Sherlene, he wasn't dressed in any costume, though he was wearing a heavy cape on his back. He was sitting on a decorated chair clamped onto a litter being carried by two costumed servants. When Pike noticed her coming toward him, he used his cane to tap the shoulder of the servant in front of him to stop. The litter he was sitting on was carefully placed on the ground. With a wave of his hand, he had one of the servants bring a chair over.
"You still owe me a favor, dear girl," Pike told Sherlene as she crossed the last few yards to stand in front of him. "I shall'nt destroy the paper until you return the compliments. Remember? Tittle for tattle."
Sherlene merely stared at him. She knew the threat was a weak one and would not be carried out, regardless if she gave him something or not. Pike honored their agreement, as he always had. It was one of the reasons they have been friends for so long. Where she couldn't resist being dramatic, Pike couldn't resist being pretending to be a blackmailer. Sherlene knew that Pike was far from a malevolence person. To him, their agreement was like a game. All he wanted was to see that she stayed an honorable and fair person, even if she did take the law into her own hands.
Pike took a second to exam her person. "Look at you," he sighed, "Are you…what on da—" Sherlene pointed to his own clothing "Oh! Of course. We are above the beau epitome costume. The Rebels have begun. Life is mystery enough without your pale conundrums."
Sherlene sat down in the chair Pike's servant had brought over as Pike finished his last sentence. She looked back the merriment crowd, her omniscient eyes turning hawk-like as she tried to find the young duke and his fiancée. But the constantly moving guests made it difficult, even for her sharp eyes, to find or detect her two quarries. She let out a distasteful sigh. "Oh, so many people! So little purpose!"
"That's God's conundrum," Pike told her, "…if only mortals could answer that."
"Then your life would no meaning," was the retort Sherlene shot back, turning her attention away from the crowd and back to Pike.
"Ooooh, true," Pike realized, "Cruel, cruel, and so true. I've always said that if our late mutual friend Charles Augustus* was the bad edge, I am the good edge. I suppress much, much more than I expose. What sort of world would we be if I didn't?"
It was question Sherlene sometimes asked herself. What sort of world would people live in if she didn't step up to become a detective? What would happen to her clients had she become a normal lady like her father and society wanted?
Would Charles Augustus's blackmail still be around even after his death? Would Percy Phelps ever recover his honor? Would the Musgrave treasure be found? Would Miss Stoner still be alive? How many more women would Baron Gruner have victimized? Would the Blue Carbuncle ever be in the right hands? Would McFalane ever be proven innocent? Would the Bruce-Partington Plans ever be recovered? But most of all, would Moriarty ever be stopped?
Sherlene was well aware that many lives, and even England itself, were saved by her actions. It did not matter if she was a woman or a man. Despite the prejudices society made her face, it was comfort enough for her to know that it was she who made the difference, even with some needed help.
She and Watson burned Charles Augustus's blackmail. She restored Percy Phelps' honor. The Musgrave treasure was with its rightful owner. Miss Stoner was alive and married happily. Baron Gruner would hurt no more women. The Blue Carbuncle was safe with her and Watson. McFalane was innocent of any wrongdoing. She, her brother and Watson put the Bruce-Partington Plans back in the government's hands. And Moriarty was defeated, his empire of crime turned to dust.
It was why she was determined to bring a long needed justice upon the narcissistic Isadora Klein. If she had anything to say about it, Isadora's crimes upon men would finally end. And it would, Sherlene vowed as she tried to find Isadora again through the crowd. It is time for Isadora Klein to see that not even the richest, most beautiful woman in the world is above justice, even if she is above the law.
"Which one is she?" the woman detective finally gave in and asked Pike.
Pike looked towards a spot among the crowd. "Over there my dear lady, you can hardly mistake her with young Lomand," he told Sherlene, who followed his gaze
There under some party lanterns, standing in front of a fire pit bowl, with a young boyish curled haired man dressed in dark blue ancient roman styled costume, was Isadora Klein. Though she was holding a white masquerade mask that hid her whole face, Sherlene knew that she had finally found her quarries. The boyish man was, no doubt, the Duke of Lomand. She and Pike watched him kiss his fiancée's neck, cheeks and exposed shoulders in a near uncontained passion.
"Not very dumb, some merci," Pike muttered and Sherlene silently agreed. The young Duke had mercifully enough sense to keep his hands on Isadora's waistline while in public. Sherlene was half-afraid and half-expecting the young man would start touching his fiancée in places left best touched in the privacy of the bedroom.
Sherlene had to look away but just as she was about to turn her head, Isadora lowered her mask to show her face, so Lomand could kiss her full lips. Sherlene saw that she was the lady in ruined picture in Douglas's concealed locket. However, the photo had betrayed her age. Isadora was indeed middle age**. Though her hair, far longer then it was in the picture, showed no signs of gray hairs, her beautiful face was starting to wrinkle, though she covered it up heavily with make-up.
Finally, Sherlene could look away. "Douglas Maberley?" she asked, giving Pike an excuse to look away from the betrothed couple.
"And others, all those, all those, all those," he told her, confirming just as she had suspected.
One should not be surprised that a celebrated beauty would have suitors after the death of her German husband many years ago. She had, more or less naturally, inherited all his money as he had no living relatives or heirs to give it to. With her beauty and glorious wealth, men, particularly young men, would be drawn to her like bugs would be drawn to a light. Isadora loved their attention, but only for a period of time.
Sherlene leaned a little closer to Pike as his voice became quieter as he explained further. "Douglas is one of the most striking young men in London. He gave all, and expected all."
"It was she who ended it?"
"Brutally," Pike told her, pausing when two partiers, a black man and a young pale lady, passed by them hugging, spinning and laughing. He continued on when they were far enough way. "Marriage to a penniless diplomat with very little breeding was not in the widow's plans. Don't you read my column?"
Sherlene didn't answer the question since they both knew the answer. She instead turned back to watch the engaged couple. A group of young girls were playing Ring a Ring o' Roses around them now.
"Hmmm…" the woman detective hummed, "And yet he seems, even in death, to have some hold over her."
Pike looked back the couple with displeasure. "Do what you like with the information I gave you," he told Sherlene, "But have no truck with her. Look! The sight of her set my hairs on end! She's deadly."
Yet another point the two of them could agree on. When one is not blinded by Isadora's beauty, they would sense a hidden viper and a black widow under that pretty face. In Sherlene's case, it was one of the advantages of being a clever woman and for Pike's case, it was the advantage of being a listener.
"And now she has the great Duke of Lomand within her grasp."
"Look at them," Pike scuffed, "She's old enough be his—Ahhh, the anguished mother."
Sherlene quickly looked toward the mansion. She saw another middle aged woman walk onto one of the balcony, overlooking the party. Like Isadora, this woman's hair was not graying but her face was devoid of any make-up, showing the wrinkles and weariness of her face. She stood tall and straight but she was in no way proud. Instead, she had a sense of torment in her face and tiredness in her frame.
The woman's eyes looked around the party for a moment before they settled on Sherlene. Knowing the woman was looking at her, Sherlene raised her hand, holding up her forefinger in a signal then giving the woman a quick nod. The woman, understanding, nodded.
"I helped her husband once," Sherlene told Pike
"What's your interest in her now?" Pike asked, having now risen from his chair to stand next to her. "Douglas is history! He's dust! Dust!"
"Aren't we all?" Sherlene asked, rising from her chair "Aren't we all?" She was about to walk away when she paused. Then with the pointing a finger, she added, "Even you."
As she walked towards the mansion, Pike called after her, flippantly, "Not me, dear girl! Not me! I withstand the blasts of time!" He started laughing, "Can't you see!"
Maybe it was out of instinctual spite, but Sherlene found herself walking past Isadora and the Duke. She felt someone's eyes upon her back when she past. Sherlene stopped to look over her shoulder. It was no shock to her that she found Isadora staring at her with suspicious curiosity mixed in with large hints of abhor.
After all, the lone black pearl among the white pearls had just past the largest most beautiful pearl in the pile. Why should the pearl not hate something that draws attention away from it? The beautiful pearl sensed a threat and wanted it gone.
Little did the beautiful pearl know…little did it know…
Watson was able to get back to Three Gables before the sun had set. Mrs. Maberley and Dora, the only maid in house now that Susan had left, had greeted him warmly. He was treated to a small but handsome dinner Mrs. Maberley had help Dora prepare. He ate heartily as Dora brought his bag up to Douglas's old childhood room, which had been converted into a guest room. After finishing, he and Mrs. Maberley settled in the sitting room and began talking.
Eventually, their conversation went onto Douglas's childhood and Mrs. Maberley's late husband, Mortimer, whom Watson never had the chance to meet, though Sherlene had. Mrs. Maberley brought out a box of mementos she had kept. They both settled on the floor and the old lady began her stories, handing some pictures and other items to Watson as she went.
"I was on my way to India," she began on the story on how she met her husband, "A governess to a family when I met my dear Mortimer. He was going the other way. Oh!" She picked a very old and battered sand-colored hat from the box. "This was the hat he was wearing over sixty years ago!"
Watson laughed as she placed the ruined hat on her head. "But you never got to India?"
"No. I turned back and went for him. Oh the fuss! You see, he was a penniless salesman at the time. Um…gripe water! You know, the thing for baby's tummies?" Watson couldn't help but chuckle at the item Mortimer had trouble selling. Of course, no one would by gripe water unless they had a baby with stomach pain.
"But in his heart and soul," Mrs. Maberley continued, "There was adventure. Ahhh, the places we planned to visit all over the world." She sighed forlornly as she removed the hat from her head. "We never left Harrow."
Watson reached over for a picture he had seen of Douglas as a young boy. Standing next to him was a breaded man of tall strong stature. "Is this Mortimer with Douglas?" he asked, handing the picture over
Mrs. Maberley was thrilled at seeing the picture. "Oh, good heavens! Have I kept that? Oh, how wonderful! Oh. They dotted on each other. They were alike in so many ways. Two peas in a pod."
Watson watched her stroke the picture, no doubt both poignant and blissful at the memories of the two of the three men she had loved in her life. Which brought up a question that Watson had been brooding over. "And what happened to his mother and father?" he asked at last.
Mrs. Maberley didn't look up from the picture as she explained, "Oh…my…my son and his wife were killed in a climbing accident*** in Snowdonia when Douglas was only two years old. We brought him up as our own you see."
Sherlene could still hear the almost gunfire-like bangs of the fireworks in the front yard as she sat in the mother Duchess of Lomand's private sitting room. It had been a few years since she last been in this room, but it was exactly as she remembered it.
Upon the sight of an old friend, the Duchess's palpable anguish seemed to lessen a bit as she permitted her in. Two puppies had come up to Sherlene, curiously sniffing her and following her the comfortable chair in front of the fire place. But the moment the Duchess sat down in the chair opposite of her, they went over to the Duchess and jumped into her lap, settling down comfortable as Sherlene had begun talking.
"This case in Harrow?" asked the Duchess after Sherlene finished telling her about the murder that had recently been taken there.
"It concerns your future daughter-in-law…" Sherlene explained, "…and a late acquaintance with her. The facts do her no credit."
The Duchess was silent for a moment. Then a light of victory glowed in her eye. "Something from her past?" she asked, her whispered voice lined on anticipation of being right.
On Sherlene's confirming nod, the Duchess's eyes glowed and her long-held anguish disappeared. "I knew it! Tell me at once!"
"I need a little time."
The Duchess frowned and shook her head. "The wedding, to which I deplore, is almost upon us."
Sherlene slowly nodded once, signaling she knew.
The Duchess glanced over Sherlene's shoulder to look out the window looking out into the front lawn. She could see her son dancing merrily with the viper. The Duchess refused to call her future daughter-in-law anything else. Her son was wrapped tightly in the viper's grasp. Her son was a good boy, but he was too ensnared in the viper's splendor and lost in a world of fantasy he believed he would be living in forever. But poisonous snakes could never bring paradise.
"My golden boy…" The Duchess sighed sadly, "He's besotted with this one."
She looked back at Sherlene, her eyes imploring the younger lady to tell her what she wanted to know. "If you know something against her, pray God, let the scandal break now."
But Sherlene only gave her a little smile. "Oh, no, no, no. I think a scandal can be avoided."
She roused from her seat, signaling her intent to leave. The Duchess quickly roused with her, the puppies quickly jumping off her lap. "Is there anything you wish me to do?" she asked
Sherlene shook her head. "Granting me this interview was all that I needed," she told the Duchess, "Mrs. Klein would not have been pleased to see me here."
"Mrs. Klein," the Duchess half scuffed, half hissed, "Harry would be turning in his grave."
"Leave all to me, please," Sherlene told the Duchess without questioning before leaving the room.
As the Duchess watched her leave, she felt put-off and just a bit angry at Sherlene's refusal to reveal to her the secret she knew about her upcoming daughter-in-law. But the Duchess reminded herself that Sherlene, though a very odd sort of lady, was not one for causing scandals no matter how much someone wanted one. It was what made her stronger person then most of the men and women the Duchess had ever known in her life. It was that strength that Sherlene had earned the Duchess's trust. Sherlene did not reveal the late former Duke of Lomand's past unintended dishonorable conducts in order keep him, her and their son safe, though her son was thankfully ignorant of the affair.
She owed Sherlene her faith in her, thus the Duchess willing gave it. It was all she could do now; keep faith that Sherlene would find a way to save her son from the viper known as Isadora Klein.
It was late when Watson went up to his assigned guestroom to prepare for a long night of sentry/bodyguard duty. He would do what Sherlene asked him to do and not sleep tonight. This sort of assignment she asked of him reminded him greatly of the nights he spent on patrol sentry duty back in Afghanistan over a decade ago. He had just doused the oil-burning lamp and settled in his chair when he heard a loud horsed but clear scream coming from below.
He sprung up from the chair, nearly toppling it, grabbed his revolver from the side table and hurried out of the room.
When he got to the stairs, he found Mrs. Maberley, whom he thought had been getting ready for bed but she was still fully dressed, laying on the bottom five steps as though she had been pushed there. She looked pale from shock, and Watson could see she was clutching something white in one of her hands. He just caught sight of two fast-moving shadows vaguely shaped like men disappearing out of his line of vision.
"Mrs. Maberley!" Watson called to her, quickly though mindfully coming down the steps.
He dropped quickly to her side. He set down his revolver and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her out and away from her shock silence. She grabbed hold of his elbow with her free hand and tried to push him away from her. For a moment, Watson thought it was out of fright, but looking into her eyes, what he saw was not abysmal fright, but rather pure anxious perseverance.
"Leave me!" she insisted, her voice crooked from her earlier scream "Go after them! They got it! Go!"
It, Watson realized, must be the very thing Steve Dixie and his friend (he was sure it was their shadows he had seen) had been sent to collect for their employer, Isadora Klein. Mrs. Klein must be cold hearted, Watson thought, if she allows her hired hands to attack a poor defenseless old lady in order to rob her of her possession.
With his old solider instincts overriding his instincts as a doctor, Watson picked back up his revolver and sprinted to the side door in the kitchen, leaving behind Mrs. Maberley on the stairs, still persevering and pleading for him to hurry.
When Watson got outside, he headed straight for the foliage. Upon entering the cluster of plants, trees and bushes, he slowed down and proceeded to walk carefully, his ears straining to hear the slightest disturbance amongst the bushes. Though he had seen Steve Dixie and his companion's shadows exit through the front door, his instincts directed him to go out through the side door. If a thief had been seen exiting through the front door, most men would assume the thief would run in a straight line. But a smart thief would draw pursuers into one direction before going in another different direction. It was a tactic used by foxes in order to throw off pursuing hunting dogs.
Watson's instincts turned out to be correct when his revolver, which he had been holding out in front of him, had been knocked out his hand by a fist. A hand grabbed his shoulder but Watson was quick to punch his attacker's gut. The first punch made his attacker let go and the second made him step back a few paces. Before Watson could try for a third, his attacker turned on his heel and ran away from him. Not wanting him to get away, Watson gave chase.
His attacker ran out of the foliage and into the garden. He passed the summerhouse to reach the high stone brick garden wall and was able to climb over it, just as the doctor made it past the summerhouse.
Watson stopped and let out a sigh. There was no way he had the agility or the strength to climb over that high wall. He lost him and no doubt Steve Dixie with whatever it was they had successfully stolen from poor Mrs. Maberley.
Holmes is not going to be happy about this, Watson thought dejectedly. He turned around and started walking, intending to go back to the spot where he lost his revolver then see to Mrs. Maberley, mentally kicking himself for leaving the poor woman alone in such a state, when someone very tall and brawny stepped right in front of him.
Watson slowly looked up in surprise, but it quickly vanished when he realized Steve Dixie had just revealed himself. In that moment, Watson realized he had been deliberately led to the summerhouse where the black thug was undoubtedly hiding, waiting for his moment to pounce.
Dixie swung, aiming for the side of Watson's head but Watson was quick enough to duck. The doctor was quick to send a straight right into Dixie's abdomen. Dixie took a couple sets back, but he was hardly winded. Watson tried to punch the thug's face but Dixie was swift to lean back, out of Watson's reach.
Watson tried again but this time Dixie blocked and sent a large fist right into Watson's left eye. The sudden pain sent the doctor reeling back. He stumbled blindly into the summerhouse, ramming his back into the desk. However, his vision didn't seem to suffer too badly as he could still see in spite of the flashing light spots.
When he saw Dixie coming toward him, Watson raised his leg and kicked the thug's gut, forcing air out his lung. Now winded, Dixie stumbled back into the one of the summerhouse's railings. However, the old wood couldn't support his sudden weight and broke under the pressure, almost causing Dixie to fall off his feet. The tug barley managed to keep himself upright.
Having given himself some room, Watson stood upright and got his fists up and ready as Steve Dixie righted himself. Once again, Watson sent another punch but this time aiming for the thug's ribs. Upon successfully striking the ribs, the doctor pelted another hit to Dixie's gut, then tried to hit the thug's temple. But like before, Dixie was able to block the blow aiming for his head. The doctor had made a mistake in trying to hit his opponent's head. Now that his arm was blocked, he left his right side open.
Dixie plunged a strong blow to Watson's rib, causing Watson to cry out and try to curl into himself to cradle his wound. Now having a good hold on the doctor, Dixie threw him against the one unbroken window side of the summerhouse, causing the whole wall to shutter and glass to break. Dixie then pulled Watson away from the wall and hit him across the forehead. Watson went flying out the thug's grasp, into the desk then onto the floor.
Though despite the pain in his side from a bruised rib, the ache in his back from connecting to the windows, the doctor was quick to get back onto his feet. He ran at Dixie, intent on ramming him into the very wall he was thrown against. However, he underestimated the strength in Dixie's legs.
Now back in Dixie's reach, Watson felt the thug hit him in the back of his head, causing him to drop to his knees in pain. Dizzy, he felt Dixie hauling him back to his feet and grabbing his collar. The doctor was still too lightheaded to stop Dixie from forcing him back against another wall.
What he was not expecting was Dixie's furious cry and the doctor found himself carried off his feet and being propelled through the window wall, break more glass and tearing a hole in the wall itself. He saw red when he felt himself hit the hard unforgiving ground with a bump.
His last thought before everything went black was: I'm sorry, Sherlene…
Meanwhile, back in Baker Street, Sherlene Holmes abruptly woke up from her slumber with a sense of unexplained dread.
Okay, okay, that last part with Sherlene was my own little add-on. I put it in to explain the next upcoming scene.
* The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, otherwise known as The Master Blackmailer. Because this story takes place in 1899, I tend to think The Three Gables takes place in the 1900s, though the Granada Series puts the timeline in the 1890s
** Claudine Auger, the actress best known as Bond Girl, Domino Vitali in Thunderball, had portrayed Isadora Klein when she was 52, though Isadora is hinted to be in her late 30s. Auger had retried in 1997
*** Mary Ellis's last husband was killed in a climbing accident in 1950, 44 years before this episode was aired. She also portrayed Lady Florence the year before in The Eligible Bachelor. Mary Maberley was the last role she ever played. She died in 2003 at age 105.