A/N: I'm not dead? *checks for pulse* Yep, not dead. So sorry about the two months of silence from me. First it was depression and the my computer crashed without saving the most recent bit I typed up. It was only three or four chapters, but it felt bigger than that. Then more depression and really busy May, and you have a recipe for not being able to write.
It's not much of a chapter, but it does advance the plot a bit. A tiny bit, but it's there. But it also serves as refresher on what has been going on in the manor.
Thanks as always to my beta, Old Ping Hai. She got me through the darkest parts of my time not writing and was really gracious about me not being able to write.
Thanks to all of you that haven't given up on this story. I'd be lost without you, too.
A piercing scream tore through the Great Hall.
Phryne ran toward the sound without hesitation.
"Phryne!" Jack protested before dashing after her, hot on her heels.
Dot hadn't heard the scream, but saw Phryne make a break for the side doors and took off as well. Hugh huffed a sigh, put down his drink and followed after his wife. He quickly outstripped her, Phryne, and Jack, and he reached the source of the scream before they did.
He grabbed Dot before she could see the gruesome sight, turning her into his chest. He shielded her from the scene before him and murmured, stroking her hair, "Don't look, Dotty, don't look."
Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a shell-shocked maid, screaming as she covered her face with her hands.
Phryne peered around the maid and gasped, "Mary!" She turned to the maid, "What happened?"
The maid just shook her head and sobbed.
"All right, everyone!" Jack called out to the gathering crowd, waving his badge. "Stand back!"
Hugh was torn between being a husband to Dotty and being a constable. He wanted to protect Dotty from the gruesome sight of Miss Morstan, but his cop instincts were clamoring to join Jack at the front of the crowd. He should be pushing back the crowd away from what his instincts clamored was murder. He supposed it could have been that she had merely fallen, but something in him knew that it hadn't been an accident. Dotty made a little sob and all Hugh's indecision about whether he was a husband or cop first went out the window. He was on his honeymoon, he wasn't an officer of the law here in England, but he was her husband, and by her side he'd stay.
Phryne looked up from the body and saw for the first time the maid's face. She raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "Well, that's interesting. You certainly have some explaining to do."
The police were called and Phryne, Jack, Hugh and Mycroft stood at the steps leading to the front door waiting for Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. The small group watched as the forty-something Detective Inspector got out of his car. He was average height and build, but his dark brown eyes sparked with determination and drive. Here was a man who knew his business and did it well.
Greg squared his shoulders as he eyed each member of his welcoming party. The two were obviously cops, the others must be the master and mistress of the house. He walked up the stairs and stood in front of Mycroft.
"Mister Holmes, I presume," Greg said, extending his hand. "Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade."
"I am, yes," Mycroft replied, shaking Greg's hand. "You'll have to excuse my wife, she is unwell and is unable to greet you."
Phryne scoffed.
"Then who would you be?" Greg asked.
Phryne smirked and pulled a card out of her bra. "The Honorable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective."
Greg took the card and read several times before sliding it into his coat pocket. "I don't have patience for pretty busybodies thinking themselves to be detectives, no matter how talented they consider themselves to be," Greg growled.
"You can either let me help you, or I can find my own way, and I assure you it will only make things more difficult for you," Phryne challenged.
Jack stepped between them, "Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of City South police station in Melbourne, Australia; might I make a suggestion?"
Greg raised an eyebrow, "You're a bit of a ways from home."
"A bit, I'm on holiday," Jack admitted. "Seeing the world, taking the long way around to England."
"We are visiting my friends Anthea and Mycroft Holmes," Phryne interrupted. "We are traveling with Hugh," she indicated to the remaining gentleman.
"Constable Hugh Collins," Hugh interrupted her interruption to shake hands with Greg. "Also of City South police station. I'm on my honeymoon." His face lit up.
Greg looked at Phryne, "My former lady's companion, Dorothy Collins nee Williams. Also with us is Dr. Elizabeth McMillan."
"And I take it both ladies are inside?" Greg was getting uncomfortable. He was being stymied and he wanted to know why.
"Yes," Mycroft said. "Dr Elizabeth McMillan and Dr John Watson have taken precautions to keep people from tampering with the body before you can see it."
"They know police procedure?" Greg's estimation of them was rising a little. A very little.
"Mac, Dr McMillan, does," Jack informed him, "Dr Watson is taking instruction from her. She is one our of medical examiners."
"Right..." Greg took deep breath. "What was your suggestion?" he asked Jack.
"Hmm?" Jack replied.
"About what to do with this one?" He thrust his chin at Phryne.
"Oh that," Jack smiled. "Let her into your investigation, you'll find it easier to keep an eye on her so she doesn't do something entirely too reckless."
"I am not reckless!" Phryne protested. "I merely take risks."
"The Communist bank robbery, the murderous painter, the circus, the town with the vineyard, the way you drive your car, I could go on, but there are some that would be even too low for me to mention," Jack shot back.
Phryne sniffed.
Greg's eyes were wide and his jaw was slack with shock. "Should she even be allowed to go anywhere near a crime scene?"
"Despite all the reckless behavior she is quite intuitive and very brilliant," Jack said, turning to Greg. He smiled and then turned back to Phryne, "Plus, she'll just do what she wants anyway."
"And you like it," Phryne countered, her breath hot on his cheek. He turned his head and they brushed noses.
Mycroft cleared his throat and they quickly stepped back.
"Let me take you to the body, Detective Inspector," he said, moving aside to let Greg through.
Greg nodded and then swirled to face Jack and Hugh, "I suppose you want in on this, too?"
Jack smiled, "I wasn't going to even ask."
Hugh raised his hand and practically shouted, "I was!"
Greg laughed. "Come on, you lot," he said, waving in front of him so that he could follow them in.
Mycroft, Jack, and Hugh turned and started walking into the house, leaving behind Greg and Phryne.
"I had a daughter who would have been your age had she lived," Greg began, "She was in the ambulance corps and the enemy shelled her ambulance believing it carried some high ranking official."
"I'm sorry for your loss. I too was in the ambulance corps; it isn't for the weak of heart, I'm sure she was very brave," Phryne murmured. "But I am not her."
"I know you're not, but I learned one thing very early on with her and that was to let her do what it was she set her heart on because it would be far worse if I didn't. So I'm letting you in, just don't make regret it."
"Deal," she replied, extending her hand.
He took it and shook, sealing their bargain.
Greg knelt by the body of Mary Morstan. "She was a pretty thing, wasn't she?"
All three men shrugged.
"I wouldn't know," Jack said with a smile, "I prefer brunettes." He winked at Phryne and she smirked in reply.
Greg looked up and shook his head. "Tell me about the deceased," he instructed.
Hugh stepped up, pulling out his trusty little black notebook and pen. "Twenty years old, the only child and heir to the Morstan textile empire. Her boyfriend, Dr John Watson, age thirty-two. He's the local doctor."
"Wait, isn't that the fellow that you said had looked over the body?" Greg interrupted.
"Dr McMillan is with him, besides he was the only other doctor in the house," Mycroft explained. "And with her being an outsider, my guests don't trust her."
"Better an outsider than her boyfriend, for Christ's sake!" Greg bellowed.
"I agree with you there," Mycroft said, smiling painfully.
"Continue, Constable Collins," Greg said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Mary, John and one David Lancaster, third son of the Baron of Brat, often come to the house to play tennis with Sherlock Holmes, the third son of the previous master of Undershaw, Siger Holmes."
"Third?" Greg asked.
"My brother, Sherrinford died in the early days of the Great War," Mycroft replied, leaning against the banister. "When my father died three years ago, the house came to me."
"And your mother?" Greg queried.
"Passed when Sherlock was only five," came the curt answer.
"Should I continue, sir?" Hugh asked, breaking the tense silence that followed.
"Of course, Collins," Greg said, eyes never looking away from Mycroft's.
"Dr Watson informed us that he had proposed to Miss Morstan and was planning to announce it this evening at the party. There were several unhappy persons at this pronouncement, Sherlock Holmes and David Lancaster being first among them."
"And the others?"
"Her father was said to be disappointed in her choice, and I overheard many people tonight talking about how improper it was for someone that young to be married to someone of Dr Watson's age," Hugh said.
"Anything else?"
"Not yet," Hugh admitted. "I don't have my Dotty's notes with me."
"Dotty?" Greg asked, confused and then his face cleared. "Oh! Your wife! Why would you need her notes?"
"As my lady's companion, she would take notes for me and is a very good detective in her own right. Right now she is keeping an eye on the guests to make sure no one tries to slip away."
Greg raised his eyebrows approvingly. "Must be a firecracker, your Dotty."
"Yes, sir!" Hugh agreed.
Greg rubbed his chin. "If you and your wife ever decide to settle in England, I'd be happy to have a constable like you, Collins."
Hugh blushed.
"You can't have him," Jack protested, wagging his finger at Greg.
Greg laughed.
"I'm quite happy in Melbourne, sir," Hugh replied. "It's home."
"Fair enough," Greg said with a smile.
"Before we speak to your household, staff, and guests, I'd let speak to you first," Greg asked Mycroft, "if I may?"
Mycroft straightened his spine and raised his chin, "Of course, everyone else is rounded up in Great Hall, you may use my study for interviews."
"That's very gracious of you, Mister Holmes," Greg said, indicating for Mycroft to lead the way.
