Harmya sat down and faced herself if the mirror over her dark mahogany dresser. It was an old mirror; flecks of rust spread from its corners like webs spun by golden spiders. She cocked her head to the side a little and stared blankly at herself. She brushed her long black hair out of her face with her hands. Then turned and looked at the light bruise on her shoulder. She let out a sigh.
Bartholomew was dead and she wasn't sure how she ought to feel about it. Her father passed away when she was so young that Bart was the only father figure she knew but she wasn't a fool. She understood he had his faults; everyone does.
A knock on the door derails her train of thought. Realizing she's in nothing but her white lace nickers she quickly grabs a purple silk robe hanging from a coat rack to cover herself and pinned her hair back as best she can.
She opens the front door about an inch and peeks through the crack with one eye. "Yes?" she says quietly.
"I hope I'm not disturbing… but I…" Watson was interrupted.
"Oh Doctor! Please come in! I didn't realize you were coming or I…Come in" she opens the door and Watson removes his gray bowler hat politely as he steps into the small disarranged apartment.
"I would have tidied up if I'd known you'd be stopping by" she looked around and quickly stuffed things away into drawers and under the bed. "You want some tea? I'm making some right now" the pot whistles "and there it is" she chuckles nervously feeling a bit embarrassed by the disheveled appearance of her apartment and herself.
"Yes, Thank you. Don't mind if I do." Watson sat down in a faded red upholstered arm chair. "I'm so very sorry about the intrusion" he couldn't help but smile at seeing Harmya scrambling about in the kitchen obviously flustered.
"How do you take it?" Harmya asks. "I put milk and cinnamon in mine"
"Just a bit of sugar will do fine" Watson replied.
She came out of the kitchen and hands him a plain white tea cup. She sits at the chair facing opposite from him and with a big smile asks, "And to what do I owe this surprise visit?"
"Yes, again I do apologize for having caught you off guard" Watson sipped his tea "but we really felt it necessary to speak with you again."
"Yes?" She asked leaning in closer not noticing she had exposed her shoulders in doing so.
"Umm… well my partner and I had thought perhaps you had more to tell us. Perhaps there's something else about Bart and Amos that you had failed to mention before." he sounded a bit like a father coaxing a confession out of a child.
"Whatever do you mean?" Harmya said sipping her tea.
"We know he was a violent man, Ms Verma" he said warmly as he looked her in the eye. "I'm a doctor, Harmya. I know where those bruises on your arms come from."
"Understand that Bartie and Amos took me in when I was just a kid and everything they do for me is out of the love and kindness of their hearts" Harmya said feeling a tightening in the back of her throat. "Bartie was just more hands on then Amos but he meant nothing by it." She told herself that a lot.
Watson leaned in closer to her and took her hand. "Please tell me exactly what happened the last night you saw him."
Harmya sighed as she looked at her hand in his. "It's hard to say some things sometimes. It's all rather embarrassing" she looks up at him and her brown eyes meet his icy blue gaze. "I guess you're a trustworthy sort of person… and I'm glad you're hear without your partner. He looks like he's constantly judging everyone and everything with his eyes."
"Well, that's what makes him such a sharp detective; although not too well versed in interpersonal relations" he smiles
"I do hope you won't judge me too harshly for this but…." she looked down at her empty tea cup as she spoke as if perhaps the tea leafs would give her some clue as to what words she ought to say. "The night I last saw him we'd been fighting. He'd accused me of having relations with a man which isn't the case at all!" she looked up at Watson. "Just because I dance does not mean I lack any self respect. Of course Bart goes on one of his rampages and grabs me. That's how I got these" she says holding out her arms to show the bruises.
"And that on your left shoulder?" Watson notices the bruise she'd been looking at earlier in the mirror.
Quickly she covered up with her robe. "Sorry" she whispered. "Well, Amos is very upset by all this, the poor dear, and he tries to calm his brother down. Bart pushes me to the ground and yells something rude about my being some sort of harlot and storms out." she keeps her composure but is holding back tears. "Amos runs to me and wipes a tear from my eye and says how Bart was in the wrong and that he was going to pay for ….He said, 'for mistreating something so beautiful'. Isn't that the sweetest thing you ever heard?"
"Well, he's right in saying so." Watson kept his hand in hers though he very much wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes. To caress her cinnamon skin. He shook his head as if that would clear it of the thought; the thought of the contours of her delicate neck; her exposed shoulders.
Harmya bit her lower lip noticing they'd been gazing at each other a second too long. It was when she saw Watson's gaze move to her lips that she quickly stood and faced her back to him. "So you see why I couldn't tell you that. I'm no detective but I know how bad it sounds. It sounds like Amos was threatening him."
Watson stood up slowly and quickly moved his gaze away from her exposed shoulder blade. "You don't think he meant it?" he asks slowly walking up behind her. "If he cared for you as much as I do, he meant it."