Mrs. Hudson sent me out for some fresh baked goods. As I did every time I went out, I stopped at the telegraph office. Ignoring the flirtations from the young men behind the counter, I quickly read the response to my first message. My parents had been there and gone. What puzzled me most was the fact that the duke (my mother loved to move among the best company) mentioned that my parents had sent me several letters during their stay.

I crumpled the message in my hand. Any messages sent to Lynbrook Manor, I understood Martin would have laid his hands on. If he'd been willing to help destroy Lynbrook Manor, what would have stopped him from holding back my parents' letters? But how had every single one of their letters to me, at school, been mislaid?

Extremely puzzled, I made it back to Baker Street. I helped Mrs. Hudson prepare tea and then took it upstairs. I took a deep breath outside Apartment B. Balancing the full tray in my right hand, I turned the doorknob with my left and pushed the door open with my foot.

As I entered the sitting room, I got a good look at both men. Mr. Holmes was as I had expected: tall, thin, black hair going grey, but not look as old as I had been expecting. Dr. Watson seemed an ordinary man, with brown hair, shorter than his companion, and stouter, though with a kindly expression on his face.

"Ah, tea," Mr. Holmes said from where he was studying a paper by the fire. He had a dressing gown on and slippers on his feet. He glanced up briefly.

Looking refreshed and somewhat rested, Dr. Watson jumped to his feet. "And you must be the new housemaid," he said, taking the tray from my hands and setting it on the table. "Holmes was just mentioning you. It's about time Mrs. Hudson took my advice and got off that foot."

"Indeed, sir," I answered. I bobbed a curtsy and started my retreat. Now was not the time to make myself known.

"Our young maid here is an admirer of the stage, Watson," Sherlock Holmes commented. "Did you receive a favorable answer at the telegraph office?"

I froze with my hand on the doorknob. "Holmes, I beg of you not to frighten the girl," Watson responded, sounding very uneasy. "You know what a hard time Mrs. Hudson has had at finding help and I won't have you frightening away the only candidate with your observations of her character."

I smiled as I let my hand drop. "Never fear, Dr. Watson," I said, turning around. The man looked startled, for once again I was breaking the rules of a proper housemaid. Mr. Holmes looked pleased. I suspected he had been trying to get a rise out of me. "I am not frightened by the obvious."

"The obvious?" the doctor asked in bewilderment.

With one hand, I lifted my skirt a fraction of an inch and shook. Tiny bits of paper fell to the floor. "Where else can a person collect such paper but at the telegraph office?" I asked. I frowned at the mess I had made. "And I will clean that up."

"You can hear for yourself that she is originally from America, New York to be exact," Holmes said raising his newspaper, "though she has spent the last-two, is it?- years north of London. Her mother was the American, and her father from London."

Watson looked at me quickly, no doubt wanting to make sure I was not startled. "Quite correct, sir," I said calmly. "Do you have anything else to add to my character?"

"Nothing of importance beyond the fact that you have done very little work as a maid before," he responded. "What's your name?"

Perhaps it was the right time after all. The doorbell rang as I opened my mouth to answer. "Pardon me, sir," I said.

Mentally cursing the inopportune interruption, I hurried down to the front door. I opened it and said a habitual, "May I help you, sir?" to the back of the man on the doorstep. He turned and I nearly slammed the door shut.

"I'm here to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes," the tall man informed me imperiously. He held out his card. "It is a matter of some importance."

I bobbed a curtsy to the man who had tried to destroy my home. While I immediately recognized him, he didn't seem to know me. "Won't you step in, sir, and I will inform Mr. Holmes of your arrival," I said, stepping back. I surveyed him quickly as he moved past me.

He was dressed as a gentleman, though I had my doubts about his having an actual claim to that kind of society. I placed his card on the silver tray and carried it upstairs. Before I entered the apartment, I took my own quick look. The name read: Mr. Ian Barry.

Storing that name for future reference, I stepped through the door and held out the card to Mr. Holmes. "There is a man here to see you, sir," I announced.

Raising his eyebrows, Holmes accepted the card and scanned it over. "Describe our visitor," he requested abruptly, looking up at me. "What sort of man do you take him for?"

I blinked in surprise, and Watson began to protest. "He is dressed as a gentleman, Mr. Holmes," I answered cautiously. "And I do not think he will take no for an answer."

Holmes nodded and dropped the card on the table. "Please bring him up," he instructed, getting to his feet. He glanced back at his companion as he hurried to remove his dressing gown. He shrugged on a morning coat over his waistcoat. "It's not to be a dull day after all, Watson."

Watson groaned, evidently not as delighted by that fact as the detective. I bit back a smile as I hurried out. I remained silent until I reached the bottom of the steps, though Mr. Barry was fidgeting impatiently. "Mr. Holmes will see you now," I informed him.

I turned and went up the stairs as slowly as possible. Barry was on the verge of forcibly pushing me up faster by the time we reached the top. I opened the door and announced, "Mr. Ian Barry, Mr. Holmes."

Briefly, I saw that the room seemed in general good order and both occupants were dressed suitably for visitors. Pushing rudely past me, Barry shut the door in my face. I walked back to and then down the stairs. Then, I was able to creep back up. Three days of going up and down had taught me the parts that remained silent when I put my full weight on the step. I knelt down outside the door and pressed my ear to the wood.

"As you won't have any refreshment, perhaps you would get to the point of your visit," Holmes was asking. "You wish me to find someone for you?"

There was a moment of silence, and I gleefully imagined Barry's look of surprise. "Why, yes," the man finally said. "How-?"

I could practically see Holmes wave a dismissing hand. "Never mind," he told his visitor. "Lay out the facts, if you would."

Barry heaved a sigh. "It is my ward, Mr. Holmes," he said, with a quite convincing tone of worry in his voice. I frowned as I listened to him speak. "She has run away, to London, I believe. We had a quarrel and she left in the middle of the night. I've tried to make my own inquiries, but I discovered nothing."

"How very odd," Watson commented as Holmes remained silent. "Well bred young ladies don't just run away over a quarrel."

As Barry defended his position, I smirked. My own childhood was riddled with failed attempts to run away after a disagreement with my parents. They were, naturally, always right. Did this make me an ill bred young lady then? I considered this, thinking of my current course of action. I was pulled from my thoughts by Holmes speaking up.

"I'm sure if you contact the families of this young lady's friends, you will find her well and unharmed," the detective told him. "I'm afraid I have other, much more pressing, cases to tend to."

Even I could hear the note of boredom in his voice. "I can pay you very well," Barry offered.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Barry," Holmes said sharply. He paused. "But, give me the name of the girl and I will let you know if I come across anything. What does the young lady look like?"

"Her name is Serena Norton," Barry answered and proceeded to give an exact description of me. "She's an impertinent child, with a very wild imagination that comes from reading too many novels. If you do find her, she will tell a wild tale and I beg you will not listen to her."

My eyes narrowed. "Good day, Mr. Barry," Holmes said without remark on the man's last comments. "Watson, ring for the maid to show Mr. Barry out."

Quickly, I scrambled up and darted to the stairs. I managed to reach the door to the kitchen in time to hear the bell ring. I took a deep breath and turned back. I went up much more slowly than I had come down. I opened the door and waited for instructions.

"Mr. Barry is leaving now," Holmes said, already intent with his newspaper. "Please show him to the door."

I nodded and turned. I went down the stairs. Halfway down, I was shoved aside by the man. Almost angrily, he stalked down and went out the front door. I flinched as he slammed the door shut. Thoughtfully, I returned to the kitchen to explain what had happened to Mrs. Hudson.

Just as my explanation of the visitor ended, the bell from Mr. Holmes' room was ringing. I went back. "Yes, sir?" I inquired as soon as I stepped into the room.

"I believe I was inquiring after your name before we were interrupted," Mr. Holmes said.

Now was my chance to tell him. But, he had just said he would contact Barry if he heard anything of Serena Norton and I had no doubt Mr. Sherlock Holmes was a man of his word. My experience at school was still fresh in my mind. I wanted proof before I laid the matter before him.

"Mary Leigh, sir," I told him.

"Thank you, Mary," he said. "There will be nothing more."

Back out in the hallway, I took a deep breath. I was now even more entrenched in my role. I was no more qualified to solve this than I had been over a week ago but now, I felt determined to give it a try. I was safe, for the moment, and there was no way I could be found by those that sought me.

My mother would have been very proud of me: I was masquerading beneath Sherlock Holmes' nose and he didn't even know it. At least, not yet.