A/N: Okay, this is the next chapter because I'm waiting for my shredder to be emptied at work so I thought I'd set this one out for you! What do you guys think so far! By the way, if you're any better than I am as a fact checker, feel free to tell me when you're like WOAAHH that's not the right time period! So yeah!
Review and Enjoy my dears!
"Sherlock!" His mother's voice could be heard throughout the echoey entrance hall of Elderflower Mansion.
"Yes Mother?" He appeared on the half landing of their grand staircase.
"Ah you're dressed. Are you ready?" She smiled and Sherlock saw his mother decked out in her riding habit; the navy dress was as long but not as structured, designed to sit more comfortably pillion.
He nodded once and the pair, joined by Lord Holmes headed towards the stables and once saddled the three set off across their estate, amicably remarking on the various sights before them.
The few labourers they had were working the modest farm the Holmes' owned and they all nodded their heads at their Masters before carrying on with herding the cows back towards the waiting milk maids.
While his mother and father seemed to be in idle conversation Sherlock thought of Miss Hooper.
'Who was she? Why was she causing so much trouble? His parents would normally have dismissed a servant under Mycroft's accusations. Did she really have a secret then?' His deep line of thought was interrupted by his mother's patient repetition of his name.
"Yes Mother?" He pulled himself from Miss Hooper clouded thoughts.
"You're daydreaming again son, I was just saying to your father that it's such a beautiful day." She smiled patiently however Benedict could see his wife's mind chewing over Sherlock's day dreams. Sherlock was normally an attentive young man, paying great attention to every detail, and Benedict had been married for more than 25 years, he knew what she was thinking and hoping.
"It is indeed a lovely day!" Benedict watched his son pull himself together, straighten himself and turn to his curious parents.
"It's a beautiful day Mother." Sherlock said primly relieved somewhat as Violet lapsed into a small gossip about their neighbours back in London. His mind was still chasing clues over his serving girl and found it was like catching smoke; he didn't know her well enough, he knew the answers to basic questions, answers which still brought a smile to his face as he remembered her wit. His mother caught the smile and said nothing, her own triumphant grin made her husband shake his head at her interfering. He pulled his stallion towards his wife's choice of ride and whispered in her ear.
"Stay out of it Vi." He heard her chuckle and she pulled back to stare at him, both were unaware of Sherlock's suddenly suspicious stare.
"Darling, they're my babies and I will help them until I die." She grinned back before urging her horse forwards into a canter. Her husband gave chase and Sherlock's shook his head in disgust. For all of his father's absences Sherlock had never once believed him to have played away, when his parents were together they were like a couple of newlyweds, but he knew at work his father was a far more powerful and maybe even dangerous man than the gentleman who was currently calling his wife all the names he could think off as she galloped off.
"So unlady-like." Sherlock snorted and turned his own mount back towards the stables where he was surprised, and elated, to see his serving girl waiting for him.
"Good afternoon Master Holmes." She bobbed a curtsey as one of the stable lads led the bay gelding towards the mounting block. Sherlock saw, with a flare of emotion, that the lad's eyes were continuously roving over Molly's body, mainly in two places.
"Good afternoon indeed Miss Hooper. What are you doing here?" Maybe his tone was a little sharper than necessary as he watched her jolt in surprise.
"I came to see the horses sir." She was polite and somewhat stiff at his rebuff.
"Ah yes, your favourite animal." He nodded and tugged off his riding gloves. "Do you have a favourite one here?" He nodded to the line of horses, heads hanging over the stables. She smiled and nodded once. "Show me?" Sherlock was desperately trying to make his tone softer, the stable lad had annoyed him but thankfully gone in the other direction, not without a longing look at Molly's backside. Molly smiled again at his request; a genuine smile and the pair walked through the stables stopping at the final horse; an old farm horse.
"Matilda is your favourite horse?" He looked at the ancient roan creature, the horse seemed very taken with Molly who pulled out a couple of apple cores from her pocket and fed them to the happy horse.
"She's so gentle and old. Phillips let me ride her, she's a good Palfrey, very good for young children, I..." Molly paused and Sherlock saw her desperately search for words. "I rode one just like her when I was a child at my grandparents farm." She rushed out the words.
A lie. Sherlock narrowed his eyes but said nothing. She may have just provided him with a clue.
"Then you must have sentimental value towards horses such as these, being your last connection to your family?" Sherlock forced his tone to be light, swallowing back questions as his serving girl patted the old horse on the neck. She nodded, eyes downcast.
"I should probably return to the house now Sir, I haven't swept the hearth in your study yet." She was making excuses and Sherlock saw straight through them, however he let her pass and watched as she scurried back towards his house.
"Phillips!" He called for the head groom as he strode through the courtyard, the weathered old man appeared from the hut in the far corner. "How long have we had the strawberry roan in the farthest stall?"
"Since before you came back Sir, not too long. We got a couple of new arrivals at the same time but your father sent the horse on with Miss Hooper, the serving girl, saying your mother had seen the pitiable creature and refused to let her go to waste. She's still a good horse, good on the farm land." He tipped his hat to his master who was left analysing the new pieces of the puzzle.