The worst of days - Part 1

Harriet:

It was still an unfamiliar feeling to wake up next to another person, but alas, it was not an unpleasant one. On the contrary, it felt comfortable and safe. Carefully I turned around in my husbands loving arms. He was lying next to me, sleeping peacefully, one arm and a leg wrapped around me as if he wanted to keep me from falling off his narrow single bed, which we shared, cosily snuggled up to one another. Trying to slip out of his protective grasp to get out of bed in quest of following the call of nature, I woke him up unintentionally.

"You are awake, already?" he yawned, opening his eyes a fraction and seeing it was still dark outside tightening his grip on me.

"And where do you think you are going at this time of night?" he added playfully.

"As observant as ever." I quipped, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

"You have not answered my question." He remarked, snuggling even deeper into the embrace.

"Let me put it this way," I replied, "if you do not let me get up right now, this bed will become rather uncomfortable to sleep in."

"I will let you go then – but under one condition: That you'll come back as soon as you are done and do me," he remarked with seductive naughtiness.

"Well, perhaps..." I teased, lighting the candle and slipping into his dressing gown to scurry across the corridor.

Casting a glance at the clock in the hallway I saw it was still very early indeed and no-one in the house was stirring yet – and would not do so for another couple of hours. The darkness of the narrow passage halfway down the stairs, almost made me stumble over the threshold of the loo, despite the flickering light in my hand and thus I added a bruised toe to my other injuries. Rolling my eyes in exasperation at my own clumsiness, I finished my business and returned to bed and into the waiting arms of Sherlock Holmes.

"A week ago I have met you for the very first time..." he mused, smiling and pulling me back into his embrace. "And the very first time I saw you, I got to hold you in my arms. I have to admit, it felt astonishingly good. - Though I have to admit, not in my wildest dreams would I have thought then, that only a week later I would have you in bed with me, holding you close and calling you my wife."

"No, me neither," I admitted, running my fingers through his hair, all tousled where it normally was so well groomed and when I kissed his lips I could feel the stubble on his chin.

"But right now, I would not, for the world, be anywhere else." I continued.

He did not reply, but instead pulled me even closer once more wrapping himself around me as his kisses became more ardent.

"It is still early," he eventually mumbled, "we should sleep for another hour or two. I fear I might have a long day ahead of me."

From the way, his voice trailed off I could hear he was about to fall asleep again.

"What are you up to then?" I inquired lazily, drowsing off myself.

His answer was but an incoherent mumble, and truth be told at that moment I did not really care. I could just as well ask him again later when we've gotten up.

xxx

When we did so, the sun had risen to a cold and foggy morning, the streets already filled with people, most of them hastening to work, trying to catch a bus or walking towards the underground. Amongst the hubbub of the many clerks and officers, the newsagents and postmen were making their first round and the grocers dragged their barrows through the crowds, pushing aside the one or other inattentive pedestrian in order to deliver their goods to the housewives and housekeepers. The large bay window of the living room afforded a panoramic view of almost all of the upper third of Baker Street and I enjoyed watching the hustle and bustle so unlike the quiet street I lived in. Thus I busied myself glancing curiously at this yet unknown sight, waiting for our breakfast to be served, while Sherlock smoked his before breakfast pipe, lounging in his easy chair, his eyes fixed on me contemplatively as I watched the world outside.

"So, what are you up to today, Sherlock?" I asked, only for the answer to be interrupted by the arrival of his motherly landlady bringing up our meal.

"Here you are, Mrs Holmes, Mr Holmes." Her shared happiness evident on her kind face. I could not help the feeling that with her I had acquired a kind of well-meaning mother in law – though unsure whether I had any actual in-laws of any kind, I had not yet had come around to ask my husband on that point.

The maid that had followed her with a second tray stared at me in astonishment, presumably wondering when I had arrived without her noticing, to now sit at the breakfast table. Having had her afternoon off the night before she had neither seen me arrive nor had she heard the discussion between Mrs Hudson and my spouse and the last she knew about me, was that I was the maiden sister of one of my husband's clients. From her overall confusion it was obvious that she had also missed Mrs Hudson's address towards me and so she curtsied with a shy smile: "Good morning, Sir, Miss."

Even as the door closed behind the two women, I could hear Mrs Hudson explain the situation and I would have liked to see the girls face at the revelation.

"I dare say, we will confuse and astonish several people over the next few weeks..." Sherlock mused, pouring our tea and handing me my cup.

"Yes, I reckon you have a point there, our wedding was rather on a short notice." I grinned and then, trying for the third time I asked: "So, what are you up to? You said you would be busy."

"I gave Watson my word to find the person responsible for his wives and their son's tragic accident."

He looked somewhat troubled, the compassion for his friend evident in his expressive grey eyes.

"I did not realise the doctor has children. How old is the boy?"

"He had a son – Henry was his name. He still must have been a baby. The little one died in an accident and Mrs Watson was paralysed. She has been bound to a wheelchair ever since."

"Good God! I am so sorry." Though I had never met the woman or the child in my life, never even knew they existed, I felt truly sorry for Doctor Watson. But I was now also quite confused.

"When did it happen? Was it recent?"

"About eighteen months ago."

"What happened to Doctor Watson's wife? You said she was paralysed, how is she now? Is she alive?"

"She has removed to the seaside last November as her health required a milder climate and better air as is to be had in winter in London and she has stayed there ever since. Her health is still not recovered completely as I understand it. That is also why Watson is currently residing here and not in his family home."

Well, that explained this fairly unusual situation.

"And you are sure you can still figure out what has happened so long ago?"

"No, but at least I will try. I never knew about the child either, until last week when Hopkins mentioned it over a pint. Had I known, I would have offered my services months ago. The death of the little one changed my perception of their situation. They need to come to terms with what has happened and I am resolved to give them every possible help I have to offer."

"And Doctor Watson? Does he agree with you? You must be aware that you will open a lot of wounds that in all likeliness have only just begun to heal. It would be cruel if you put them through all of this pain again, raising their hopes and then might have to leave them bleeding once more without a chance of providing relief after all."

"I am aware of that, Harriet. But as a doctor, you are of course aware of the practice of again breaking a once broken leg that has been grown together crookedly in order to reset it and helping the patient to at last make use of it after all. I know I might fail, but at least there is a chance. And with all of this said, I hope that even just showing we care might ease their pain."

Taking his hand I nodded in agreement. He was right, he at least had to try. And if anyone had a chance to succeed, it was surely Mr Sherlock Holmes.

Looking at the empty chair I asked: "But where is the doctor anyway? I hope he does not stay away because of me."

"He was called to an emergency last night and left the house when I went to bed. I see he has returned, but I have no idea when that was. He might sleep in a bit, it's still not very late and he might have left a notice with the doctor he shares a practice with. - We should have stayed in bed a bit longer, too, perhaps."

Seeing the doctors coat and hat hanging on the peg beside the door I looked at the clock and realised that it was not half eight yet. And then, as if to relief our minds from wondering about his whereabouts, the door opened and in came Doctor Watson, looking tired – and surprised.

"Oh, good morning, I had not thought of finding you up so early." he greeted in his warm-hearted manner.

"Why not?" his friend asked, looking puzzled. "You know I never keep regular hours."

"Oh, never mind." the doctor grinned, "I just had thought you would take the opportunity to sleep in. - How are you, madam? You seem rested and quite well, considering yesterdays strains."

"I am, thank you." I handed him a cup of tea, pushing the milk and sugar towards him across the table.

"At any rate, Watson, I will redeem my promise to you and set to work straight after breakfast."

My husband's words sounded much as if he were doing some business in the city and were presumably harsher than he intended and realising it, he added in a softer tone: "I will do everything, to help you heal your and your wives wounds."

A pained expression had appeared on the good man's comely face, but he was also deeply moved, not having expected so much compassion and understanding from his usually so austere friend. Sometimes men were weird creatures, indeed.

"Are you sure there still is something to find out?"

"At this moment I cannot tell, Watson. I will meet with Hopkins later and view the official records and go from there. Tonight I will be able to tell you more. And at any rate, a change of perspective might be all that is needed. How often did we solve a case with exactly the same information the police had had, just by changing the point of view? But I did not want to start the investigation behind your back, old friend."

"Thank you, Holmes." the doctor spoke, his voice oddly distant and his eyes concentrating on his hand stirring his tea. "I greatly appreciate it."

And as he looked up finally, a sad but hopeful smile played around his lips.

"Have you written to your wife, yet?"

"Yes. She asks to see you, actually. - If it is not too much for you to go down to Torquay."

"Nonsense! You can write to her that I'll come down tomorrow."

Looking at me once again the doctor looked concerned and I assured him that it was no bother for me either to part with my husband for a day or two as I myself had a lot of things to do and sort out.

xxx

"So, since you now are informed about my plans for today and tomorrow, might I enquire after yours?" Sherlock asked as he prepared himself for the day, while the doctor had already left as soon as he had finished his breakfast – which he had eaten in a hurry, to return to his patient's bedside.

"I thought I might go to Chiswick to take care of my correspondence."

"Could that wait until tomorrow?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Yes. - Rest." he answered cheekily. "Or I'll never hear the end of it, once your mother finds out."

"As if writing letters is such a chore, Sherlock." I laughed.

"No, but I imagine you might need to fetch the odd thing as well. And if you wait until tomorrow, you could take the new page boy along and show him around, while he, in turn, can give you a hand in carrying whatever needs to be carried. - Remember, you have promised your friend to pick up the pram as well. - We cannot keep it here. And I presume after last week, you'll need to get some new clothes as well, don't you?"

"Yes, the page boy would come in handy, yes I need to pick up the perambulator and yes, I also will need to purchase some new clothes," I admitted. "- As my at any rate sparse wardrobe was diminished even further last week. - I managed to ruin three dresses. - Though not without help."

"I hope that is no weekly occurrence – ruining three dresses..." he teased, bending down to kiss me. "Or I'll be a poor man before long."

"Well, you had your hands in ruining one when you cut open the waist with a knife because you could not get me out of that dress quick enough."

"Hm, that will be a problem then, I presume. Because I will never get you out of any dress quick enough for my taste. Why does women's clothing need to be so very impractical for an impatient husband?"

"Sherlock!" I wagged my finger at him, laughing. Once more his boyish smile had lit up his face, before turning serious again.

"So, will you rest today?"

"All right, I'll wait until tomorrow and bring my letters here to answer them."

"Good. - By the way, when will your maid be back from her holidays?"

"Martha will be back in a week and a half."

"Perfect. That leaves us some time to find a long-term solution to our living arrangements. Though at any rate, Mrs Hudson is more than happy to have you here. - Though perhaps we might need a wider bed in the long run… - And now I have to go, or I'll be late for my appointment."

He glanced at his watch, kissed me quickly and was out of the door.

xxx

As soon as he had closed the front door behind him and I could see him climb into a Hansom, I limped downstairs in the hopes of being able to make myself useful, not feeling to lie down again just yet. Quickly and without difficulty I managed to locate the kitchen as on the stove a kettle whistled, indicating that the water within was boiling. Taking the potholder from its peg, I poured the water into the prepared teapot standing on the polished kitchen table, two mugs beside it, waiting for the two other women's return, as I guessed correctly that both currently were upstairs to tidy the bedrooms.. - A thought that made me blush slightly.

Walking out of the back door to have a look around, I found one lonely plane tree, a disused outhouse and little else. In all my years in London, I still had not become accustomed to the bleakness of a London backyard.

"Why do these yards always have to be so desolate?" I sighed, speaking to myself and thinking of my own garden with its many flowers, bushes, trees and the birds, butterflies and squirrels during the warmer months, as well as the occasional hedgehog, deciding that in the spring I would get to work on making this brown patch of trampled earth more habitable – if I was allowed to.

From the other side of the fence, a small voice remarked: "I have some pretty flowers growing in a patch over there in summer." - Not without pride I noticed.

Between two wider spaced boards I could make out a pair of cornflower blue eyes, a shock of dull blond hair and a button nose, the mouth covered by the little girl's hand as she had realised she had also spoken aloud.

"Hello there. Who are you then? I am Mrs Holmes. " I introduced myself – the name and address still unfamiliar even to myself.

"Jessy." Was her bashful reply.

"It is very nice to meet you, Jessy. I hope you are well."

A shy nod was given before she scurried away.

Shivering from the cold and wet weather and being without a coat I walked back into the house and now could hear the two women descending the stairs. And when they came into view I saw Mrs Hudson carry a laundry basket and the maid, whose name I by now knew was Jane, had a dustpan and brush in one hand and an ash bin in the other.

"The water should be boiling by now – but I cannot hear the kettle. I hope I have not forgotten to put it on the stove again, I know I prepared the pot and the cups..." Mrs Hudson told the maid, with a confused expression bordering exasperation. "I'll just bring the laundry to the back and sort it quickly and then we'll have our tea. By the way, did you see Mrs Holmes go out?" Her voice trailed off as she disappeared through the door of the washhouse not waiting for an answer.

Re-entering the kitchen I found the startled girl staring at the steaming pot of tea in perplexity.

"Oy, you scared me, madam." She exclaimed as she perceived me. "The tea, was that you?"

"Yes, it was," I replied. "I have promised my husband to rest, but I am too restless to do so, so I wanted to ask if there is something I could help you with?"

"Ah, Mr Holmes said you might come down and ask for something to do." the voice of Mrs Hudson chimed in from behind me. "Would you mind darning stockings? - Then I can prepare the room for the boy. It needs cleaning and airing and I need to find our former page boys old clothes, Mr Holmes said the boy will need them in all likeliness."

She held the work basket towards me and I took it eagerly. "But certainly, Mrs Hudson."

"Wonderful. - Will you join us for our tea?"

I answered in the positive and soon we sat together chatting merrily about this and that. - Something my sister in law certainly would find a rather scandalous behaviour for a lady.

"You know, I never actually congratulated you on your wedding." Mrs Hudson said after a while, holding out her hand as she sat next to me on the kitchen bench, and when I took it, she pulled me into a hearty hug. "I am very glad, my dear, to have you here. Though one day, you will have to tell me, how you managed to reform that man. - And in such a short time!"

"I will," I laughed. "As soon as I have found out myself. - And I am very glad to be here, too."

"But what actually happened to you, Mrs Holmes? If you don't mind me asking." the maid shyly asked, looking at the bruises that were fading slowly.

I did not mind and so made a short sketch of my adventures – or rather misadventures, while passing the morning in their company, drinking tea, darning stockings and preparing Brussels sprouts for dinner.