| Mrs. Hudson had, once again, outdone herself. She had prepared a beef roast for our guest's first "official English dinner", as she put it, complete with all the trimmings, including Yorkshire pudding. I was sitting upon the settee with my back towards the door, reading the evening paper. Mycroft was peering out the window, absorbed in watching the people on the street below. Holmes sat motionless in front of the fire, smoking his pipe. Although it was mid-spring, the evenings still held a chill in the air. "Miss Trioni is not used to our damp weather," Mrs. Hudson had noted as she crumpled the old newspapers to be used as kindling. "We do not want her to catch cold, now, do we?" She had obviously decided to take the girl under her wing. I was relieved she had done so, for I feared our guest would get little consideration from Holmes. I looked at him, sitting there before me, and I wondered, as I had often done, why he held such a low opinion of women. He had never given a reason for his contempt. I had come to believe that he must have been deeply hurt by a woman in his youth. Such had been my experience with other confirmed bachelors I had known, although, I must admit, it was hard for me to imagine anyone hurting the resilient Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I was dwelling on this thought when she entered the room. She wore a dark blue dress, conservative in style, with a high collar and long sleeves. I have stated that, upon first meeting Miss Trioni, she did not strike me as an exceptional beauty. However, after having bathed and rested, she was quite a handsome woman. "Good evening, gentlemen," she offered as she entered. I rose from my seat and turned to greet her, as did Holmes. Mycroft turned from his window to do the same. "I do hope I have not kept you waiting," she continued. "I fear I soaked longer than I had intended, as you can tell by my fingers." She held out her hands before her to reveal her shriveled fingertips. "I am afraid they look terrible, but I did so enjoy the bath." "They will soon be back to normal," I assured, taking the liberty of examining them for myself. Although the fingertips were puckered, the rest of her hands felt quite soft. "Is that your official prognosis, Doctor?," Holmes sneered. Luckily, Mycroft interrupted my thoughts. "Come, now. Let us dine on this excellent feast which Mrs. Hudson has prepared," he encouraged. "To be honest, I have always envied my brother and Dr. Watson for their good fortune in finding a landlady who is also a good cook. I fear I have come to take most of my meals at my club, out of necessity." "It looks delicious," Miss Trioni said as she sat in the chair which I was holding for her. "Thank you, Dr. Watson." "You are most welcome," I returned. I sat beside her, and Mycroft took the seat opposite me. Holmes, however, resumed his chair by the fire. "Will you not be joining us, Mr. Holmes?," she asked with visible surprise. "I am not hungry," he muttered, still staring into the flames. "It is his usual way to skip meals," I explained, hoping she would not take offense by his behaviour. "He would not last a day with my family," Miss Trioni smiled. "They treat meals as much as an event as they do a necessity. I suppose most Italians feel that way." "I had heard as much," I replied, grateful for her tolerance. "In Italy, breaking bread...sharing a meal...is a sign of acceptance into one's home," she continued. "Refusal to do so is considered an insult." "I assure you, no insult is intended, Miss Trioni," Holmes interrupted. "I assure you, none was taken, Mr. Holmes," she returned. "I was just making idle conversation." "Really?," Holmes sneered. "You surprise me, Miss Trioni. I would have thought "idle conversation" quite unnecessary in your present circumstances. Having just arrived in a foreign country, one in which you have never been before, I would have thought you would have plenty to talk of without "idle conversation"." I was beginning to get annoyed at him. "There are many things which I wish to learn about England. However, I thought there would be ample time for that later," Miss Trioni stated. "I did not wish to appear rude." "Of course," I said, glancing disapprovingly at Holmes. "Pay no attention to him, Miss Trioni." "By all means, Miss Trioni, do pay attention," Holmes warned. "You would be ill-advised to underestimate me. I am not in the habit of holding my tongue, and I do not intend to begin now." He was behaving horribly towards her. I did not know why, and, at that point, neither did I care. I was not going to sit by and listen to him badger her. Mycroft appeared to be sharing my feelings. However, before either of us could speak, Miss Trioni did so. "Mr. Holmes," she said evenly. "You are a coward, sir." Her words were as sharp as knives. "And you, Miss Trioni, are a liar," Holmes countered. The air crackled with animosity. She calmly pushed her chair away from the table and gripped its edge. I could see the whites of her knuckles as she did so. "You had best be able to prove that accusation, sir," she cautioned. Despite her obvious distress, her voice was low and direct. "Then, I shall," Holmes stated. Still looking into the flames, he proceeded to offer his observations. "First, you claim to be in England for the first time. Yet, upon hearing you speak, it is clear that you have been trained in proper English, not American, diction. Your lack of the use of contractions proves this point. An American would say, "don't" instead of "do not", and "won't" rather than "will not". You have clearly spent some time in England before this. Second, you have made sure, on two occasions now, that I would be unable to clearly see your hands. This afternoon, by use of your gloves, and this evening, by causing them to be wrinkled by prolonged contact with water. You knew, if I saw them clearly, I would see that they have done some manual labour...a sure sign that you come from a less-than-middle class upbringing, though you would wish to conceal this from us by your well-rehearsed deportment. Add to this the scarcity of luggage with which you arrived, and again, my observations are proven. Lastly, your flirtatious manner towards Dr. Watson, my brother, Mycroft, and myself has ruined any chance you might have had in deceiving me. When a woman is as flattering as you have been to a man, it can only mean she has set her sights on his demise. The only point on which I am still unclear is what shape your goal was to have been in. Surely, it was not only an attempt to tip the scales and win the game at hand. But, tell me...was money, or, perhaps, influence and power, to be your ultimate goal?" Both Mycroft and I sat motionless, shocked by the myriad of accusations which Holmes had just thrown at our guest. I fully expected her to burst into tears and run from the room. It would have been the reaction of most women. Instead, she very slowly rose from her chair, and walked across the room, to stand directly before Holmes. With her hands resting gently at her sides, looking directly into his steel-blue-grey eyes, she made her reply. "I am not in the habit, sir, of defending my character," she began. "I have rarely had the misfortune of being put in the position where it was necessary for me to do so. However, your accusations must be addressed, even if I am a guest in your home. First, you are quite correct in surmising that I have been trained in the proper use of the English language." She paused as Holmes smiled with satisfaction, then she continued, "However, I have never set foot on English soil before this day. I am not a writer, by profession. When I decided to submit a manuscript in the contest, I thought it might stand a better chance of winning if it were written in a style familiar to the reader. Knowing an Englishman was to be the judge, I studied proper English form to use in my writing. When I learned that I had won the contest, I was doubly grateful I had taken the time to do so. I did want to make the right impression, you see. I did not want you, or anyone else, to think me unrefined, as many Americans are accused of being, simply because of their informal manner of speech. Imagine...me, being worried of appearing unrefined, to you. Second, you are also correct in your assessment of my hands. I have used them for some forms of "manual labour", as you put it, though I never sought to hide this fact from you. This afternoon, I did wish to conceal them, but it was only to prevent you from knowing my age until we were face to face. That, I might add, was by your brother's request. This evening was truly an accidental occurrence. Had I known what you were thinking, I surely would have shortened the length of my bath. It did occur to me, however, that you were quite annoyed, as soon as you saw them, upon my entering the room. I thought that, perhaps, you wanted to examine them, in order to learn more about me, for the sake of solving my mystery. It was then that I held them up for Dr. Watson to examine, with the full knowledge that you would make use of your powers. I was certain that, even with the tips of my fingers puckered from the water, you would be sure to notice the calluses, and the lack of any rings, inferring that I had, indeed, been in the habit of using them in some menial way. In truth, I have been known, on occasion, to work with my hands, and I see no reason to feel any shame for it. However, your conclusions are completely wrong. I have no lack of means. It is true, I arrived with only two trunks, but I am in the habit of traveling light. It has been my experience that most necessities can be purchased at one's destination, and it is foolish to bear oneself down during the journey. Although I am not a wealthy woman, I am quite comfortable, thanks, in part, to my father's good fortune, and to my own hard work. I fully intended to make use of your quaint English shops at my earliest convenience. As to my upbringing, I assure you, if it were not that I was raised to be a lady, you surely would not still be comfortably seated there. Which brings me to your third and most vile accusation. I am well-aware that some women delight in tormenting the male population with the wink of an eye or the show of an ankle. I have also known women who blushed at the mere sight of a man. I find these extremes both distasteful and ludicrous. Therefore, I always strive to conduct myself in a manner which is neither. As to my transparent respect for you, Dr. Watson, and Mr. Mycroft Holmes, I can only say that I felt an immediate familiarity, most likely, due to following Dr. Watson's accounts of your work, and thereby your personalities. In my attempt to display my respect and adoration, I have apparently left you with the wrong impression. For this, I do apologize. I can assure you, my opinion of you has changed considerably, and you need not fear I will ever make the same mistake again. I repeat, you are a coward, sir, for not confronting me with direct questions, preferring to draw your own erroneous conclusions. I am, however, pleased to say that my fondness of Dr. Watson and Mr. Mycroft Holmes remains intact. That being the case, I shall make it my business to communicate all further dealings through them, as I would greatly appreciate their assistance in booking my passage back to America, as soon as possible." She paused then for the first time. She took a moment to stare a bit more intently into Holmes' eyes, then concluded, "Finally, I feel compelled to warn you, Mr. Holmes, that if you ever dare decide to call me a liar again, I will not be so understanding. And, should you ever refer to me as anything less than a lady, I fear you will live just long enough to regret it. Good evening...sir." With that, Miss Trioni exited the drawing room. I sat there, dumbfounded, for several moments, as did Mycroft and Holmes. Finally, Mycroft rose and departed without uttering a syllable. I was about to do the same when Mrs. Hudson entered, carrying her Yorkshire pudding. "Where is our Miss Trioni, and the other Mr. Holmes?," she asked. "I am afraid dinner was cut short, Mrs. Hudson," I offered. She looked in Holmes' direction and slammed the pudding down onto the table, then stormed out of the room again. Holmes looked to me then, and I saw in his eyes a shadow of utter desperation. However, I was not in a particularly generous mood, and so, I left him there to be by himself. It may have been cruel to do so. "But no crueler than he has been to her," I thought. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, then continued a bit further down the hall, past the lavatory, to stand before Miss Trioni's door. I thought to knock and offer my deepest regrets and assistance, but then, I heard her gentle sobbing. I decided it would be best to allow her some privacy. I returned to my room, fighting with all my resolve the temptation to return to the drawing room, to give Holmes the sound thrashing he so richly deserved. |
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| The Personal Journal Of John H. Watson, M.D. Volume One A Record Of The Events Which Occurred March-May 1897 Copyright 1998 |
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| CHAPTER FOUR Mrs. Hudson had been cleaning for days, as was her usual way of preparing for company. She had managed to transform the spare room, just down the hall from mine, into a bedroom fit for a lady by the time our guest was due. Holmes, too, seemed to be going through a sort of transformation. He had resolved himself to the fact that there would be little chance of matching wits with someone of equal abilities, but, so bored had he been with the lack of any intrigue, he appeared grateful for whatever he could get. Therefore, I was somewhat surprised to find that he was not yet dressed, minutes before we were to leave in time to meet Mycroft and await Mrs. Trioni's arrival at the docks. "I do not wish to appear overzealous, Watson. I will wait here," he informed when I questioned him on the matter. I wondered if his reluctance was, in fact, due to decorum, or if he had seen an opportunity to play a psychological power struggle with his opponent. Although I believed it was a bit of each, I decided not to argue the point with him, as I did not wish to provoke him on the day of her arrival. I had little trouble in finding a cab, and I arrived at the docks, as planned, to find Mycroft sitting on a bench, near the walkway from which the passengers would soon disembark. His eyes were intently fixed upon the ship's upper deck. "Have you spotted her yet?," I asked, looking in the same direction. "I have, so far, seen three women who fit our general description," he advised. "However, upon further scrutiny, I fear none of them will do." I scanned the crowd myself, hoping to, at least, find the three to whom he had referred. He, no doubt, noticed my intentions, and quickly came to my aid. "The first one," he pointed, "there, by the ship's bow, looks to be the right age, but not at all of Italian extraction. Five meters to her right stands my second choice. She does seem to meet both requirements. However, the young woman standing next to her is obviously her nurse. We know Mrs. Trioni is a healthy woman, because I inquired if she would need any assistance in her journey, and was told she would be quite capable of taking care of her own needs. That rules her out. We must turn our attentions to our third silver-haired passenger, over there." He gestured near the end of the walkway. "Again, her age and appearance lend themselves well to our criteria. However, something does not seem right." The woman was beginning her descent from the ship. Although still not fully convinced, Mycroft sighed and advised, "Very well, Doctor. As Sherlock is so fond of reminding me, whenever you remove all other possibilities, whatever is left, and so on. We will focus our attentions on her, then." He rose from his seat, and I followed his example. We moved to stand at the landing. The woman who we were watching appeared very pleasant, smiling as she walked towards us, and I began to feel quite certain she was our winner...so certain, in fact, that I approached her with a smile and began to make our introductions. "Mrs. Mariana Trioni, I presume," I offered. "My name is Dr. John Watson, and this is Mr. Mycroft Holmes. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame." As I spoke, the woman's smile quickly vanished. She became quite indignant as she stated, "Imma no needa no doctor!" Turning about, she asked, "Wheresa my son, Angelo? Angelo!" "Here I am, Momma," a strong male voice answered from behind us, "but, who are these men?" I have no idea what was said from that point on, for they spoke using their native tongue. Angelo was looking quite unhappy. Luckily, Mycroft was able to explain my mistake in time to avoid an incident. The woman and her son soon went about their business, leaving me and Mycroft to begin our search again for any possible candidate. As the last passengers were departing, I became very concerned. "We should have requested a photograph be sent," I said with hindsight. "How will we ever find her without one? And, poor Mrs. Trioni. She must think that we have neglected to come for her by now." I heard a voice from behind me ask, "Dr. Watson?," then I turned to see a most charming young woman. "My name is Mariana Trioni," she smiled. My mouth dropped open unintentionally. Upon seeing my surprise, with a bit of concern, she quickly asked, "You are Dr. John H. Watson of 221B Baker Street, are you not?" "Oh, yes...yes, I am," I stammered, "but, surely, you can not be..." "You were expecting a much older woman?," she encouraged. "Well, yes, I, I," I fumbled for my thoughts. "I thought as much," she smiled, then she continued to explain, "My grandmother, Mrs. Mariana Trioni, and I are often confused. I doubt if my parents realized what chaos they would cause when they named me in her honour. However, let me assure you, sir, I am the winning author, though I can still hardly believe my good fortune." In the process of making her introduction, she had taken my hand. I found it most difficult to release hers until Mycroft cleared his throat, causing me to remember his presence. "Oh, this is Mr. Mycroft Holmes," I offered. "An honour, Miss Trioni," he smiled as he took the hand which I finally relinquished. "I have so looked forward to meeting the author of such an intriguing mystery." "You flatter me, sir," she returned as the colour rose slightly in her cheeks. She was not a beautiful woman, yet something in her face was most appealing to me...a certain freshness, I believe. "I am sure you must be anxious to get settled in, after so long a journey," Mycroft offered. "And, I dare say, I can not wait for my brother, Sherlock, to make your acquaintance. It is not often I am able to see him surprised, and you are sure to do just that." "I do hope I will not disappoint him," she replied. "I fear he will make short work of my story." She turned again towards me, and asked, "Have you read my manuscript, Dr. Watson?" "Sadly, no," I stated. "Mycroft would not allow it." "I am the only man in England who has had that privilege, Miss Trioni. It would not do for my brother to get wind of its contents ahead of schedule," Mycroft advised. "Quite right," I agreed. Then, thinking quickly, I added, "I do wonder, though, Miss Trioni, if you have any objection to me participating in the game, being of what little aid as I may to Mr. Holmes." "Of course I have no objections," she answered, somewhat surprised by my question. "I know, from reading your chronicles, that you usually assist Mr. Holmes in his cases. I would not think it fair to take advantage by depriving him of one of his greatest assets, namely, you." "Now, you flatter me, Miss Trioni," I offered as the colour rose in my face. "I regret, I have often been more of a hindrance to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, rather than a help." "Nonsense!," she retorted. "You are being too modest. Without your aid and your steadfast courage, I can name at least a dozen cases which he would not have been able to solve...or, at least, not as satisfactorily. No, no, Doctor, you must participate, or the contest could not be considered legitimate." I must admit, I was quite taken aback by her adoration. I found it a great boost to my ego, though I still believed it to be somewhat undeserved. Mycroft was supervising the loading of her luggage onto a cab. I noticed that she only had two trunks. I suppose I had expected there to be more, as I had observed that most of the women passengers had several in their possession. I wondered if the lack of luggage foretold of a lack of means. However, I found it hard to believe a woman of such bearing could have come from a family without some position. The three of us chatted all the way to Baker Street. As we pulled to a stop in front of our flat, the sky, which had been threatening rain all day, opened completely, and it began to pour. "I fear our weather may dampen your stay," I said. "I had hoped it would be more cooperative." "It is glorious!," she cried. I thought to myself, "How peculiar. I have never met anyone who enjoys a storm so much, except for..." Mycroft interrupted my train of thought. "Perfect!," he declared. "This weather will lend itself well to my plans. Miss Trioni, I notice your cloak has a hood attached. Would you mind raising it? I am savouring the thought of seeing my brother's initial reaction, firsthand, when he learns of the mistake we made. He is, no doubt, peering out his favourite window at this very moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. With your hood in place, he would not have the chance." Miss Trioni raised the hood and pulled her cloak a bit closer around her neck. "I, myself, would like to see the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes' reaction," she smiled. "I had best use these, as well," she noted as she pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and proceeded to put them on. "Well done!," I offered, amazed by her foresight. Holmes would surely have been able to surmise her age, if he had seen her hands. We entered the flat in this way, then. Mycroft led, followed by Miss Trioni, and then myself. Mrs. Hudson greeted us at the door. However, despite her surprise, she was careful not to say anything that would forewarn Holmes of what to expect. We proceeded up the stairs to the drawing room, and Mrs. Hudson followed close behind. Mycroft opened the door, and I could see that Holmes was standing at the window nearest his file cabinet, with his back towards us, looking down onto the street below. Mycroft immediately made his introductions, stating, "Sherlock, may I introduce Miss Mariana Trioni. Miss Mariana Trioni...Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Holmes turned from the window and came towards us. Initially, I believe he did not hear Mycroft address our guest as "Miss", being too engrossed in his thoughts. He stopped dead in his tracks, two feet before her, as she lowered her hood and smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes," she offered. "Miss Trioni!," he gasped, finally hearing his brother's words, then he quickly demanded, "What is the meaning of this, Mycroft?" He was quite aware that he had shown a side of himself seldom, if ever, seen. "It appears there has been a mistake, Sherlock," Mycroft offered with a grin. "Miss Mariana Trioni here and her paternal grandmother share the same name. The information I obtained was apparently erroneous." "Not completely," Miss Trioni explained as she removed her cloak. "I have followed your adventures, by means of Dr. Watson's accounts, and I do admire your work. I also enjoy needlework, as you were told my grandmother does. However, I have never been married, and, consequently, I have no children. As for my age..." "Surely, it is not necessary for you to disclose that, Miss Trioni!," I said with great surprise at her candor. "I do not mind, Dr. Watson," she smiled at my efforts. Turning again towards Holmes, she continued, "I turned thirty last November, Mr. Holmes." "And yet, you say that you have never been married?," Holmes offered. I found his question most distasteful. True, most women her age were already raising two or three children, but it was hardly proper to inquire. "Not for lack of opportunity, I assure you, Mr. Holmes, but for lack of desire," she replied. It was clear she did not approve of his lack of tact. "Of course. Forgive me. I...I did not mean to imply...," Holmes floundered. He appeared to be almost embarrassed...something I had never witnessed before. Luckily for him, his brother came to his aid. "You must forgive him, Miss Trioni," Mycroft interjected. "My brother is not well-known for his social graces. I am afraid his profession has handicapped him in that respect." Holmes looked as if he were about to speak, then Mrs. Hudson broke in, "Gentlemen, need I remind you? This young lady has just crossed an ocean! Will you at least allow her to settle herself in, before you begin your interrogation?" "You are quite right, Mrs. Hudson," I noted. Turning to Miss Trioni, I continued, "In our excitement, we have proven to be ghastly hosts. Mrs. Hudson will show you to your room, Miss Trioni. There, you may take some time to refresh yourself. Perhaps, you might like to lie down for an hour or two before dinner." "I do not wish to appear rude, gentlemen," she smiled. "However, I would like to settle in, and I would very much like to make use of your lavatory. The accommodations on the ship were ample. However, a hot bath would be most enjoyable." "Of course, my dear," Mrs. Hudson agreed as she pulled our guest towards the door. "I will show you to your room, and get what you might need. I am certain whatever questions Mr. Holmes has will keep until dinner." "That would be lovely, Mrs. Hudson," Miss Trioni accepted. She moved willingly with Mrs. Hudson, but, before leaving the room, she turned once more to face us. Smiling warmly, she stated, "I would like to take a moment to thank you all, gentlemen. It is an honour to have been chosen the winner, and it is a greater honour still to be here with you now." She paused, then, looking to Holmes, she offered, "I do hope you will not be too disappointed, Mr. Holmes." Then she turned and moved into the hallway. Mrs. Hudson closed the door on her way out, but she took a moment to cast a smile in our direction. "I say, what an incredible woman," Mycroft mused. Although he had said the words, I believe we all had shared the same thought. It was then that I noticed...Holmes had remained virtually silent since his last awkward attempt at an apology. He had not even taken objection to Mrs. Hudson's rare initiative. It was most unlike him. "Holmes, old fellow? Are you all right?," I asked. My concern was not met with a warm reception. "All right?!," he snapped. "I could hardly be "all right" under such circumstances! Am I to be made to look the fool?! I think not! She shall not best me so easily!" "Whatever are you jabbering about, Sherlock?," Mycroft asked, his eyes still fixed upon the closed door. "Her game is clear," Holmes announced. "She thinks she can manipulate the outcome of our game by the bat of an eye or a sugar-coated compliment. No doubt, she hopes that I will be less likely to pursue my prey if I am so deluded, but she is mistaken. She can not fool me with flattery." His commentary was both shocking and distasteful to me, and I felt compelled to scold, "Honestly, Holmes, I have never met anyone who could take so innocent an intention and twist it into so evil a motive. The lady was genuinely being gracious, a skill which I would strongly suggest you take the time to study more closely." I was very upset by what he had implied. "Ah, Watson," he scoffed at my efforts. "I would try to enlighten you. However, I see it is too late, for you are already smitten." I was sorely tempted to tell him exactly what a rogue he was being, but I had no doubt that whatever I said would be analyzed and thrown back at me. Also, I had to admit to myself, there had been some truth in his assessment of my feelings towards Miss Trioni. I thought it better to say nothing until I could reason with him on his own terms, purely logical, not emotional. Still, it gnawed at me that he should judge this woman so harshly. Thankfully, Mycroft said what I could not. "She got to you, eh, Sherlock?," he noted with a faint smile. "For a brief moment, perhaps, but she did manage to get past your wall...didn't she?" "Do not be absurd," Holmes replied too quickly to have taken the time to think of a better response. He moved to sit in his chair by the fireplace, then he sighed heavily and closed his eyes, drifting into what appeared to be a trance, but, more likely, was deep thought. "Very well, brother. We shall leave it at that, for now," Mycroft allowed. He picked up his hat and moved to the door, then stated, "I believe I shall go for a short walk before dinner. Would you care to join me, Doctor?" "Yes, I would be pleased to," I said. Turning to my friend, I encouraged, "Holmes?" "I will stay here," he advised as he waved us away with his eyes still closed. When we reached the front landing, I heard Mycroft chuckle to himself, "Yes, indeed. She got to him." |
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| STORIES AND SAGAS My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Four |
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| I am not certain what the exact hour was, but I believe it was close to two in the morning when I woke to find Holmes hovering over me, like a vulture in the darkness. "Good heavens, Holmes, what is it?," I asked with a start. "I need your help, Watson, though I would not blame you if you refused to give it," he replied. He had obviously been unable to sleep, thinking of what he had done for several hours. He had, no doubt, realized the full gravity of the situation. I sat up in my bed, and he sat upon the edge of it, then advised, "I have been a fool, Watson. An absolute fool! She came here so full of expectations and respect, only to find my true persona arrogant and incapable of even the simplest of courteous behaviour. My God, Watson, I have treated her horribly. I must put things right. Please, tell me, what can I do?" I could not recall ever having seen him so distraught. Indeed, he had never asked my advice before. "It is possible the damage is irreparable," I said. Then, seeing his hopes sink further, I added, "You could begin by apologizing, though she may not agree to hear you out." "She would, if she were persuaded," Holmes encouraged. "Oh, no, Holmes. You can not expect me to...," I began. "Please, Watson? There is no other way," Holmes interrupted. "I beg of you, help me to fix this?" "Very well," I sighed heavily, touched by his heartfelt plea. "I will ask her to listen to what you have to say, but I can not guarantee her response." "Thank you, Watson," Holmes offered. I began to resume my former position as he walked to the door. I turned back only to find him standing in my doorway, apparently, waiting for me to join him. "Surely, you do not mean to speak to her now?," I asked, astonished by his bravado. "It will not wait until morning," he stated. He had truly been deeply affected. "But, she is, no doubt, asleep! Under the circumstances, to wake her would prove to be most unwise!," I cautioned. "She is awake," Holmes answered. "It was more audible from below, but, even from here, I can hear her light footsteps as she crosses the floor. She has been pacing to and fro for some time now. I believe she has completed packing, even as we have spoken. Do hurry, Watson." I floundered in the darkness for my dressing gown and slippers, then I followed Holmes to her door. What on earth could I say to the lady to convince her to listen to Holmes? Frankly, I was having trouble forgiving him for his actions, and I had not been his victim. I knocked softly upon her door and whispered, "Miss Trioni, this is Dr. Watson. If you are awake, please, answer?" I heard nothing at first. Then, suddenly, the door opened. She stood there in her nightgown, partially hidden by the door. With a warm smile, she asked, "What is it, Doctor?" She seemed almost unaffected until she caught a glimpse of Holmes, standing beside me. Her smile vanished instantly, and she began to close the door. Without thought, I held my hand against it and urged, "Miss Trioni, I do apologize, but I beg you to give me a moment." She looked at my hand upon her door. Noticing it there for the first time, myself, I quickly removed it. Very evenly, she then stated, "I have no argument with you, Dr. Watson. I would be glad to give you my full attention and whatever time you would like, but...what does he want?" She nodded towards Holmes. "He wishes to apologize for his behaviour," I said softly. "He asked for my assistance, and...," I began, feeling quite awkward standing there in my slippers. "And, you agreed," she finished disapprovingly. Her tone made me feel some shame for having given in to Holmes' plea too easily. Thankfully, she made allowance for my dilemma. "Very well, as long as you remain present, Doctor. Just allow me to put on my robe," she said with a sigh as she closed the door. "Shall we wait for you in the drawing room?," I asked. "That will not be necessary," she called back. She opened the door again, fully this time, to continue, "I see no need to alarm Mrs. Hudson at this hour. We can use this room for our discussion." I believe she saw the hesitation in my face, and so, she assured, "It is all right, Dr. Watson. It may not be proper for me to entertain male guests in my bedroom, but I have little care of what may be thought of me here at this point. After all, I have already been called a liar, and assessed as a scheming woman, so what have I to lose?" As she had spoken, she motioned for us to enter and be seated. Mrs. Hudson had managed to furnish the room with a wardrobe, a bed, two chairs, and a dresser. Miss Trioni sat upon the edge of the bed. Rather uneasily, I made use of one of the chairs, and Holmes did the same. I noticed that the bed had not been slept in, and that her things were all gathered together, then I turned my attention again towards her as she encouraged, "Well? I am listening, Mr. Holmes." His gaze remained fixed upon the floor directly in front of him as Holmes offered in earnest, "Miss Trioni, you have my complete and most sincere apologies. I fear you have seen me at my worst, and I have no excuse for my deplorable behaviour towards you. Watson can tell you, I am not known for having genteel manners, but rarely have I made such an ass of myself as I did this evening." "Ahem," I cleared my throat rather loudly, casting him a look of reprimand. "Pardon my language, Miss Trioni," he continued quickly. "It seems I am destined to insult you at every turn. However, let me assure you, it is not my intention." He paused briefly, then, a bit more thoughtfully, he proceeded, "I am just so frustrated, you see. I never jump to conclusions. I never act without reason. Logic is the foundation on which I have based my career...indeed, my entire life. And yet, upon meeting you, I throw all care to the wind and proceed to attack you, as though you were the most vile criminal in London. All with absolutely no provocation, and without so much as a clue to tell me why." He raised his eyes to hers for the first time then, and searchingly urged, "Why?" Miss Trioni's mouth had softened from its original frown as Holmes had spoken. A hint of a smile appeared as she asked, "Shall I tell you my deductions, Mr. Holmes?" "Miss Trioni, I would be most grateful for any insight which you may possess," Holmes earnestly offered. "Well, then, perhaps it is this business of the contest," Miss Trioni replied. "I am well-aware that the whole idea of it might be somewhat offensive to you. A great detective such as yourself could hardly be pleased with the idea of participating in such a folly. I believe I can safely assume you agreed to it only as a favour to your brother. The reason for his initiation of this contest has never really been disclosed. I know he has workings with your government. Perhaps, in an attempt to raise public interest in the nation's crime rate, or something of the sort, he concocted this whole plan. He may have even volunteered your services without your knowledge, causing you some resentment of the whole affair from the very start. The added annoyance of having to play host, no doubt, was the last straw for you. Imagine...having your very home invaded by some old woman who has nothing better to do than dream up murder mysteries. What could be worse, except perhaps a younger woman, unfamiliar with London, whom you would feel obligated to entertain. I suppose I should have expected I would wear on your nerves. The tension between us has been palpable since I arrived this afternoon, and yet, I did nothing to correct the matter. I fear I am partially to blame for your dislike of me." She lowered her gaze to the spot on the floor where Holmes had previously been staring. Therefore, she did not see the expression upon his face. "Not at all, Miss Trioni," Holmes uttered as he rose from his chair and moved to stand before her. "After this brief conversation, nothing could be further from the truth. It is I who have been an atrocious host." "And, I who have been an overzealous guest," Miss Trioni returned. She stood and raised her gaze briefly to meet his, then, once more, lowered it to the floor. The transformation in Holmes was incredible. "May I make a suggestion?," I asked, unable to watch silently any longer. "Please do, Watson," Holmes urged. Although he was unable to turn his eyes from Miss Trioni, I felt quite certain I had his undivided attention. "Well, Miss Trioni," I offered, "if you could find it in your heart to forgive my friend. And, Holmes, if you would try to be more thoughtful in your conduct, perhaps Miss Trioni will do us the honour of staying, as planned?" The silence was deafening as we waited for her reply. Finally, she raised her gaze to his and spoke. "I accept your apology, Mr. Holmes," she smiled. "And, you have my word," Holmes answered, his eyes gleaming with gratitude. Miss Trioni extended her hand. Slowly, Holmes took it in his. "Until morning, then?," she offered, "Yes. Good night, Miss Trioni," Holmes replied. "Good night, Mr. Holmes," she smiled. She looked at her hand, which he was still holding. Holmes quickly released it and moved into the hallway. "Good night, Miss Trioni," I said as I followed his lead, "and thank you for your patience and understanding." "Good night, Dr. Watson, and thank you, for yours," she returned. She closed the door, and I turned from it to find that Holmes had already disappeared to his room. Quietly, I stumbled back to my own. |
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