| When I returned, I found Holmes still standing at the window, and Mycroft seated in Holmes' usual chair by the fire. Both men were silent, and I dared not ask how either was fairing. At precisely one o'clock, Miss Trioni entered, carrying with her a small notebook and pencil. "I hope I have not kept you waiting, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "I completely lost track of the time. Mrs. Hudson was so kind as to show me some of her winning recipes, and I was attempting to copy them down, when..." "Can we get on with it?," Holmes interrupted. "Sherlock...," Mycroft growled. "Forgive me, Miss Trioni. I am anxious for us to establish the plans of which we spoke this morning," Holmes apologized. "Of course, Mr. Holmes. You are quite right," she allowed. She sat upon the settee and turned towards Mycroft, who resumed sitting in Holmes' favourite chair. I sat beside Miss Trioni, and Holmes remained peering out the window. "To begin with, Mr. Holmes, I would like to hear your thoughts on just how this test of Mr. Holmes' abilities is to be conducted," she encouraged. "Well, quite frankly, I thought I would leave the particulars to your discretion, Miss Trioni. I will, of course, provide whatever is needed for your story to be acted out for my brother's benefit. If you like, we could begin interviewing actors today," Mycroft offered. "Forgive me, Mr. Holmes. I do not wish to appear ungrateful. I do appreciate everything which you have done, so far. However...," she hesitated. "Please, Miss Trioni, do continue," Mycroft encouraged. "Well, sir, it is just that I really do not understand the need for such an elaborate performance," she explained. "I believe, if Mr. Holmes were allowed to read my manuscript, he would be able to solve my mystery without any theatrics." "Your confidence in my ability is, indeed, appreciated, Miss Trioni," Holmes offered as he turned to face her. "However, there are one or two points to consider in which my brother's plan would benefit me. The human element would be lacking if I were to merely read your story, as you suggest. There would be no one to question, and no scene of a crime to examine for clues. These things are essential in any case." Miss Trioni sat quietly, thinking to herself for several moments. Finally, she raised her gaze to Holmes' again and offered, "Very well, Mr. Holmes. Then I will tell you the story, myself. I will answer every question and disclose every clue that you suspect. However, I will not volunteer any answers. You will have to deduce enough to ask the right questions." An expression of sheer titillation enveloped Holmes, and his eyes danced with the proposal which she had laid before him. Mycroft tried to caution her, noting, "In that scenario, the entire case would rest upon Sherlock's ability to read you, Miss Trioni. To know what you are telling, as well as what you are not. I must object. I know my brother well enough to admit, he is not easily put off." "Mr. Holmes, if my manuscript is truly as good as you claim, it is because of the plot, is it not?," she asked. "Yes, but...," Mycroft began. "And, a plot is conceived of, and invented by, the writer, as are all of the locations and characters, correct?," she encouraged. "Well, yes, but...," he tried again. "And, who could possibly know the mind of a character better than the writer who created him? Is that not so?," she urged. "Yes. However, the writer...I mean, he or she may not...," Mycroft stumbled. "She may not be as shrewd as the character? Oh, I doubt if that is possible, Mr. Holmes," Miss Trioni smiled mischievously. It was a compelling facial expression which I presumed she had, no doubt, used when explaining to her father why he should allow her to travel unescorted to England. As it had apparently worked then, it also did in this instance. "Perhaps...it could work...," Mycroft said, more to himself than to the rest of us. "Splendid!," Holmes declared. He looked as intent as the sleuthhound to which he was often compared. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, as if he were ready to attack. I would have thought that the sight of his eagerness, alone, would have given Miss Trioni reason to back down from her proposal. Instead, she sat, gazing upon him, looking almost serene, and seemingly unaffected. "When shall we begin?," she calmly asked. "I have no plans for the rest of the day," Holmes pounced. "Hold on there, Sherlock," Mycroft warned. "I will honour Miss Trioni's wishes. However, there must be some rules to this "game", as you like to call it. First, both Dr. Watson and I must be present during the telling of the tale, and any subsequent questioning. I will not have you badgering this young woman, do you understand?" "Agreed, but you must agree not to coach her in her answers," Holmes returned. "Done. Second, I believe we should establish a limit as to the length of time which you may question Miss Trioni at each session. Say...half an hour each day, beginning at ten o'clock each morning?," Mycroft offered. Holmes nodded his agreement, and Mycroft continued, "And, finally, if we are to look upon this as a game, the players and prizes must be clearly defined. With the exception of taking notes, which is his habit, Dr. Watson may not aid you in your efforts. This time, you will be on your own. Your opponent will be Miss Trioni, and I, myself, will remain neutral, as a sort of referee. If you succeed in solving the case in three days' time, I will give you my word never to interfere in your affairs again." "That would be a rare prize, indeed," Holmes snickered. "However, if you fail, you will agree to openly admit that you have been beaten...by a woman," Mycroft grinned. "Do we have a deal, Sherlock?," he asked as he extended his hand. Holmes took it eagerly within his own and shook it soundly. I was greatly relieved to see that the two brothers had come to terms. I was beginning to believe all was said and done when I noticed Miss Trioni. She was busily writing something in her notebook. "Just one more thing, gentlemen," she said as she closed it. "Mr. Holmes, I do appreciate your generosity in bringing me to this country. However, I fear I will return to the United States without having truly explored it. If I may be so bold, I had hoped that there would be ample time for me to do so..." "Forgive me, Miss Trioni," Mycroft interrupted. "I have been so eager to settle these plans, I have failed to address your understandable concerns. However, I assure you, the matter will be rectified. I have no doubt that a suitable guide can be found to show you the sights. I would do so, myself, except I fear I would probably be more of a hindrance than a help to you in that respect. I seldom venture any further than my club." "Actually," Miss Trioni began, "if it would not be too great an imposition, I thought, perhaps, Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes might be willing to..." "Of course! We would be delighted," I offered. The words sprang from my mouth before I could stop them. "Down, Watson...she has not asked yet," Holmes scolded, visibly annoyed by my eagerness. "I was about to say, if you gentlemen would be willing to tell me where to begin, and how best to proceed...," Miss Trioni tried again. "Surely, we can do better than that," Holmes offered. He seemed positively obliging. "We would be honoured to accompany you on your adventure. How long did you plan to remain in England, Miss Trioni?" "For as long as she likes," Mycroft answered. Turning to our guest, he informed, "I have not made any plans, as yet, for your return voyage, Miss Trioni. After dinner last evening, and Sherlock's note this morning, I was not sure what your intentions were." "Well, Mr. Holmes, if I understood correctly, the winner of the contest was to be given a round trip ticket to England from any point of origin, and all other expenses were to be paid for the duration of the winner's stay in England?," Miss Trioni inquired. "That is correct," Mycroft replied. "Then, I must ask that the prize be changed," Miss Trioni requested to our surprise. "I am grateful for having had the opportunity to come here and return, free of charge, but I must insist on paying my own way while I am here. If you will agree, I would feel more comfortable with the entire situation, and far more free to, perhaps, prolong my visit." "I will compromise with you, then," Mycroft smiled. "I estimated it would take a total of seven days to organize and conduct this test of my brother's deductive powers. Thus, your first week's expenses have already been taken care of. If you choose to remain longer, it shall be at your own expense. Do we have a deal, Miss Trioni?," Mycroft asked as he extended his hand in jest. "On one condition," she smiled. "If you are to be my benefactor and, more importantly, my friend, I would prefer being called by my first name. "Miss Trioni" somehow seems too formal." "Very well, Mariana, but then, you must call me by mine," Mycroft hopefully encouraged. "Thank you, Mycroft," Miss Trioni beamed. "It will, no doubt, eliminate the confusion which occurs every time I say "Mr. Holmes" while both you and your brother are in the room." She then grasped his hand and shook it soundly...a gesture for which he was quite unprepared. Turning towards Holmes again, she cheerfully informed, "In answer to your question, Mr. Holmes, under these new circumstances, I believe I will remain in England for at least one week, possibly longer. I will have to inquire, from Mrs. Hudson, if my room will be available, should I decide to stay, or if I should look elsewhere." "I am sure she will be as delighted to learn of your intentions as we are," I said. "Indeed. Then Dr. Watson and I will be at your disposal for the duration of your stay," Holmes offered. His apparent transformation from Holmes, the impatient detective, to Holmes, the diligent host, was remarkable, however transparent. "Thank you, gentlemen," she accepted. She seemed not to mind Holmes' blatant ulterior motive. Mycroft moved towards the door as he explained, "Then, I will see you all at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, and we will begin. Until then, do be careful, Mariana. Sherlock has been known to attempt breaking a rule or two, now and then." Holmes glared at him, but Mycroft paid it no mind as he offered, "Good afternoon, Mariana...Doctor...Sherlock." "Good afternoon, Mycroft," I returned, as did Miss Trioni. Holmes merely nodded, and with that, Mycroft departed. Miss Trioni then rose from her seat and offered, "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I will find Mrs. Hudson, and confirm my plans. Then, perhaps I will explore some of the shops here on Baker Street. As we drove up yesterday, I believe I saw a bookstore a few doors down?" "Berkshaw's," I advised. "Across the street and to the left." "Do you know if they sell postcards there, Doctor?," she asked. "I believe they do, actually," I replied. "Splendid," she returned, then she began moving towards the door. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Holmes inquired, "Miss Trioni, I am curious. You have said that you are not a wealthy woman, and yet, you insist on paying your own expenses while here, in England...why?" His frankness bordered on rudeness, as usual. "I am not wealthy, Mr. Holmes," she chuckled slightly. "Wealthy people are born that way. I have earned my money, by working for it. If I choose to spend it on a vacation, why should it confuse you?" Her candor was as refreshing as the spring air, and it caught Holmes quite off guard. She seemed to sense this, then continued, "Mr. Holmes, may I give you some advice?" "By all means, Miss Trioni," he answered in surprise. "Stop looking for clues where there are none to be found," she warned with a chuckle. "The game begins tomorrow." Holmes' face turned crimson as she turned away and offered, "Good afternoon, gentlemen." As she left the room, my eyes were fixed upon Holmes. Never had I seen him more eager to begin the hunt, nor, I feared, so unprepared. After a considerable length of time, he finally broke his silence. "Watson, from what we have learned of our guest, what do you deduce her profession to be?," he encouraged. Inevitably, when Holmes asked such a question of me, it was with the intention of proving my conclusions wrong. This time, I was sure I would fair poorly in my evaluation, and so, not wishing for him to rub salt into the wound, I readily admitted my lack of detective prowess. "I am sure I have no idea, old fellow. What conclusions have you reached?," I returned. To my great surprise, Holmes quietly informed, "She is a puzzle to me, Watson. She has the bearing and deportment of a lady, and yet, by her own admission, she has at some time done manual labour of some sort. We know she is proficient in needlework, but could a seamstress have so keen an interest in matters such as fingerprints? She is not a writer, and yet, her manuscript won a contest in which more than a few professional writers were competitors. No, no, it will not do. There must be a way for us to narrow down the possibilities." "Perhaps," I said timidly, "we could ask her?" "And, admit that she has won the first round? Never!," Holmes replied with indignation. Then he quickly turned his thoughts about-face as he continued, "Although...yes, of course! Capital idea, Watson! By showing our hand, she will, no doubt, relax the tight grip she has upon her own." "What are you saying, Holmes?," I urged, completely confused. "We will ask Miss Trioni what her profession is," he explained, "thereby admitting she has eluded my scrutiny these past two days. This will, of course, give her a sense of accomplishment and security. She will be more likely to let down her guard. Then we will be able to obtain a better insight into her character, and thus, solve her mystery with little effort." "It sounds a bit underhanded to me, Holmes," I cautioned. "I did not mean to suggest trickery." "What trickery?," he retorted. "It is true, we wish to know her profession, and have not been able to deduce it for ourselves. If admitting so causes her to become overconfident, it is no one's fault but her own." I pondered his words for a moment, and decided that he had a point. "Very well, Holmes. I will ask her tonight, at dinner," I offered. "Excellent!," he accepted. "What are your plans for this afternoon?" I suddenly realized that I had been operating under the same erroneous assumption as Mycroft...namely, that the contest would not be underway until actors and locations had been agreed upon. The change of plans dictated my response. "I had best drop by my surgery and rearrange my schedule, so as to allow me to be free the next few days," I answered. "Good man, Watson. I will remain here, and spend the hours remaining before dinner in meditation," he informed. "I wish to clear my mind before we begin this game." He removed his shoes and sat cross-legged in his chair by the fireplace with his eyes closed. Slowly, I saw the tension melt from his shoulders as he entered a trance-like state. I left the room quietly, and headed for my surgery. As I walked down Baker Street, a thought occurred to me. Mycroft had been correct...she had gotten to him. |
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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 FIVE The next day, I fear I overslept. The excitement of the previous evening, coupled with Holmes' and my excursion in the wee hours of the morning, were, no doubt, more than to what my system was accustomed. I managed to dress quickly, however, and I entered the drawing room before Holmes. He apparently had also experienced some difficulty in waking. Miss Trioni was seated in front of the fire, totally immersed in what, at first, I presumed to be a good novel. "Good morning, Miss Trioni," I said softly, not wishing to disturb her. "Good morning, Dr. Watson," she replied with a smile. She lowered her book, but held her place with her index finger as she continued, "It is truly a glorious morning. I had heard tell of your climate's usual bad temper this time of year, but today is surely an exception." It was, indeed, a perfect spring day. "Have you had breakfast?," I asked. "Mrs. Hudson offered, but I told her that I would prefer to wait for you and Mr. Holmes," she explained. "Oh, I am sorry to have kept you waiting," I offered. "No, no, Doctor," she assured. "I have been quite content to spend the time reading. I do hope Mr. Holmes will not object, but I took the liberty of perusing his book shelf, and I found this!" She turned the book over in her hand, so that I could read the title which was embossed on the cover, yet still managed to keep her place in the process. "A Study In Fingerprints, by Sherlock Holmes," I read aloud. I was still not certain that I had read correctly when she continued, "It is incredibly interesting. But, surely, you have already read it, yourself. I never knew how detailed his research truly is. It is most impressive. And, his other one, there, on the desk. I never realized how many different types of tobacco there are. And, to be able to identify them by a remnant of ash...most impressive, indeed." Her eyes seemed to dance as she spoke of his work, and I found myself confused by her interest in such matters. A small part of me wondered if it were the work or the man who had won her affections. Just then, Holmes entered the room. I was relieved to see that he had remembered our guest, and had dressed accordingly for breakfast, instead of appearing in his usual rumpled nightshirt and dressing gown. "Good morning, Miss Trioni...Watson," he offered. "Good morning, (Mr.) Holmes," we replied in near unison, a fact which we both found quite comical. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson and I were just talking about you," Miss Trioni smirked impishly. "And, pray tell, what was being said?," Holmes asked with a raised eyebrow of apprehension. "She was singing your praises, Holmes. Her choice of reading materials will astound you, I am sure," I smiled. Noting his baffled expression, Miss Trioni explained, "As I was telling Dr. Watson, I took the liberty of reading two of your monographs, and I was very impressed by your meticulous attention to detail." "I am pleased you thought so," Holmes said as he tried to hide his surprise. "There is one question which I wish to ask, however, on the subject of fingerprints," Miss Trioni offered. Mrs. Hudson entered the room just then with several dishes arranged upon her serving tray. "Mrs. Hudson, what have you done? There is enough food here for an army," Holmes teased. "May I remind you, sir, dinner was rather short last evening? I have no doubt this poor child is famished," she replied. She was not in a jovial mood. "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Hudson! It smells wonderful," Miss Trioni beamed. She rose from the settee, leaving her book upon it and relinquishing her place, to give Mrs. Hudson a warm embrace. The open demonstration of affection quite enthralled both Holmes and myself. Mrs. Hudson left the room smiling, save the moment she took to glance in Holmes' direction with a frown. "It appears you have made a friend, Miss Trioni," I noted. "I hope I have made more than one," she replied, smiling first in my direction and then towards Holmes. "Indeed, you have," I said, holding a chair for her at the table. She sat upon it, and I motioned for Holmes to join us. He did not decline the invitation. "Now, Miss Trioni. What is this question to which you alluded?," Holmes asked, offering a platter of kippers. "Fingerprints, Mr. Holmes. No, thank you," she declined. "If I understand correctly, no two are alike." "That is correct," Holmes encouraged. "But, in the case of identical twins, are their fingerprints still unique?," Miss Trioni pondered. Holmes paused, smiling to himself in approval, then answered, "Yes, Miss Trioni. Even in the case of identical twins, a person's fingerprint is truly his own. A very astute question, Miss Trioni. Why do you ask?" He offered her the eggs. "Yes, thank you," she accepted. "I was recalling your case which Dr. Watson entitled, "The Sign Of Four"," she said as she poured herself a cup of tea. Holmes appeared quite as puzzled as I was feeling. "I am sorry, Miss Trioni. I do not see your point," he offered with the bacon. "Yes, thank you," she nodded. "I was referring to the two brothers...oh, I forget their names..." "Bartholomew and Thaddeus Sholto?," I offered. "Yes, that was it," she smiled. "Bartholomew Sholto was found dead, upon your arrival, and the police erroneously arrested Thaddeus Sholto...correct?" "They did, but were soon proven wrong for doing so by Holmes," I advised. "I have always wondered how they knew," she stated as she filled my cup with tea. "How they knew what?," I asked, completely unaware to what she was referring. "Which was which, Watson," Holmes answered as he stared intently at our guest. He was trying to read her, as he might a good book. "A very keen observation, Miss Trioni," he commended. "I am flattered you think so, Mr. Holmes," she smiled. "Excuse me, but I am afraid I am missing the point here," I said, confused by what seemed to be crystal clear to each of them. Miss Trioni smiled warmly at my dilemma, then explained, "You see, Doctor, usually, when I read one of your accounts, it is my habit to try to solve the case, myself. Upon reading the beginning of this particular story, I began to form my own conclusions, before it was revealed that Mr. Holmes proved Thaddeus Sholto innocent of any conspiracy against his brother. It occurred to me that he could have actually been Bartholomew Sholto, but assumed the identity of his brother, Thaddeus...perhaps for some monetary gain, I thought. I even imagined that Bartholomew Sholto had hired Jonathan Small and his pigmy friend to do the dirty work for him. In thinking this was to be the plot, then, I wondered why the police never checked Thaddeus Sholto's fingerprints, to make sure they had the right brother." "I say, what a clever twist," I said in earnest. "But, quite incorrect, I am afraid," she smiled. "The hazard of drawing one's conclusions without sufficient information." "A lesson we all must learn, Miss Trioni," Holmes offered. Noting the double meaning, or not, he had been enthralled in her account. I believe even he was impressed. "Quite right, Mr. Holmes, quite right," she smiled. We turned our attentions to the excellent breakfast which Mrs. Hudson had prepared. I noticed that even Holmes had filled his plate and was eating...a rare occurrence for him. Miss Trioni hesitated after beginning, and I wondered if the food was not to her liking. She observed my concern and volunteered an explanation, stating, "I know it is not proper etiquette for Mrs. Hudson to join us, but I do feel so uneasy being waited on by her." "You do not employ any servants in your father's household?," Holmes asked in a slightly condescending tone. "My family came from humble beginnings, Mr. Holmes," she offered. "When my paternal grandfather first arrived in America, he worked day and night to earn enough money for my grandmother to join him. They were poor by today's standards. However, they managed to raise a large family. My father, his brothers, and his sisters all did what they could to help from an early age. My mother's side of the family had much the same history. In rearing my sisters and myself, both my parents thought it very important for us to be capable of taking care of our own needs. Therefore, we have never had a maid or a cook, and I fear I find having one now a bit uncomfortable. I do hope I have not lessened your opinion of me by telling you so." Holmes said nothing, preferring to scrutinize her face. "I find it quite commendable for a lady such as yourself to be so...self-sufficient," I interjected. "But, please, do not feel uneasy. I assure you, Mrs. Hudson would not want it so." Miss Trioni sighed lightly, then resumed eating. I thought, perhaps, my efforts had not been in vain, until Holmes pried, "You mentioned, you have sisters?" "Yes," Miss Trioni freely informed. "I am the youngest of four daughters. All three of my sisters are married, and between them, they have given me two nieces and three nephews. I live with my parents still. We are very close." "And yet, they raised no objection to your traveling an ocean alone," Holmes noted. He had a way of casting shadows on even the sunniest of days. "They were quite concerned, at first, of course," Miss Trioni replied, "but I pleaded with my father to allow it. However, I believe it was my mother who finally convinced him to give his consent. She has always wanted to travel abroad, herself, but has never had the opportunity." "You mentioned last evening that you have done some traveling prior to this excursion," Holmes encouraged. "Yes, but never to a foreign country," she explained. "I have on occasion ventured to New York, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and even to more distant states." "No doubt, with your family?," Holmes countered. "As a child, yes. However, in more recent years, I have done so on my own," Miss Trioni answered. "And, again, your father "allowed" you to do so?," Holmes pondered. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the word. "Yes, he did," Miss Trioni advised. She paused briefly, then, sensing his thoughts, she continued, "Mr. Holmes, perhaps I should explain. My father is a strict man, but also, a very kind one. It is not for fear of him that I ask his permission to travel, but out of respect for his wishes and his wisdom. Granted, he does not possess your flare for the dramatic, but I do believe he is as good a judge of character as any man alive, and I am proud to say that he has come to trust my judgment in return." It was clear that Holmes had gone just a bit too far. "How very refreshing," I noted quickly, hoping to avoid any possible conflict. "I believe it is a credit to both you and your parents that your relationship is one of mutual respect. I fear that it is a quality sorely lacking in most families." "I would very much like to make his acquaintance, Miss Trioni," Holmes interrupted, too deep in his own thoughts to hear mine. "Perhaps someday, you shall," she offered. "If your profession ever takes you to America, my parents and I would be honoured for you to stay with us. In fact, they have instructed me to extend an open invitation to both you and Dr. Watson, and to Mr. Mycroft Holmes." "How thoughtful of them, and you," I said. Holmes nodded with a slight smile. We had finished our meal. I suddenly realized that we had not yet discussed our plans for the day at hand, and so, I inquired, "Miss Trioni, do you have any specific plans for your first full day in England?" "I really do not know," she admitted. "I suppose, first, I should contact Mr. Mycroft Holmes, and inform him that I have decided to stay." "I took the liberty of doing that for you by way of a message very early this morning," Holmes explained. "I thought it might be wise for him to come by today, to discuss the exact particulars of how this case of yours is to be acted out. Do you know if any arrangements have been made, as yet?" "Again, I fear I am not sure, Mr. Holmes. If I understood Mr. Mycroft Holmes' wire correctly, we were to select the actors together when I arrived. He did mention, yesterday, that he had narrowed the location down to three or four possibilities, and that the final choice would be mine," she explained. "However, to be quite honest, I am still very unclear as to why it is necessary for the story to be acted out at all. I have no doubt that you will be able to solve it merely by reading it for yourself, Mr. Holmes." "Indeed?," Holmes asked with a bit of surprise. "Do you not share in my brother's confidence in your abilities?" "Your brother is most kind, Mr. Holmes. However, I am not under any delusions," Miss Trioni assured with a warm smile. "You will solve my mystery. The only question in my mind is how long it will take you to do so." Holmes was visibly intrigued. I must admit, I shared his excitement. Neither of us had a clue as to what sort of an adventure we were about to embark upon. The anticipation was almost tangible. There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hudson entered, carrying an envelope. "A message for you, Miss Trioni," she announced. "For me?," our guest asked in surprise. She opened the envelope, then read its contents aloud, stating, "Dear Miss Trioni. I am delighted and relieved to know that you will be staying. I will be by this afternoon, at one o'clock, to begin our plans for your mystery. Please, inform my brother and Dr. Watson that their presence would be greatly appreciated. Sincerely, Mycroft Holmes." I looked to my watch and noted, "It is half past eleven now." "Well, then, that will allow me enough time to help Mrs. Hudson with these dishes," Miss Trioni said cheerfully. "Oh, my dear, no, no, I couldn't let you...," Mrs. Hudson began to protest. "Please, Mrs. Hudson, you would be doing me the favour," Miss Trioni explained as she rose from the table. "I fear, if I have nothing to keep my hands busy for the next hour and a half, I will go mad." "But, surely, you would prefer to go out for some fresh air. It is a lovely day, and there is so much of London for you to see...," Mrs. Hudson urged. "I have no doubt there will be time for that later," Miss Trioni assured. "For now, I would prefer to spend some time with you, if I would not be inconveniencing you too badly?" "No inconvenience at all, Miss, but...," Mrs. Hudson began. "Good, then!," Miss Trioni interrupted. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, please, excuse us." She picked up what was left of our breakfast dishes and began leaving the room with them. Mrs. Hudson scurried frantically after her, not knowing how to react. "What a remarkable woman," I offered, staring at the door. "Quite so," Holmes called over his shoulder. In the midst of the commotion, he had moved to stand at the window, and was peering down upon the street below. "I believe I will make use of Mrs. Hudson's excellent suggestion and go for a walk. Care to join me, Holmes?," I offered. "No, thank you, Watson," Holmes declined. "I would prefer to wait here for Mycroft to arrive. He will, no doubt, still be upset with me for my behaviour towards Miss Trioni last evening. It will be best if he has the opportunity to reprimand me before we begin our plans. I expect he will arrive several minutes early for that very purpose. No, I will wait here." As he stared out the window, I could not help but notice an expression of despair upon his face. Although I was in agreement with Mycroft Holmes about his brother's inexcusable behaviour towards Miss Trioni, my heart did go out to Holmes then. Alas, he had to take his chastising alone this time. "Good luck, old fellow," I said, then I went for my walk. |
| STORIES AND SAGAS My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Five |
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| That evening at dinner, Miss Trioni was telling us how impressed she was with the little she had so far seen of London. "The merchants were all most helpful in assisting me. Is that their usual way, or do you believe they were being so accommodating because I am a foreigner?," she asked. "No doubt, a little of each," I smiled nervously, wondering how to turn the conversation to suit my purpose. All during our meal, Holmes had been urging me on with a look here or a nudge there. Finally, I decided upon bluntness. "Tell me, Miss Trioni, you mentioned earlier that you work for a living. What, exactly, is your profession?," I inquired. "I would have thought Mr. Holmes had already revealed that to you, Doctor," she replied. Turning towards Holmes, she continued, "I have heard you can usually tell such things from a person's physical attributes, Mr. Holmes. Care to venture a guess?" "I never guess," Holmes said in a low rumble of a voice. "If you would be so kind as to allow me to examine your hands more closely..." "By all means," she answered. Placing her fork down upon her dish, she wiped her hands upon her napkin, and then extended them in Holmes' direction. He took them gingerly in his own, and began a close scrutiny of them. "Would you mind loosening the cuffs, and rolling back your sleeves?," he offered. She did as he had asked. Slowly, he examined every inch of her from fingertip to elbow. "Well, Mr. Holmes?," she urged as she stared at him intently. Holmes took a deep breath, then began, "Your fingertips are slightly spatulate on both hands, indicating either a talent for the piano or for typewriting. However, the fingertips of your right hand are much more pronounced than those of your left. I have observed you are right-handed. Given the obvious strength of your left upper arm, I would have to conclude that you frequently use an adding machine. When I add to this the calluses on your right hand from writing, and the fact that you are not a writer, by your own admission, it all points to bookkeeping of some sort." Holmes paused. However, Miss Trioni did not make a sound, and so, he was compelled to continue, "In addition to this, I note several recently-healed pin holes in the tip of your left forefinger. You have mentioned that you share your grandmother's interest in needlework, so this is easily explained. Upon examining your forearms and the width of your hands, coupled with the obvious strength they possess...note, Watson, how the muscles are somewhat pronounced, even when they are not flexed...it is clear that you have, indeed, worked with your hands, as you have said. I can not imagine they were so developed by keeping books. By your own admission again, in your father's home, you are accustomed to seeing to your own needs...cooking and cleaning. This would account for some of the development, but not all. Of course, your left upper arm was, no doubt, strengthened from the use of the adding machine handle. However, some form of exercise has caused the right arm to be even stronger, as it should be since, as I have said, you are right-handed. I can not imagine a woman of your bearing working as a common labourer. No, I believe, whatever it was that developed you muscles also contributed to the development of your mind...or, perhaps... Tell me, Miss Trioni, do you enjoy some type of sport or hobby that has strengthened your arms?" "Yes, Mr. Holmes, I do," she admitted. Holmes smiled triumphantly for a brief moment, then she encouraged, "But, Mr. Holmes, you have not yet answered my question. What is my profession?" The smile vanished from his face, and he lowered his gaze to the glass of wine before him on the table. "The answer is a simple one," he finally said with a spark. "If you are not one of these things, then, surely, you must be all of them." "Bravo, Mr. Holmes!," she praised with a warm smile. "Your reputation is, indeed, well-deserved. I do have several means by which I make my living, and among them are typewriting, bookkeeping, and sewing." "Yes, but the strength in your arms, Miss Trioni?," I asked, quite perplexed. She smiled a bit mischievously and offered, "I will tell you both a little secret of mine. I have, on occasion, tucked my hair up under a knitted cap, borrowed a pair of my father's trousers without his knowledge, and worked the sea. But, I must ask that this conversation remain just between us. It would not do if my father ever found out. He is of the opinion that a woman should act like a lady at all times." "And, you are not?," Holmes asked in amazement. "My definition of a lady does not exclude a woman's ability to earn a dollar, using the mental or physical gifts God has given her, Mr. Holmes...unless, of course, she does so in some profane manner. I have never seen a respectable man who was ashamed of an honest day's labour for a fair wage. Why should a woman be?," she replied. I could not believe what I was hearing. "Do you mean to say, Miss Trioni, that you have worked along-side men, and they did not realize that you were a woman? I can hardly believe that possible," I noted. "They thought I was a boy, Doctor," she explained. "And, I never worked too closely to the others. There was never any danger." "But, if the truth had been discovered!," I gasped, imagining what tragedy could have befallen this young woman. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself, Doctor. I had no reason to fear," she assured. As I sat there, still quite shocked, Holmes continued his interrogation. "By what means would you have done so, Miss Trioni? Do you carry a weapon?," he asked. "Suffice it to say that I was never in any danger, Mr. Holmes," Miss Trioni offered, then she lowered her gaze. "Miss Trioni, you intrigue me," Holmes admitted freely. "I have never met a woman who possessed so many facets to her personality." "I find that hard to believe, sir. Surely, in your illustrious career, you have encountered women who were not satisfied with their traditional roles in society," she argued softly without raising her eyes. "One does come to mind... However, I believe you have achieved new heights," Holmes mused. As I listened, I had no doubt Holmes was recalling "The Woman", as he had dubbed her. Could it be, she was being dethroned in his mind by our guest? I had not the chance to ponder my thoughts, for Miss Trioni interrupted them as she noted, "Oh, my goodness, look at the time! If you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I will retire early this evening. I wish to be well-rested for our first session tomorrow morning." "Of course," I said. "Good night, Miss Trioni." "Good night, Dr. Watson. Good night, Mr. Holmes," she offered as she rose from her seat. "Good night, Miss Trioni, and thank you for a most...enlightening evening," Holmes replied. "My pleasure, sir," she smiled, then she exited the drawing room. Once she had gone, Holmes moved to take up his pipe from the mantel. Standing before the fire, he lit his pipe and pondered, "Fascinating. Watson, do you believe she was telling us the truth?" "Why, yes, Holmes. Shocking as it was, I believe it was the truth," I answered. I was still not completely myself. "I agree," Holmes admitted. He was absolutely beaming with delight as he continued, "This does put a new slant on things. I had imagined that we were dealing with an average woman's intellect and experience. However, Miss Trioni is anything but average, wouldn't you say?" "She certainly is unique in my mind," I said, perhaps a bit too openly. My honesty earned me a disciplinary glance. "She has posed as a man, yet has not been caught. Therefore, she has the ability to think like a man or a woman, depending on her need," Holmes noted. "This will have a profound effect on how we proceed with her case. Perhaps we would do well to follow her lead, and catch up on our sleep. Last night was, no doubt, a strain on both our abilities, and we must be ready for her tomorrow." "Very well. Good night, old fellow," I offered. "Good night, Watson," he returned. I retreated to my bedroom, but I found that sleep did not come easily. I could not get the image of Miss Trioni, disguised as a boy, out of my mind. I wondered if Holmes was likewise plagued, then, finally, sleep came. |
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