The Pumamouse Website: Stories And Sagas: My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Nine

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes...Dr. Watson," Miss Trioni offered as she joined Holmes and myself in the drawing room.

"Good morning, Miss Trioni," we each returned. Although it was a little past eight o'clock, the sky was still extremely dark. Storm clouds were blocking out any sign of the sun.

"I fear we will not be able to keep our plans of going to Tobson's Grove today," I noted, handing a cup of hot tea to her.

She walked to the window and took a sip of the beverage, then softly advised, "It is a shame we shall have to miss it. However, it does promise to be a glorious storm."

"You enjoy the rain, Miss Trioni?," Holmes asked with wonder.

"The rain is nice enough, but it is the thunder and lightning which I truly love," she admitted. Holmes tried to hide his amusement by lighting another pipe.

Mrs. Hudson entered, carrying a basket of cinnamon rolls to go with our tea. "I am afraid this weather will mean no picnic," she noted. "I am sorry for your sake, Miss. I know that you were looking forward to going fishing again...one...last...time..." She began to sniffle.

Miss Trioni placed her cup upon the table, then rushed to put her arm around our landlady's shoulders and offered, "There, there, Mrs. Hudson. Please, do not be so sad. Wait here for just one moment, will you?"

"Yes, Miss," Mrs. Hudson agreed, wiping her eyes. Miss Trioni dashed up the stairs to her room, and returned just as swiftly, bringing with her the shawl which she had crocheted.

"I was going to wait until tomorrow," she explained, wrapping the shawl around Mrs. Hudson's shoulders. "However, I think I would rather give this to you today. There. Do you like it?"

"Oh, Miss, it is beautiful! But, you shouldn't have...," Mrs. Hudson offered in surprise.

"Of course I should have," Miss Trioni replied. "Now, I want you to promise that you will think of me every time you wear it, and to remember that I will be thinking of you."

"Oh, Miss...," Mrs. Hudson began to sniffle again.

"Promise me, now," she urged with a smile.

"I promise, dear, I promise," Mrs. Hudson allowed.

"That's better. Now, no more tears, agreed?," she urged.

"Agreed, Miss Trioni," Mrs. Hudson answered.

"Good, then," Miss Trioni smiled warmly, then she turned back towards the window. Mrs. Hudson departed, wearing her new shawl and a melancholy smile.

A few moments after she heard the door close, Miss Trioni quietly asked, "Gentlemen, would you both do me a favour?"

"Certainly, Miss Trioni. What is it?," I offered.

"Would you please look after her when I am gone? She has arthritis, you know, and she should not spend too many hours on her feet," she explained. Although she tried to hide it, her voice betrayed the fact that she, too, was crying. Holmes gripped my forearm with the realization. I nodded my understanding, then he released his numbing hold.

"Of course, Miss Trioni. We shall both do whatever we can," Holmes cautiously replied.

"Thank you, gentlemen," she returned. She dried her eyes quickly, then joined us at the table. Just as she did so, a loud clap of thunder resounded, and a bright flash of lightning crossed the sky. "It has begun," she quietly noted, taking another sip of her tea.

Holmes looked to me, and I to him. Gathering his courage, he began his task.

"Miss Trioni, I am curious. What do you think of our country, now that you have seen it firsthand?," he asked.

"It is truly a beautiful place, as diversified as the United States," she answered. "In fact, in many ways, they seem similar to me...with the exception that we have no monarchy, of course."

"Then, you have enjoyed your stay here?," he wondered.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes, very much. That goes without saying," she vehemently assured.

"Would you be interested in staying longer?," he pondered.

"Mr. Holmes, you are very kind," she smiled warmly. "However, as I have said, I am well-aware that my stay has, in some ways, inconvenienced both you and Dr. Watson. It is best that I leave, before I infringe upon our friendship."

"You do consider us to be your friends, then?," Holmes asked hopefully.

"As I hope you consider me to be yours, gentlemen," she replied.

"Then, as a friend, may I ask a favour of you?," Holmes offered.

"Mr. Holmes, I would be most grateful for the opportunity," Miss Trioni admitted with a slight chuckle. "But, what could I possibly do for you?"

"Stay," Holmes urged. He looked into her eyes with such intensity that she mislaid her cup on its saucer, nearly spilling its contents. She caught it just in time.

"What Mr. Holmes means," I continued, trying to smooth over the crudeness of his approach, "is that we would be most honoured if you would consider staying here in London, and aiding us each with your services."

"My services?," she asked as the colour rose slightly in her cheeks.

"Your bookkeeping and secretarial skills," I hurried to explain. "I have a terrible time juggling my schedule to accommodate the necessary paperwork involved in my profession. And, Holmes...well, suffice it to say that, although his mind is kept in meticulous order, his case files are not."

She smiled fully at my jest, relieving a good deal of the nervousness which I was experiencing. "Do you mean to say, you two gentlemen are offering me a job?," she asked.

"That is precisely what we mean," Holmes answered.

"For how long?," she wondered.

"For as long as you like," Holmes offered.

"Indeed. At what rate of pay?," she countered.

Holmes looked to me in quiet desperation, and so, I answered, "Well, whatever the normal rate is, Miss Trioni. Neither of us have ever employed a bookkeeper or secretary before, though we have long shared the need for such services. What amount do you usually charge?"

"Gentlemen, this impromptu arrangement could hardly be considered "the usual"...not by any standards!," she laughed. "I believe the terms will have to be equally unique."

"We are open to suggestions," Holmes readily informed.

Taking another bite of her cinnamon roll, she pondered her options, then advised, "I would take charge of your accounts, Dr. Watson...the receivables and the payables. And, I would take on the normal duties of a secretary. However, you would still need to retain your nurse, to set your appointments and help you with your patients."

"That would free up my schedule considerably, and allow me the time I need for my reports," I noted.

"I would also manage your accounts, and organize your case files, Mr. Holmes," she continued. "And, I would develop a reference system to enable them to stay that way. In addition, I believe there are other areas in which I may be of some assistance to you."

"In what way?," Holmes asked, trying not to smile.

"In your profession, there is often the necessity to gather information not readily available, is there not?," she returned.

"Exactly what are you proposing, Miss Trioni," Holmes pondered.

"There are places where even you can not go undetected, Mr. Holmes, simply because you are a man," she explained. Then, with a slight grin, she offered, "I could."

"Do you mean, you would wish to actually work on the cases with us?," I asked in partial disbelief.

"I do, Doctor," she replied, as if my surprise were more unique than her proposal.

Holmes did his best to conceal his excitement and hide his shock. "Miss Trioni, aware as you have made us of your independent nature, I feel compelled to make clear certain points," he cautioned. "There is, on occasion, serious danger involved in my chosen field. Therefore, as your employer, I would have to insist on retaining the final say as to in which cases you would be allowed to participate."

She frowned slightly at the limitations he wished to put upon her, and in earnest replied, "I fear you may be too cautious a judge, Mr. Holmes."

"It is the only way I can agree," Holmes explained.

She weighed his words for a moment, then asked, "Would you consider a joint decision...two out of three?"

"And, just who would be the three?," he countered.

"Why, you, Dr. Watson, and myself, of course," she advised.

Trying desperately not to show his immense amusement, Holmes looked to me, then he thought to himself. Finally, he simply stated, "Agreed."

I was more than adequately stunned by his response. "But, what is to be your compensation?," I asked in a daze.

Without any hesitation, she informed, "In truth, the knowledge which I shall gain in working for you both will be more than fair compensation, in itself. However, you gentlemen shall provide for my room and board here in London, while I remain in your employ. Since my duty shall be to both of you, it seems only logical that I should reside here. In that way, I shall always be available to either of you, depending upon your needs."

"And?," I encouraged, knowing that there must still be more.

"And...you will agree to contact my father, and assure him of my safety here, at 221B," she offered. "As my employers, it is proper to acknowledge the fact that I am under your protection while living under the same roof."

"Of course," Holmes smiled.

I was still considering the probability that she had another request, the two which she had made being so small. However, to my delight, instead of making another proposal concerning salary, she smiled hopefully and asked, "Well, then, gentlemen...do we have an arrangement?"

"I believe we do," I answered happily. Holmes nodded his agreement, too elated for words. "Shall we shake on it, Miss Trioni?," I asked, extending my hand.

To my complete surprise, she took my hand and shook it soundly. Then, suddenly, she leapt from her chair and kissed my cheek in a flourish of excitement. Moving too quickly for him to react, she did the same to Holmes. "Oh, thank you, gentlemen! Now, I must tell Mrs. Hudson the good news!," she advised, then off she dashed to the kitchen.

I sat there at the table with Holmes in silence for several moments. Finally, I offered with a chuckle, "Holmes, you have my sincere best wishes for good luck."

Raising his hand to his face where she had kissed him, he quietly returned, "Thank you, Watson. I believe I shall need them."

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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

CHAPTER NINE

After countless hours of anticipation, the day was finally upon us. It was Saturday, the day on which Miss Trioni had promised to delight our palates. She had risen early and gone to the market. Upon her return, she had quickly informed us that she would be occupied in the kitchen the entire day with the preparation of our meal. Therefore, she begged us to forgive her for not being able to join us until dinner. I took advantage of the opportunity to check in at my surgery, since I had neglected my patients and my paperwork for nearly a week.

Holmes spent the day roaming the streets of London. "It would be too tempting to remain at home," he had explained. I assumed he was referring to the food which Miss Trioni would be preparing. As I later learned, it was not the food which he wished to avoid.

Following the delicious meal which she had prepared for us, Holmes, Mycroft, myself, and our guest were seated in the drawing room, enjoying an after dinner brandy. Mycroft was again complimenting Miss Trioni on the excellent feast. "My dear, I fear that I will never be able to enjoy fettuccine primavera again, now that I have tasted yours. You must promise to supply me with it on a regular basis," he urged.

"I suppose I could give you the recipe, Mycroft. However, I am afraid there will not be enough time to repeat the preparation of tonight's meal," she explained.

"Why not?," he asked, a bit concerned.

"My stay here is nearly at its end. I booked passage home, this morning while I was out. I leave for the States on the day after tomorrow," she informed.

"What?! Mariana, why?!," Mycroft asked, quite visibly upset.

I looked to Holmes and noticed that all of the colour had drained from his face. Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that he had not spoken all through our meal, save to quietly commend Miss Trioni on her culinary skills. I briefly wondered as to the cause of his silence. However, my attention was diverted as I listened to her explanation.

"I have enjoyed my stay immensely, but I fear I may wear out my welcome," she offered. "I have no doubt my presence here has kept you all from your normal routines. As much as I shall regret leaving, I do believe it is time for me to do so, and allow you each to resume your daily lives."

What she meant to be our reprieve sounded much more like a punishment to my ears. To Holmes, simply put, it was a death sentence.

"But, Mariana...," Mycroft began to protest.

"Please, Mycroft," she interrupted. Her voice was beginning to falter with emotion. "I am not good at good-byes. Let us not waste the little time we still have dwelling on the inevitable." She turned towards Holmes then, and asked, "Mr. Holmes, have all of the arrangements been made for our trip to Tobson's Grove tomorrow?"

"What? Oh...yes, Miss Trioni, they have," Holmes offered, momentarily breaking his trance.

"Splendid," she smiled faintly. "I am especially fond of the place, and I am looking forward to visiting it again before I go. Therefore, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I had best say good night. I am somewhat tired from my day in the kitchen, and I do wish to be well-rested for tomorrow's outing. Good night, Doctor."

"Good night, Miss Trioni," I offered reluctantly.

"Good night, Mycroft," she continued.

"Good night, Mariana," he allowed with a full frown.

"Mr. Holmes...," she said quietly, then added, "Good night, Mr. Holmes."

He could not bring himself to say the words, for they sounded too much like good-bye. Finally, he nodded, and she moved from the room. The silence that fell upon us was nearly audible.

After several moments, Mycroft rose from his seat and began to leave. He paused briefly at the door, however, and turned to solemnly advise, "Sherlock, make no mistake. Shakespeare lied when he wrote that it is better to have loved and lost. Do not let her slip away." His words hung in the air even after he had departed.

I could hold my tongue no longer. "Holmes?," I urged.

Seeing the expression of genuine concern upon my face, he tried to make light of the situation. "Well, that is it, then," he said casually. "She has, indeed, succeeded in committing the perfect crime. A feat which, I must admit, I have always thought quite impossible. As absurd as it might sound, she has managed to steal my heart."

I sat there, watching him, in total disbelief. How could he remain so calm, knowing she was planning to leave us in just two days' time? Gathering my nerve, I put the question to him.

"What would you have me do?," he snarled.

"For God's sake, man, stop her!," I offered in earnest.

"To what ends?," he countered. "What could I possibly say to prevent her from going? And, would it be fair to do so? What could I offer her, save what you see before you? A man who, at the first sign of his own emotions, becomes venomous with his accusations! A man who can hardly admit his feelings to himself, let alone, find the words to tell a woman! A man who would somehow find a way to hurt her at every turn, despite all of his feeble efforts! A man who has used himself freely! A drug addict! I have devoted my entire life to solving crimes! What you ask me to do would be criminal!"

"But, Holmes," I returned, trying to soothe his anger with quiet reason. "I do not believe she sees you in the way you have described. And, I dare say, neither do I. I will admit, at times, you can be abrupt. Sometimes, even rude. But, you are not a cruel man, and, surely, not as bad a person as you make yourself out to be. You keep your heart well-shielded, but it is one of the largest and most loyal I have ever known."

My high regard seemed to embarrass him. He was forced to look away to the fire as he made his reply. "Thank you, Watson," he offered in a quieter tone. "But, even in our relationship, there have been times when I have caused you pain. I think you know that I regret those times deeply, and I would erase them, if it were possible. But...if I were to hurt her...if I ever so much as disappointed her again...I fear it would be the end of me."

I searched my mind for some way in which to show him that he was making a terrible mistake, then a thought occurred to me. "Holmes...what was it Miss Trioni asked of you, as payment of your wager?," I encouraged.

He paused to choose his words. Attempting a casual reply, he answered, "She asked that I play the violin for her. No doubt, you heard me from your bedroom."

"So I did," I admitted. "It was quite beautiful. Tell me, what was her reaction?"

Unable to face me, he rose from his chair and moved to his window. Searching the night sky, he quietly answered, "She cried, Watson."

"And, then?," I urged.

"And then...she kissed my cheek...and thanked me," he offered. He closed his eyes as he spoke, briefly reliving the moment.

"And, this is the woman from whom you believe you could hide your emotions?," I asked. "The woman with whom you fear you would have to use the right words? Really, Holmes. You do not give her much credit for the abilities which she has already proven she possesses."

Holmes hung his head in defeat. Then, with a heavy sigh, he spoke in complete earnest as he stated, "Oh, Watson. For the first time I can recall, I do not know what to do. I want to take her in my arms and tell her of every new feeling I experience, yet I can not. I have forced myself, for years, to disregard all emotions. And now, I find myself unable to express them, even though they do still exist within me. I was not even aware of their presence until she came into my life. Please...help me, Watson."

I had never heard, nor seen, him show so much of himself, not in all the years I had known him. So compelling was his request that I rose from my chair and moved to join him at the window. Placing my hand upon his shoulder, I asked, "Would you like for me to speak to her on your behalf?"

"No! Watson, you must give me your word never to repeat what I have just told you to another living soul! Especially not Miss Trioni!," he warned. He was gripping my jacket lapels as if he were ready to come to blows over the matter.

"Calm yourself, Holmes...you have my word," I assured.

Realizing his position, he relaxed his grip. Smoothing down my collar, he offered, "Forgive me, Watson, but you see the effect she has upon me. Dear Lord, what am I to do?"

I thought for a moment, then I suggested, "Perhaps you could offer her another reason for staying."

"Such as?," Holmes asked with a sigh.

"Well, she does seem fond of our country. And, she has made some ties here which she will regret breaking," I noted. Thinking out loud, I continued, "Perhaps, if you offered her...employment."

Holmes looked at me as if I were quite mad. "A position, Watson? Doing what, pray tell?," he wondered.

"Well...organizing your case files. Keeping my accounts in order. Helping Mrs. Hudson. Anything, so long as she agrees to remain here," I submitted.

He began turning the idea over in his mind. "It could work...," he said. "But, Watson, is it really fair? I mean, my intentions are honourable, but still. If she does not return my affections, is it right to detain her under such circumstances?"

"If she does not want to say, she will leave. However, if she does wish to stay, but simply fears overstepping the boundaries of proper etiquette, you are providing her with the perfect opportunity," I replied.

"And, what of her family?," Holmes asked, looking to me as if I held all of the answers.

"From her own admission, she is used to making her own decisions in matters such as these," I reminded.

"Where would she stay?," Holmes encouraged.

"Why, right here, of course," I advised. "The present arrangements have been working out beautifully."

"Then...I would be near her every day...," Holmes mused.

"And, if it is meant to be, a relationship between the two of you will have the chance to develop," I added.

"And, if not, I will cherish the time I have with her for the rest of my days," Holmes concluded. Looking at me, with a broad smile, he declared, "Watson, you are a genius!" He hugged me in a flourish of emotion, then he pulled away quickly, embarrassed by his own actions. "Good night, Watson," he offered as he moved swiftly to his room.

"Good night, Holmes," I called after him with a smile. As I walked to my room, I felt very satisfied that I had helped him to do the right thing, and delighted that I had been so able.

STORIES AND SAGAS
My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Nine