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

It was nearly three in the morning when Holmes awoke to see the dark figure as it moved slowly towards his bedroom door. He imagined that, in the darkness, the intruder had not seen him, and was planning to enter his room, presumably to find him an easy prey. Fearing the immediate danger in which he perceived Miss Trioni to be, he decided not to hesitate. Leaping from his chair, he threw the would-be assailant to the floor and quickly moved to pin him there. Pulling his gun from the pocket of his dressing gown, he pushed it into his prisoner's side.

Feeling the hard nose of the gun in her ribs, Miss Trioni softly uttered, "Don't shoot, Mr. Holmes, I beg of you..."

Surprised by the sound of a woman's voice, Holmes reached a hand up to the lamp which sat a few feet away upon the end table, but he remained ready to fire with the other, if necessary. As the room became bathed in light, he was horrified to find Miss Trioni beneath him. "Miss Trioni! What on earth are you doing, lurking about in the dark?," he offered.

"Please, Mr. Holmes...the gun," she quietly reminded.

Realizing that he still held it to her side, he quickly tossed it away, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Having heard the commotion, I entered the drawing room with my revolver in hand to find Holmes holding her to the ground. "My God, man, what are you doing?!," I asked, fearing the worst. I truly thought that, perhaps, the temptation had been too great for him.

"I believe he is protecting me, Watson," she explained.

Suddenly realizing that he still lay partially upon her, Holmes stood quickly and helped her to her feet. "Forgive me, Miss Trioni. Are you all right?," he offered with great concern.

"Yes, thank you, I am fine," she assured. "I fear it is my own fault. I only thought to take some of your files to my bed, to review them. I did not wish to disturb you...nor you, Watson. I do apologize."

"Not to worry, Miss Trioni," I smiled. "Sharing lodgings with Holmes, I have grown quite used to things going bump in the night. I am only sorry to see that, this time, it was you. Are you certain you are not injured?" I moved towards her to see for myself, still holding my pistol at my side.

Seeing it, she recoiled slightly and quickly urged, "Please, do put that away, Watson? I am not fond of guns."

Placing the safety lever in the "on" position, I laid my gun upon the sideboard. I then moved to perform a quick examination of her arms, making sure that no bones were broken. "Are you in any pain?," I asked.

"No, Watson. Really, I am fine," she chuckled slightly at my efforts.

Holmes had moved to the open window. Without turning from it, he offered, "Thank you, Watson, for your assistance. Please, do not let us keep you awake."

I knew from his tone that it was my time to leave. Wishing them each a good night, (or morning, as the case may have been), I returned to my room, hoping to steal a few more hours' rest before sunrise.

"Tell me, Miss Trioni," Holmes asked as he stared out at the evening sky. "Why are you being so fervent in your efforts to help with this case?" The storm had subsided, and the night air was moist and cool upon his skin.

"I believe you should welcome any and all of the assistance you can get, Mr. Holmes," she returned, not understanding the reason for his question.

"Indeed, I do," Holmes admitted freely. "But, why?"

She moved to stand just behind him. Placing her right hand upon his shoulder, she whispered, "I would have thought that was obvious, Mr. Holmes. Aside from being my employer, first and foremost, I consider you to be my friend."

They were not the words which he had hoped to hear, but he consoled himself that they were a beginning. "Thank you, Miss Trioni. Good night," he offered without turning to face her.

"Good night, Mr. Holmes," she returned, then she moved to his bedroom.

Holmes heard the door close behind her, but he continued to stare at the stars for quite some time.

After our meal, Miss Trioni gathered our dishes and took them to the kitchen in an attempt to help Mrs. Hudson. While she was out of the room, I asked Holmes the question which had been puzzling me since he had returned. "Holmes," I pondered, "What do you believe was to be your fate, had you been taken today? I mean, the advertisement did specify Sunday. What would this man have done with you in the interim?"

"No doubt, he would have taken the opportunity to entertain himself at my expense," Holmes offered as he lit his pipe. His voice was as calm and unaffected as if he were speaking about the weather.

"Do you mean...torture?!," I breathed in horror.

"Say nothing of this to her, Watson," he warned.

"No, of course, Holmes," I assured. Despite his apparent ease with the idea, the images which flashed through my mind made me come near to losing my dinner.

At that precise moment, Miss Trioni returned. Seeing my sickened expression, she asked, "Watson, are you all right?," with visible concern.

"Oh, yes, Miss Trioni. I believe I just ate too quickly. I had best excuse myself for the evening. Good night, Miss Trioni. Good night, Holmes," I offered, hurrying on my way.

"Good night, old boy," Holmes returned, thankful for my small embellishment of the truth.

"Good night, Watson. I do hope you feel better," she offered. "Do call for me, if you need any assistance," she added, quite sweetly.

"Oh. Thank you, Miss Trioni, I shall," I returned, then I continued on my way, hoping she would not take notice of my surprise.

Once I had gone, she sighed lightly and advised, "Well, Mr. Holmes, if you have no objections, I believe I will get started on those files now."

"As you wish," Holmes allowed. He continued to advise, "I believe I will indulge myself in a hot bath. The day's activities have left me feeling a bit sore." He rose from his chair and stretched his arms, then moved to his lavatory, walking through his bedroom to do so. He stopped, however, as soon as he entered, amazed by the transformation he beheld. For the first time in as long as he could recall, everything was in its proper place.

Holmes smiled to himself at the thought of it, then he noticed her nightgown, which she had laid out upon the bed. Consumed with curiosity, he moved towards it and tried to imagine her wearing it. Carefully, he brushed the delicate collar with his fingertips, then he quickly moved on to his bath, pushing his thoughts from his mind.

While Holmes soaked his sore muscles, Miss Trioni attempted to soak in as much information pertaining to his previous cases as time would allow. After nearly an hour, she feared that she had not made the slightest progress. "This could take all night," she mused to herself as she opened the next file. The clock upon Holmes' desk caught her eye. Taking note of the time, she began to wonder if Holmes had fallen asleep in his bath. Abandoning the files where they lay, she walked to the threshold of his bedroom and called, "Mr. Holmes? Is everything all right?"

He made no reply. Slowly, she moved through the room to stand at the lavatory door, stopping on her way to straighten the collar of her nightgown. "Mr. Holmes?," she called softly at the door.

"Yes?," Holmes returned. He opened the door abruptly, and she took a step back from it in surprise.

"I was afraid that you had fallen asleep," she hurried to explain, trying to slow the rapid beat of her heart. Holmes was wearing his nightshirt and mouse-coloured dressing gown, and a towel was draped around his neck. He assumed her slight shortness of breath to be due to his abrupt entrance, which, in part, it was.

"Forgive me, but I was deciding upon an appropriate disguise for tomorrow," he explained, still drying his hair with the towel. As he reached to the back of his head, he winced slightly from the resulting pain in his shoulder.

"Mr. Holmes?," she asked, visibly concerned.

"It is nothing," he assured. "Just a little lingering stiffness. I suppose I am a bit out of shape."

"On the contrary, Mr. Holmes, you are a fine figure of a man," she thought, but dared not say. Instead, she smiled warmly and encouraged, "Come, Mr. Holmes. Allow me to be of some assistance." Taking his arm, she guided him towards the bed. Moving her nightgown out of the way, she motioned for him to be seated.

"Miss Trioni, I...," Holmes began to protest.

"Trust me, Mr. Holmes, this won't hurt a bit," she assured as she gently pushed him down. Too dazed to offer any resistance, he allowed her to remove his wet towel, and loosen his collar. "Now, please, lie face down and relax," she smiled.

He tried to do as she had requested, but found it quite impossible to relax. Oblivious to his thoughts, she moved his hands so that they were aligned with his head, then began her gentle massage of his back.

Holmes closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her touch. Slowly, the tension seemed to dissipate from his entire body, replaced by a feeling of warmth. He breathed deeply to smell her perfume, then realized that she was not wearing any. It was the smell of her skin, and the slightest hint of lavender, no doubt, from her bath water, which he was relishing. He wanted to touch her so badly, it nearly drove him mad.

As if she could sense this, she moved to manipulate the muscles of his neck, which were no longer covered by the collar of his dressing gown. A soft sigh unintentionally escaped his lips.

"There, now. Doesn't that feel better?," she asked hopefully.

"Undeniably," Holmes freely admitted.

"Would you like me to continue?," she offered.

"Please, do," he allowed, waiting in joyful anticipation of whatever pleasures were to follow.

"This would work much better without the added bulk of your dressing gown," she explained. "May I lower it a bit?"

Without the slightest hesitation, Holmes reached beneath his form and loosened the sash, then removed his arms from the sleeves, one by one. Resuming his former position, he felt her turn down the dressing gown to his waist. Again, she began to massage the muscles of his back and shoulders, this time with only the thin cotton nightshirt serving as a barrier between her hands and his skin. He reveled in the delight of this new sensation, and fell even deeper into the realm of losing all control. So complete was his rapture that he did not even put up a struggle when she turned him onto his back, but remained with his eyes closed, unable to meet her gaze.

Slowly, she moved down his arms, towards his hands, then on, to his fingers. She then worked in the opposite direction, back up his arms, to his shoulders, and inwards, towards the center of his chest.

Suddenly, becoming aware of the position in which he was, Holmes stopped her hands with his own, and sat up quickly. He opened his eyes to find that she was only inches away. He looked down briefly, and was greatly relieved to see that his dressing gown still clung to his waist. "Thank you, Miss Trioni. That will do," he offered, trying to avoid her eyes.

"Mr. Holmes, whatever is the matter?," she asked with concern.

"I believe I should allow you to get some sleep," he answered, pulling his dressing gown to its correct position. "Thank you, again, for the massage. It was most...enjoyable." He moved as quickly as he could out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

Holmes stood in the dimly lit drawing room and pulled his dressing gown collar a bit closer around his neck. He moved to his desk and retrieved his pistol, then slipped it into his pocket methodically. He noted the various stacks of his case files upon his desk, then extinguished the lamp there before continuing to his chair. Once seated, he dimmed the lamp on the end table beside him until the flame was barely visible. He lit a pipe, then watched as the smoke danced upward towards the ceiling. "I wonder if she knows the effect she had upon me," he thought to himself. For some inexplicable reason, he felt certain that she did not. Laying his pipe upon the end table, he closed his eyes and tried to recapture the moment. Then, slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER TEN

Miss Trioni spent the rest of the morning busily unpacking. I took the opportunity presented by her absence to compose a rather formal and lengthy letter to her father. As she had requested, I assured him that she would be well taken care of while she remained in England. I also took the liberty of informing him that he and his wife would be most welcomed guests, in the event that they would like to inspect the accommodations for themselves. Before sending it off, I offered it to Holmes for his approval, and I recommended that he might wish to add something to it.

"I shall send a separate letter, Watson," he advised. "I believe Mr. Trioni may find two better assurance than one."

"Good idea, Holmes," I agreed. Then, thinking out loud, I asked, "Holmes, will you disclose your feelings for Miss Trioni to her father?"

"If all goes well, eventually, I shall. However, for now, I believe they may be better left unsaid," he smiled.

Nodding my agreement, I took one more risk of provoking him and asked, "What about your brother, Mycroft?"

He took a long puff on his pipe, then sighed, "I suppose, I should inform Mycroft of my intentions. Though, I dare say, he already knows them." He paused briefly, then complained, "It is so annoying, to always be second guessed by him."

"Perhaps now you will be more sympathetic to my predicament," I said beneath my breath.

"Indeed, Watson. I will make the effort," he replied. I looked up in surprise and embarrassment that he had overheard me. He smiled broadly, then emptied his pipe into the fire.

The storm had subsided. Although the sky still threatened another would follow, Holmes took the opportunity afforded by the lull to meet with Mycroft for lunch. "I may do better to speak to him when he has a full stomach," he announced as he prepared to leave. "Would you care to join us, Watson?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Holmes. I believe it may be better if I stay here," I declined.

"Very well," he said lightly. "I shall be back by one."

Holmes departed. I finished my task, then I posted my efforts. Upon re-entering our flat, I was immediately greeted by Mrs. Hudson. She was cleaning the atrium, but she was in much higher spirits than the chore usually evoked. Indeed, she was happily humming an old Scottish tune to herself as she scrubbed and polished. I was compelled to inquire as to the cause of her contentment.

Mrs. Hudson readily informed me of her extreme fondness of Miss Trioni, and the fact that she was overjoyed by her decision to stay with us at 221B. It was very unusual for our landlady to express herself so freely, especially with regard to one of her lodgers. However, the subject of Miss Trioni was apparently an exception to the rule. To be honest, Mrs. Hudson shared her thoughts with me, virtually without encouragement, for near on an hour.

She noted that she was most impressed to learn that Miss Trioni would be working as Holmes' and my secretary and bookkeeper. Quite understandably, she was even more delighted by Miss Trioni's intentions to assist her with routine domestic duties, whenever able. However, eventually, I gathered that the cause of Mrs. Hudson's unprecedented narrative was her underlying concerns.

Not the least of these worries was Mrs. Hudson's fear of Holmes' usual habits and behaviour, and the effect that such might have upon Miss Trioni, both as a fellow resident and as his employee. Yet, this concern paled when compared to another which she held.

She worded it as delicately as she possibly could...and far too extensively for me to record here, in these pages. Simply put, Mrs. Hudson was well-aware of the risks involved in lodging a young, attractive, unmarried woman under the same roof as was being occupied by two bachelor men. In no uncertain terms, she advised me that she explicitly trusted in my sense of decorum, honour, and morals. However, she kindly noted that I was a rare breed of gentleman, and that others might fall short of my high standards.

In addition to the normal pitfalls of such a living arrangement, she carefully informed me that she was well-aware of Holmes' budding affection towards Miss Trioni, despite Miss Trioni's apparent ignorance. She also thought it most possible that Miss Trioni might be growing more than mildly fond of Holmes, all be it, without her own realization. In Mrs. Hudson's opinion, a romance seemed most feasible, and a resulting proper marriage would be most welcomed, yet one could not assume too much. Although she expressed complete faith in Miss Trioni's character, she did not relish the idea of leaving such a thing to chance.

In conclusion, Mrs. Hudson skillfully charged me with the responsibility of overseeing the entire matter, urging that Miss Trioni's best interests be of primary importance to me, despite my long-standing friendship with Holmes. Of course, I readily assured her of my intentions. In fact, it was all that I could do not to chuckle, for her wishes were no more than my chosen directive. Indeed, I had just posted a letter which basically advised Miss Trioni's parents of that fact.

I returned to the drawing room. After experiencing some difficulty in finding it, I took up the morning paper, and sat at the table to read it. I had not turned past the second page when Miss Trioni entered the room.

"Well, Miss Trioni? Have you finished unpacking?," I asked.

"Yes, Doctor. I am delighted to say that I have," she smiled happily. She sat beside me at the table and teased, "I do hope you and Mr. Holmes will not change your minds about our arrangement in the near future. I am quite tired of wrestling with those trunks."

"Not to worry, Miss Trioni," I grinned. "I have no desire, whatsoever, to see you leave, especially now that you have agreed to do my accounts."

"Shall I work on them here, or would you prefer I do so at your office?," she asked.

"Well, I suppose it would be best to have them here," I admitted. "Then you would not have to commute between your tasks. I, myself, have always regretted not being able to keep them more easily accessible. Unfortunately, the space here is rather limited, and Holmes does seem to have a monopoly on it."

"I am sure, once everything is put in order, there will be plenty of room here for your accounts, as well," she assured. "Until then, I would not mind keeping them in my room."

"Oh, Miss Trioni, I would not dream of asking you to...," I began to protest, though I was truly touched by her offer.

"Please, Doctor, I do not mind at all," she interrupted. "In fact, it would give me something to do on those nights I find it difficult to sleep. And, furthermore, it would only be for a very short time."

"Well, when you put it like that...," I started to recant.

"Excellent!," she smiled. "When will you be bringing them, then?"

"Miss Trioni," I chuckled, despite my efforts. "You are the most persistent woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Forgive me, Doctor. I did not mean to...," she began to apologize.

"No, no, please," I smiled. "It is as refreshing as the morning rain. And, it is bound to be of great use to you in the days ahead."

"Doctor?," she encouraged, not understanding my meaning.

I immediately regretted my last remark. I did my best to cover my foolish blunder by offering, "What I mean is, it will take some getting used to, working for Holmes. He will, no doubt, resist some of the changes you intend to make in the chaotic way in which he keeps his files. Old habits are hard to break, you know."

"Oh. Of course," she replied. At the time, I felt confident that I had sufficiently rectified my mistake. However, looking back on it now, I seriously doubt it.

"Doctor?," she pondered.

"Yes, Miss Trioni?," I returned, looking up once again from my newspaper.

"May I be direct?," she inquired.

"By all means," I offered. I had not a clue as to why she was being so cautious.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then very curiously asked, "Why does Mr. Holmes call you "Watson"? Why not call you by your first name, "John"...is it not? And, why do you call him "Holmes", instead of "Sherlock"?"

Totally baffled myself, I answered, "To tell the truth, I am not sure. I believe it is just because it has always been that way."

"As a rule, I suppose the English are more formal in such instances than Americans. But, you two gentlemen are very dear friends, are you not?," she asked.

"Why, yes. Yes, of course," I assured.

"Then, "Watson" is, in a way, as intimate a manner of addressing you as "John"?," she pondered.

"Yes. Where Holmes is concerned, I suppose it is," I agreed, suddenly realizing the fact, myself.

"May I call you "Watson"?," she smiled.

"I would be most honoured if you did, Miss Trioni," I beamed. She looked at me with some disappointment that I had not used the name "Mariana". Noting this, I hopefully asked, "Please, Miss Trioni, allow me to show the respect I have for you?"

"Very well...Watson," she smiled. "Since you have allowed me to show you mine." She then turned her attention to the newspaper which lay before us on the table and asked, "Anything of interest?"

"Not much, unfortunately," I offered. I continued to flip through the pages until I reached the personals. "Hold on...what is this?," I noted, then I read out loud. "Attention Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Please be advised that, on Sunday next, you will meet your God." The words hung like black smoke in the air. I turned to see Miss Trioni's expression. All colour had vanished from her cheeks. Taking her hand, I tried to offer her some comfort. "Do not worry, Miss Trioni. It is probably nothing more than a tasteless prank," I advised.

"It is nothing less than a death threat, Watson," she argued. "Has Mr. Holmes seen this?"

"I do not believe he read the paper this morning, but I could be mistaken," I answered.

"Then, he may not even be aware of the danger he is in?! We must warn him!," she declared. She attempted to withdraw. However, I held her hand fast.

"Miss Trioni, you must not worry so," I cautioned. "Holmes is quite accustomed to dealing with these sort of circumstances. In addition, he is in no immediate danger. We would do best to wait for him to return, and then allow him to see the advertisement for himself."

She looked at me in anguish, then resigned herself to the fact that I was right. "By what hour did he say he would return?," she urged.

"He said he would be back by one o'clock," I informed. Foreseeing her next question, I withdrew my watch and noted, "It is a quarter of one now."

"Very well," she sighed. "We will wait as you have suggested. But, Watson, you must promise me not to allow him to take this matter too lightly." Her concern for his safety would have been most gratifying to Holmes.

"You have my word, Miss Trioni," I assured. "Now, please, do sit down and try to relax. I will have Mrs. Hudson make us some tea."

"Thank you, Watson," she smiled faintly.

Once outside the drawing room, away from her searching gaze, I allowed myself to consider the possibilities of the advertisement I had just read. Holmes had made more than his share of enemies in the criminal world. Just who had sent such a threat, and why, I wondered. I consoled myself with the same arguments which I had used to persuade Miss Trioni. They had as little effect in relieving my troubled mind as they had in removing her concerns. I forced myself to suppress my worries, and continued to go for the tea.

When I returned, Miss Trioni was standing at the window, searching the street below for any sign of Holmes.

"Come, Miss Trioni," I instructed. "A cup of hot tea is just what this doctor is ordering."

She smiled faintly at my efforts at levity, and quietly noted, "It is beginning to rain again. I do hope the weather does not detain him."

I poured two cups of tea and moved to her side. Handing one cup to her, I mused, "You do care a good deal for him, don't you?"

She took the tea and answered, "I am concerned for his safety, and understandably so...aren't you?" She did not look me in the eye as she spoke, knowing I hoped to view what lie behind her controlled exterior.

Just then, I heard a commotion from below. "Mr. Holmes! I just finished mopping!," Mrs. Hudson scolded.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, but it could not be helped," Holmes offered in his usual offhanded way. He threw open the door and entered, dripping wet from the rain. "I am afraid Mrs. Hudson does not share in my enthusiasm for walking in the rain," he scoffed. Looking towards her with a smile, he offered, "Good afternoon, Miss Trioni."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes," she returned with a quiet sigh of relief. "May I offer you a cup of tea? Watson and I were just..."

""Watson"?," he repeated, completely amused by her familiar use of my name.

"Yes. We were just having a cup, ourselves," she informed.

"None for me, thank you," Holmes declined. "I suppose I should get into some dry clothes before I do any more damage in Mrs. Hudson's eyes." He began removing his wet jacket with some visible difficulty.

"Here...let me help you with that," Miss Trioni offered, moving quickly to his aid.

"Thank you," Holmes replied, a bit surprised by her efforts. The garment easily slid from his shoulders with her assistance.

He turned to face her and reached for the soaked jacket. In doing so, he exposed the bruised knuckles of his right hand. "Dear Lord, Mr. Holmes, you are injured!," she gasped.

"It is nothing. A scratch, nothing more," Holmes lightly offered. He tried to pull his hand from her sight, but she took hold of it quickly.

"Hold still, Mr. Holmes," she cautioned. "Watson, I would like your professional opinion," she urged.

I moved to examine his hand and advised, "Nothing serious, but some disinfectant does seem to be in order. I will just go for my bag." I dashed out, then returned to find her still holding his hand in the same position. Holmes was still looking upon her in the same longing fashion.

"What happened, old man?," I asked as I saturated a piece of gauze, hoping to break his trance.

"I slipped while running in the rain, and caught myself before I fell flat on my face," he offered lightly, grateful for my efforts to divert his attention, if not my actions.

He winced at bit as I applied the gauze, despite his attempt to feign indifference. Noting this, Miss Trioni casually interrupted, "Please, allow me." Taking the gauze from my hand, she proceeded to gently pat the affected area. Holmes watched her intently as she did so, and did his best not to smile. "Make your hand into a fist, please," she encouraged. He furnished her with her request. She raised his hand to her own eye level, then asked, "Tell me, Mr. Holmes, are you in the habit of stopping your falls with men's faces?" He looked at her in total disbelief. I must admit, so did I. "Now, tell us the truth," she scolded. "But first, I believe you were about to change into some dry clothing." She released his hand and moved to retrieve the cup which she had placed upon the table.

"I shan't be but a moment," Holmes mumbled as he went to his room to change. He returned a few minutes later, wearing a clean shirt and trousers beneath his dressing gown. Walking directly to the fireplace, he filled his pipe with fresh tobacco from the slipper which hung from the mantel. He then sat in his chair and lit his pipe, not offering any information.

Miss Trioni again laid her cup upon the table and took up the newspaper. Placing it on his lap, she said, "I assume you have seen this?"

"I had hoped to avoid any unnecessary concern this might cause. I regret you were able to find it, Watson," Holmes freely admitted. He tossed the paper onto the opposite chair.

She again took it up, and placed it upon the end table, then she sat in the chair opposite him. "Now, tell us, Mr. Holmes, from the beginning," she encouraged with visible anticipation.

"While you were unpacking," he began, "I took the opportunity to read the morning paper. Watson, you were quite engrossed in your letter to Miss Trioni's father, and so, gratefully, you did not notice my surprise. After lunching with my brother, Mycroft, I made several inquiries at the printer's. They were, however, of little help. The only information they could offer was that the advertisement had been posted to them, along with the printing fee. There was no name of the party who placed it to be found. Indeed, even the original draft and the envelope in which it came had been destroyed. The fee was in the form of cash, and thus, offered me no aid. I decided to return home, empty-handed as I was, to go through my records, in the hope of stumbling upon some clue as to where to begin. On my way, I became aware that I was being followed by two men. I turned into the next alley I happened upon in order to draw their attack. A fight ensued. After disposing of them, I continued home."

"Did you recognize either of the men?," Miss Trioni asked.

"Local roughs, not of any importance," Holmes explained.

"Do you know who they are working for?," she encouraged.

"Not yet. But, in time, I shall," Holmes offered casually.

A bit perplexed by his complacent manner, I asked, "Holmes, why did they attack now, when the advertisement specified Sunday as the proposed date of your demise?"

Still masking his concerns, Holmes lightly offered, "I have no doubt they intended to apprehend me. I found these on their persons." He pulled two pair of handcuffs from his dressing gown pocket, and tossed them onto the end table.

Miss Trioni took them up in her hands and examined them closely. As she did so, Holmes advised, "Miss Trioni, I have given the matter some thought. I believe, perhaps, it would be best for you to find other lodgings, until this affair is settled."

"And, miss our first case together? I would not dream of it, sir," she refused as she replaced the cuffs and met his gaze.

"Miss Trioni...," Holmes began to caution.

"Mr. Holmes," she interrupted. "I would think that you would want me to remain as close to you as possible, knowing that, if they are given the opportunity, your enemies could apprehend and use me to force your hand."

"She has a point, Holmes. As our guest, and now our employee, anyone would be right to assume that she is under our protection," I noted.

"They would not dare," he said in a venomous tone.

"Are you willing to take that risk?," she asked.

Holmes contemplated the possibilities, then requested, "Miss Trioni, would you be so kind as to go to your room and gather the things you may need? Until this matter is behind us, you will make use of my bedroom."

"But, where will you...," she began to wonder.

"I will sleep here," Holmes explained. "The only access to that room is through this one. No one shall get to you, but through me."

"But, surely, Mr. Holmes, it is not necessary to...," she tried to protest.

"Please, Miss Trioni," Holmes urged. "You must allow me the comfort of knowing that you are safe. I will be able to think more clearly if you do as I have asked."

Noting his obvious concerns, despite his efforts to conceal them, she sighed lightly and allowed, "As you wish."

She went to her room as he had requested. I considered speaking freely with Holmes. However, the expression upon his face of deep thought cautioned me to wait. Miss Trioni soon returned with a small parcel. She moved to stand at the threshold of the adjoining bedroom as she asked, "May I enter now, Mr. Holmes?"

"Just a moment," Holmes offered, hurrying to block her path. "I do believe I should first tidy up a bit." He motioned to the chair in which she had been sitting and urged, "Please, do sit down." Then, turning to me, he asked, "Watson, would you be so good as to ask Mrs. Hudson for some fresh towels and bed linens?"

"Right away, Holmes," I agreed, moving to begin my task.

"Please, Mr. Holmes...it is not necessary to go to such trouble," she chuckled slightly at our efforts.

"No trouble at all, Miss Trioni," he called from within his bedroom as he did his best to make it look somewhat presentable. I continued on my way, and quickly returned, bringing with me the towels and linens, then I made ready to offer Holmes my assistance. Before I could do so, however, she took the fresh supplies from my hands, and shooed me out of her way to enter the room.

"Gentlemen, you really are making too great a fuss. I...," she started to tease. She stopped in mid-sentence and took a moment to absorb her surroundings. Looking around, she quietly noted, "Mr. Holmes, if this is any indication of the state of your case files, I definitely have my work cut out for me."

The colour rose slightly in Holmes' cheeks. Seeing this, she chuckled softly and assured, "Not to worry, Mr. Holmes. I have often thought a person's room to be an excellent indication of their personality. I can see now that my belief rings true."

Her observation was, indeed, undeniably correct. The room was as filled with contradictions as Holmes, himself. Next to a meticulously kept dressing table lay a pile of crumpled newspapers and debris. The wardrobe was divided in half, one side of which contained crisply pressed clothing, the other, what appeared to be rags. She placed the linens and towels down upon the bed. Taking the wet clothing from his hand, she smiled warmly and advised, "Please, gentlemen, I believe I can manage from here." Neither of us were able to offer any argument.

While she was occupied, I casually pulled Holmes back into the drawing room and closed the door. After moving to sit upon the settee, and encouraging him to take his chair, I quietly asked, "Holmes, do you really believe that she is in any danger? Surely, it is you they are after."

Holmes smiled slightly at my ignorance and advised, "My dear Watson, I have no doubt that whomever is plotting my demise has taken the precaution of having my movements watched these past few days. Therefore, my foe is well-aware of our guest's presence. If he is as malevolent as I suspect, he would, no doubt, welcome any opportunity he is allowed to torment me...just as she astutely noted. And, as you so wisely observed, she is now under our protection. No, no. It is better to be overcautious, than to not take precaution enough."

"What can I do to help?," I offered.

"Thank you, Watson. You are truly a friend in need," Holmes smiled more fully. "I would ask that you keep an eye on Miss Trioni whenever I am unable to do so, myself. In the event that anything should happen to me, I ask that you ensure her safety back to the States."

"You are concerned for your own well-being, then?," I said, more as an observation than as an inquiry.

"I would be a fool to ignore such a blatant threat," Holmes admitted. He then turned from my expression of concern to gaze into the fire, unwilling for me to see his. We sat for quite some time in silence, save the sound of the storm which was, by then, again in full form. Finally, the silence was broken when she entered.

"All finished, gentlemen," Miss Trioni announced. She sat in the chair opposite Holmes. "Now, Mr. Holmes, what is to be your next move?," she encouraged.

Holmes found it somewhat hard to conceal his amusement at her exceedingly direct question. He smiled openly as he asked, "I wonder, Miss Trioni, what would be yours, if you were in my position?"

"This is not a game, Mr. Holmes. This is real. Please, do not make light of it," she cautioned. Her stern expression and tone caused him to become a bit more serious.

"I shall do nothing until tomorrow morning," he advised.

"And, then?," she encouraged.

"And then, I shall go out into the streets, and see what I might find there," he offered.

"But, Holmes, one assault has already been made upon your person. Do you really think it is wise to invite another?," I warned. I did not wish to add to Miss Trioni's concern, but I was, myself, a bit worried for his safety.

"I shall wear a disguise. No one will see me," Holmes assured.

"Where do you intend to go?," she asked casually.

"I will try to find the two men with whom I had an encounter today, and see where they lead me," Holmes answered, being careful not to give the exact location.

"You believe they will be receiving new instructions, then?," she inquired.

"Excellent, Miss Trioni. I am impressed by your deduction," Holmes offered. He meant it sincerely. However, she was obviously not sure if he did, or if he was being sarcastic.

"Mr. Holmes, do you have any idea at all who your enemy may be?," she asked with a slight frown.

"Perhaps, someone whose path I have crossed before," he mused freely.

"Someone who wants revenge? Do you have any names in mind?," she urged.

"My dear Miss Trioni, they are too many to number," he answered, still thinking out loud.

"Then, possibly, you would do well to follow up on your first impulse and look through your records for a clue," she noted.

"I fear it would take too long," Holmes explained. "I would prefer a more direct approach."

"Would you mind if I had a go at it? I did intend to begin organizing them, at any rate," she asked hopefully.

"By all means, help yourself," Holmes allowed with a slight smile, despite his efforts not to show one.

Miss Trioni rose from her chair and moved towards the file cabinet just as Mrs. Hudson entered with our dinner. "It is as good a day for stew as ever I've seen, even if it is the middle of May," she announced. She placed the tureen in the middle of the table, then stood beside it and waited impatiently as she urged, "Come, now, Miss. You have not eaten a thing since this morning."

Miss Trioni turned and walked back to the table. With a smile, she offered, "Yes, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for your concern."

"Not at all, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied, then she quickly departed.

As soon as the door closed, Miss Trioni attempted to move back to the files. However, Holmes sprang from his chair and caught her by the cuff of her sleeve. She looked up at him in surprise, and he quietly advised, "It will wait until after we eat, Miss Trioni. Please, do come and join us?" She hesitated briefly, then submitted to his request.

The Pumamouse Website Presents...

Thank you for visiting these webpages.
Please return often to view new developments.
I would enjoy receiving your comments.

You can email The Pumamouse (MaryAnne)
by clicking on the link below:

You can return to The Pumamouse Website Homepage
by clicking on the link below:

This website is owned, designed, created, maintained,
and financed by The Pumamouse (MaryAnne)
Copyright 2002/2003/2004/2005

The Personal Journal Of John H. Watson, M.D.
Volume One
A Record Of The Events Which Occurred
March-May 1897

Copyright 1998