| By nine o'clock the next morning, Miss Trioni had still not risen. I feared her disappointment had turned to genuine annoyance. However, noting Holmes' concerns, I did my best to hide my own. "She is probably still exhausted from yesterday's exploits," I tried to comfort. He was quite anxious for her to join us and say that, having given our decision some thought, all had been forgiven. "I do not like it, Watson," he admitted, nervously draining his second cup of tea. Looking again to her door, he encouraged, "Check on her, please, if you will?" "Holmes, no one could have gotten past you," I assured, beginning to understand his underlying fears. "I am sure she is just sleeping." "Please, Watson? I have a bad feeling about this," he urged, placing his cup upon the table with an unsteady hand. "Very well, old fellow," I sighed, then with a chuckle, I cautioned, "But, when she yells at me to get out, I shall put the blame on you." He nodded his agreement to my terms, then again urged me on with his eyes. I slowly opened the door to his bedroom. I peered inside...and was horrified by what I saw there. "Good God, Holmes! Come quickly!," I gasped. In seconds, he was at my side, attempting to revive Miss Trioni, who was lying unconscious upon the floor. "We must get her to the bed," I instructed. Without effort, Holmes lifted her in his arms and placed her gently onto his bed. She was wearing her tattered blue-grey dress, and the smell of liquor was on her breath. The implications were obvious. "I must go for my bag," I explained. "You loosen her clothing." "Watson, I...," Holmes began to offer his views. "Just do it!," I called from the hallway in much the same tone as she had used when speaking to me on the previous afternoon. I returned to find him still hesitating, and so, I did it, myself. Taking a vile of ammonia from my bag, I waved it beneath her nose. She stirred slightly, then relaxed again...not at all the response I had hoped to obtain. I attempted to take her pulse, but was unable to feel it, for my own was beating in my brain. I then put my head to her chest in an attempt to hear her heart. The beat was low, but steady. Not wishing to take any chances, I decided upon my actions and explained, "I had best administer a stimulant. Please, roll up her left sleeve, and hold her still." As I readied my hypodermic, Holmes pulled her to a seated position. He sat upon the bed behind her, allowing her to fall back and rest against his chest. Holding her there in his arms, he loosened her left cuff. Then, raising the sleeve past her elbow, he noticed the bruises on her forearm. "Watson! Look at this!," he urged. Raising her right sleeve, he exposed similar wounds. The sight of the marks made me cringe. "What has that bastard done to her?," I heard him growl angrily. However, my attention was more focused upon my patient. Placing a truncate on her arm, I made ready to administer the drug. Just as I was about to do so, she opened her eyes. Seeing only the needle, she began to struggle. "No!," she cried adamantly. I immediately withdrew the hypodermic from her view, grateful that it would no longer be necessary, since she was conscious. Holmes held her more tightly in his arms to stay her efforts and quietly assured, "It is all right, Miss Trioni. You are safe now." She turned her head to see who had spoken to her. Seeing his face, she relaxed and allowed herself to rest again in his arms as she sighed, "Oh, Mr. Holmes, it is you." "Miss Trioni, what have you done?," Holmes softly asked, still holding her to his heart. "Only what I felt I must," she yawned, then she shifted to become a bit more comfortable in his arms. Holmes paused for a moment. He gathered his thoughts, then pushed her from him and rose to allow her the full use of the bed. I believe he was also aware that, in his former position, he could not have expressed his anger. "You have broken our agreement!," he scolded loudly, causing her to hold her hands to her ears. "Please, Mr. Holmes, if you must reprimand me, could you do so at a lower volume?," she urged. Lowering her hands, she continued to advise, "I did not break our agreement. We agreed that I would help on this case." "We did not agree that you should meet "Big Tom" for drinks!," Holmes returned angrily. "What would you have had me do?!," she countered. She sat up in the bed and raised her voice to match his volume. "In case you have forgotten, Mr. Holmes, there is a man out there whose only goal is to see you dead. I was given an opportunity to get information that could possibly help us to stop him. Should I have ignored it? If our situations were reversed, is that what you would have done?" Holmes tried not to allow the logic of her words to interrupt his thoughts. "You took an enormous and unnecessary risk!," he reprimanded. "I was never in any danger!," she informed with equal conviction. Losing his temper completely, Holmes moved to the edge of the bed and asked, "Then, how would you explain these?" He gripped her left wrist and pulled back her sleeve to expose her bruises. In doing so, he unintentionally caused her pain. Seeing her wince, he immediately released her arm, and an expression of mortification crossed his face. "A small price to pay for the information I gained," she advised, protecting her bruises and recoiling from him, with tears still in her eyes. Seeing her like that, he could no longer remain angry, except perhaps, with himself. Holmes turned away from her view in an effort to hide his own weakness. However, she mistook his action as a reprisal. The tears began to fall upon her cheeks as she pleaded in a much softer tone, "Please, Mr. Holmes, forgive me? I was only trying to help. Yell at me, if you will, for going against your wishes, but please, do not turn away from me in disgust. Do not shun me, like some sort of criminal. I can not bear the thought of losing your friendship." Her words pierced his controlled exterior and dug into his very soul. Unable to fight his desire any longer, he turned to look upon her face. Seeing the tears which creased her cheeks, he was compelled to resume his seat upon the bed and take her in his arms. She instantly began to sob gently upon his shoulder. Holding her close, in a whisper, he urged, "Promise me...never again." "I promise," she agreed, entwining her arms around his neck like a child in appreciation for his forgiveness, and in fear of his further reprisal. Holmes swallowed hard to fight back his own tears, then turned his head slightly to advise, over his shoulder, "Watson, please, have Mrs. Hudson bring up a pot of coffee." I went as he had requested, allowing them the moment of privacy which I knew they each needed. Still holding her close, Holmes felt her body tremble. He closed his eyes and forced himself to ask the question which he feared the most. "Miss Trioni," he whispered, "I must know...what did he do to you?" She cleared her throat and quietly offered, "He tried what you feared he might, but he did not succeed." "Thank God for that," Holmes sighed heavily. He was briefly overwhelmed with relief, then he allowed his thoughts to turn more cold. I returned to find that they had not moved in their positions. "Mrs. Hudson will be up in a moment," I offered. Holmes nodded his thanks, then gently pushed her slightly away from him to clearly see her face. Wiping her tears from her cheeks, he forced himself to smile as he coaxed, "Now, Miss Trioni, no more tears. We have a case to solve." She smiled at his kindness and at his use of the word "we". "Go and wash your face," he continued to encourage. "Then you must tell us what you have learned." She moved obediently to the lavatory. Holmes and I returned to the drawing room. Mrs. Hudson entered at nearly the same moment, and placed the pot of coffee which Holmes had requested upon the table. She left discreetly, without a word. Holmes took up the empty teacup from which he had been drinking. I thought he would fill it with coffee. However, in a sudden fit of anger, he sent it crashing against the wall. "Damn him!," he swore as he covered his face with his hands. I moved to pick up the broken pieces of the cup before Mrs. Hudson or Miss Trioni would have a chance to see them. Cautiously, I offered, "Calm yourself, old man. Kemp will be stopped, soon enough." "Kemp is not who I meant, Watson," he explained in a low rumble. "I was referring to "Big Tom". For his sake, as well as my own, I pray I never lay eyes on him again. If I do, they will surely hang me for murder." I made a feeble attempt at comforting him by offering, "Aside from the minor bruises on her arms, Miss Trioni does appear to be relatively unharmed. We should be thankful for that." "I am, Watson," he admitted freely. "But...the thought of him, laying his hands upon her..." He looked to me with such earnest remorse that I hardly recognized him. Unable to find any words to suffice, I gripped his upper arm and nodded my understanding. Miss Trioni soon joined us. I was relieved when she did so, for it forced Holmes to turn his thoughts from his concerns for her. She had removed the blue-grey dress and was wearing her dressing gown, instead. "Please, excuse my attire, gentlemen. As soon as I have told my story, I intend to take a long, hot bath," she explained. She held her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from the daylight which flooded the room, and implored, "Oh, Watson...please?" I moved to draw the shades on all three of the windows overlooking Baker Street. She quietly offered her thanks and continued to the table. She poured a cup of coffee, and took a sip of it, then she sat at the table slowly, trying not to make any noise as she did so. Holmes and I joined her there. I filled a dish from the tray of sausages and eggs which Mrs. Hudson had so kindly prepared. I offered the dish to Miss Trioni, who quickly turned away, covering her mouth with her hand. "Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?," Holmes asked in a teasing tone. "More than I care to admit," she answered with a faint smile. "However, gentlemen, I am pleased to say, my present discomfort is not in vain." "Please, Miss Trioni, do tell us," I encouraged. "And, be sure to omit nothing," Holmes sternly warned. "Nothing?," she asked as the colour began returning to her cheeks. "Nothing," Holmes firmly reinforced. "Very well," she allowed with a slight sigh. "I waited until you fell asleep last night, Mr. Holmes. Then, after borrowing your makeup case once more, I kept my appointment with Big Tom. As he had requested, I met him at the Red Dog Pub, on the corner of Miller Street and Parker." "Not at all a place for a lady," I noted. My observation earned me a look of admonishment. "Forgive me, Miss Trioni. Please, continue," I requested, then I did my best to remain silent as she did so. "I told him how grateful I was for the opportunity he had given me to earn a few extra shillings," she explained. "I then proceeded to let him know that I would welcome more of the same in the future. He bought me a drink, and said he was sure that something could be arranged." She paused to take another sip of coffee, and I noticed Holmes shifting uneasily in his chair. "It was quite apparent to me that Big Tom heartily enjoyed his liquor," she continued. "I decided to challenge him to a drinking match, to find out if he could hold it, as well. I did what I could to empty my glass, as often as possible, into the fairly large potted plant which was positioned next to me. However, I regret, at times, I was forced to really drink, though not nearly as much as he. In his inebriated state, he became most generous in offering the information which I had hoped to receive." She paused again to drain the remains of her coffee. I noticed that Holmes was staring at her with as much anticipation as I was feeling. Finally, she advised, "The party in the carriage is apparently a woman. A sort of go-between. Although I could not get him to tell me her name, I did learn that she is of foreign origin. He mentioned more than once that her hair-colouring is similar to mine, but that she has a "funny accent"." "And yet, he did not pick up on yours," Holmes observed. "Well, I did do me very bes' to conceal it, guv. Wudn't 'ave done fer 'im to know I be a Yank," she answered in a thick cockney tone. "Excellent, Miss Trioni," Holmes smiled broadly. More softly, he urged, "Pray, continue." She smiled at his praise, then proceeded to inform, "I also learned that the man whom you are seeking has recently escaped from prison. I believe Kemp is truly our man. "He's a smart one," I was informed, "And a generous one, at that. Just look 'ere," Big Tom said, then he opened a small leather pouch to reveal to me several gold sovereigns. Realizing the possibilities which he was presenting to me, I took the liberty of procuring one of the coins while he was distracted." She paused in her account and pulled a piece of cloth from the pocket of her dressing gown. Unwrapping the coin, she laid it upon the table before Holmes, being careful not to handle it as she did so. "If my understanding is correct, Mr. Holmes, I believe you may be able to find the fingerprints of your enemy on this...if Big Tom has not handled it, himself, too often," she offered. Holmes stared at her, as did I, amazed by her foresight. In earnest, he advised, "My dear Miss Trioni, I am impressed. I have no doubt that your conclusions are correct. Kemp is our man." "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," she smiled happily. She paused briefly to refill her cup, and took another sip, then casually continued, "Then, I suppose you will be even more so to hear that I have obtained the location of the woman." "What?!," Holmes offered with understandable shock. He sat at the edge of his chair and implored her with his eyes to explain. "It became apparent to me that Big Tom knew where she could be reached, if need be," she advised. "I persuaded him to introduce me to her, by pretending to be seeking involvement." "And, just how did you accomplish that?," Holmes asked, bracing himself as best he could for her answer. "Simple enough. I agreed that, in return for his introduction, I would accompany him back to his flat for the evening," she offered. "You did what?!," Holmes asked in a raised voice. "Please, Mr. Holmes?," she begged, grimacing in pain as she covered her ears with her hands. "Forgive me, Miss Trioni, but how could you have done such a thing?," he urged, a bit more quietly. She lowered her hands and explained, "I had no intention of following through, of course. I did not even wish to really meet the woman. I only wanted to know where she resides. My plan was to go with him. Then, having seen the exact location, I would make up some excuse to postpone our transaction, and return here to safety. Unfortunately, I did not foresee all of the events which would come to pass." She finished her second cup of coffee, and proceeded to pour her third. "What happened, Miss Trioni?," I asked, noting that Holmes was quite unable to do so for himself. He took up a glass of water. Holding it a bit too tightly, he forced himself to drink in an attempt to remove the knot that had formed in his throat. "We walked to the woman's house," Miss Trioni continued. "I did as I have told you I planned to do, but Big Tom had no desire to postpone our arrangement. He was quite explicit on that point. He pulled me into an alley. I tried to put him off, but he only became more...intent. Finally, he tried to force himself upon me and..." The glass which Holmes had been holding shattered. "Don't move, Holmes!," I warned, hoping to spare him the further injury which he would surely inflict upon himself if he did not heed my advice. A large piece of the broken glass had already cut his forefinger and palm before falling from his grasp. Gently opening his hand, I removed the smaller fragments which remained. "Oh, Mr. Holmes!," Miss Trioni gasped, seeing his blood begin to flow. "I had best get my bag," I called on my way out of the room. Holmes tried to hide his hand, fearing Miss Trioni might become faint at its sight. However, she took hold of his wrist and stopped his efforts. "Let me see that," she demanded. Quite to his surprise, instead of losing her head, she gently patted the wounded area with a water-moistened napkin to finish removing any lingering shards. Once satisfied that no trace of glass remained, she lowered her lips to his palm. Holmes watched in silent awe, not wishing to distract her, even for a moment, from the task which she was performing. He felt her briefly suckle his wound, drawing fresh blood just long enough to prevent risk of infection, then he felt the gentle pressure of her mouth as she tried to prevent further bleeding. Satisfied that it had been slowed, she moved her lips to the cut on his finger and did the same. Try as he may, he could not turn his gaze. Even when I returned, he did not bother to look up. Seeing her at her task, I understood why. "I believe the bleeding has stopped, Watson," she advised. "However, we had best use a bandage, just in case." Taking the gauze from my hand, she proceeded to wrap his wound in quite the proper medical fashion. All the while, Holmes continued to stare. "There. That should do it," she announced when she had finished. He withdrew his hand and looked at it for the first time. "Thank you, Miss Trioni," he offered after swallowing hard. "You are welcome, but please, do be more careful," she replied, completely oblivious to his dilemma. She took another sip of her coffee, then continued with her tale. "Now...where was I?," she mused. "Oh, yes. As I was saying, Big Tom became a bit violent. I was forced to do the same. Had it not been for the fact that I had been drinking, I believe I would have avoided these," she said, looking at the bruises on her forearms. More lightly, she added, "Oh, well. As I have said, a small price to pay." She finished her coffee and was looking more and more like herself. Noting this, I felt compelled to venture, "Excuse me, Miss Trioni, but I am afraid I am somewhat puzzled. I observed yesterday, with my own eyes, the size of this man, and his nickname is well-deserved." "Yes, he is rather...bulky," she allowed with a smile. "Then, how is it you managed to get away?," I asked openly. "Surely, he is much stronger than you." "I would have to admit that he is," she chuckled slightly. "However, I dare say, I am much wiser." Holmes forced himself to snap out of his trance, and asked, "What, exactly, did you do, Miss Trioni?" "Whatever was necessary to protect my honour," she replied. Then, noting both Holmes' and my concern, she assured, "Oh, do not worry, gentlemen. Big Tom will survive. However, I doubt he will be so quick to force his affections upon the next flower girl he meets." She chuckled softly to herself with satisfaction. "Do you mean to say...," I began to ponder out loud. "Watson, please," she interrupted. "It was not the first time I have needed to defend myself. And, I dare say, it will most likely not be the last. I only regret being a bit rusty...out of practice. Big Tom got no more, and probably a bit less, than he deserved." She turned from me then to again face Holmes and encouraged, "Now, tell me, Mr. Holmes, what will our next move be?" Holmes fought the urge to tell her of his growing adoration, then asked, "What is the address of the woman of whom you spoke?" She smiled a bit mischievously and offered, "You may have it, sir...if you agree to take me with you." Holmes’ colour paled a bit. However, he proceeded to advise, "Miss Trioni...I can not agree." "But, why?," she urged with a slight frown. "Surely, I have proven that I am capable by now?" "Indeed, you have," he assured. "However, it is imperative that I go alone." Turning briefly to me, he added, "I regret, even you, Watson, will not be able to join me. I must speak to this woman alone." Although I shared Miss Trioni’s disappointment, I made no argument, knowing it would be futile for me to do so. "Well, Miss Trioni?," Holmes urged. "Shall you give me the address, or shall I have to find her for myself?" She frowned more obviously and sighed heavily with regret, but allowed, "All right, Mr. Holmes. 374 Baxter Street." "Thank you, Miss Trioni," he smiled warmly. He rose from the table and began making ready to leave. She stopped him on his way out of the door. "Wait!," she urged. Moving to stand before him, she asked with great concern, "You will promise to be careful, won't you, Mr. Holmes?" Holmes met her worried gaze, then quietly offered, "You have my word." She threw her arms around him without warning and squeezed him tightly, then she quickly moved away to his bedroom and closed the door, presumably, to take her bath. More likely, her haste was meant to hide her fears. Holmes looked towards me and smiled faintly. He continued on his way without another word, leaving me to contemplate the possibilities. |
| CHAPTER TWELVE The next morning, I sat at the table in the drawing room, trying desperately not to yawn. Holmes was standing at his window, looking down upon the early morning bustle which took place below. Miss Trioni had not yet risen, and I was somewhat relieved by the fact. I still had not reached my decision as to what I would do in the likely event that Holmes disagreed with her plan. Quite honestly, I believe my dilemma stemmed mainly from the fact that I knew exactly what his response would be. Should I offered her my approval, I would have to risk his annoyance. However, although there were risks, her idea did have its merits. Holmes had replaced the cushions upon the settee. The room looked again as it always had, save the slightest hint of incense which still lingered, and the candles which remained where she had placed them, upon the mantel. I noticed that Holmes paused to examine one of them as he took up his pipe, then he moved to sit in his chair. I wondered what he was thinking, but I surmised he was most likely reflecting on the previous evening's pleasure. Finally, the bedroom door opened and Miss Trioni emerged. I was surprised to see that she was not fully dressed, but instead, wore her dressing gown over her nightgown. "Forgive me for oversleeping, gentlemen. You should have started breakfast without me," she apologized, noting the covered tray which Mrs. Hudson had placed upon the table. "Not at all, Miss Trioni. Do come and sit down," I encouraged as I held a chair for her. "Thank you, Watson," she accepted. She began pouring our tea, then casually asked, "Mr. Holmes, did you sleep well?" "The best that I have in some years," he answered in earnest. "Then my efforts were not in vain," she noted. "Would you say that you are in a receptive mood?" "That depends on what it is you wish to offer," he returned. She looked at me then with some disappointment, thinking that I had betrayed her confidence. "I said nothing, Miss Trioni, I assure you," I hurried to inform. "Watson is telling the truth," Holmes admitted. "I have reached my conclusions unaided." She sighed slightly and took a sip of her tea. Noting her reluctance, Holmes encouraged, "Well, then, Miss Trioni...let's have it. What is it you wish to do, to which you fear I will object?" "I would like to offer my assistance in stopping your would-be assassin," she replied. Holmes lit his pipe and leaned back into his chair as he offered, "No harm in that much. And, by what means do you propose to do so?" She gathered her nerve, then proceeded to ask, "Tell me, Mr. Holmes, when you observed the flower girl and the driver, did they appear to be part of this operation, or were they merely a means to an end?" "I believe the driver was somewhat aware of what was transpiring. However, the flower girl just happened upon the scene at the right time to earn an easy shilling," Holmes replied. Turning in his chair to address us, he encouraged, "Why do you ask?" "Then, the thugs would have given the note to whomever appeared to be approachable at the time?," she wondered. "Yes, but...," Holmes began. He stopped abruptly. Recognizing the pattern of her thoughts, he informed, "Miss Trioni! I will not hear of it!" "But, Mr. Holmes...," she tried to protest. "Have you no sense of the danger?!," he interrupted with surprise. "If you were discovered, do you have any idea what fate could befall you?!" "Listen to me, Mr. Holmes," she urged in a calming tone. "I have given this matter some thought, and I believe it could be arranged so that I would be in no real danger. If I were to pose as a flower girl, and made myself appear an easy accomplice, it would give me the opportunity to read the thugs' note. And, of course, your enemy's response. Watson could be close at hand, in the event that anything unforeseen happens." "And, where would you place me in this scenario?," Holmes asked, his surprise still visible upon his face. "Why, right here, of course," she explained. "If they saw you, it would ruin everything." Holmes laughed out loud at her last remark, then advised, "Miss Trioni, you truly amaze me. I took you for a highly intelligent woman. Did you really think that I would consider such a plan? You, in the street, selling flowers amongst criminals, while I sat here, awaiting your return? Please, do not be ridiculous." He continued to show great amusement at her expense. Although I shared his concerns for her safety, I felt he should have been a bit more careful in his refusal. After all, she was only trying to help. She did not deserve to be made to feel as though her intentions were not appreciated. I saw upon her face an expression of sadness which, from his vantage point, Holmes could not. In an attempt to lessen her injured feelings, I took her defense and stated, "I suppose it would have been conceivable that your plan might have worked, had there not been such danger, Miss Trioni." "Thank you, Watson," she offered quietly. "I appreciate your effort to console me. However, there really is no need. If Mr. Holmes does not desire my help, I see no reason for it to upset me." Her words were steady and calm, not at all supported by her feelings. I wondered how many times she had rehearsed them. Glancing at Holmes, I silently urged him to say something kind to her. Finally, he subdued his amusement to offer, "Miss Trioni, I am grateful for your willingness to help." "Mr. Holmes, you are a fool," she replied lightly, then she took another sip of her tea. "Excuse me, Miss Trioni. I do not think I heard...," he began. "That is correct. You did not hear at all, because you are too proud to listen...a tell-tale sign of a fool," she casually advised. Holmes had, by then, completely stopped his laughter. However, it was all I could do to contain mine. Getting to his feet, Holmes stated, "Miss Trioni, I hardly think it is necessary to..." "Right again!," she declared. "You hardly think at all." She turned in her chair to face him, and her dark eyes pierced him with contempt, then she stood and began slowly moving towards him as she offered, "I have tried, Mr. Holmes, to be patient, hoping that, in time, you would see me for who I am, and show me the respect that I deserve. At first, your low opinion of me hurt more deeply than you could possibly know. After proving myself a worthy opponent...and "intelligent" enough to be retained as your secretary...I thought I had achieved my goal. Unfortunately, I see now that I was mistaken. You still see me as a nuisance, at best. However, I have passed the point of feeling hurt, and I am now beginning to get angry." She had moved to stand only inches before him. Had she been a man, I would have fully expected them to come to blows. For the first time, I had heard the hint of an American accent in her speech. Her small lapse conveyed the strength of her sentiments as well as her candid words. Suddenly, without explanation, Holmes was enveloped by a desire to kiss her. Feeling unsteady, he shook the thought from his mind, briefly closing his eyes and jerking his head to do so. He swayed in the process. Thinking he was about to collapse, her expression of anger was quickly replaced by one of concern. She moved to hold him steady in her arms and quietly noted, "Oh, Mr. Holmes, you are not well." "It is nothing," he tried to assure, feeling even more vulnerable the longer he looked into her eyes and felt her arms around him. Slowly, she released him, but she continued to hold his hand. She guided him to the table and encouraged, "Please, come sit down and eat something, before you make yourself ill. I am sorry I lost my temper. Forgive me if I went too far, sir." Once he was seated, she tried to release his hand. However, Holmes held on tightly to hers, and offered, "Miss Trioni, please, I did not mean to sound disrespectful." He looked to the table then, avoiding her gaze as he continued, "You are, in fact, the most intelligent...the finest woman I have ever known. My laughter was only a facade...a cover for the feelings which stirred within me, seeing your desire to help, even at the risk of your own safety." It was the most honest display of true emotion that I had ever witnessed him show. So touched was she by his remarks and his unusual candor, she knelt upon the floor beside his chair, and held his hand within her own, pressing it to her heart as she hopefully urged, "Then, please...please...allow me to do what little I can? I promise, I will not take any unnecessary risks." Holmes could feel her heart beating softly beneath the back of his hand. He looked down into her face, and began to melt. "Knowing the contents of those notes could prove to be of invaluable importance to our efforts...," he softly mused. She held his hand more tightly, then he allowed, "Very well. However, you must agree to follow my instructions, precisely." She released his hand and threw her arms about his neck, then squeezed him soundly and assured, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes! You shan't regret this!" She released him and hurried from the room, calling, "I will just be a moment!" When she had gone, no longer in the awkward position I had thought myself to be in, I felt compelled to admit my true impression of her plan. "This should turn the odds to our favour," I offered. Holmes met my observation with a stern stare and advised, "Watson, you shall take your revolver, and if you see anything...anything at all that alarms you...you will not hesitate to use it. You are responsible for her safety." "Of course, old fellow, of course," I reassured in earnest. Moments later, Miss Trioni reappeared. She was wearing a somewhat battered blue-grey dress. Her hair, which she usually kept pulled to the back of her neck and tied with a ribbon, was loose, and hung softly around her face. "Well? What do you think?," she asked. Standing with her arms slightly outstretched, she turned in a circle, allowing us to view her fully. "Where on earth did you find that?," Holmes asked with a smile. "It is an old dress, but I have always been somewhat partial to the colour," she explained. "I have kept it mainly to wear while cleaning or cooking, but I rarely travel without at least one old favourite. Do you think it will do?" I smiled to myself, taking note that the colour was quite close to that of Holmes' eyes. He moved towards her for a closer inspection. Pulling her hair to one side, he allowed it to fall upon her shoulder and offered, "Like that, I think." She took the ribbon which she was holding and, wrapping it around her hair, she tied it in the position which he had suggested. "We will need some makeup," Holmes noted. "Do you wish to use your own?" "I am afraid I do not have any, Mr. Holmes. I have never formed the habit," she explained. Holmes smiled approvingly, then encouraged, "Watson, please, bring me my case." I did as he had requested, then I moved to get a better view of the transformation which I perceived was about to take place. Holmes motioned for her to sit at the table. Placing the mirror before her, he asked, "Would you care to apply it, or shall I?" "Please, Mr. Holmes, I would not know where to begin," she admitted. "Then...allow me," he offered readily. He turned her face towards the light which flooded into the room from the nearest window, then began his task. Gently, he applied rouge to her cheeks and shadow to her eyelids. As he did so, I was amazed to see how beautiful she had become. The shadow caused her deep brown eyes to appear even larger and more alluring. In truth, she was a more handsome woman than I had originally thought...by far. Finally, taking some petroleum jelly on his finger, Holmes instructed her to slightly open her mouth. Touching his finger to her lips, he applied the salve until they appeared most inviting. He took a moment to marvel at the woman who then sat before him, and to allow me to do the same. Then, offering her the mirror, he asked, "What do you think?" Upon seeing her own reflection, she answered in awe, "I think that you are truly an artist, Mr. Holmes. How on earth did you make me look so...so..." "Beautiful," I offered unreservedly. "Thank you, Watson," she smiled warmly. "I only enhanced what was already there," Holmes answered, wiping his hands clean upon a napkin. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," she replied with some surprise. "Now, let us see," Holmes encouraged. He helped her to her feet, then took a step back for a better view of the whole picture. "Something is still not quite right...," he noted as he scrutinized her from head to toe. Snapping his fingers, he announced, "Ah! The collar. Wouldn't you agree, Watson?" "Yes, Holmes, I would," I replied. "What is wrong with my collar?," she asked with some concern. "Watson...," Holmes prompted. "Well, Miss Trioni, nothing really, except...it is a bit...high," I offered, trying to say the truth as discreetly as I could. "Oh. I see," she said with a slight sigh. "Perhaps...you could loosen it a bit?," Holmes added with a good deal of caution. "I can do better than that," she smiled. She moved to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Holmes and me to stand and wonder at what she was up to on the other side. "Really a remarkable job you did, Holmes," I noted as we waited. "Not at all," he replied. "The makeup has made it more visible, but her beauty was there all along...at least, to my eyes. Truth be told, I prefer the way she looks without it." I smiled happily for his free admission. Perhaps he was learning to be less controlled, and to allow himself to feel more emotions, I thought. When Miss Trioni rejoined us, I feared he might go too far. She had completely removed the collar and part of the bodice of her gown, as well. Instead of her neck being concealed, as it had been since her arrival, it was then quite visible, as were the soft slope of her shoulders. The neckline scooped to just above her very ample breasts, completely revealing her delicate throat, and emphasizing her shapely form. "Is this better?," she asked. Holmes moved towards her slowly, as if pulled by an invisible string, and fought the desire to tell her his true thoughts. Taking the ribbon completely from her hair, he allowed her dark locks to fall freely again, then he swallowed hard and decisively offered, "Perfect." "Then, we should be on our way," she smiled happily. She moved to take up a wicker basket from the sideboard and asked, "Where may I purchase my flowers?" "There is a shop just down the street," I explained. "We will be able to stop there on our way." I turned then to Holmes, and inquired as to our destination. I also asked for a description of the men whom we were to find. He answered my inquiries and offered his instructions as to how we were to proceed. I then moved to take up my revolver from the sideboard, and placed it in my jacket pocket. "Do you really think that is necessary?," Miss Trioni asked with visible regret. "Better safe than sorry," Holmes answered sternly. "Very well," she sighed. With a faint smile, she stated, "Then, we are off." She moved to the door, but paused there. Turning again to Holmes, she hopefully encouraged, "Oh, do wish us luck, Mr. Holmes?" He moved to stand before her, and carefully took her hand. Smiling softly, he offered, "Good luck, Miss Trioni." Then, ever so gently, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," she smiled fully, then she turned and hurried down the stairs. I tried to follow her quickly. However, I was detained by Holmes' hand upon my arm. "Take care of her, Watson," he implored. "Do not worry, Holmes. I shall," I assured, then I hurried on my way to catch up with her. |
| 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 |
 |
| STORIES AND SAGAS My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Twelve |
 |
|
| You are viewing "My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Twelve" |
| Please investigate all of the varied sections of The Pumamouse Website by clicking on the links below. |
| THE PUMAMOUSE WEBSITE SECTION LINKS: |
| STORIES AND SAGAS LINKS: |
|
| We arrived at Baker Street that evening to find Holmes pacing the drawing room floor like a caged animal. As we entered the room, he rushed to greet us...or, I should say, to greet Miss Trioni. "What happened? Are you all right? Did anything go wrong?," he urged. Without realizing it, he had taken her by her arms and was nearly shaking her with his questions. "Calm yourself, Mr. Holmes. Everything went as planned. Well, almost everything," she soothed. "Come, sit down. You have been standing for hours," he noted as he encouraged her to sit in the chair opposite his. He moved quickly back to the door, and called down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson, advising her to bring a pot of tea, immediately. That being done, he hurried to sit in his chair, and gently lifted Miss Trioni’s feet to place them upon his lap, forcing her to lean back into her chair. Mrs. Hudson arrived with the tea. Holmes shooed her away to pour a cup for his charge, himself, then handed it to Miss Trioni who did her best to conceal her amusement. Withdrawing her feet from his lap, she took the tea and smiled warmly as she offered, "Mr. Holmes, I assure you, I am perfectly all right. Please, do calm yourself." He scrutinized her briefly, then visibly relaxed. Noticing me for what appeared to be the first time, he motioned for me to take a seat upon the settee, which I did. He took a deep breath, then lit his pipe to aid him in his efforts to proceed more calmly. "Now, tell me everything. And, I beg of you, spare no detail," he advised. Holmes looked from her face to mine, then back to hers as she asked, "Watson, would you mind? I am afraid my voice is beginning to falter. Pedaling flowers all day on a busy street is not as easy as it looks." Holmes looked to me again, and I proceeded to do as she had requested, omitting the references to the men who had propositioned her. No doubt, that had been her intention in not relaying the facts, herself. Holmes was visibly concerned when I told him of how nearly she had been discovered, but he was more visibly impressed when I explained her quick-thinking response. I did, however, refrain from telling him of the blackheart's subsequent actions, for fear of those which I was quite certain the knowledge would cause him to take. Finally, he asked, "Miss Trioni, what did the notes say?" "The first read, "Unable to make contact yesterday. Stayed in his rooms all evening." No doubt, they were referring to you," she noted. "And, the reply?," Holmes encouraged. She paled slightly as she informed, ""Stay diligent. Must not miss any opportunity. Will have him. Money no object."" Holmes sighed and leaned back in his chair, seemingly deep in thought. Very quietly, Miss Trioni offered, "I am sorry I have no more to tell you, Mr. Holmes." "On the contrary, you have done exceedingly well," he assured with a slight smile, despite his dilemma. She smiled a bit more fully then, and advised, "However, there is a very good chance that I will do better...tonight." "Tonight?," I repeated in confusion. "Yes, Watson," she happily explained. "Mr. Thomas McPherson...or, "Big Tom", as he calls himself...has done me the honour of asking me to join him for a drink, later this evening. I, of course, accepted." "Then he will be very disappointed, indeed," Holmes advised without hesitation. "But, Mr. Holmes...," she began to protest. "Do not even ask, Miss Trioni," he warned sternly. "The answer will remain no." She looked to me, and she was about to make an attempt to sway my opinion. However, I quickly informed, "I must agree with Holmes. The risks are far too great." She sighed heavily with annoyance towards both of us, then rose to her feet and advised, "Then, I might as well take my bath now, seeing as you two gentlemen have already made up your minds." She began moving towards Holmes' bedroom, then paused abruptly and noted, "Oh, Watson, I had almost forgotten." She reached into her bodice and returned my ten pound note, then she continued on her way. As soon as the door closed behind her, Holmes rose from his chair, and took the note from my hand. "Watson, would you mind explaining?," he urged, not at all pleased. I made a feeble attempt to do so. His reaction was, unfortunately, just as I had expected it would be. "Why did you not mention them sooner, these men who approached her?!," he offered angrily. Then, seeing my concerned expression, he forced himself to regain his composure and continued, "Never mind. I suppose it does not matter, now that she is out of harm's way. Thank God I was not there to witness it. I fear I would not have had your restraint." He resumed his chair and lit a fresh pipe. Seeing his efforts to turn his mind from the thought of her day's activities, I encouraged him to inform me of his. "Holmes, by any chance, have you received word as to Kemp's whereabouts?," I asked. "Yes," he solemnly returned. "A message came today from Lestrade, while you were out. Kemp escaped prison last week. I believe Miss Trioni's deductions may have been correct." I could hardly believe my ears, for his demeanor seemed far too calm for his words. "Is there nothing we can do to stop him?," I urged. "To do so, we would first have to find him," Holmes explained with some annoyance. "He has, so far, eluded the police, and I fear his trail has grown cold. Until we know his exact location, I am afraid we would be running in circles." "Do you believe he is the man within the carriage?," I asked. "I am not at all certain that the person in the carriage is a man," he replied. "Holmes...what are you saying?," I offered with great concern. "For a prison escape to be successful, a man would need an accomplice," he advised dryly. "Who better than a woman to help him in his flight? And, who better a woman, than Miss Sophy Kratides?" He paused to take a deep breath of smoke, then released it and continued with audible contempt, "You do remember dear Miss Kratides, do you not, Watson? She is the embodiment of all that I have always held contemptible in women. Even after she was forced to acknowledge her own brother's blood on her fiancee’s hands, she still professed her love for the handsome murderer. If Kemp is our man, I have no doubt, she is assisting him." My stomach turned at the thought of it, and I told him as much. He cautioned me not to make any mention of his observations to Miss Trioni, for fear they might have the same effect on her. |
| All that afternoon, I watched Miss Trioni from across the busy street, pretending to read a newspaper as I did so. On several occasions, I found myself hard pressed not to intervene. More than one man had stopped to talk with her under the pretense of wishing to purchase her flowers. In truth, their intentions had been clear, even from where I sat. Had it not been for her warning, not to interfere unless absolutely necessary, I would have approached more than one of her admirers, and given them a piece of my mind. At times, I feared that the propositions they made would cause her to forfeit her cover. However, to my surprise, she appeared unaffected by their deplorable conduct. Finally, the two men whom Holmes had described to us in some detail appeared on the scene, and the bigger of the two began moving in her direction. He took up a small bunch of flowers from the basket which she held, and handed a coin to her. Then, moving closer, he whispered something into her ear. She looked from side to side and nodded her agreement. He handed the flowers back to her, and a folded piece of paper with them, then he moved to stand behind her and leaned against the wall there. She began moving towards the driver, whom I perceived was ready for her arrival. However, halfway there, she deliberately walked to collide with a gentleman who was passing by at the time. Having dropped her basket, the flowers scattered all around. While the gentleman helped her to retrieve them, she quickly read the note. She refolded it, then thanked the gentleman for his assistance. She continued towards the driver and offered him the flowers and note, both of which he took and passed to his passenger within the shuttered carriage. She then lingered by the horses, stroking their manes and avoiding the concealed passenger's possible view of her, just as Holmes had instructed. A few moments passed. Finally, the passenger tapped upon the shutters, and the driver moved to again block the window. He quickly retrieved the ten pound note which was offered, and again the shutters closed. He handed the ten pound note to Miss Trioni, along with the reply which it concealed. He then swiftly mounted the carriage, and drove it away. Miss Trioni moved back to her original position. However, she paused on her way and stooped down to tie her boot. As she did so, she raised her skirt slightly to expose her ankle to the man who was leaning against the wall. With him thus distracted, she was able to read the response. Unfortunately for her plan, as Holmes had cautioned might happen, the man became suspicious. Sensing this fact in some way which I have yet to fully understand, she pretended to be attempting to slip the ten pound note into her stocking. She looked up at the man who was, by then, standing directly over her as if surprised by his proximity. Smiling impishly, she offered the ten pound note and the reply, then she chuckled, "You can't blame a gal fer tryin', guv." I overheard her remark and fought to keep my calm while I watched the man’s response. He took the papers from her hand rather roughly, and feigned an intention to strike her with the back of his hand, then he showed her an evil smirk. He took her arm and brusquely helped her to her feet, then pulled her closer and whispered again into her ear. She did her best to hide her revulsion and forced herself to smile. The brute then moved to collect his partner, and the two men walked away. Once they were out of sight, Miss Trioni crossed the street to join me, taking care to continue in her pretense. "Flower, sir? Buy a flower, sir?," she offered. Whispering beneath her breath, she added, "Watson, it is done." "Did you see what the notes said?," I wondered as I feigned interest in the flowers which she had offered. "Yes, both of them, despite his silly concerns," she advised with some satisfaction. "However, it is possible that we are still being watched. Therefore, I must ask that you proposition me." I looked to her with some confusion, and she quickly encouraged, "Take out your billfold, and offer me a ten pound note." "Miss Trioni!," I gasped softly, shocked by her suggestion. "Just do it!," she warned beneath her breath, smiling as sweetly as she could. I did as she had requested. She took the note from my hand and placed it in the bodice of her dress. Taking my arm, she whispered, "Now, hail a carriage. And, for God's sake, act as though you are about to enjoy yourself." I forced myself to comply with her wishes. Once inside the carriage, she quickly drew the shutters, then fell back upon her seat. "Thank God that is over!," she declared. "If one more middle-aged banker tried to look down my dress, I believe I would have screamed!" I felt the colour rise in my cheeks. Seeing my reaction, she hurried to continue, "Oh, Watson, I am sorry for my lack of discretion. But, after the things I heard today... Please, forgive me, Watson." "Of course," I offered. I tried to clear my throat. However, I found it quite impossible. She did her best not to chuckle at my dilemma. With a soft smile, she noted, "Perhaps it would be best if we did not mention the bankers to Mr. Holmes." Unable to find my voice, I nodded my agreement, and she continued in her efforts not to laugh. |
|
| All through our meal that evening, Miss Trioni remained silent, making both Holmes and myself well-aware of her disappointment. Even when Holmes candidly advised her of the message from Lestrade, and commended her openly for her efforts, she showed no sign of softening. As soon as she finished eating, she excused herself and retired for the evening to Holmes' bedroom. Once she had gone, I felt compelled to observe, "Holmes, I do hope we have not made a mistake." "Nonsense, Watson. She will get over the disappointment," he assured. "In any case, I could not have agreed to her meeting that man...and for drinks, no less! No, Watson. Do not worry. Her mood shall pass." He seemed to be attempting to convince himself of his assessment as much as he was hoping to convince me. "I hope so, Holmes," I sighed. Very candidly, I admitted, "I do rather miss her smile." He smiled fully at my remark, it being his own thoughts, then he wished me a good night. I wished him the same and retired to my room. |
|
|