| CHAPTER FOURTEEN Upon entering the drawing room and seeing Holmes, seated in his chair and surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke, I knew something was wrong. Taking up the morning paper from the sideboard, I moved to sit in the chair opposite him. "Good morning, Holmes," I offered. Although he made no immediate reply, I knew that, in time, he would. As I began reading the second page, he gave in to his desire to tell me of the events which had transpired during the previous night. "Why did you not tell her of your feelings?," I urged. "I tried, Watson, but she stopped me," Holmes explained. He paused to consider his thoughts. Then, looking towards the fire, he sadly stated, "She did not wish to hear them." "Or, perhaps, she was afraid," I suggested. "Of what?," he returned. "That they would not be the same as her own," I offered, quite by mistake. I returned my attention to my newspaper in an effort to avoid his searching gaze. He lowered my paper with the stem of his pipe. Peering over it, he asked, "Watson...what is it you know?" "Nothing, Holmes," I lied blatantly. His eyes pierced my very soul. "She has taken you into her confidence?," he urged. "Maybe," I said as I shifted my paper uncomfortably. "Do I stand a chance, then...of winning her affections?," he asked from the other side of my thin wall. "You shall not know for certain until you try," I returned. "Then, you must help me to do so," he announced. Taking the paper from my hands, he tossed it into the air behind him, and encouraged, "Tell me, Watson, what to say...what to do. I have no experience in matters of the heart, and I find myself not knowing how to proceed." He looked at me in such earnest desperation, I nearly told him of her secret. I stopped myself just in time, however, and advised, "All the advice I can offer you, dear friend, is to try to relax and be yourself." "Surely, there is more to it than that," he stated. "Oh, yes, there is," I admitted. He looked to me for more information, and I sternly warned, "Tell her of your feelings." "But...," he started to argue. "And, this time, make her listen," I explained. He sat back in his chair and contemplated my words. I retrieved the pieces of my newspaper and finished reading it, content that I had done what little I could to bring the two of them together. |
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| STORIES AND SAGAS My Sherlockian Saga Volume One Chapter Fourteen |
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| By half past nine, noting that Miss Trioni had not yet joined us, I decided to check on her. I did so partially due to my own concern, but more so, for Holmes' sake. "Miss Trioni?," I called as I gently knocked upon her door. "Just a moment, Watson," she answered. A few moments later, she opened the door and asked, "Yes?" She was still wearing her nightgown and dressing gown, and her eyes were red from crying. "Miss Trioni, what is wrong?," I asked with great concern. She bit her lower lip, then offered, "Nothing, Watson. But, please, do come in." She moved to sit upon her bed. I hesitated, then did as she had asked, being sure to leave the door fully open. "Please, close it, Watson," she encouraged. "I need to speak to you without the fear of being overheard." Reluctantly, I obeyed her wishes. "Come and sit here, beside me," she offered. I did not move. "Please, Watson?," she sighed. I could not refuse her troubled eyes. I sat beside her on the bed, quite uncomfortably, then she took my hand in hers, and explained, "I must ask you several questions, Watson, and you must promise to tell me the truth. I give you my word, I will not be angry, no matter what your answers." "Certainly, Miss Trioni," I agreed. "Did you tell Mr. Holmes of the events which transpired between us on the night before last?," she asked directly. "No, Miss Trioni...," I answered, a bit unsure of myself. "But, he does know of them?," she encouraged. "I am not sure, but I believe he suspects," I admitted. "Has he told you of what happened last night?," she asked. "Yes, Miss Trioni, he has," I returned. "Did he remember it clearly?," she wondered. "Most vividly, I would say," I freely informed. "That is it, then," she resigned herself with a sigh. "He will soon ask me to leave." "Miss Trioni, I...," I began to dispute. "Please, Watson," she urged. She squeezed my hand tightly. "Do not try to undo what cannot be undone. It is my own fault for not being more careful." She tried to fight back the tears of regret which were beginning to form again in her eyes. "But, Miss Trioni...," I tried again. "Thank you, Watson," she interrupted. "I will join you for breakfast shortly." She moved to the door and opened it, then waited for me to leave. Not knowing what else to do, I hurried to the drawing room. Holmes looked up from my newspaper as I entered and asked, "How is she, Watson?" I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come. What would be the greater injustice? To break my promise of silence, or to allow the pieces to fall where they may? I tried to do neither. "All I can tell you, Holmes, is that you had best tell her of your intentions, and soon!," I sternly advised. "Why? What is wrong?," he asked, rising from his chair with concern as quickly as his wounds would allow. "Because...," I fumbled for my words. "Because, she believes that you are angry with her!" "Good Lord, man, you must be joking," Holmes chuckled slightly. "How on earth could she have come to that conclusion?" I did my best to explain, stating, "Although she is quite intelligent, and usually sees things very logically, she is still a woman, Holmes, capable of being misled by her...by her emotions." He looked at me with open confusion, and I hurried to continue, "Do not ask me to explain, Holmes. I possess no more clue as to the workings of the mind of a woman than you do. But, for her sake, as well as your own, you had best clear up the matter...today." "But, Watson...," he started to dispute. "Today, Holmes!," I warned. Just then, she entered the drawing room. "Good morning, gentlemen," she said softly. "I do hope I am not disturbing you." "Of course not, Miss Trioni," I said, calming myself. "Please, do sit down." I held out a chair at the table, and she sat upon it, visibly on edge. I began pouring a cup of tea for her. Then, noticing that the pot was empty, I offered to go for more. "Allow me, Watson," she replied. She jumped up from her chair and quickly hurried out of the room before I could stop her. Observing all, as he usually did, Holmes stated, "Good Lord, man, you were right! She is as skittish as a cat!" "You will put an end to her fears, then, Holmes?," I urged. "I will do my best to try," he readily agreed. Some time later, nearly twice as long as it should have taken to make a pot of tea, Miss Trioni rejoined us. "Here we are, gentlemen, nice and hot," she explained. She took her seat again at the table with Holmes and myself. "Miss Trioni...," Holmes began. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. How are you feeling this morning?," she asked. "Much better, thank you. Miss Trioni...," he tried again. "Would you like some tea?," she offered. "Yes, thank you. I...," he started. "Cream?," she smiled. "No, thank you. I...," he tried. "Sugar, then?," she countered. "Yes, please. Miss Trioni...," he attempted. "I have never been able to acquire a taste for cream in my tea, either," she informed. "Though, I do use it in my coffee. And, I use sugar in both." Her game was as transparent as crystal to both Holmes and myself. All through our meal, she never allowed him to say a complete sentence, fearing it might be the one which she dreaded hearing. After a while, I noticed that Holmes quite gave up trying to tell her of his feelings, relieved to have more time to plan what he would say. I was getting ready to force the issue when, as fate would have it, Mrs. Hudson entered with a note for Holmes. "It is from my brother, Mycroft," he explained, offering it to me to read out loud. I took it from his hand, and read, "Sherlock, Kemp ready to leave country. Will be forced to apprehend him today. Do hope you are up to joining us. If not, rest assured, he will be stopped. Signed, Mycroft." "Well, Doctor, what is your prognosis?," Holmes asked as he stared into my eyes, willing me to allow him to attend. "I suppose, if you are careful not to overexert yourself...," I began. "Splendid, Watson!," he pounced. He rose from the table with newfound vigour and moved towards his bedroom as he instructed, "Send word to Mycroft immediately that we will be joining him as soon as possible. Then have Mrs. Hudson hail a cab. I will get dressed and meet you downstairs within fifteen minutes." He paused just before closing his bedroom door, then asked, "Oh, Miss Trioni, you will be joining us, will you not?" She looked up in surprise and delight and offered, "If you will allow it, Mr. Holmes!" "Be sure not to keep us waiting," he advised as he closed his door. She turned to me, simply glowing, and offered, "Excuse me, Watson!," then she scurried off to her room. I completed the tasks which Holmes had assigned to me, then returned to the drawing room. For the life of me, I could not find my revolver. Holmes emerged from his bedroom, and I noticed that he had removed the sling from his arm. "Holmes! You really should be wearing it, for your arm to heal properly," I cautioned. "I agreed to no cast, but you go too far!" "I shall replace it when we return, Watson," he promised. "However, I have no intention of giving Kemp the satisfaction of seeing me wear it. Bad enough, I must use this walking stick as a cane." I nodded my understanding, then resumed my search for my gun. "I believe you are looking for this?," Holmes asked, offering my revolver. "Where on earth...," I replied. "It was on my dressing table. You must have mislaid it there," he explained. "Come, Watson! Kemp is waiting!" Placing the gun in my pocket, I followed, still trying to remember having put it on Holmes' dressing table. Finally, I abandoned my efforts. |
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| As we rode through the warehouse district of town, I could not help but feel uneasy. I had always thought the buildings in that area seemed unnecessarily cold and unattractive. With the knowledge of what my friend had endured within the basement of one such a building, I found the sight of them even more grotesque. I wondered, if they affected me in such a way, what hellish misery they held for Holmes. The carriage stopped at our destination. Before exiting to meet Lestrade, Holmes cautioned Miss Trioni. "I must have your word, Miss Trioni," he urged, "that you will stay well out of harm's way." "I will not leave your side, Mr. Holmes, for I can think of no safer place," she offered. "Very well," he smiled, then he moved to the door. "Lestrade, good to see you," Holmes announced as he stepped down from the carriage, abandoning his walking stick for the sake of his pride. "Same to you, Mr. Holmes, same to you," Lestrade replied, then he continued to wryly note, "You are lucky to be seeing anything at all, from what I understand. So glad you are able to join us." His tone held just a hint of superiority. Lestrade smiled more fully at Holmes' efforts as he gripped the carriage door more tightly to steady himself. "Thank you for allowing me the pleasure," Holmes offered quietly, aware that his difficulty had been noticed. "Hello there, Dr. Watson," Lestrade greeted as I stepped down from the carriage and he shook my hand. "Hello, Lestrade," I returned. "From the looks of our Mr. Holmes here, Doctor, I would say you are a miracle worker," he noted with a wry smile. "The credit goes entirely to him," I admitted with a chuckle, hoping to stifle his insufferable arrogance. I fear he did not hear me, however, as he was then staring past me to Miss Trioni. Helping her down from the carriage, Holmes introduced her, stating, "Chief Inspector Lestrade, may I present my secretary, Miss Mariana Trioni. Miss Trioni...Chief Inspector Charles Lestrade." "Chief Inspector Lestrade, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, though, I had hoped to do so under better circumstances," she smiled, offering her hand. Lestrade took it carefully and replied, "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Trioni, I am sure." "Did you enjoy your holiday?," she kindly asked. "My holiday? Oh...oh, yes. Thank you, yes, I did," he returned, stumbling over his tongue. "Perhaps, some evening, you will drop by, then, and tell us all about it?," she smiled warmly. "I would be delighted," Lestrade beamed, falling head over heels. I found the scene quite amusing. Holmes, however, did not. "If it is not too much to ask, may we postpone this little tea party until after we have completed our business?," Holmes asked sarcastically as he began to reach into the carriage for his walking stick in defeat. "Of course, Mr. Holmes. Please, forgive me," Miss Trioni quickly offered, then she moved to take his arm. She did so with a certain manner of style and ease, making it seem as though he had been reaching for her, rather than the stick, all along. Holmes tried to conceal his surprise, if not his delight. He walked with her to the door where Mycroft waited, allowing her to serve as his only support. I began following with Lestrade, but I was stopped by his hand upon my shoulder. "Tell me, Doctor...," he started, finally tearing his eyes from Miss Trioni. He did not continue to ask his question, having seen my smile. "Where does he get his luck?," he sighed. "Lestrade, I wish I knew," I admitted. When we reached the door, Mycroft informed us that Kemp and his two roughs were cornered in the basement. All exits had been sealed, and the building was surrounded by the finest men Lestrade had to offer. "We are ready to move in and take them as soon as you give the word, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade concurred. "Are they armed?," Holmes asked. "Yes, but they are well outnumbered. They will not put up much of a fight," Lestrade assured. Holmes looked to Miss Trioni, then offered, "Perhaps it would be best for you to proceed without us, Lestrade. However, when the danger has passed, I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with Mr. Kemp before he is removed from these premises." "Very good, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade agreed, then he moved into the building. "That really was not necessary, Mr. Holmes," Miss Trioni explained. "Miss Trioni, I would be a fool to allow you to go in there until I am assured they are unarmed," Holmes advised. "He is right, Mariana," Mycroft noted. She looked to me, and I nodded my agreement, as well. There was the sound of gunfire, then silence. Lestrade emerged from the door and announced, "We are ready for you now, Mr. Holmes." "Have all three been taken?," Holmes asked, moving into the building. "Regretfully, the two thugs were killed in the gunplay," Lestrade explained. "However, Mr. Kemp still remains. We are holding him in the basement. Shall we bring him up?" "No," Holmes advised. "We shall go down." I felt enormous respect for him at that moment, knowing the courage it had taken for him to choose to return to the site of his torture. We proceeded to the top of the steps which lead to the basement. "Mr. Holmes," Lestrade cautioned. "The two men who were shot are still down there. It is not a pretty sight." Holmes turned towards Miss Trioni and stated, "Perhaps it would be best if you waited here." He tried to slow his pulse which was, by then, beating quite rapidly. Miss Trioni smiled warmly and gently reminded, "I will not leave your side, Mr. Holmes." For a moment, Holmes did not speak. However, his gratitude showed in his smile. I noticed that Mycroft, too, was smiling at her remark. Finally, Holmes offered, "As you wish, Miss Trioni." He took a deep breath. Leading us with her on his arm, he descended the stairs. At the landing lay the bullet-ridden bodies of Big Tom McPherson and his usual companion. Holmes attempted to shield Miss Trioni's sight. However, he did not have enough time to do so. To his surprise, as well as mine, she looked upon the bodies with no emotion, whatsoever, showing upon her face, then she continued to walk without looking back. On the way to the area of the basement where Kemp was being held, we passed a table, on which lay several hypodermics and a large pair of vice grips. Seeing them caused Holmes to pause and shudder, unable to push the memories from his mind. Miss Trioni felt him tremble and held his arm a bit more securely. Leaning closer and whispering in his ear, she assured, "It is almost over, Mr. Holmes." Holmes quickly looked into her eyes, realizing for the first time that she knew, or at least suspected, all of the horrors which he had endured...even those which he would not discuss with me. Somehow, he drew strength from that knowledge, and he was able to move on. Finally, we reached Kemp, who stood between two of Lestrade's men. His hands were cuffed, and each of the armed constables held one of his arms. "Ah, Mr. Holmes. So, you did manage to escape, but not without some lovely memories, hey?," Kemp chuckled cruelly. "The only memory I shall savour of this brief affair is that of the sound of your neck as it breaks on the gallows," Holmes calmly replied. "Oh, I doubt that, Mr. Holmes...really," Kemp taunted. "And you, Miss Trioni. Surely, I have given you something to write home about. Or should I say, surely, Big Tom did?" Holmes nearly took a step forward, but Miss Trioni held his arm fast. She then met Kemp's gaze, and in a clear, serene voice, she replied, "Please, give Mr. McPherson my regards, Mr. Kemp...when you meet him in hell." Holmes could not help but smile at her remark, and the brief expression of horror which he perceived it evoked from Kemp, who quickly tried to mask his surprise. "Come now, Mr. Holmes. Is all of this really necessary?," Kemp asked as he motioned to his shackles and his two guards. "Surely, you feel safe enough now?" "Has he been searched?," Holmes asked. "Yes, but...," Lestrade replied. "Remove his handcuffs and instruct your men to release him," Holmes advised. "Holmes, are you sure?," I cautioned in a whisper. "Yes, Watson, but do keep him covered," he whispered in return. Taking my revolver from my pocket, I aimed it at Kemp's form. His handcuffs were removed, and he began to rub his wrists. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," he sneered. "You will do me the favour of answering one question in return," Holmes informed. "How did you persuade Miss Sophy Kratides to help you escape from prison?" Kemp chuckled in his evil way and replied, "In case you have forgotten, Mr. Holmes, you allowed her fiancee to suffer a most gruesome death. She needed no persuading, only the opportunity to repay you." "But, to what avail?," Holmes noted. "Latimer remains dead, a fact for which I would have thought she should be grateful. He did, after all, kill her brother." "Ah, Mr. Holmes," Kemp snickered. "A woman will go to many lengths for the man she loves, even if he is unaware of her efforts. Is that not correct, Miss Trioni?" His comment caused both myself and the guards to become distracted and look at Miss Trioni. Kemp seized the opportunity and grabbed a gun from one of the constables' holsters. Pointing the barrel of the pistol at Holmes, he snickered, "Go ahead, Doctor! Pull the trigger! But, first, say good-bye to your good friend and colleague, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." "Do it, Watson!," Holmes stated, no longer caring what his fate as long as Kemp was stopped. "Yes, Doctor, do it," he taunted, "And, we will all say a little prayer that I do not miss, and hit Miss Trioni." "Miss Trioni, move away from me," Holmes whispered. "Miss Trioni, you will stay precisely where you are until Dr. Watson drops his gun," Kemp warned. "Go!," Holmes ordered. "Do not be a fool, Mr. Holmes!," Kemp declared. "I will not allow her to live if she moves." Holmes gripped her arm tightly, then ordered, "Watson, drop your gun." Reluctantly, I did as he had commanded. "Very good, Doctor," Kemp grinned. "The rest of you, hands on your heads." The constables, Lestrade, and Mycroft all complied. "Now, go to Watson, Miss Trioni," Holmes instructed. "I will not leave your side," she informed. Holmes looked into her eyes at that moment, expecting to witness her understandable fear. In its stead, he saw the sheer courage and conviction which lied there. "This is all very touching. However, I am growing a bit impatient," Kemp scoffed. "Please, Miss Trioni," Holmes urged. "I can not," she trembled, not with terror, but with resolution. "Watson, take her!," Holmes snapped, pushing her away. I did as he had ordered, pulling her from harm's way. Holmes was left standing face to face with an enemy who was holding a gun, squarely aimed at his heart. "There, now. That was not so hard, was it, Mr. Holmes?," Kemp sneered. "You do see what a powerful tool emotions can be, yes?" "What is it you want, Kemp?," Holmes growled. Kemp laughed fiendishly, then explained, "What I wanted, Mr. Holmes, I am afraid you have denied me, on two occasions now. The last time we crossed paths, all I wanted was a fortune...a fortune that was easily within my grasp, until you interfered. This time, I wanted to see you suffer and die...slowly...painfully. It would appear you have succeeded in denying me that pleasure, as well. Now, a bullet through your heart will have to suffice." As he spoke, Miss Trioni slipped from my arms, then moved slowly and silently towards one of the constables who had previously been detaining Kemp. "But, surely, you realize that you can not escape," Holmes stated. "It is a pity, I will admit," Kemp snarled. "However, it will be enough for me to know that you are dead!" He pulled back the hammer of the pistol. At the sound of its "click", Miss Trioni drew the gun from the holster of the constable beside whom she had moved to stand. "No!," she shouted. The sound of her cry was muffled by that of the four shots which were fired. Holmes' body fell to the floor, as did Kemp's. As the smoke cleared, and the shock passed, Miss Trioni dropped the gun from her hand and ran to Holmes. Helping him to a seated position, she asked, "Are you all right, Mr. Holmes?" Examining the upper part of his broken arm, he answered, "The bullet only grazed the skin...but...what..." He paused to look at the spot where Kemp had previously been standing and saw his body lying upon the floor. Breaking my trance, I moved to check on Holmes. Then, seeing that he would be all right, I moved to Kemp. I felt for a pulse, but there was none. "He is dead, Holmes," I announced, greatly relieved by the fact. Holmes sat, staring at Miss Trioni with awe and confusion, as Mycroft moved forward to join me. "But, Miss Trioni...how? You said you do not care for guns," Holmes reminded. "That does not mean that I do not know how to use one," she replied. Holmes was speechless for one of the very few times he could remember. "We should be going now, Mr. Holmes," she continued to advise. "This wound may not be serious, but it should be treated. Chief Inspector Lestrade, may we leave, please?" "Of course, Miss Trioni," Lestrade answered softly. He, too, had come to stand beside me by Kemp's corpse and, seeing what Mycroft and I had seen, he was unable to muster his full voice. "Thank you, Chief Inspector," Miss Trioni offered. Helping Holmes to his feet, she encouraged, "Come, Mr. Holmes," with a warm smile. Holmes began to follow her request. However, he was forced to stop at my suggestion. "Holmes...I think you should see this," I called. "Yes, Watson, of course," he agreed. Turning again to face her, he encouraged, "Miss Trioni, would you be so kind as to wait for us in the carriage. We shan't be but a minute." "Very well, Mr. Holmes. But, a minute...no longer," she warned with a slight smile. She ascended the stairs, and Holmes moved to join me, Mycroft, and Lestrade. "What is it, Watson?," he asked. I pointed down at the body, and he followed my hand with his eyes. The sight caused him to drop slowly to his knees for a closer look. The first bullet was lodged in the center of Kemp's forehead, and the other two, directly in his heart. Holmes raised his face towards me to reveal the expression of shock that was there upon it. Finally, with a faint smile, he rose to his feet and stated, "We had best not keep the lady waiting, gentlemen." |
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| As we rode to Baker Street in our carriage, I found it even more remarkable than the fact, itself, that Miss Trioni made no mention of her accomplishment. She had saved Holmes' life, and possibly others, as well. However, her only concern seemed to be the gash upon his upper arm. We arrived at our flat after dropping Mycroft at his club, and she immediately insisted on helping me tend Holmes' wound before doing anything else. I, of course, deferred to her wishes. Upon finishing our task, she smiled softly at Holmes and urged, "Now, you will keep this arm in a sling, won't you, Mr. Holmes? It would be a pity to risk your ability to play the violin, if it does not heal correctly." "Yes. Thank you, Miss Trioni," he agreed. Then, returning her smile, he added, "And, thank you for saving my life." "You are welcome, Mr. Holmes," she replied as nonchalantly as if she had poured him a cup of tea. Noting their smiles, I decided it was as good a time as any to give their relationship a well-deserved nudge. "I believe I will go and tell Mrs. Hudson that we are ready for our dinner," I announced, rising from the table where we had dressed Holmes' wound. "Oh, I will do that, Watson," Miss Trioni offered, trying to flee. It was obvious to me that she was still somewhat concerned as to what Holmes might say to her, despite what she had done. I found that her ridiculous concerns only served to reinforce my directive. "No, Miss Trioni, please," I offered as I stopped her, placing my hand upon her arm. "I believe Mr. Holmes would like a word with you." I continued to move towards the door. They both looked at me in horror as I left the room, closing the door in my wake. I listened for a moment once outside. The silence was deafening. I set off for the kitchen, hoping that, by the time I returned, things would be settled, but wondering what I would do if they were not. "Well, Mr. Holmes?," Miss Trioni finally asked without meeting his gaze. Her voice trembled slightly, despite her efforts. Holmes rose from the table and moved to stand at his favourite window, searching his mind for the right words. "Relax and be yourself, Holmes," he mumbled beneath his breath. "I am sorry, I did not hear...," she attempted to offer. "Miss Trioni, it has come to my attention...," Holmes began. "Yes, Mr. Holmes?," she encouraged. "Over the past several days," Holmes continued, "certain events which have transpired indicate to me that..." He paused and thought, "No, no, no! It sounds all wrong!," and he began to grow angry with himself. He turned to face her and tried again, offering, "What I mean to say is..." The words were caught in his throat. The longer he looked at her, the tighter it became. "It is all right, Mr. Holmes," she smiled faintly. "You do not have to say it." She tried to choke back her tears and fought to keep her voice steady. "I do not?," Holmes asked, a little surprised and greatly relieved as he moved slowly towards his chair. "No, Mr. Holmes," she explained. "Watson has forewarned me...you have remembered." "Remembered?," he repeated in confusion. "That it was not a dream," she softly offered. The realization hit him so hard, he nearly lost his balance. Holmes moved slowly to sit in his chair in and effort to steady his nerves. She rose from her seat and moved towards him in an attempt to explain. Her eyes began to tear, despite her efforts, as she offered, "Oh, Mr. Holmes, please, forgive me? I only meant to ease your pain. I never intended to go so far. I did not mean to offend you." "Offend me?! My dear Miss Trioni, hardly that!," Holmes tried to advise. Her tears began to flow even more freely as she hurried to continue, "You must think me shameful, but, please, Mr. Holmes...you must believe me. I was quite unaware of what was happening, myself. I had no idea how overwhelming my own feelings could be. I swear, I meant no harm. I give you my word, it will not happen again. Only, please, do not send me away...at least, not until I have seen you make a full recovery?" As she had made her plea, she had moved from the table, and she was then kneeling on the floor before his chair, clutching his hand in a last, desperate attempt to gain his forgiveness. "My dear Miss Trioni, please!," Holmes advised. "It is I who should be kneeling to you!" He stood and turned her around, then gently pushed her down, into his chair. Slowly, as not to tear his stitches, he knelt before her. "Mr. Holmes, you shouldn't...," she tried to caution. He pressed his forefinger to her lips to stop her efforts. Then, wiping her tears, he explained, "You have said your piece, now you must allow me to say mine." She nodded her acceptance, and he lowered his hand to take hers as he offered, "First, I wish to tell you, as I have once before, that I have never...never for one moment...imagined you to be anything less than a lady...even after knowing the truth about the other evening." "Thank you, Mr. Holmes," she stated, composing herself. "Second," Holmes proceeded. "I have no intention of asking you to leave. Not now...not ever." Fresh tears began falling from her eyes. However, this time, they were caused by her joy. "Oh, Mr. Holmes, thank you!," she offered heartily. "I promise, you shall not regret it. I knew, if I explained, you might..." Her relief gave way to nervous chatter, and she tried to rise as she offered it, but Holmes gripped her hand more firmly, preventing her intention. "Woman, would you please allow me to finish?!," he urged. His raised volume and angry tone caused her to stop in mid-sentence and abandon any attempt to stand. "Of course, Mr. Holmes," she agreed, visibly worried by his impatience. "Forgive me, Miss Trioni," he explained more calmly, "but it is difficult enough to find the words without having to wait for you to hear them." "I am sorry, Mr. Holmes. Please, continue," she encouraged. Holmes hesitated. Having her full attention, he began to feel quite inadequate. Finally, he gathered his nerve and resumed, "As I was saying, I do not wish for you to leave. In fact, I would be greatly honoured if you would stay, and..." He swallowed hard. "And, consider giving me your permission to court you properly." He lowered his gaze and sat back upon his heels, knowing that, if he looked into her face, she would see his enormous fear of rejection. Miss Trioni’s mouth fell slightly open with fascination. Softly, she allowed, "Why, Mr. Holmes...it is I who am honoured that you would ask. You have my permission, sir." Holmes looked up into her face, then she smiled warmly and added, "And much, much more." Holmes was fairly numb with elation. He raised her right hand to his lips and gently kissed it, then pressed it to his heart as he offered, "Thank you, Miss Trioni." Raising her free hand to his cheek, she tilted his face towards her own and whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes." Then, leaning forward in his chair, ever so lightly, she kissed his lips. Afterwards, she straightened herself back into his chair and smiled warmly. Holmes was no longer numb. Getting to his feet slowly, he released her hand, and raised his own to the back of her neck. Entwining his fingers in her hair, he gently pulled her to rise along with him. Then, pulling her softly towards him, he closed his eyes, and kissed her lips soundly. She made no effort to resist, but held him close. |
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| "I believe Mr. Holmes and Miss Trioni will also prefer the cold roasted beef sandwiches to the stew, Mrs. Hudson...but I will inquire, just the same," I explained as we climbed the stairs together. "I thought it best to ask, Doctor," she noted. "It has been such a warm day, not at all usual weather for the middle of May. An indication of what's to come, I would say." We reached the drawing room door and I opened it to find them embracing and engaging in a kiss. I closed the door quietly, certain that they had not noticed the near intrusion at all. Turning back towards Mrs. Hudson, I advised with a smile, "It would appear you are correct, Mrs. Hudson. It promises to be a long, hot summer." |
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