The Flower Seller ( WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 21

Nicole's guests at Park Street were already in the dining room when she entered. Waverly gave her a look to ask where she had been. She merely smiled, knowing this was where she most wanted to be. Sherlock waved a bread roll around as he worked through his theories on Reordan, Nicole taking a seat next to Waverly, finding her hand under the table. "Where were you?" Waverly whispered.

"I needed...I went to see Watson," she whispered back.

"Did you see the species of plant in the window?" Sherlock interrupted. "I believe that was used to make whatever Reordan administered to Blackwood. His sleep of death potion."

"If Reordan was working for Blackwood," Nicole clarified, "why kill him?"

"I suspect he was of no further use. Or, too knowledgeable."

"Why did you see him?" Waverly whispered.

"I'll tell you later."

"Blackwood plays by his own rules," Sherlock continued. "He wants everyone to believe he has the power to come back to life. In a way he did. But, through the use of science, not by some occult practise which would render him immortal."

"Romeo and Juliet," Nicole observed. "Take thou this vial, being then in bed. And this distilled liquor drink thou off. When presently through all thy veins shall run a cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse shall keep his native progress, but surcease. No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest."

"I always wondered if such a sleeping liquor might exist to give the impression of death. We have our proof in Blackwood."

"He cheated death," Nicole added, "by making it appear he was dead."

"Precisely. As Shakespeare put it, each part, deprived of supple government, shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death. And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death thou shalt continue two and forty hours. And then awake as from a pleasant sleep."

"So he pretended to be dead through whatever Reordan gave him."

Sherlock nodded. "I must say I'm rather disappointed Reordan ended up in that coffin. I would have thoroughly enjoyed conversing with him on this matter."

Nicole closed her eyes, walking through the room where Reordan had his laboratory. "That might explain the frogs. What about the pig carcasses?"

"Still working on those."

"Does it require a return to Reordan's rooms?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I suggest we focus our efforts on finding Blackwood."

Alice interrupted their conversation, unhappy at not being allowed another piece of fruit. Wynonna suggested she might take her upstairs to give her a bath and read to her, Waverly squeezing Nicole's hand. "I'm feeling a little tired myself," Nicole said, squeezing Waverly's hand in return. "I might retire for the evening."

No sooner had she entered her bedroom when there was a soft tapping on her door. "I'm not in," she said.

"It's me," came the voice.

"Who?"

"Me. Let me in, or we're both done for." Waverly huffed as she entered. "You knew it was me."

"I did."

"Why did you speak with Watson?"

"I didn't know who else," she replied, removing her dress, laying it on a chair for her maid to hang up.

"For what?" Waverly asked, watching as Nicole slipped out of her camisole, and then an over petticoat with an elaborately embroidered hem.

"I needed someone who understood why I might be frustrated with Sherlock," she continued, unfastening her hooped skirt, letting it fall.