Disadvantageous

Chapter 33

Sherlock rapped impatiently on the front door, taking the time that it took for Mr. Simon to answer to survey the surrounding area. It was unlikely that the newly titled Mrs. Simon was forcibly taken from this location, she must have left the house willingly. The neighbourhood consisted of large gardens, with very little in the way of tall foliage to conceal what was happening in each neighbour's front garden. Anything that happened at Mr. Simon's house would have been observed by those in the surrounding area.

The door suddenly opened, bringing Sherlock's attention to the man answering the door. They had only communicated previously via the internet, so seeing him in person offered a lot more in the way of deduction. Sherlock had been correct about the age, early forties, though he would now solidify his estimate at forty-one years. He was a bit of a neat freak, a trait passed down to him by his own father, and couldn't bare if even a wrinkle appeared in his cleanly pressed shirts. He and Mrs. Simon had been together now for five years and she was two years his senior. They met while he was on a business trip in London and she was on holiday and she decided to move up to Adare with him.

Sherlock was so caught up in his deductions that he failed to hear Mr. Simon when he asked to confirm that he was Sherlock Holmes, but was quickly snapped out of it when John jabbed his side with his elbow.

"Yeah, this is Sherlock Holmes," John answered for him, giving Sherlock a look to pay attention. But Sherlock was paying attention, just not to the unimportant things like useless conversation. "I'm Dr. John Watson. May we come in?"

"Oh, of course, right this way," Mr. Simon spoke, a little flustered by everything happening. Sherlock concluded that he had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance.

Mr. Simon led them through the foyer into a small sitting room, lavishly furnished, most likely by his wife rather than Mr. Simon himself. Sherlock took a seat on the couch and gestured for Mr. Simon to take the chair facing him. A bit uncertainly, Mr. Simon complied with Sherlock's silent request and looked up at him expectantly.

"Mr. Simon, I'm going to ask you a few routine questions, but it is vital that you answer them as truthfully and in as much detail as possible. Understood?" Sherlock began his interrogation, though he already had suspicions as to what happened to his wife.

Mr. Simon nodded in response, "Of course, Mr. Holmes. I just want to have Harriet back with me, or, if I cannot, I wish to bring her murderer to justice."

"Murderer? I do not believe anyone has said anything about there being a murder."

"Mr. Holmes, they found her wedding dress floating in the river. I know there are officers out there right now scouring the water for her body. It is dreadful to think of, but I am not naive enough to pretend that there is not a possibility that she was killed."

"And who do you think would want to murder your wife?" Sherlock humoured him, leaning back into the cushions of the couch.

Mr. Simon shook his head, "I've no idea. Harriet was the sweetest woman I had ever met. I can't imagine anyone would have a personal grudge against her."

"And how much do you know of her life before meeting you?"

"She didn't talk much of her past, Mr. Holmes. I do believe something traumatic must have happened to her when she was living in America. She has no desires to return to the country, even on holiday. Do you think that is connected to her death?"

Sherlock chose not to answer that question and instead chose to pose his own. "And was your wife acting strangely on the day of the wedding?"

"No, not at all. I mean, she seemed a bit jittery, but I am sure that was all just the nerves. Have you ever been married, Mr. Holmes?"

"I have little time for things as trivial as marriage. Please, do describe your wife's abnormal behaviour to me."

"Abnormal? No, Mr. Holmes, you misunderstand. It is true that Harriet didn't always act in that nature, but her behaviour was certainly not abnormal for a bride on her wedding day. She seemed a bit nervous, perhaps a little over excited. It can be a stressful thing, a marriage. Though I had thought those nerves tended to melt away as the ceremony proceeded."

"And hers did not?"

"No, if anything, she was more on edge during the reception afterwards. Perhaps it was caused by finally experiencing the event she had been planning for months and nervously hoping that it would all be as perfect as she dreamed."

"Was there anything specific that happened, or was it just overall nervous behaviour?"

"No, I do not think I could pinpoint a specific action. It was just the normal jitters. At one point she dropped a glass of champagne that a server offered her and became a little flustered by that. Then she would be engaged in a conversation and start zoning off, missing what people were telling her. She was a bit caught up in her own mind, I'm afraid."

"And after the reception?"

Mr. Simon frowned, "what do you mean?"

"It is often customary for a couple to consummate their marriage after the reception, is it not?"

"Mr. Holmes, are you asking me if we had sex?"

"Yes."

Mr. Simon shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet Sherlock's penetrating gaze, "no, we didn't. She claimed she wasn't feeling up to it, had too much cake. She decided to go out for a walk instead. She never came back."

Sherlock stood abruptly from his seat, "well thank you for your time, Mr. Simon. We will find your wife, all we need is a few hours."

"Then you know where she is? Is she alive, Mr. Holmes?" Mr. Simon called out after him as he made his way out of the house, John following him in his normal state of confusion.

Sherlock did not answer the desperate questions of Mr. Simon, but instead left the house and crossed the street to talk to the neighbour who had been watching as John and Sherlock arrived. John hurried to keep up with Sherlock's long strides and asked, "Sherlock, do you really know where Mrs. Simon is?"

"No, I don't. But I know who she's with," he replied vaguely, rapping on the neighbour's front door.

It took only a minute for the man to answer the door, informing Sherlock that he had been at his post, watching John and Sherlock depart Mr. Simon's house. He looked a little taken aback to see Sherlock Holmes on his doorstep, however, and nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You must be the detective looking into Harriet's disappearance, right?" The neighbour asked, trying to keep a casual facade.

Sherlock nodded, "you saw her leave last night, didn't you? Why didn't you say anything to the police?"

"I-I didn't want to get involved, sir. She got into a car with another man, a rather curious thing to do the evening of your marriage. I didn't want to ruin her image, when it was probably nothing serious."

"Can you describe this man?"

"I didn't really get a good look at him, I'm afraid. He was probably about her age with dark hair, but he remained in the car the whole time so I didn't see much. Oh, but he was wearing something formal, like a uniform or I suppose he may have been a guest at the wedding. I couldn't say for sure."

"Thank you, you have been most helpful. Perhaps next time you should chose not to withhold evidence from an active investigation," Sherlock spoke curtly, turning on his heal and returning to the car that he and John had rented upon their arrival.

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(A/N): I was supposed to post this yesterday but I just started a new medicine for my anxiety and we were having a bad mental health day because of it, hence the delay. However, I hope to still post a chapter tomorrow so I don't get off schedule!