Morphine || The Niece Of Sherlock Holmes

- Prologue -

"Alaina!"

I carefully crept over the forest floor, weaving between trees, watching my footing to ensure I didn't stand on any of the amber leaves which might crunch and reveal where I was. I heard her footsteps getting closer and I looked around for an escape, the branches were so entwined it was impossible to get further into the forest without making a sound so I began to climb.

"Alaina? Où es-tu?" her voice rang again. I grasped the bark above and pulled myself up onto a sturdier branch where I sat for a few minutes, waiting for her to come into sight. The sun was nearing closer to the hills and the sky had transformed into a beautiful orange and I watched as the birds flew across it, finding their shelter for the night as in the distance there was a dark, gloomy cloud, predicting a storm. Suddenly I saw her peering around trees, searching. Eudora Beaumont: Her long dark hair had been tied into a messy plait to keep it from catching on the branches and it contrasted with her pale skin but complimented her dark, golden eyes, the only trait I had seemed to not inherit.

As soon as she had walked past the tree I was sat in I jumped down and landed on a twig which unfortunately snapped loudly and her head whipped around to see me then she began to laugh as I made an attempt to get away but she could always run faster than me. She began to tickle me mercilessly and I shrieked but gave up trying to escape and we both ended up in a fit of laughter.

"Come along, mon chéri." We began to walk back home but I noticed the dreary cloud edging closer above us and it wasn't long until the rain began. I eventually got sight of our humble, wisteria covered cottage and we rushed inside to hang our coats over metal rack by the fireplace as the storm worsened.

"You should see the storms in Paris," my mother told me, "lightening would always strike la tour Eiffel."

"Can we go to Paris, Maman?"

She smiled and sat down next to me on the sofa and wrapped an arm around me, allowing me to snuggle closer to her, "one day, mon amour. Soon, once we have enough money, perhaps next year for your ninth birthday." I smiled and she kissed the top of my head and we looked out the window to see the bright sparks of light shoot from the sky into the ground and watched as trees were pushed from side-to-side by the strong wind. After a particularly loud crack of thunder I looked away from the window, scared, and my eyes fell to the upright piano in the corner of the room. It wasn't too fancy and had been there a few years now; apparently it was a gift from an old friend which made sense since it seemed far too grand for her to afford. Suddenly the lights cut out, leaving only the fireplace to illuminate the room. Occasionally this would happen during a storm and Maman would usually have to go to check whether a tree had fallen on the power-lines to be sure a fire didn't start in the woods. The storm was so bad that I hoped she wouldn't go but with the village so close to the trees it was safest if somebody checked. She got up and grabbed her coat which was still dripping and had caused a small puddle to form under the rack it had been hung on and she kissed my forehead.

"I won't be long, go to bed and I'll wake you when I'm back," she said, knowing how I liked her to let me know when she was home safe, "Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime," I repeated then she slipped on her boots and left, closing the door firmly after her. I rummaged around in the kitchen drawer for matches and lit a candle to help me see up the stairs. My bed faced the window so over the next few hours I lay there watching the lightening which would frequently strike near and light up my room. I didn't have a clock but I knew it had been several hours since the candle had almost completely burnt so I blew it out and pulled my blanked over my head, trying to muffle the enormous roar of the thunder.

I woke up to silence which was a pleasant relief from the storm last night however I knew something wasn't right. Usually I could hear the sizzling from a saucepan or the piano, never silence. I got up and went to Maman's room, her bed hadn't been slept in, perhaps she had slept on the sofa so I made my way down the stairs hoping to see that she was sat in the armchair reading her favourite book: To Kill a Mockingbird, but the room was empty.