A CASE OF DOUBLE VISION

Chapter Seven--Men Of Letters

Opting for breakfast in bed was a special treat that Mycroft only afforded himself on the rarest of occasions, and while there was nothing special about this morning he awoke tired and and unwilling to work, his limbs lazy as the cold morning air hit him through the open window. Sunlight petered in with a gentle caress against the thin cotton curtains. Just beyond the open window he could see the lush green of the rolling, mossy hills of the Holmes estate and the corner of the arboretum, where a tropical tree pushed against the tall top of the thin glass cage it had been planted and cared for in. There was no hint of the chaos that had happened only three nights ago, nor of the threat of murder within the village, nor the encroaching servant crisis that threatened to topple the management of Holmes manor completely. Mrs. Hoot had declined their offer of a servant's position as she was now no longer a housekeeper and was promoted by Mrs. Littlebaum into a secretarial position which paid better and left her with more time to care for her six children. She was now residing in a small house near Mayor Littlebaum's estate, a four bedroom cottage that accommodated her brood perfectly. It was a considerable act of kindness on the part of the Littlebaums, which seemed odd considering the current circumstances. The insurance money had already arrived, and since her late husband had been murdered she had been paid handsomely and she truly was in no need of further charity. Mr. Hoot had proved himself to be far more useful in death.

A pile of letters were placed beside his teacup and he sighed over them as he opened them with his letter opener one by one and stacked them in order of importance. There were several from fellow judges, no doubt full of complaints about their new posts, at least from the older set, while the young judges (who were far better educated in law) were excited over the progress being made. Though the old guard had significantly improved since the distant age of Sir George Jeffreys and his Bloody Assizes, there still smacked that sense of self importance and ignorance that had little place in the halls of law. Mycroft was not so influential to receive correspondence from the Viscount Alverstone, but he was interested in the Alaska border problem which was becoming an increasing concern for Canada. He was hoping some of his fellow peers would mention it and thus give a better understanding of the conflict.

The door adjoining to Lestrade's bedroom slid open and Lestrade bounded in wearing only his housecoat and a pair of wool slippers, ending with a flop beside Mycroft on the bed and near spilling his tea. He stole one of Mycroft's cucumber sandwiches and propped himself up on the pillow beside him as he spilled crumbs into the bedding. "I suspect a long, humdrum of a day ahead, Mycroft, and I'm convinced the criminal element is conspiring to keep me bloody bored out of my tree. What say you to putting down these blasted letters and coming with me into the village to see what mischief we can drum up? Or better yet, another trip, this time in the bright truth of daylight, to that boarding school. I'm curious about this Russian mathematics teacher that Harriette and Mary are now so creepily obsessed with."

Mycroft raised a brow and opened another letter. It was a brief description of the continued destruction of the Old Bailey and the subsequent curiosity that was the Roman wall that was revealed to be a support structure. It predated England itself and was causing quite a stir among historians, and perhaps the criminals were enthralled as well for there were fewer incidents of murder and fraud than usual this time of year, though of course infanticide was up. The sudden appearance of the wall had given London a strange sense of unity as all walks of life journeyed to look at it and marvel at how a couple of thousand years had transpired and still this stood, way before anything they could judge as their great city's history. A deep root had been placed within the collective imagination and it was interesting to Mycroft to see how it developed.

"I thought you had two murders to investigate?"

Lestrade pished at this and flopped into an even lazier position on the mattress. "Stuff and bother. Nothing at all to see until there's a third victim, which will probably happen soon. For now, all I can do is wait it out and it's so *boring*!"