A CASE OF DOUBLE VISION

Chapter Eleven--Determined Women

"No, I'm afraid a protracted hospital stay will do her no good at all, especially at that cottage hospital. Have you seen the filthy rabble they dare to call their 'staff'? It appears scullery maids are in short supply around here as they've found plenty of employment tending to patients and are now busy scrubbing bedpans instead of cast iron pots. That Dr. Methuselah fellow is quite the crone, his practice is still full of leeches and bloodletting, I'm sure of it. Absolutely not an appropriate facility, I'm more akin to align myself with your brother's assessment that her condition is psychological in nature which makes this intriguing case one that is, simply put, customized for me to take over."

Dr. Watson poked at the dry, crusty cake in front of him with his fork, the icing flaking off in a likewise unpalatable powder. Mrs. Healey had resumed her baking duties, much to the sadness of everyone within Holmes Manor. With a sad sigh, he pushed the plate away. "This partitioning of personality that she is experiencing is extremely rare, and from what I hear from fellow colleagues it is usually brought about by severe trauma. The defining event is so disturbing that the mind is forced to create a defense against it, an emotional barrier, to put it simply." He took a large gulp of his tea, thought about the slice of cake again, and then pushed it away again with a sense of frustrated disappointment. "Determining that trauma should prove to be quite fascinating. I would be remiss if I did not at least attempt to write a paper on her."

Mycroft was more than a little annoyed as he hadn't been consulted about Miss Stanislov's new living arrangements and felt he had enough madness on his hands with Sherlock, who now had free reign of the estate despite his scarring outburst. Mycroft rubbed his shoulder which was now an itching scab. Dr. Watson had assured him that Sherlock no longer posed a danger to himself or others and they could all breathe easier, the delusions were well at bay. He listened intently to Dr. Watson and the ensuing conversation with Lestrade, eager to believe.

"I agree," Lestrade replied, in higher spirits than he had been in quite some time. "I have to admit when I first witnessed that odd shimmer I did entertain a supernatural event, one that made me quake in my boots. I'm a religiously logical man, as you all know, but I'd be ignorant I stated that I know all the workings of the universe. How can it be that every culture on the globe entertains stories of demons and spooks? They're under every bloody rock in Japan." He paused, thinking on it. "Logic dictates that there has to be a reason for this, and not just idle superstition explaining why rain falls or why the wind exists. The suggestion there is more beyond the human realm is so universal it cannot be ignored. This whole doppelganger and skinwalker ...Thing–-There's something about it that chills me to my core and I ain't hardly one to get chills over n'owt." He pulled a piece of cake offered to him by Betsy towards him, fork at the ready. "But I am a man of facts. And what I did not immediately see when I witnessed her 'shimmer' was the mirror at the back of the classroom and the reflective nature of the flickering lamp upon it. What I truly saw was my eye's detection of refracted light scattered before it, nothing more."

He frowned as he took a forkful of cake and spat it out into his napkin. He sighed, frowning over his fork before he took the piece of silver he'd found out of his side pocket and balanced it along his knuckles like a magician. "Speaking of strange superstitions and magic, do you recall Dr. Watson, of any instance where coins are tossed into a fireplace for good luck?"

Dr. Watson shook his head. "Never. The very metaphor of such an act goes against the concept of wealth and the only reason I could see such an act performed is to sabotage the household."

"How do you mean?" Mycroft asked, curious.

"It smacks of 'cottage magic'. Tossing a coin into the fire to make the wealth of the house burn up."

Lestrade pondered this. "So you find it unlikely that anyone would toss a coin into the fire. Not even to pay the flames for the Devil's favour?"

"I would hardly trust the Devil to bank my currency and certainly not so cheaply."