Scandal's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction)

Chapter Five

I had expected my workload to increase with the arrival of Holmes and Watson, but it didn't happen. Mrs. Hudson informed me that now that the two lodgers were back I was not to got near the flat unless ordered, as Mr. Holmes disliked anyone moving papers, even if the dust had accumulated. Also, I was to be ready carry up tea at any time that they called for it.

Those first few days the two men were in and out at all hours. It was as if someone had put up a sign announcing the detective's return for people came every day. It gave me an opportunity to observe Sherlock Holmes. The tall man had so many sides to him. I saw him comfort a distraught old woman seeking news of her grandson, lost in the army. In the same day, I stared as he completely intimidated and looked down on a young man who'd lost a family heirloom at a gambling table.

A strange game sprang up between me and the great detective. Every evening, when I came up to take away the tea things, Holmes would make a comment on what I had done that day. The first night he said, "I see you have been scrubbing floors, Mary. Hard work."

Dr. Watson glared at him reproachfully. "It is," I answered, trying in vain not to smile. "As you see, it's left its mark on my skirt."

Holmes nodded once and returned to whatever he was studying in his chemical tubes. Watson shook his head as I left. As I stood outside the door, I heard the doctor say, "You seem to have an interest in our little maid, Holmes. Any particular reason why?"

"She has a quick mind, especially for a female. She has been raised as a lady but is now in straightened conditions. She is not what she seems, Watson."

He said no more and I frowned as I walked away. Did he suspect me? I put the thought out of my mind. The character I was playing, though more and more of my true self seemed to come peeking through when I was in his presence, merely puzzled the great detective.

After that, before I would go up, I would search for the clues he would see about me and try to get rid of them. Only once did he baffle me by how he knew what I had done that day, which had been baking. My frown of consternation made him laugh out loud as I searched my clothing for any stray speck of flour.

"The smell, Mary," he finally said. "I smelled Mrs. Hudson's muffins when I came in this afternoon. As she is to stay off her foot, I therefore concluded that you were in fact the baker of the day."

"I see," I said slowly, making a note of the new rule. I had been step to step with his deductions, and I suspected I would need to be on my toes to keep up from now on. "I should have thought of that."

"Carry on, Mary," Holmes instructed, turning to a telegram I had brought up.

Also, a few days after Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson had returned, I was singing a French lullaby as I dusted in he hallway. I took a step back and hit someone. Yelping, I spun around to find Mr. Holmes standing behind me. "Was there something I could do, sir?" I asked.

He denied it, in French, and left me to continue my work. And after that, at least once a day the detective would address a remark to me in a foreign language. I knew the usual ones, French, Italian, and German. But the day he made a comment on the weather in Bohemian, and I responded, I knew I was about to get tested on lesser known languages.

I'd picked up many languages as my parents traveled often. There, at least, I matched Mr. Holmes.

It was an exhilarating and engaging time.

Col. Forest's complaints increased with his neighbors back and it felt like I was incapable of doing a single thing right. Coming on the heels of telegrams denying my parents' presence at several estates, I was feeling very low and frustrated on one evening. Standing in the hallway with the remains of the colonel's tea, I struggled to keep from throwing the tray at the man's door. I wanted to scream and cry and kick my feet like a spoiled child.

"Are you all right, Mary?"

Startled, I looked up to find Sherlock Holmes standing in his doorway, pipe in hand. "I'm fine, sir," I responded, straightening my spine. I took a deep breath. "Is there something you need, sir?"

"I heard the good colonel snapping at you," Mr. Holmes said by way of explanation. He paused. "If you wish, I may be able to help you find a situation more suitable to your talent."

Was that a hint that I needed to trust him with everything? "Mr. Holmes, I am just turned fourteen," I answered tiredly. I managed a slight smile at his almost imperceptible surprise. "I am not old enough or experienced for any position save for that of a housemaid. So I will stumble my way through as best as I can."

He nodded, acknowledging my reasoning. "The colonel really needs to see Watson about his gouty foot. Mrs. Hudson speaks well of you," he commented, changing the subject on me without even pausing for breath. I wondered when he had spoken to the housekeeper. "She says as you are an orphan, you are lonely for your family."

It was not a question, so I made no answer. With the lack of communication from my parents, I was certainly feeling like an orphan. I got the feeling Mr. Holmes was studying me. "I miss my mother's voice," I finally said, breaking the silence. "She used to sing to me."

"As you sing?" Holmes asked, looking strangely interested.

"She was much better than I," I replied honestly. "Good night, Mr. Holmes."

I could feel him watching me as I made my way to the stairs. The conversation had made my homesickness stronger than I could bear. As I entered the kitchen, I suddenly heard the strains of a melody being played on a violin. A smile curved my lips and I set to work with my final chores of the evening.

I don't know exactly how long he played, but I drifted asleep to the sweet sound of the violin. Not only that night, but the following night as well.

A/N: Shorter than my other chapters, but the best place to end it.