Scandal's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction)

Chapter Seven

"Mary?" Mrs. Hudson called. "Are you all right?"

Slipping my coat off, I stood up and went back to her. "I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson," I said. "Has Colonel Forest rang for tea?"

"No," Mrs. Hudson responded. She was dressed in what I believe was her finest dress and coat. "I'm going out to meet a friend. Would you hail a cab for me?"

Smiling, I hurried to obey. And, when I had a cab waiting, I helped her up the steps. "Everyone is out, Mary," Mrs. Hudson informed me. "I have everything ready for their dinners and tea. Keep yourself inside."

She was still concerned about me. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson," I said. I stepped back and watched the cab set off down the street. I glanced around, but saw no sign of my shadow. If I had lost him on my rush to return to Baker Street, or even if he had managed to follow me back, I knew it would not be long before the boy found Holmes and the detective would be back to demand the truth from me.

In between halfhearted attempts to perform my duties as a maid, I gathered all the telegrams I had received. I added to that my list of homes my parents were visiting. Once Mr. Holmes returned, I resolved to hand it all to him. I felt bad about leaving Mrs. Hudson with no maid, but it was time for my masquerade had gone on too long as it was.

It was nearing six o'clock, and none of 221 Baker Street's residents had returned, which was a little odd. I made myself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen sipping it. All the sudden there was a low creak in the house that nearly made my heart stop. I held my breath, listening closely.

I didn't hear anything, and when I tried to laugh my uneasiness away, it didn't work. If anything, I became even more frightened. I had the intense feeling of being watched. When the doorbell rang, I nearly screamed. "Fool," I chided, getting to my feet. My heart was still racing when I got to the door.

"Telegram for Mr. Holmes," the boy on the doorstep told me.

Smiling, I accepted the small envelope and handed him a coin. I closed the door and turned to go up the stairs to leave the message for Mr. Holmes. Even now, I felt like I was being watched. I resisted the impulse to lock myself in my room until someone returned, and put my foot on the first step.

A thick hand came over my mouth and nose. "Miss Norton," an oddly familiar voice hissed in my ear. Struggling to get free, to breathe, I tried unsuccessfully to place the voice. "I've been looking for you."

It wasn't 'Johns', or even Barry. Mr. Holmes' telegram fell from my fingers. My mind was fighting panic, running through every self defense lesson my father had taught me. Then, I remembered the advice mother had given me once. I went limp against the man who was slowly suffocating me.

His grip loosened slightly. Reacting, I rammed my elbow into his stomach. He grunted in pain and I twisted free. I sucked in a glorious full breath of air as I scrambled around him. I turned to face my attacker and my eyes widened in shock. "No," I mouthed, not able to actually speak. "You?"

He was tall, dressed as a street worker, but I would have recognized him anywhere. John Simmons, man I had identified as being a murderer at school, here, it would seem, to murder me now. I opened my mouth to scream for help. Surely someone on the street would hear me. But, I couldn't get enough air in my lungs.

Simmons, though I was beginning to wonder if that was really his name, came at me and closed his hands around my neck. He laughed as I clawed at his hands and wrists. I started to see spots in front of my eyes. My mind was in a panic. No one would come in time. I'd be found dead before I had a chance to tell Mr. Holmes the truth. My strength was waning quickly. I heard a door open, though the sound seemed to come from far away. There were voices, but I couldn't distinguish what they were saying. As everything went black, I felt myself falling and then nothing at all.

~*~

A sharp, unpleasant smell filled my consciousness and I snapped my eyes open. The next sensation I felt was pain. My throat hurt, my head hurt, and the rest of my body felt like lead. What had happened? I tried to focus on the face above me and it took a few moments for me to recognize Dr. Watson's face.

"Don't try to talk, Mary," he told me, his tone reassuring. He was still wearing a coat and hat. "Your throat is badly bruised."

And then I remembered: Simmon's hands around my neck, squeezing so tightly. Panic must have shown in my face, because Dr. Watson put his right hand on my shoulder and held my hand in his left. "It's all right, Mary," he said. "Calm down. You're safe. Holmes has gone after him."

I nodded to show I understood. I tried to swallow, but even that simple action caused my bruised throat pain. I realized I was laying on the floor. "Mrs. Hudson's out," the doctor told me, regaining my attention. I nodded again. "Let's try and get you up."

It was only with his help that I was able to stand and get to my room. Dr. Watson left me sitting on my bed, assuring me he would be right back. I felt slow and heavy as I reached over to where my papers lay on my little table. I had just curled my fingers around them when the doctor bustled back in.

"Drink this," he advised, putting the small glass in my hand. I stared blankly at the amber liquid. He guided it up to my lips and I swallowed it with an effort. Not only did my throat hurt from the effort of swallowing, the brandy burned going down. "It'll help with the shock. Lie down, Mary. I'll stay right here until Holmes gets back."

I obeyed his order, and he pulled a blanket up over me. It may have been the combination of shock and the brandy, but I was already feeling drowsy. Still, I couldn't sleep until one thing had been settled. I snaked my hand out from under the blanket.

Frowning, Dr. Watson accepted the handful of papers and looked from them to me. "Holmes," I whispered hoarsely.

"I'll give them to him as soon as he gets back," the good doctor promised.

Satisfied, I closed my eyes. I don't know how long I slept, but eventually I heard voices. Keeping my eyes closed, I listened in.

"-knew she was upset when she got back," Mrs. Hudson said, sounding very upset herself. I estimated them to be right outside my room with the door open. "I never would have left if I'd known something like this would happen! Oh, Doctor, will she be all right? What is this all about?"

"She'll be fine, Mrs. Hudson," Dr. Watson assured her. I'd never realized it before, but he had such a comforting voice. "She shouldn't talk very much for a few days, but she'll be fine. I'm not sure myself what's going on, but Holmes is already looking into it. Why don't you make yourself a nice cup of tea?"

There was a pause. "Yes, and one for you too," Mrs. Hudson declared. I almost smiled. She'd be fine now that she had a mission. "Oh, Mr. Holmes! Did you catch him?"

I held my breath. "No," Holmes answered, sounding very put out. I couldn't hold back a shiver of fear. "I couldn't convince the fine constables I met to chase him and I lost him in the market. How is Mary, Watson?"

How thoughtful of him to ask. "Bruised and shocked; she's resting now," Watson said. "You won't be able to talk to her for some time."

Ah, so that's why Holmes wanted to know. "First thing in the morning, I need to speak with her, Watson," the detective declared. He went on, speaking over Dr. Watson's protests. "She won't have to say much, but this has gone on long enough."

"If we had delayed a moment longer outside, we would have been too late," Watson commented. "Oh. She wanted me to give you these."

I heard the rustle of papers and knew the matter was in Sherlock Holmes' hands. "This explains a great deal," he said after several moments. I heard him walk away.

"The poor girl," Mrs. Hudson said practically over me. "You go along, Dr. Watson. I'll sit with her."

Feeling safe once more, I drifted off to sleep.