The Detective and the Woman Read online

  She was different here, freer. Her world was smaller, but she was less constrained within it, less wary and afraid. He no longer heard the brittle bitterness that her voice had contained before. She was once again the Irene Adler who had fooled the greatest detective in the world. No, he thought, she was more. She was older and more complete, and happiness sat well on her.

  The three friends walked to the station five days later, amid Dr Watson’s effusive compliments to Miss Adler’s home, which she received with a smile. She truly liked the little doctor, and that fact gratified Holmes. Watson bid The Woman fond farewell at the train, but Holmes was silent, and his eyes were upon her as the locomotive pulled away.

  Once again, she was alone on the platform. She was dressed in a brown skirt and blue shirtwaist, a plain outfit, but her face was anything but plain. The eyes that watched him depart were deep and quiet, and the mouth was ironic, as if The Woman would be ready to make a joke at any moment. But her hair—her chestnut hair was bundled loosely on her head, far wilder than she’d ever worn it in her life before the cottage. The day was windy, and pieces of it had escaped and framed her face. She lifted a hand and waved goodbye to the detective, and he waved in return.

  Holmes didn’t know when, but he knew he would come again.

  * * *

  It was two years before the detective again made his way up the hill to the little house. This time he was alone, since Watson had chosen to attend a medical conference in Zurich. As before, he found The Woman in good health and spirits, and pleased, as ever, by her bees. She had purchased more hives, and now the honey they produced had begun to bring her a small income, which amused her greatly.

  For three days, they roamed the countryside together, and Holmes told Irene about plants both poisonous and curative. She seemed far from alarmed when he explained the connections of various herbs to cases he’d solved, and the accounts of even the most grisly of murders appeared to interest rather than sicken her. He acted out for her the circumstances one of his more mysterious cases in which a body had been found with no tracks leading to its resting place, using the Sussex grass as his stage, and she clapped delightedly and solved the case herself before he’d told her the solution.

  The third night, he found himself discussing his current case, a slow, delicate affair involving a foreign head of state, which had required him to be absent from London for a short time. Irene listened intently before offering her own thoughts, to which Holmes listened objectively. That night he did not sleep, but he considered what The Woman had said and realised that it might help him reach a solution. When he left for London two days later, he asked if he might write to her in future and ask for her opinion of perplexing cases.

  So began a correspondence that was sometimes frequent and copious and other times filled with long silences. If Irene helped Holmes and Dr Watson with several cases after that, no one ever knew, and if her opinion occasionally kept them from erring, Watson promised to keep her secret and never write a word of it in his stories.

  The detective visited the white cottage twice the next year, both times after the end of a case when dreaded boredom gnawed at his mind. Each time, he found the woman unchanged, except, if possible, that her company was even more restful and her wit more engaging. Each time, too, she succeeded in drawing him out and keeping his mind occupied until a new problem presented itself.

  After that, he came to Sussex whenever he was between cases, sometimes with Watson and other times alone. No doubt the villagers wondered about the relationship between the tall man and the lady beekeeper, but they kept their thoughts to themselves because they liked her, and after a long time, they began to like the man as well, in spite of his strange ways.

  * * *

  Holmes had noticed Irene’s piano during his first visit, and he’d been glad to see that she had not abandoned her music. In subsequent visits, he often brought his violin to Fulworth and spent many evenings playing whatever she or Watson requested. At those times, he wished The Woman would follow suit, but he did not press her, and she did not offer.

  Christmas Eve of 1902 was different. Holmes came to the cottage alone, as Watson had chosen to spend the holiday with his family. The doctor had been unwell, and the detective believed he might soon retire from medical practice. He, too, no longer felt young, but when he saw The Woman waiting for him on the platform, those thoughts vanished.

  How was it possible, he wondered, that she had stayed the same? The world had changed—Mycroft had told him that international war would not be long in coming, and even London, his friend of so many years, was beginning to fill with motorcars instead of hansom cabs. But Irene Adler looked the same as the girl who had so cheerfully beaten him more than a decade before.

  ‘Good morning, Holmes,’ she said, taking his arm. He could tell that she was cold in the December chill, so he took off his wool scarf and wrapped it around her neck. She smiled up at him, and they continued up the hill in companionable silence.

  They spent the day visiting the bees and talking about cases they had solved, until evening came and Holmes opened the bottle of champagne he had brought to mark the holiday. ‘To your health, Miss Adler,’ he said, raising his glass to her.

  ‘And to yours, Holmes.’ Her spirits were unusually high, and the detective tried for several moments to deduce the cause, but he could not.

  Finally, when she had drunk her fill of the golden liquid, Irene went to the piano on the far side of the room and sat down at it, smiling at Holmes. ‘I would like to sing tonight,’ she said quietly, her eyes shining.

  She lifted the lid of the instrument, and he could see in her face that the act was significant beyond the present. When she began to play, he understood why. The song was becoming old-fashioned then, reminiscent of a vanishing time, but it was the song between The Woman and the detective.

  Oh, promise me that someday you and I

  Will take our love together to some sky

  Where we can be alone and faith renew,

  And find the hollows where those flowers grew

  He looked into her eyes, and for the first time, she was singing to him.

  Epilogue

  Baker Street

  December 10, 1903

  Dear Irene,

  These separations between visits grow irksome, and as Watson declares his intention of soon limiting his practice to near-retirement, I shall come down on the 20th by the 8:00, with no intention of ever returning to Baker Street. I think—I hope, at least, that this will be as congenial a prospect to you as it is to me and, of course, to your bees.

  Yours,

  S.H.

  Fulworth

  December 15th, 1903

  My Dear Holmes,

  The bees find your message quite congenial, as do I. I will meet your train, and you will find me prepared to become Mrs Holmes.

  Yours,

  Irene

  Afterword

  Several of the individuals mentioned in this story walked the streets of Fort Myers, Florida, at the turn of the 20th century, though they might be surprised to return and find themselves part of a case involving the great detective Sherlock Holmes. Thomas Edison and his second wife Mina spent many happy winters at Seminole Lodge. Marion Edison married Lieutenant Karl Oeser and lived with him in Germany until 1921. John Murphy built a beautiful home that was later bought by Nelson Burroughs and his wife, who became prominent citizens of Fort Myers. Tootie and Ambrose McGregor also made Fort Myers their permanent home, and Tootie was a respected humanitarian and citizen, whose contributions to her city are still enjoyed. Both the Edison and Burroughs homes are historic sites today.

  Also Available from MX Publishing and Andrews UK

  Front Matter

  Title Page

  Legal Information

  Dedication


  Body Matter

  The Beginning

  Chapter 1: Irene

  Chapter 2: Holmes

  Chapter 3: Irene

  Chapter 4: Holmes

  Chapter 5: Irene

  Chapter 6: Holmes

  Chapter 7: Irene

  Chapter 8: Holmes

  Chapter 9: Irene

  Chapter 10: Holmes

  Chapter 11: Irene

  Chapter 12: Holmes

  Chapter 13: Irene

  Chapter 14: Holmes

  Chapter 15: Irene

  Chapter 16: Holmes

  Chapter 17: Irene

  Chapter 18: Holmes

  Chapter 19: Irene

  Chapter 20: Holmes

  Epilogue

  Back Matter

  Afterword

  Also Available from MX Publishing and Andrews UK