In Sherlock's Shadow (Mrs Hudson & Sherlock Holmes Book 2)

by Liz Hedgecock

  ‘Is that because of Sir William?’ I asked. I could imagine what the papers would make of the scandal.

  ‘Partly, though he has already resigned,’ Mr Poskitt said quietly. ‘No, there is another factor to consider. What Professor Moriarty knows would probably bring down the government, if the case went to trial. He is one of us.’

  ‘One of us?’ Sherlock was on the edge of his seat, his eyes wide.

  Mr Poskitt nodded. ‘He is a mathematician by profession; the best of his generation. We have used him for many years, mainly to calculate probabilities and forecast trends. He began at the Ministry for Agriculture, but his remit widened until he was privy to the secrets of many departments. I dread to think what he has been doing over the years; but at least we can stop the rot.’

  ‘Will he go to prison?’ I asked, shivering as I thought of the deep-set eyes which had sought me out, even in a closed carriage.

  Mr Poskitt shook his head. ‘I doubt any prison could contain him. But we have other ways.’

  ‘And milady?’

  ‘Lady Chambers has been examined by a doctor, declared of unsound mind, and removed to a private nursing home, where she will remain.’

  I shivered as I imagined milady pacing in a room like the one where I had been confined, long ago. I had been there for only a few days, and it had nearly broken me. Milady, I suspected, would never leave. I wondered what she had told Mr Poskitt, but my mind could not go into such dark places, and perhaps it was as well.

  Mr Poskitt’s voice cut into my thoughts. ‘And the other reason for my visit.’ He drew a leather purse from his inner pocket. ‘I hope you don’t mind coin — we cannot pay you in banknotes, since they may be traced.’ He leaned across and put it into my hand, which sank with the weight. ‘It is what we agreed, plus the information bonus and — ah — a little extra. Thanks to you, a force for evil has been curbed.’ He drained his teacup, and got to his feet. ‘When you are ready, Mrs Hudson, I would be very interested in discussing further assignments with you. But for now, I wish you a good evening.’ With a little bow to the three of us, he left.

  I looked down at the purse in my lap, and when I looked up again both Sherlock and Dr Watson were watching me. ‘What terms did you agree?’ asked Sherlock. ‘Is it heavy?’

  ‘A pound a day.’ Sherlock whistled. ‘How long was I away?’

  ‘Twenty-nine days,’ he replied at once.

  ‘Then I suppose it is twenty-nine pounds and … something.’ I opened the drawstring and tipped the bag into my lap. A cascade of golden coins poured out. ‘Oh my… I need a table.’

  Dr Watson brought a small table to me and together we counted. I reached fifty; I reached one hundred; and there were still coins in the folds of my dress. ‘One hundred and fifty.’ I laid the last coin down and looked at the little golden columns. It was enough to pay our living costs for a year, and more. I had never seen so much money in my life. And all of it, every penny, belonged to me.

  CHAPTER 44

  Sherlock was waiting by the front door when I came downstairs. I could feel his eyes on me as I put on a smart little hat. ‘You don’t have to come, you know,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that shopgirl talk would interest you.’

  ‘Perhaps I shall learn something.’ He took my hand as I was about to put on my glove and ran his thumb over the gold band. ‘It’s good to see it in its proper place.’

  ‘It’s good to have it back.’ I smiled. ‘Billy, we are going out,’ I called.

  ‘Will you be back for lunch, ma’am?’

  ‘We shall.’

  ‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘Make sure she doesn’t go disappearing again, sir.’

  Sherlock took my arm. ‘I shall hold on to you for that very reason.’ He opened the door. ‘Cab, or walk?’

  I took in a deep lungful of smoky, dirty London air. ‘Let’s walk. You have no idea how much I missed this.’

  We weaved our way along the busy streets. I was glad of Sherlock’s arm, for though I had been gone but a short time, the noise and bustle of London was overwhelming. Smells and sounds and sights crowded in on me until my brain sang.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Nell?’ Sherlock’s voice brought me to myself.

  ‘Yes, yes of course.’

  A few minutes later we were standing in front of the department store. I gazed up at the building; the pillars, the lights, the air of prosperity oozing from it. ‘Are we going in?’ Sherlock asked.

  ‘Yes.’ I said. But I did not move. What would Mr Turner say? I had deserted my post and left him to manage without a detective. Would he throw me out? I found it hard to imagine the plump little manager doing anything so physical; but I braced myself.

  ‘Hey!’ Alf was waving at me. I hurried over, glad to see a friendly face.

  ‘Good morning, Alf,’ I held out a hand and he pumped it up and down.

  ‘Where’ve you been? The boss was beside himself!’

  ‘Oh dear.’ I disengaged myself. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t come in.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, ma’am. Come along now.’ He practically marched me into the shop.

  ‘Look who it is!’ Alf bellowed to the nearest counter. Gladys squealed, abandoned her customer, and ran towards me.

  ‘Nell! We thought you’d gone for good!’ She hugged me and then drew back, inspecting me. ‘I like your hat.’

  ‘Thank you. Is Evie about?’

  ‘Yes, she’s — oh, you won’t know!’ Gladys tried to hide a smile behind her hand. ‘I’ll go and track her down.’

  I wandered to the display of silk scarves. I wanted to buy them all, take them home, spread them on the bed, and roll in them —

  ‘Nell!’ Where I would have expected Evie’s tall, elegant uniformed figure was a lady in a camel-hair coat and a cloche. She rushed over and folded me up in a bear hug. ‘You came back! And just in time!’

  ‘Just in time for what?’ I laughed, wriggling in her grasp. ‘What are you up to, Evie?’

  ‘I’m getting married next Saturday!’ she cried. ‘In your blue dress.’ She drew me to the side, talking nineteen to the dozen. ‘I’m being you at the moment. When you vanished, not that I’ve said a word, Mr Turner was furious, and I said why don’t we girls go on patrol? So we’ve been taking it in turns to play detective, and you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen!’ Her eyes were round and bright as sovereigns, and I watched them shift from me to Sherlock. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ she said, with a significant look.

  I grinned. ‘Miss Marchant, may I introduce you to Mr Sherlock Holmes. Mr Holmes, Miss Evie Marchant.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Holmes,’ said Evie, stressing the surname slightly, and giving her hand to Sherlock. ‘Will you be accompanying Mrs Hudson next Saturday?’

  ‘If she will have me,’ said Sherlock, bowing over Evie’s hand.

  ‘Where are you getting married, Evie?’ I asked, in an attempt to turn the conversation.

  ‘At our local church, St Mary’s in Bow,’ Evie said, promptly. ‘The wedding is at eleven, and then we will have a little breakfast in the church hall. It won’t be fancy,’ she added, hurriedly. ‘Sandwiches and cake and lemonade.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be lovely,’ I said. ‘We would be delighted to come. Are you all ready, Evie?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Evie, still looking at Sherlock with curiosity. ‘Something old — my grandmother’s ring, something new and something blue — my dress, something borrowed — my mother is lending me her pearl earrings.’

  ‘Then you are ready,’ I said, smiling.

  ‘I don’t feel ready,’ laughed Evie. ‘But I don’t suppose you ever do.’

  ‘No, I think you’re right.’

  ‘Just think, next Saturday I shall be Evie Smith! How funny!’ Evie clapped her hands to her pink cheeks. ‘Anyway, I must get back to work, or Mr Turner will be coming after me.’ She clasped my hand. ‘Do come next Saturday. Both of you.’ She smiled shyly at Sherlock.


  ‘Will you carry on working once you’re married?’ I asked, remembering my own adventures in that department.

  Evie’s laugh was short, sharp and mirthless. ‘I don’t have a choice! Not if we’re to afford a flat of our own. We’ve scrimped and saved for all we’re worth, really we have, but I can’t afford to play the fine lady just yet. Saturday, don’t forget!’ She scurried off, and I caught sight of Mr Turner peeking from behind a stand of hats.

  ‘Can we go now?’ Sherlock muttered.

  ‘Not yet.’ I put my arm through his and led him to the wig section. ‘I have a promise to keep.’

  ***

  ‘How does it go?’

  We were sitting in the parlour. Or — no, that description was not entirely accurate. Sherlock was sprawled on the sofa, and I was leaning against him, my head pillowed on his chest. Dr Watson had gone to bed already, claiming fatigue and an early start in the morning, but the sly look he had cast at us on leaving the room had roused my suspicions.

  ‘How does what go?’ I said. Sherlock’s face was a study of innocence.

  ‘Something old, something new…’

  ‘Oh! Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ I should have been used to Sherlock’s occasional ignorance of things which I considered common knowledge, but I could not stop a note of incredulity from creeping in.

  Smiling, Sherlock shook his head. ‘Somehow it has passed me by.’

  ‘It’s just a little rhyme. Brides are supposed to have one of each when they get married. That’s all it is.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sherlock stroked my hair, absently. ‘Something old…’ He touched the gold band on my ring finger. ‘Something new … these curls are definitely new…’ He ran his hands through my hair, dislodging several pins. ‘Something borrowed — wait…’ I felt him shift behind me, and presently I felt the slither of silk around my neck as he dropped his necktie over my head. ‘Something blue — your dress!’

  I twisted round to look at him, and as I did his expression changed from merriment to a look so tender that I had to hold myself from crying. ‘Marry me, Nell. You have no idea how much I missed you. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.’

  My heart leapt for joy. But my brain, my stupid careful brain, caught it and brought it crashing down. ‘What about … what about Jack? I thought we agreed we would wait —’

  ‘I don’t care about Jack. I can’t wait another — what — three years? For all I know, you could run away tomorrow.’

  Sherlock put his arms round me and I revelled in the warmth. It would be so easy, my heart whispered. Isn’t this what you’ve dreamed of?

  ‘Do you really want me to marry you, Sherlock?’ I blurted it out, and felt foolish immediately.

  ‘What, must I get down on one knee?’ He laughed. ‘Very well, I shall do it.’ And with a great upsetting and wriggling, he extricated himself from beneath me and knelt beside the sofa. ‘Nell Hudson, will you marry me?’

  My heart screamed yes. My soul shrieked the word. But my cold, hard brain held back. ‘Sherlock, you know how much I want to say yes. When I left you, to go undercover, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done.’ I took a deep breath. There did not seem to be enough air in the room to fill my lungs. ‘But doing what I did — the drudgery, the deceit, the spying — it was one of the great moments of my life. And I did it not as your assistant, but as myself. On my own.’

  Sherlock frowned. ‘I thought you hated it.’

  ‘I did, often. But it was still worth doing.’ I stroked his cheek. ‘Sherlock — if I marry you now, knowing that Jack is still alive, I am no better than him.’

  ‘He isn’t coming back, Nell.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But this isn’t about him, is it?’

  I swallowed. ‘No. I love you, Sherlock. But if I married you tomorrow — much as I would love to — I would find myself keeping house, and planning meals, and working as your assistant. All those things you have laughed at me for, and chided me for, when I have been frustrated —’

  ‘But how is it different, Nell?’ His glance fell on my hand. ‘You wear my ring, we live together, we share a bed…’

  ‘If it would be no different, why are you asking me to marry you?’ My smile faded as I saw the unshed tears in his eyes.

  I reached out to him, and held him close. ‘One day perhaps I shall want to be what people call a “proper wife”, and run the house. But not yet. I want to be my own person, first, with my own work.’ I brushed away a tear of my own. ‘So my answer is — not yet. Not no; but not yet.’

  We held each other and wept, hot salt tears on our cheeks, our necks, our shoulders. Yet even as I cried I felt tension leaving me. I had said it. ‘I love you,’ I whispered.

  ‘I love you too.’ Sherlock’s voice broke on the words.

  We held each other all night, clinging, scared to let the other go. I knew that I had risked my happiness; perhaps risked everything — and for what? For a dream of a career that was possibly not even within my grasp. An opportunity such as the one I had had might not come again. Sherlock might not ask again. But as I drowsed in his arms, our tears dried, comforting each other in our exhaustion, I knew that I had made the right choice.

  CHAPTER 45

  I treated myself to a new outfit to attend Evie’s wedding, visiting a dressmaker for the very first time. I chose a rose-coloured silk with ruffles, a matching jacket and little hat, which she assured me was ‘a la mode, especially for someone as elegant of figure as you, madam.’ I took that to mean that I was skinny.

  Sherlock whistled when the boxes arrived, and demanded to see me in it. I was quite ready to try on my new treasures and pose like a fashion plate. ‘Very nice,’ he said, kissing me, ‘you can wear it for —’

  ‘For what? It’s for Evie’s wedding.’

  ‘That’s what I meant.’ He picked up the newspaper.

  I twitched it out of his hand. ‘You’re up to something, Sherlock Holmes. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he protested, laughing. I swatted him with the paper, but it had no effect.

  Evie’s wedding was beautiful. I wept a little as they exchanged vows, remembering, as every married woman does, their own wedding day, and hoping the very best for their marriage. Sherlock saw me dabbing my eyes, and put an arm round me. ‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

  I nodded.

  ‘My offer still stands, you know.’

  A woman in the pew in front turned round with an angry shush louder than any noise we had made. That sent us both into fits of laughter which bent Sherlock almost double in his effort to suppress them, and the disapproval around us made it worse, until we sneaked out to the churchyard and had our laugh in peace. We had recovered by the time Evie emerged, radiant in her pale blue wedding gown, and she kissed me warmly. ‘I saw you laughing with your young man,’ she grinned. ‘Pair of lovebirds, you are.’

  I gave her an envelope. ‘I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I hope this is all right.’

  She peeped inside, and gasped. ‘Oh!’ Then she grinned. ‘I take it your job went well, then.’

  I smiled back, glad that my sore red hands and my painful feet were well-covered.

  ‘Next time go undercover in a dress shop, or somewhere you can have nice clothes. That would be fun.’ She winked and passed down the line to the next guest; the woman who had shushed me. Sherlock snorted, and I nudged him.

  We returned home to find that my mother had called half an hour ago. ‘That’s odd,’ I commented. ‘I always go to her. She’s never visited me here.’ I had dashed off a short note to let her know that I had returned, and in it I had said that I would visit in the next day or two, so I was mystified. ‘What did she say, Billy?’

  Billy looked up from the boots he was polishing. ‘She said either you or Mr Holmes would do, but I said you were both out.’ Martha, darning a sock at the other end of the table, frowned at him.
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  ‘Did she, now.’ I went upstairs and found Sherlock unknotting his necktie in the bedroom. ‘Sherlock, why would my mother call on you?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ he replied, poker-faced.

  I unpinned my hat. ‘So while I was away, you had no contact with my mother?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ he replied, throwing the tie on the bed.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘All right, all right!’ He took off his shoes and sprawled on the bed. ‘I might have written to ask if she knew where you were.’

  I bit my lip. ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘I did. Your mother called at Baker Street the next day. I think she was a little surprised, particularly as she said she had been given to understand that Dr Watson and I were two elderly bachelors.’

  ‘I didn’t say that —’

  ‘You implied it, then.’ Sherlock’s grin was wide as the Cheshire Cat’s.

  I sat down on the bed. ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘Not very much. She left shortly afterwards, because she was rather cross with me for not being an elderly bachelor. But I thought it over, and decided I should call on her to explain myself.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘It went very well. Your mother reminds me rather of you, in fact.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  He grinned. ‘At any rate, she decided that I was not so bad after all, and neither were you.’

  ‘Does she know that we —’

  ‘Good God, no!’ Sherlock sat up and put his elbows on his knees. ‘I said that we had a deep mutual affection.’

  ‘She knows, then.’ I flopped backwards onto the bed and hid my face.

  ‘If she does, she doesn’t mind.’ Sherlock gently moved a hand aside and kissed my forehead. ‘She regards me as a steadying influence.’

  ‘You?’ I gaped at him, then giggled. ‘Remind me to share that with Dr Watson tonight.’

  ‘Am I forgiven, then?’ Sherlock kissed me on the mouth. ‘I only wrote to her because I was trying to find you.’