The Lady at the door
The day this amazing adventure begins is like any other. Holmes went out before me though we returned to 221 B Bakers Street at the same time. He on some business I could only deduce. Not all affairs were confide in me. I was concerned about my friend for he had not been sleeping, which was not unusual for short periods of time. This had gone on for a fortnight. A catnap here or there. Nothing with real substance of rest. He would allow no medicine from me. And much to my delight, he had not medicated himself.
“Ah Watson,” my friend raised his cane to his shoulder, seemingly never looking up from the walk.
I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was depressed, consumed by the Black Dog. This was a common state for him. Usually he was far from melancholy when engaged in a problem; he was facing three, none of which lightened his mood nor enabled him to sleep. Too often, exhaustion would force him to sleep. Something about this was different and frightfully so.
“Splendid morning,” I smiled, in the best of spirits. Praying a small prayer that it would be infectious and his mood would lighten.
He scoffed, “indeed.”
I paused just to the right of the step leading to the front entrance. He stopped centimeters away from a pair of dull black well warn boots. The slightest hint of black lace could be seen brushing the top of the shoe. It was a sharp contrast even I could not overlook against the shining polish of Holmes’ boots. The woman was clean and neatly dressed though she was not burdened with wealth.
Holmes glanced at me then back to the creature hunched over on the step. “Knock!” he roared. I jumped for the assault was harsh indeed. If the birds had been perched on top of our home, they would have flown away in panic.
Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I”, she paused fighting back tears I thought. “Dare not.”
“That has to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” He continued to roar. “The sun has not crept through the fog making this a dull damp morning indeed but you choose not to summon the constitution to knock upon a simple door.”
“Old man, you are being brutal.” I wanted this mystery woman to know not every person hated mornings. Though I am not generally an early riser, it was a pleasant enough morning.
“Knock!” Came his roaring command again.
At that moment Mrs. Hudson opened the door, “Ah, Mr. Holmes, it is you. Scare the day lights out of me will you?” She glanced over at me then back to Holmes, “do you want any breakfast?”
“No,” he growled. “Breakfast lingers on lips like Absinth on the mind.”
The mystery woman stood, rapidly thrusting a brown object at Holmes; then ran like a creature possessed down the street into the morning fog.
Holmes turned his attention to Mrs. Hudson, whom stood in the door as dumbfounded as I. “Women!” He roared once more brushing past her and up the stairs.
“Good morning Mrs. Hudson.” I smiled.
“Good morning doctor,” she collected my hat and stick as I removed my coat. “Breakfast doctor?”
“Maybe later.” I went up the stairs to see if my friend would enlighten me about his atrocious mood.
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