The Snake and The Rabbit

“The bankers missing wife?” He gasped.

“The same. Hopkins, you can tell no one that she is here. Whatever persons that did this to her may still be looking for her.”

‘Whatever persons?!’ I screamed in my head; as I shot Holmes a startled look.

Hopkins went over to the small window that was in this room, “dear Lord.”

“Whom do you suspect?”

Holmes only shook his head.

The good inspector left.

Holmes tried to keep himself busy. I think it was his way of dealing with the pain. Though, I could be incorrect. I have been before. He stayed gone a lot. I found myself reading to Elizabeth. I read to her the newspaper mostly. One evening I was reading a story about Princess Beatrice.

She moaned a little, “Bea.”

I was unsure if I should stop reading or continue with the story. As confusing as it was, I said nothing to Holmes about it.

We sat at the table for dinner some days later, Holmes not saying a word.

“Your appetite is failing you Watson.”

I slammed my napkin down on the table and rose. “Holmes, I must talk about this. I am going mad.” I was exhausted both mentally and physically. “Help me.” I implored.

“Talk,” he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Will you respond? Will you help me figure out answers to my questions?” Holmes stared at me with an indifference that added to my frustration. I pointed toward our patiences room. When I followed my own out stretched arm with my eyes, she was sitting on the couch.

She looked at me with sad eyes, “sit with me kind doctor.” Her voice was soft. Her hands that of a skeleton. Holmes regarded her with the reverence of a queen as he walked past us to his arm chair.

She turned to face Holmes, “I prayed that you would befriend a kind doctor.”

“So you did write the journal?” I asked. Her hand placed atop mine.

“Indeed I did, doctor.” She was smiling as she turned back toward me.

“I really think it would be best if you returned to bed.”

“Doctor, I have laid too long.”

“How do you feel?”

“I am tired, sore,” with the movements of a drunkard she put her other hand uh-top her head. “And long for my hair to grow back.”

At first it was like this. However, she rekindled my energy, the little changes in her. After three months she was almost able to dress herself. Mrs. Hudson had to do very little to help her. She was able to make it to the parlor door without help.

Holmes and I had been out one bitter spring day. When we returned, she was sitting by the window looking out onto Bakers Street. Holmes just stood by the door watching her. Her hair was growing nicely. It was now the cut of a military man. Short. Holmes said nothing to her, only watched.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I walked over to her. “Good afternoon. May I call you Elizabeth?”

She smiled a weak smile, “my dear doctor, please call me Lizzie.”

It made my heart sing that she would allow me to call her an abbreviation of her name. “How are you feeling today Lizzie?”

She laid her hand uh-top mine. “You tell me doctor. I know Sherlock has been training you. Plus, you are a very talented doctor regardless of what he says.” She turned and winked at Holmes.

“Posh,” Holmes threw up his hand as he walked to the fire place.

She followed him with her eyes, giving a wicked little grin.

“I shall not toy with you. As your doctor, I need to hear these things from you.”

“Understood.” She looked out the window, took a deeper breath than she had been, “my head is pounding. Everything hurts. Every muscle in my body.”

“Do you need medicine?”

“No, this too shall pass.”

Mrs. Hudson came into the room holding a tray and humming. “Here you go sweet child.” She laid out…

“What is that?” I asked in shock. For I was unsure I knew what the white fluffy stuff could be.

“At least it is more than broth.” Holmes scoffed.

Mrs. Hudson frowned, “you care not for my broth.”

Holmes rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth said, “My good lady, one can only eat broth for so long.”

She smiled, “agreed. Well enjoy your potatoes. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Holmes was by her side helping her from her seat by the window to a seat at the table. She took a breath over the potatoes that Mrs. Hudson had fixed. “They smell so good.” Her stomach let out a gurgling type growl. She blushed, “well, that was not very lady like.”

“We will not stand on ceremony today,” Holmes sat at the table then motioned me to the other seat.

When she rose up from sniffing her food, she immediately closed her eyes. For a moment, I thought she was praying. I looked at Holmes with a questioning glance.

Holmes spoke, “Ara?”

She opened her eyes for only a moment. “Give me a moment gentlemen. The room is spinning.”

I stood, “my lady will you permit me?”

She slowly raised both her hands, one on either side of her head. “It seems silly at best.”

“You need to eat.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Holmes got up helping her with the greatest of care to the couch. He sat down first making sure that she sat beside him. She began to raise her hands to her head again. He placed his hands there instead. I watched this interaction with the upmost curiosity. I knew Holmes had the capacity for great kindness. I had witnessed the tip of the iceberg many times before.

“Ara,” he whispered.

“Sher?”

“I am right here.”

She slumped over on him. His voice cracked at first, “Watson, will you fetch me a cushion?” I did so and placed it under her head. “Will you ask Mrs. Hudson to keep those warm?”

I was away at once, tray in hand.

Real spring was finally coming to our home. Flowers were in bloom, grass was starting to grow. And I felt light at heart. Holmes and I had been out interviewing a client. He was in a better mood for he stopped and bought a bouquet of flowers. We opened the front door to her voice laughing. Holmes looked bewildered. There on the steps she sat with Mycroft, Holmes’ brother.

“Sherlock,” she smiled. “This is as far as I could make it. As I was sitting here composing myself, look who stopped by?” She and Mycroft were holding hands.

“My boy, you should be ashamed. Not telling me she was here.” Mycroft scolded

Holmes spoke as he kissed the top of her hand. “It was for her safety.” Holmes gave Lizzie the flowers, “for you my good lady.”

“I am afraid I am going to need help back up the stair.” She blushed.

I removed my hat and tipped it toward her, “my good lady.” I bowed. “You have three gentlemen here to assist you.”

Mrs. Hudson clear her throat. Pulling my attention to the fact she was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

I corrected myself, “make that four persons at the ready.”

She giggled like a school girl full of light and youth. Mrs. Hudson took the flowers to put them in a vase. Holmes’ and I helped her up. Mycroft stayed for hours; the three sharing stories about their youth. I learned more about Holmes’ that evening than I had in all the years of our friendship.

The Snake and The Rabbit