“But I fail to see how that could stop you. Love is the most powerful emotion I know.”
“Watson.”
“Do not Watson me.”
She stood again, “soon you will know why. You will have the answer to your problem.” She turned to walk away, stopped, and then turned toward me again. “Watson, you will find love. She will be everything that you have been searching for.” She left me sitting on the bench with more questions than answers.
When I returned, she and Mrs. Hudson came into the room packing trays.
“What have the two of you been into?” Mycroft asked.
“Cooking and singing.” Lizzie smiled.
They had made homemade soup and bread.
“That smells amazing.” My stomach growled though my spirits had not lifted.
“Wait until you taste it.” Holmes laughed.
When we sat down, Lizzie smiled. But I noticed that she favored her right side. “Watson, it was funny. You saw no doubt the picture of Holmes when he was a little boy?”
I pointed at Holmes, “By jove, I knew that was you.” I forced a smile.
“Imagine that little boy; sneaking up behind my grandmother, who mind you was a large lady.” Lizzie smiled.
Mycroft pointed out with laughter, “my size.”
“He would reach into that big bowl of dough with his little hand and grab a fist full.”
“Can you wait until the bread it baked?” Mycroft roared with laughter. “And she would chase you around the kitchen.”
Holmes smiled, “but at the end of the baking she always saved me a ball of dough.”
“Yes she did.” Lizzie laughed.
“What was that fruit and nut bread that she used to make?” Mycroft asked.
“If it had a name, I have no idea.”
He patted his belly, “it was so good.”
“Sounds like your grandmother was a wonderful cook,” I stated.
Lizzie smile, “she was a wonderful woman.”
After dessert, which ended up being that amazing fruit and nut bread that Mycroft was so fond of, he and Lizzie went for a walk.
Holmes and I remained behind, “what is on your mind Watson?”
“Nothing,” I shook my head.
“I have known you for a long time. I will not accept that answer.”
I closed my eyes trying to bring order to my mind. There was a knock at the door. A welcome distraction. Mrs. Hudson had a letter. It was from Mrs. Mary Tarter and read as follows:
Dear Lady and Gentleman,
I am writing you to let you know that what the lady suggested was correct. We did what she asked. To our amazement, our son was hiding out in the basement. Our daughter was sneaking him food while my husband and I were out.
He understands why I feel the way I do about him wanting to fight.
I can never thank you enough.
Mrs. Mary Tarter
“And she has signed it.” Holmes took the letter. “She wrote it not.”
Holmes looked at me, “very good.”
“Do you think she can write at all?”
“Perhaps not.” He laid the letter on the table.
“Should we tell Lizzie?” Saying her name made me mad.
“I am sure she knows.”
During the coming weeks she also hired Mr. McFarlane to sell Wiltshire. Because she was his legal wife, she was charged by law to settle Mr. Merryweather’s accounts. She made sure that all of his assets were transferred to his children. Her father’s timber mill she gave to the foreman that had been running it the last twenty years. One piece of property she kept the piece where her grandmother lived and died. I was to learn that it was close to the property where Holmes’ grandparents lived. The other piece of property she gave to Mr. John Paul Riker.
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