The Mass: Part 3

After Mrs. Hudson changed the bottles, I bid her goodnight. When she left the room, I started with the last parcel. “Third parcel same as the last two; wrapped in thick brown paper, glued together.” I took the same care opening this one as well. “It is a book Holmes. A very handsome, thin book black, trimmed in gold. There are no markings at all on the front or back jacket.” I kept looking over the book. “Holmes it appears to be a journal of some kind. Very much a woman’s hand writing.”

“Do you care to read some of it?” Holmes pulled the covers tighter around his throat.

I cleared my throat and began a journey down a tangled and grotesque path. “September fifth, eighteen-seventy five.

“The deed is finished. I am married. Instead of being happy I feel like my very soul has been nailed to the floor. THE MAN,” I interjected here to point out to Holmes that THE MAN was all in large letters. “Sleeps at one end of the house and I the other. If this is how a proper English marriage should function, I am not pleased. I beg you not to be upset with me for not accepting your proposal. I know you believe me not. I should not say believe. It is too abrupt a word; cannot accept that there are great things in your future. You have a talent that God has given you like no other and you will spread your wings to fly. It will take some time; I foresee yours as a household name. I smile with pleasure upon this point. Having a wife will clip those wings like a tether to a hot air balloon. Some men are designed to be husbands and fathers. Others are not. You my dearest are not. Can you imagine how I would kill you if ever you came home with a gun shot or a stab wound? Pray the wound kill you and not I. I must say with the greatest of truth, not a day passes that I do not think of you. I have always been the dutiful daughter. Doing whatever task that pleases my father. Of this, you are well aware. As you are well aware, father would not stop until I enrolled at Elmira Female College in New York. Each summer I did return to England. You cannot imagine the times that I took up my pen to write you. However, each time I was afraid to open Pandora’s Box. I never lost track of you. You will think ill of me but one day I came to university to see if just by chance I would see you. I did see you. That day makes me smile and cry at the same time. I was unaware of how much I missed you; however, it was so good to see you. You sat alone under a large tree reading a paper. I sat there crying thinking of all the times we read the agony columns and the criminal news. We picked out articles we thought were real. How simple some were to figure out. Others how stupid. Our paths will cross again. Though, the thread eludes me. They will.” I stopped reading. “This is either a joke or an amazing mind that is writing to the future.” I continued reading, “October fifth, we have been married a month today and still have not consummated the union. I have it in my mind to consult a solicitor upon this point though, what an embarrassment. How does one broach such a point to a stranger? We still do not sleep in the same part of the house let alone the same room. This is not at all what I thought married life should be. Not even a contractual one.” Holmes moaned. “Should I continue?”

“Only if you wish?” His eyes were closed which was often the case when he was absorbing the facts. Though, this time I could not attest to the fact that he was absorbing anything.

“Oct. sixth, THE MAN has hired a governess. Much to my surprise. She is as much a foreigner or more so than I. She is from Trinidad. I shall have to do some research on the place. Her name is Arawak. Which I am to understand is to mean a hummingbird. I have discovered something very troubling from our unneeded new governess; I have an allergy to dogs. She owns a vile beast that THE MAN lets have free run of the house. The allergy is so severe that I can only be where it is moments before I go into fits of sneezing. Arawak has one child. A girl; and is pregnant with another. I dare not let my mind think the wild thoughts it wants to upon the matter.”

I was shocked to wake up. I had no memory of falling asleep. It added to my astonishment that I was on the couch. Holmes was sitting up, inspecting the strange book. “What do you make of it?” I asked.

The Mass: Part 2

“What’s wrong?” She gasped; the dear woman was out of breath. “Mr. Holmes!” She shrieked when noticing his frame upon the floor. His teeth had begun to chatter.

“Help me move him to the fire.” With great difficulty, we moved his shivering body to the fireplace. “Boil some water Mrs. Hudson, fill a container with a lid, and wrap it in a towel as fast as you can.”

“Yes doctor.”

I had never witnessed my friend react this way to anything. He had an iron clad constitution for the most part. I have seen mental fatigue in him but this. This was a different animal. I rushed into his room removing the covers from his bed and used them to wrap him.

Mrs. Hudson soon returned with a glass jar so heavy she could barely carry the thing.

I placed the jar under the covers carefully as not to burn him. Though as hard as he was convulsing it was possible he would get burnt anyway.

It was nigh, dark before Holmes woke. His voice weak, “Watson?”

“I am here old man.”

“The package? What else is there?”

“Are you sure you want me to open it now?”

He moaned instead of answered. There came a knock at the door. I quickly turned down all the lights except the one at the table. When I opened the door, I was shocked to find Inspector Hopkins. “Inspector?”

“Doctor,” he spoke removing his hat. “I was hoping to find Mr. Holmes at home.”

“He has been detained.” Was the best answer I could provide. Not too far from the truth. “Will you have a seat?” I showed him to the table; his back to the fireplace and Holmes.

“Something on your mind, Inspector?”

“Yes,” he took a deep breath, “a great deal of confusion, to be frank doctor. I sent a gentleman over here today to see Mr. Holmes.”

I interjected, “about a missing person?”

“Yes,” Hopkins looked relieved, and then his expression turned. “He stated Mr. Holmes threw him out rather offensively.”

I figured at this point the truth was far better than a lie. “Not physically.”

“Doctor, I simply cease to understand why? The gentleman’s case is old but is one that the police force will be unable to assist.”

“Inspector, Mr. Holmes is ill.”

“Ill?”

“Quiet so.” I watched the Inspector for a moment as he thought about what I had stated.

He rose from the table. “Please ask him to send me a telegraph when his health improves.”

“Indeed.” I walked with him to the door.

Inspector Hopkins put on his hat and left.

I collected the entire parcel from the table, turned up the gas, and sat in the floor near Holmes. The old wound I had received when I was in the Army reminded me that it was still around.

“Thank you.” Holmes’ voice was a whisper.

“For what?”

“Sending him away.”

“My pleasure.” I smiled. “Now, to this box.” I picked it up and examined it. “Second box is much like the first. Wrapped in thick brown paper and glued.” I took great care in opening it; making sure not to tear the paper unnecessarily. “There is a large envelope and another parcel.” I looked at my friend for a moment. He appeared to be asleep but I knew better. “There are no markings on the envelope. It too has been glued.” I retrieved a letter opener from the desk taking the upmost care in opening it. “Holmes,” I gasped. “It is a small fortune.”

“How much?”

I shook the contents onto the floor and counted L25,525.

“That is a healthy sum.”

I folded the notes placing them back into the envelope. About that time, Mrs. Hudson appeared with a new container of hot water.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes sighed. “You are a dear.”

She blushed slightly, “it was the doctor’s idea.”

“Thank you,” he paused. “Both.”