Chapter Text
Sherlock Holmes leaned forward from his chair to retrieve his newspaper from the walnut table in front of him. Opening the newspaper with a barely audible sigh of frustration, it was immediately clear to him that there were no noteworthy articles within it but he had little else to do. His violin rested against the chair beside him from where he had spent the entire morning playing the music of Paganini. Holmes could feel the boredom slowly coursing through him, beginning with a rhythmic twitch of the toes which slowly crept upwards until his entire left leg fidgeted. He tossed the newspaper aside in anguish and threw his head against the back of the armchair.
“My mind rebels at stagnation!” Holmes cried to no one in particular. The way his shout echoed around the cramped drawing room was satisfying until the silence it left behind was replaced with the monotonous tick of the carriage clock on the mantle-piece and the faint sound of hooves on the cobbles below the window to his rooms.
It was when the sound of hooves stopped abruptly that his attention was finally piqued. They had stopped directly outside of 221b. It was a brougham judging by the fact that he’d heard the sound of two sets of horse shoes clattering against the street; the pitch of one set was slightly higher as it struck the hard, icy ground beneath it.
Intrigued, Holmes rose from his chair and walked across the room to the window, only stopping to pick up his pipe and light it as he went. It was a particularly smoggy day due to the cold weather which therefore increased the amount of coal smoke rising from the chimneys. Holmes could only catch a glimpse of a man in a long, fitted navy blue overcoat and a matching top hat before he disappeared off of the street and into 221.
The voice that drifted up from the hallway below them seemed too confident to be that of a client yet the hurried pace the man that the man was speaking at betrayed his confidence. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Mrs. Hudson’s futile attempts to placate the man, Holmes fell back into his armchair, fingertips touching and hands steepled underneath his chin.
Mrs. Hudson rapped once on the door to the drawing room before opening it and stepping inside, frowning at the newspaper which was strewn across the floor. “Mr. Holmes, there’s a gentleman here to see you. He says you are old friends but I’ve never heard you mention him before and you can’t blame me for being thorough.” She turned to the man who was passing his top hat from one hand to the other. “Don’t worry dear, Mr. Holmes gets all sorts of visitors here. Some more savoury than others.” The man didn’t seem to listen to what Mrs. Hudson had said and continued bite his lip anxiously. “He introduced himself as Victor Trevor but how do I know that he is who he claims to be. As I mentioned earlier-”
Holmes studied the man closely before a bright smile lit up his face. “Mrs. Hudson!” He chastised.
“Well, you had that ruffian in here last month; the one that tried to steal all of my silver-“
“Mrs. Hudson! If you’d just allow me to speak to Mr. Trevor, I would be very grateful. I know this man is in fact who he says he is and can wholeheartedly assure you that he will make no attempt to steal your silver. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hudson.”
Mrs. Hudson shook her head and tut at the nervous man before gathering her skirts and walking back downstairs. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Once the sound of Mrs. Hudson’s boots on the stairs had died away, Holmes sprang into action and placed his hands on Trevor’s shoulders in order to study him closely. “You’re suffering from a mild shock but that is not the problem. Your blatant anxiety is the problem.” He pulled the nervous man towards him and kissed his cheek fondly before stepping back and motioning to the armchair across from his. “Please take a seat, I am interested to hear your story. It is not often that we find you, of all fellows, at a loss for words. I shall fix you a drink. Some brandy perhaps? To combat the shock.”
“Yes, please. I could use something to steady my nerves.” Trevor watched Holmes carefully as the detective crossed the room to pour out a glass of the liqueur for both of them.
“So what brings you here to see me, my dear? I haven’t seen you since the day you returned from India.” Holmes placed the crystal carafe back down onto the medicine cabinet and picked up the two glasses with great care before handing one to his guest.
Trevor accepted the drink gratefully, taking a fortifying sip before meeting Holmes’ eager eyes. “Evelyn’s signet ring has been stolen.”
“Then we will find the culprit and get it back. I will not rest until we do. I applaud you for respecting my methods and disclosing the crime immediately. I’d quite missed being around someone that is familiar with my work.” Holmes muttered as he looked down to Trevor’s pocket watch chain to see that the ring was not hanging from the twelfth link as it usually did but thirty three links remained. “That’s curious. The thief went to all the trouble of opening the link, removing the ring and closing it again. I can see clearly that you haven’t had it repaired. They took a lot more care than your usual petty criminal. It would have required specialist tools as well, possibly those of a blacksmith or a watchmaker.” Holmes hummed in thought before motioning for Trevor to continue his story and steepling his hands back underneath his chin. “Now I understand the nature of the crime, I implore you to tell me your story in full detail.”
“I have just returned from India after making the trip to inspect the plantation and I am staying in private rooms at the Mallinson club in South Kensington. I’m sure you are aware of the club. It is quite common for Englishmen returning from abroad to stay there.” Trevor agitatedly twirled the watch chain between his fingers as he spoke. “Exhausted from my journey and shivering due to the bitter London cold as soon as I arrived in my rooms I removed my jacket, waistcoat and watch and sat in front of the fire until I had warmed enough to retire to bed. I can assure you that the doors and windows were locked and that as far as I know nobody entered my rooms during the night. This was my first mistake because, as you are more than aware, I always keep my pocket watch on the bedside table while I sleep. It is my most cherished possession; after all, combined it is an artefact from the two people I hold most dear.”
Trevor sipped the brandy again, closing his eyes and letting the warmth wash over him before continuing. “However, due to my fatigue, I left it on the coffee table in front of the fire. It wasn’t until I awoke the next morning and desired to know the time that I realised where I had left it. When I returned to the drawing room my watch was on the table but Evelyn’s ring was no longer attached to the chain. I would have blamed myself for losing it if I had not been completely sure that I had seen it before I retired to bed. I’ve searched the room entirely and found no trace and so therefore I can only assume that the answer to my problem is theft. I have every faith that you will be able to shed some light on the matter.”
Holmes listened intently, restraining himself from interrupting the man. “How curious. May I see your watch? I would like to examine the chain before we go any further.”
“Yes, of course.” Trevor removed the watch from his waistcoat and placed it in Holmes’ outstretched palm.
Holmes studied the chain carefully and held it up to the light. “It is clear that whoever closed the link was an amateur but they did have the correct tools. It would be sensible to say that we are looking for the wife or sister of a blacksmith or watchmaker. It is more probable that our thief is a woman due to the fact that the ring clearly was made for a lady and they haven’t stolen it to sell otherwise they wouldn’t have been so careful. They have stolen it as a gift for someone dear to them or simply for them self. “Once he had finished his scrutiny of the chain, Holmes held the watch in his hands and opened the cover with a faint smile. He ran his fingers over the inscription on the inside of it, the gold now slightly tarnished from where it was clear Trevor has repeated the motion hundreds of times before, before closing it with a click and handing back the watch.
Trevor watched the detective with a faint smile as he read the inscription. He had to admit that he never felt more at ease than when he was sitting with Holmes, while the fire blazed and the faint sound of hooves clattered against the cobbles outside. For him, there was nothing more homely and English than that. He accepted the watch from Holmes and refastened it to his waistcoat. “Now, what do you intend to do next? I suppose you would like to visit my rooms.”
Holmes grinned and rose from his chair, setting down the empty glass of brandy. “Not so much visit your rooms as much as investigate the staff at your club. I think they will hold the answer to the keeper of your sister’s ring. Make haste, Trevor! I would rather like to take you out for dinner once this problem is solved.” Holmes pulled on his overcoat which was draped across one of the kitchen chairs and searched for his top hat which he decided was in his bedroom.
“Is that your peculiar way of saying that you think you can get Evelyn’s ring back by seven o’clock?” Trevor called, fastening the buttons on his coat and tucking his hat under his arm.
“Yes, I think it might be. Now, are you ready to leave?” Holmes emerged from his bedroom, top hat in hand.
Trevor smiled faintly. Despite the situation which had brought them together again, nothing made him happier than being around Holmes. He felt as though he was the young man that first met the detective at university again. “Yes, we’ll take a hansom. I’m too anxious to walk.”
Holmes nodded and followed Trevor down the stairs, passing Mrs. Hudson on the way. “I shan’t be wanting dinner this evening, Mrs. Hudson, and don’t be alarmed if you find Mr. Trevor sleeping in the spare room tomorrow morning.”
Holmes was able to flag down a hansom with his usual skill and soon they were travelling the short distance to Trevor’s club. While keeping a respectable distance between them, Trevor silently reached out and took Holmes’s hand in a subtle gesture of affection. “I did intend for our paths to cross more frequently than this but it is becoming increasingly more difficult for me to travel back to England these days.”
Holmes continued to stare out at the streets passing by but gently ran his thumb over the top of Trevor’s hand in recognition. The smog was thick but the silhouette of a top hat or a bustle could be seen in the shadows cast by streetlamps from time to time. “It isn’t exactly sensible for us to spend all of our time together. Our bachelor status can only remain undisturbed for so long when we spend every conscious,” Holmes smirked. “And unconscious minute in each other’s company. You are aware that speculation is especially rife in the heart of London.”
“Yes, of that I am aware.” Victor hummed quietly, his other hand on his watch chain, his fingers twisting around the links where Evelyn’s ring should have been.”Being cursed men as we are, I’d like to think that perhaps in the future it will be acceptable for us to reside together permanently without fear of exposure or judgement.”
The hansom slowed down to a halt and Holmes reluctantly let go of Trevor’s hand and straightened his overcoat. “Yes, I suppose that would be one of the few advantageous points of being men of our kind but I can’t help but feel that you are displaying your ever characteristic optimism.”
“We’ll have to see about that.” Trevor climbed down from the hansom and out onto the pavement in front of his club, waiting for Holmes to follow.
Holmes jumped down from the carriage and handed the driver a shilling, waving away Trevor’s insistent attempts to pay.
With an exasperated sigh, Trevor walked beside Holmes into the club and they approached the housekeeper he’d spoken with the night before. The housekeeper was a tall woman dressed in a plain, pale blue dress with a sensible bustle, a ring of keys hung at her side from a rope which was fastened loosely around her waist.
“What is it you are here for, gentlemen?” She asked carefully, her hand going to the ring of keys at her side. “Are your rooms not to your expectations, Mr. Trevor?”
“No, my rooms are more than sufficient. I am however, afraid that there has been a theft and I have brought along my dear friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes to try and make sense of the matter.”
The woman looked across at the detective astounded. “Forgive me for being rude but you’re Sherlock Holmes?”
Holmes bowed and offered the housekeeper a careful smile. “Yes, I am, madam. Would you be so kind as to let Mr. Trevor and I interview all of the staff that were working from 10 o’clock yesterday evening to eight o’clock this morning? Once you have gathered them please bring them up to Mr. Trevor’s room so that we can speak with them. May I ask your name, madam?”
“Yes of course, Mr. Holmes. I shall do it immediately. Oh, and you may call me Miss. Hutton” The woman returned the smile and blushed faintly before rushing back into the servant’s quarters.
Holmes followed Trevor to the flight of stairs that lead up to his rooms, listening to the man chuckle to himself. “What has amused you?”
Trevor turned around and shook his head. “In all our time apart, I’d forgotten how charming you could be. When you can use it to your advantage, of course.” He removed a key from his waistcoat pocket, still chuckling quietly as he unlocked the door.
Holmes followed Trevor into the room and waited while he closed it behind him. “I wasn’t being charming. I was merely trying to save us time. As I mentioned earlier I would like to take you out for dinner this evening.” He placed his top hat on the coffee table and meticulously warmed his hands in front of the fire.
Trevor did the same, setting his hat down beside Holmes’s and going to stand beside him. He reached up and brushed a cold hand over his cheek, before pressing a delicate kiss to the pale skin. “Don’t think that I do not recognise your charm. I have been its recipient more than enough times in our years together.”
Holmes smiled genuinely and turned away from the hearth to look at Trevor. “I did not perceive you to be a jealous man, Mr. Trevor. Surely, you are aware that I do not appreciate women in the way that the apparent majority of men do.”
The light of the fire blurred Holmes’s strong features, casting his face in shadow, reminding Trevor of the eager young face he remembered from university. He pushed the detective playfully and swatted at his arm. “I am not jealous. I was simply making an observation.”
“One in which the underlying jealousy was very apparent.” Holmes grinned and curled his arm around Trevor’s waist, pulling him closer. “I have missed your affection as much as you have missed mine. I can assure you.”
Just as Trevor was about to reply, there was the sound of knuckles wrapping against the thick oak door. Holmes dropped his arm to his side as if scolded, cleared his throat and went to answer it. “Miss. Hutton, I did not expect to see you so soon, especially without any of your staff. What is it you have to ask? I noticed earlier that something is troubling you.” Holmes motioned for the housekeeper to sit in an unoccupied armchair and joined Victor on the settee at the fireside.
Miss. Hutton tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and studied the parquet floor intensely as if to compose herself. After about half a minute, every second emphasised by the large grandfather clock which stood wearily in the hallway outside of Trevor’s rooms, she seemed ready to speak. “Yes, I am troubled. It is rather an embarrassing matter for me, you understand. I pride myself in keeping this club as a well respected establishment and for something of this nature to happen is very rare.” She settled her hands in her lap as she paused and turned her eyes from the men in front of her to the dancing flames of the fire. “However, I feel that I do believe that some of the blame lies with me. Last night I retired to the reception room on the ground floor at about half past eleven, I always stay awake for the entire night just in case any of the residents have any requests but last night I fell asleep barely forty five minutes into my watch. I woke again at three o’clock this morning as I remember hearing the chime of the bell in Saint Stephen’s tower but I was not in a state of clarity and I very quickly fell back into a slumber.”
The housekeeper twisted her fingers together and bit her lip before meeting the eyes of the men again. “Although, during my brief moment of consciousness I remember looking down to my key ring to see that two of them were missing, for there were only thirteen rather than fifteen keys. I did not think anything of it at the time and I couldn’t tell you which were gone but when I awoke at seven o’clock this morning, it was if they had never been moved. I don’t know what you can make of that, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot help but think that perhaps I was drugged in some way. I have never fallen asleep while on night service before.”
Holmes was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently to the housekeeper’s monologue. “I agree with your suspicion that you were drugged. It is clear to me that you care very strongly about your work and so it seems incredibly uncharacteristic for you to notice your keys to be missing and to be unconcerned. It was only a mild sedative it would appear, most likely a herbal sleeping draught. You have no reason to worry about the after effects.”
The detective steepled his hands under his chin and hummed in thought. “There is no reason for you to feel guilty or anxious. This crime seems to be very meticulously planned and it is obvious to me that you are not a suspect. I have every faith in my abilities that I will be able to find my dear friend’s missing ring.” Holmes smiled kindly and unclasped his hands. “Before you leave us to return to your duties, may I ask you a few questions which would aid me greatly in the hasty solution of this case?”
The woman nodded vehemently. “Yes, absolutely. I would see it as recompense to be able to assist you. What is it you wish to ask, Mr. Holmes?”
“I must ask how many keys would be required to reach Mr. Trevor’s room from reception.”
“Two would be needed. This one and this one. Both are Yale locks.” Miss. Hutton’s answer was immediate and she held up the keys to illustrate her point.
Holmes hummed in acknowledgement. “That coincides perfectly with my current theory. Tell me, who would have access to your food, in order to poison you and be able to get into the room where you were sleeping without arousing suspicion?”
This question took longer for the housekeeper to answer. She twisted the keys around the key ring as she thought. “I can think of three people that would have been capable of that. I can bring them to you if you’d like.” Miss. Hutton rose from her armchair and smoothed down her skirts. “They should be arriving for the evening at this instant.”
Holmes held up a hand to stop her. “Please, one moment, Miss. Hutton. I have one more question for you. Out of the three people you have identified, are any of them married to or are the daughters of a watchmaker or blacksmith?”
The woman stopped on her way to the door and nodded. “Yes, Muriel. She is the granddaughter of Mr. Tinmouth of Aldridge Street. Do you wish to speak to her first?” The women swayed with nervous energy as she spoke.
“Yes, that would be preferable.” Holmes replied, smiling genuinely at the housekeeper for the first time. “Thank you for all of your help, Miss. Hutton, both Mr. Trevor and I are extremely grateful.”
Trevor offered his thanks before the housekeeper rushed from the room to fetch the maid.
Once she had left, Holmes turned to Trevor and clasped the hand that he was using to fondle the watch chain. “I do believe that this is one of the simplest cases I’ve had in a very long time. Even our suspect’s motive appears to be obvious.”
“Really?” Trevor asked with a raised eyebrow. “Would you be willing to share her motive or are you going to keep it to yourself until your grande dénouement?”
Holmes laughed quietly. “Oh, you know me so very well.” At the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading up to Trevor’s room, the detective withdrew his hand and placed it in his lap. “Do you want to answer the door or shall I?”
The anxious expression that had been plaguing Trevor’s features for the entire afternoon was beginning to fade as the prospect of getting his ring back became more likely and he offered Holmes the most relaxed smile he could muster. “I can manage.” He stopped half way to opening the door and turned back to face the detective. “I can’t help but worry if she’s already passed it on? I know you said she wouldn’t have sold it but she may already have given it as a gift if she doesn’t keep Evelyn’s ring for herself.”
“I doubt she would have done. We are both aware that she planned the entire operation carefully which would imply that there was no haste to the crime and I imagine that if something had gone awry while she freed the ring that she would have given up and attempted to take it again this evening.” At the sound of a brusque knock at the door, which clearly belonged to Miss. Hutton, Holmes waved for Trevor to go and answer it.
Standing in the doorway was a short woman in a modest black dress covered in a white apron, her dark hair was messily tucked under a white lace cap. Miss. Hutton was holding onto her arm tightly and the maid refused to meet the eyes of either of the men in the room. The housekeeper stepped forward, hauling the girl along behind her.
“Miss. Hutton would you please let go of the poor girl’s arm. It is extremely unlikely that she will attempt to escape and as much as I appreciate your help this afternoon, I rather you didn’t cause her harm.” Holmes said, motioning for the maid to sit down. “Muriel, isn’t it?”
“Sorry, Mr. Holmes.” The housekeeper reluctantly let go of the Muriel’s arm and turned to leave the room, casting her glare as she closed the heavy oak door.
Once the housekeeper had left, the maid nodded sheepishly and took a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it between her fingers. “Yes, my name is Muriel. I am a maid here.” She spoke quietly and didn’t look up from the handkerchief in her lap.
“Good evening. I have some reason to believe that you came into my friend Mr. Trevor’s room at some point between midnight and seven o’clock this morning, found his pocket watch on the table and set about removing the signet ring of his sister from the watch chain once you were sure that he was asleep. Is that correct?”
The maid took a shuddering breath and reached into her apron pocket, pulling out the gold ring and setting it on the coffee table between them. Trevor leaned forward and took it from the table immediately, running a thumb repeatedly over the gold metal, a habit that Holmes had observed him partake in many a time.
“Please accept my apologies, my family are good honest people and they have brought me up that way, but it’s my younger sister’s eighteenth birthday next week and I couldn’t afford to buy her a gift because of my own calamity. I have broken several glasses when working in the kitchen and had to replace them from my own pocket, leaving me with hardly any money to spare. Seeing, Mr. Trevor’s sister’s ring on his watch chain when he arrived planted the idea in my head. I knew he would sleep soundly after his travelling so I decided that I had good chance of taking the ring.”
Muriel sniffed and wiped her nose on the handkerchief before finally looking up at the men in front of her. “During my break, I ran to my grandfather’s shop and took some of his tools so that I could free the ring from the chain. I also visited an apothecary to purchase some sleeping draught which I placed in Miss. Hutton’s tea. Therefore I was able to steal the keys to Mr. Trevor’s room and take the ring. That is all there was to it. I am so very sorry, Mr. Trevor and I am not going to attempt to stop you from contacting the police.” She spoke quietly now, her voice almost lost over the crackling of the fire.
Trevor continued to run his thumb over the outside of the ring as he spoke, his eyes unfocused. “This ring belonged to my dear sister, as Holmes has already mentioned. She died of a cursed illness on her eighteenth birthday. I keep her ring of my watch chain as a memento of her-“
Muriel’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide as she interrupted. “Mr. Trevor! Of course I had no idea of what the ring was to you. Please, accept my forgiveness-“
“If you’d allow me to finish my sentences, I would appreciate it.” Trevor smiled weakly and continued speaking. “The fact that you stole this ring with the good intention of giving it your sister for her eighteenth birthday and not just for the money you could have gained by selling it makes the situation considerably more favourable than the alternative. I would like to give you some money to purchase a ring for your sister.”
Muriel gasped and shook her head violently. “I couldn’t possibly accept that, sir. Not after everything I’ve done. My parents did not raise me to take the money of those who I have wronged.”
“Excuse me one moment.” Trevor slipped the ring into the pocket of his waistcoat and walked through the doorway into his bedroom.
Holmes watched the girl carefully before speaking. “Mr. Trevor has an extremely kind and generous heart. If I were in his position I would have reported you to the police immediately but it would appear that his ideas are different to mine. I suggest you take the money, my dear, as if I know my friend as well as I do, he will not take no for an answer.”
Victor returned to the room with a small wad of banknotes in his hand. “Please accept these and buy your sister the gift she deserves. Cherish the time you have with her, you may never know when she will have to leave you. Please, use some of the money to pay your grandfather for the loan of his tools and for the repair of my chain. I will visit him tomorrow and do not intend to pay him.” He slid the notes across the table and nodded for Muriel to take them.
“Th-thank you, sir.” She whispered quietly as she placed the notes in apron pocket. “I will follow your advice for as long as I live.”
Trevor smiled kindly at her and motioned for her to leave.
Holmes cleared his throat, stopping the girl on her path to the door. “I would suggest that you don’t show the banknotes to Miss. Hutton as she may accuse you of stealing once again and also warn you that the housekeeper still has every right to contact the police as you did drug her without her permission.”
“I will, sir.” She said, nodding once again. “Thank you, you have both been overly kind to me. I won’t forget the advice you have given me for the rest of my days.” She took a few deep breaths before exiting the room, closing the large door behind her.
Holmes chuckled to himself and turned to Trevor, taking his hand and holding it to his chest. “You really are far too kind, my dear. Although, it was clear to me too, that the girl only had good intentions.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Trevor’s lips as the grandfather clock struck seven. “See, I promised you that I would retrieve your ring by seven o’clock.”
“And you did.” Trevor laughed and got to his feet, pulling Holmes up along with him. “You promised me dinner too, if my memory can be trusted.”
Mrs. Hudson knocked softly on the door to Sherlock’s bedroom to bring him his tea as she did every morning. She was used to finding Holmes wide awake and hunched over his desk, the windows flung open to let toxic fumes escape, working on some kind of dangerous experiment.
However, as she opened the door, she covered her mouth in surprise at the sight in front of her. Holmes lay sleeping peacefully in the arms of the anxious gentlemen that had come to Baker Street the previous afternoon. It would appear that he hadn’t managed to find the guest bedroom. She shook her head, smiling fondly at them both before placing the tea on Holmes’ desk and leaving the room, giving them one last look as she silently closed the door behind her.