Chapter Text
It was an early night toward the end of December. All was dark and quiet, covered in a silent shroud of glistening snow, from the sloping valleys, up to the high, craggy peaks that brushed the dark grey clouds. Embedded in one such slope, far from any other sign of civilization, was a small town, peeking out from drifts of snow. The lone street that ran between the shuttered shops and houses was empty, the footprints from the day already softened by the still falling snow that swirled to the ground. What residents there were had since sheltered inside. The warm glow of their fires radiated from the windows, and smoke puffed out of their chimneys to mingle with the clouds above.
There was, however, a single set of fresh footprints; the small tread of a woman’s boot, leading through what passed for the center of town, down the road a little ways to a small inn. In the summer months, there were always travelers coming and going as they hiked along the valley, but in the winter, the inn was nearly deserted. It was not so late, but already the fireplace in the parlour was nearly down to glowing embers, its light supplemented by only a few lanterns, which shed a dim flickering light. The only inhabitants were a pair of strange gentlemen - one seated by the fire, and the other standing beside it, his tall, thin figure in dark silhouette - both their attention fixed on a young lady from the village who had, just moments before, burst into the parlour from the frigid evening.
As she entered she had seemed to be on the verge of exclaiming, but once she had acquired the audience she sought, she faltered, catching her breath upon the threshold.
“M. Holmes,” she said, as much a question as a statement.
The tall, thin gentleman inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“Even here your name is known,” she began, her voice low and urgent. “I have heard that you can help me.”
Again, Mr. Holmes bowed his head and motioned for her to continue.
However, she hesitated. “Perhaps I should not have come” - she glanced out the window, but all she could see was the falling snow, drifting lazily to the ground. “But if I did not, I fear the consequences would be too terrible to bear. You know what he means to do?”
“Yes,” Holmes replied, “I am aware of his intentions.”
“Please, M. Holmes, you must stop him! The passes are closed now with the snow, but I have heard that by the new year, it will be clear enough to travel. Please, do we not deserve a little peace?”
“We will do all that we can,” Holmes said at last.
“Thank you, M. Holmes! Our lives rest in your hands. Now, I must go, quickly, before anyone wonders where I have gone.”
Only when she had fled back out into the night did the gentleman sitting by the fireside stir. He stood, revealing a somewhat shorter, broader stature. He went to his companion’s side and rested a hand upon Holmes’s shoulder, conveying unspoken volumes with the unassuming gesture.
“Holmes, whatever must be done, leave the work to me,” he said. “Do not forget that we are here so that you may rest and recover your health.”
A thin smile crossed Holmes’s aquiline features. “No my dear Watson, I believe in this instance that will not be necessary.”
Watson did not argue, he only replied, “Do you not also deserve a little peace?”