Chapter Text
“If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world.”
This remark caught me off guard. Especially after the case with Irene Adler, to hear my friend Sherlock Holmes so completely dismiss the feelings and autonomy of our client angered me. My eyes narrowed as he spoke, and I could see that Holmes noticed, for he grew more quiet before he finished.
“Really Holmes!” I cried immediately. “This woman calls upon you to find her fiancé, and you decide to refuse her request? You should be ashamed.” I often found it difficult to speak against the words of an otherwise remarkable man, but I could be quite formidable when pushed to do so, much to my friend’s surprise.
The intended effect must have come across, for he gained a pained expression, often shown when he has made a fatal error in judgment–-an atrocity by his standards. He put a hand on his face, sliding it over his furrowed brow. “You are right. I have come to conclusions too quickly.”
“Indeed you have! Let us telegram her immediately.” Although I was pleased with his realization, the careless remark still left me heated, and it showed in the way I hastily scribbled the message as Holmes called up the page. The boy looked intrigued; usually it was Holmes that wrote the telegram. He said nothing of it though–-I think he saw in my face that it was no time for questions.
“We have found out where Mr. Hosmer Angel is,” Holmes spoke gravely to Ms. Sutherland after we invited her in. Her face lit up at the words, hope shining from her eyes, and I felt a shard of ice go through my heart when I saw it. “But I’m afraid that the question of who he is has been realized as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is your stepfather who, with a cruel disguise, tricked you into believing him to be someone else. By making you promise to stay faithful to this false person, he hoped to keep you under his financial control."
“I…I can’t believe this.”
“It is true. Why do you think they never appeared together? Why he spoke and dressed so peculiarly?” She looked back and forth between us, as if asking us to admit this to be a cruel joke. She was only met with Holmes's hard face and my own look of concern.
“Also…” Holmes faltered, putting his hand to his mouth in a troubled manner. I figured I should help him.
“Your mother aided him in the scheme,” I said. “That is why she was so keen on the marriage despite the poor manner you have been treated.”
Her look of dismay turned into that of utter horror. “You’re lying!” she cried, collapsing on the floor in tears. I expected Holmes to help, but he only stood there, a look I had never seen before on his face, so it was up to me to ease her into a chair.
“I am very sorry,” I consoled her.
Once she had somewhat regained herself, she stammered, “While I don’t want to believe you, I know you to be the most honest men in London, so I must.” Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“We will be here to help you. Our aid doesn’t end now, right Holmes?”
He shot that same peculiar look at me, before nodding stiffly. “Yes, we will help.”
We allowed her to rest a bit, calling Mrs. Hudson down with tea, before she deemed herself fit to leave.
“We will keep in contact with you,” I spoke gently. “Don’t hesitate to call on us if needed.”
“Thank you,” she whispered before walking silently out the door.
Once she had left, we slowly collapsed into our chairs by the fireplace. There we sat in silence for a few moments.
Holmes sighed. “Watson, while you give much credit to my strengths, I am not infallible, as you saw just now.” He turned towards me, conviction in his voice. “I am glad you are here to correct my mistakes, otherwise this woman would have been living a lie due to my cowardice.”
While Holmes could be quite prideful at times (and for good reason), I had always appreciated his willingness to admit to his faults. Still, I could not help but inquire into the matter. “I have always known you to follow through with your plans. Why were you not going to tell her?”
Holmes looked away, staring into the fire, the red hot reflection flickering in his eyes. The pause that followed felt like an eternity. “Another time.”
My friend seldom spoke of his past, and I figured that I had touched the edge of one of those memories. I could only wonder what caused him so much pain, but it would be selfish of me to press him, so I said nothing.
“Well, I am glad you told her.”
He continued to gaze at the flames, but a small smile crept to his face. The fire felt a little warmer.
Ms. Mary Sutherland broke off contact with her mother, which was most heartbreaking for the young woman and left us in frequent correspondence for many months after. Her modest pay, as well as my friend’s generous patronage, though, left her in comfortable living conditions, and she comes by occasionally to have a cup of tea with us and share stories of our adventures.
Holmes has not yet told me of the incident, and I have not asked. He will on his own time.