Chapter Three

I followed Pastor Lestrade out of the Church and down several blocks, until we reached a well-kept, if nondescript, brick apartment building. Pastor Lestrade paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the door, and turned to me.

“Before we go in, I feel I must warn you Mrs.Watson. Ms. Holmes...some might call her eccentric.”

I waved a dismissive hand, and laughed at his nervousness.

“From what you say she’s independent, intelligent and interested in science. Of course they say that. They say the same about me,” I scoffed. Not so long ago they would have burned us as witches, I thought.

Lestrade pursed his lips, as though he were trying to hide a smile. He lifted one eyebrow and said “Doubt you’ve ever snuck into the morgue to beat the bodies, to see how long after death they can still bruise.”

I do admit, that got me. I may have squeaked.

Pastor Lestrade’s wide smile broke through, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Welcome to Baker Street.”

We reached the door that read 221 B, and Pastor Lestrade knocked. After a moment, he tried the door, which was unlocked.  He swung the door open wide, and I gasped at the mad scene inside. 

“Has there been a burglary?  Someone has ransacked the flat?”

“What? Oh, no, it’s always like this.” Pastor Lestrade said, setting a foot inside and leaning in to call, “Hudson? Miss Scarlett?”

I followed him inside following close upon his heels, taking in the strange apartment.

The walls were covered in floral paper, and decorated with framed programs from operas in Europe, stacks of books of various languages and topics, maps and globes, and scientific contraptions. 

On the floor, sitting on the dark, ornate, oriental rug, were cages, boxes, bales, and farm supplies. A chicken I couldn’t see clucked nervously to herself in a dark corner.

“Is this a museum or a bazaar?” I asked in wonder.

“It is certainly bizarre.”

I jumped at the new voice, and whipped my head in it’s direction of origin. That is when I saw a woman about my age, her skirts in her arms, climbing in through the window from the fire escape. 

Before I could recover, Lestrade said “I am sorry to intrude…”

The strange creature at the window cut him off. “It’s no intrusion, Pastor.  I saw you coming, of course.”

As our host whirled around, I saw a set of giant chop sticks shoved into her belt at her back.  I recognize the kimono she is wearing, and open my mouth to ask a question, when she  pulls a bowl filled with noodles from a secret pocket in her skirts.

“Noodles” she offers with a smile. Her face is angelic, heart shaped with a pointy chin, large green eyes, and her skin is a perfect creamy complexion the color of fall leaves after the colors have faded. 

I just stand there with my mouth agape.

“Uh...no, thank you.” Lestrade replies.

I finally find my voice and exclaim “Wait! I recognize you! Were you…”

“Playing the part of a street food merchant today. A bit of incognito surveillance for a small mystery regarding the disappearance of meat pies from Mrs. Stoverson’s kitchen window. Plus, I do enjoy noodles.”

Just then, the window that our host had entered through slammed shut. My reaction was instant, and uncontrollable, the reaction of a soldier to canon fire. My heart was beating so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I had crouched on the spot, barely containing myself from diving under the nearest table. When I looked up, Holmes’s penetrating eyes were on me.

“Terribly sorry about that. The window is loose.”

“Who are you?” I asked, mystified by this odd creature.

“The better question is, what brings a police officer’s wife from Uptown all the way to my little corner of Lucky Town.” Before I could find my voice to reply, she turned to the Pastor and asked “What fresh mystery have you brought me today, Pastor?”

Pastor Lestrade shrugged at me, a look of apology on his face.

“Please, ladies.  Mrs.Watson, please allow me to introduce you to Ms. Scarlett Holmes.”

Scarlett reached out a hand to shake. “You may call me Scarlett.”

“Joanna Watson” I said, and shook her hand.  Her grip was strong, and her fingers calloused.

Something about our brief interaction set her mind in motion. It was a behavior I would come to understand, that would bring on a thrill of excited anticipation later on. On this day, I looked on in amazement as she set the noodles on a table and began to rifle through a stack of newspapers on a desk in the corner of the room. 

Undeterred by her erratic behavior, Lestrade asked “You’ve heard about the brothel murder?”

Not looking up from her search, she replied “Of course, my little birds keep me well informed.”

“The Police have arrested one of my flock…”

“Yes, the cabbie with the lame leg and head trauma.” She said, her tone almost annoyed at the necessity of having to regurgitate facts that were already well established.

I found my voice. “He didn’t do it, and I can prove it.”

“And you think that will matter?” She had paused in her manic hunt and looked at me with those probing eyes.

“Well...yes.” I squirmed under her penetrating, skeptical gaze. 

“Aren’t you precious. I can imagine that rules and the law are a comfort for you, Missus Watson. A warm blanket that keeps you safe. I suppose it would be difficult to realize that your blanket smothers as much as it protects, or just leaves some people cold... or maybe you do realize it, and that’s why you’re here?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I replied, my anger starting to rise. Friend of the Pastor’s or no, I was no

“My dear woman, you have been telling me who you are from the moment you entered my apartment. Actually, from the moment I saw you stride down the street.”

Scarlett was never so happy as when she had an intellectual adversary at her mercy, and her delight was evident in her sparkling eyes.

“You live in lower Uptown, and served near fighting in the war.”

I was captivated by her, and barely reacted when she grasped my hand to examine it more closely. This shook me from my surprised stupor, and I managed to catch hold of my wits.

“Don’t tell me you divined all this, and want to read my palm?”

Holmes grinned at my quip.

No! I assure you my methods are grounded firmly in the mysteries of this world.”

She twisted my wrist to further examine my forearm.

“You have a passion for gardening, which must be complicated to do from your small apartment in Uptown. What you choose to grow is unusual. Medicinals, some of them rare for this area.”

Her accuracy astounded me, but nothing could have prepared me for what she said next.

“You were therefore a nurse during the war…”

I was about to object, finally finding a fault in her assessment, when she appended.

“No. A doctor.” 

“Not officially.” I said, finally pulling my hand away from her.

“Aren’t you an interesting specimen?” This she said with a note of admiration that made me suddenly self-conscious.

Lestrade broke in, a pleading note in his voice. “Scarlett, please, slow down. It’s her first time.”

At this, Holmes sighed, deflating a bit as she took on the note of a professor trying to explain a concept to a particularly obtuse student. 

“I practice the art of observation and deduction, Missus Watson. Your place of residence was easiest, given skin tone and your style of dress. Prudent and smart.”

She pointed toward the floor at my feet.

“There’s a bit of mud at the hem of your dress, not in the correct position for it to have occurred when dismounting a taxi, and your shoes - good for walking without the foolish heels that are the fashion today. You walked here with Pastor Lestrade meaning you must be close enough without discomfort, which would put you in lower Uptown.”

She directed her attention then to the cuff of my blouse.

“Your blouse has a trace of soil at the cuff, and there is a whiff of mint from under your fingernails.”

She gestured toward the window.

“Your reaction a moment ago to the window falling. So common in the soldiers that returned from war. This tells me you were in close enough proximity to the fighting to bear the lingering unseen scars.”

I didn’t resist as she lifted my left hand.

“Your ring is simple but with a bit of style, shows nicely, not expensive, but of good quality.”

He dropped my hand, reached behind her desk and brought a violin up to her shoulder, flourishing the bow with practiced grace.

“Just right for a police man’s wife. Most obviously, you must be close with a police officer to know anything about this case at all. This conclusion is also supported by the fact that the Pastor brought you here to see me, an indication that he thinks someone high up in the Policeman’s Wives Benevolence Society can be of some use to us.”

Finally, on this last point, I found my voice.  I knew I had nothing in my dress or bearing that would have betrayed that association.

“Now how could you--?”

She lowered the tip of her bow, onto the society section of the local newspaper.  It was an article that had been published several months ago, on the success of the fund raiser for orphans and widows of the Union war dead.  There was no mistaking my face in the back row of women printed in black and white. 

“I miss nothing, and remember everything.” Scarlett said with a smug smirk.

I stood there in stunned silence for a moment, and then heard Pastor Lestrade take a deep breath.

“Yes, well, now that you’ve been acquainted, Mrs. Watson has brought a clue.”

At that very moment, a chicken squawked and flapped from within it’s cage, sending feathers flying into the air.

“Devil take the creatures” Scarlett burst out in frustration.  She looked at my face and said, in a comforting tone as though I was the one of us that needing calming “Hudson will have all this cleared out by afternoon tea, won’t you Hudson?”

“I’ll take care of it, Miss” said a deep, soothing baritone.

I spun in the direction of the voice, and saw a greying black man, standing straight and tall in the dining room. 

“Hudson, this is Dr. Watson” Scarlett said, by way of introducing me.  I noted she did not say “Mrs.” and looked at her. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, a slight nod of respect passed between us.  I knew I liked her. 

My attention now drawn to the array of strange items strewn about the apartment, I asked “What is all this?”

Hudson lowered his head with a smile, “Oh, just some gifts from Miss Holme’s grateful clients.  She solves their mysteries, but most can’t pay with money.  They give what they can.  I’ve developed a nice little system to handle it over the years.”

“A girl has to make a living.” Scarlett broke in. “We can discuss the vices and virtues of the underground economy another time. Let us turn our attention to the matter at hand. You have a clue?”

All thoughts of chicken’s vanished. Scarlett positively pulsed with anticipation, as I pulled the handkerchief from my skirt pocket. 

“My husband thought it meant something, but the lead detective dismissed it as trivial.”

Scarlett held the scrap up to her eyes, scrutinizing it from all directions. “To a great mind, nothing is trivial.”

Scarlett Holmes moved with manic energy, rummaging through a bin of beakers and tools until she found a large magnifying glass.  Her intelligent green eye, huge in the glass, seemed to pulse as it took in information from the clue.

“There is something familiar about this symbol.” She lowered the glass with a thud. “Where was it found?”

“On the floor by the body.” I replied.

As though my words had been the sound of a starting pistol, Scarlett Holmes once again sprang into motion.  She stripped off her bright street-vendor garb, pulling the dress over her head.  I heard Pastor Lestrade make a dismayed noise and begin to spin around to face the wall, but such modesty was not necessary.  In a flurry of fabric, Scarlett revealed a black widow’s dress, beautifully tailored to her figure.  With a graceful flourish, she pulled a black hat from atop the head of a skull on the fireplace mantle, and adjusted the attached lace veil so that it obscured her face.  

“You have medical experience from the war.  Were you any good?”

“Yes, I was. I am” I said, with more than a hint of pride.

Scarlett heard it, and her smile widened. “Excellent. You’re coming then.”

I spluttered in surprise. “What?  Where?”

Scarlett spun around the room, a look of irritation on her face, as she examined piles for something.  Hudson emerged again from the kitchen, holding her coat.  She snapped it from his grasp with barely a nod of acknowledgement.

“The scene of the crime, of course!” Scarlett exclaimed. 

I shared a concerned look with Pastor Lestrade. Hudson looked at Scarlett with a long-suffering glance of worry and disapproval. It reminded me precisely of the look Leo had given me this morning. I straightened my hat, and followed Scarlett to the door.

“Hudson, I won’t be home for supper.  The game is afoot!”