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charleygirlTitle: Jack In The Green 10/10
Author: charleygirl
Rating: G
Words: 2956
Characters involved: Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson
Genre: Mystery, Drama
Disclaimer: These characters, while out of copyright, were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and do not belong to me. Hope Barton and its inhabitants do, however.
Summary: The end of the case, and the May Day celebrations...
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
JACK IN THE GREEN
CHAPTER TEN
The sun is half up and betokens the hour
When the children arrive with their garlands of flowers
So now let the music and the dancing begin
And toast the good heart of young Jack in the Green
- Martin Graebe, performed by Magpie Lane
It was a subdued party which returned to Samuel and Molly’s home that afternoon.
My mind was still grappling to make sense of the many revelations I had heard in the past few hours. Prior was still ranting at Sir George as he was taken away by the police; his companion, a young clergyman who had run instinctively when Taplow and Cartwright appeared from the house, was found to have been bribed by Prior to conduct the ceremony. It took some time for the sergeant to take statements from everyone, and by the time we departed we were all tired and disinclined towards conversation.
Molly insisted on Sir George and Miss Melville coming with us, as they both needed attention and with the staff at the hall dismissed for the day it would be better for all concerned that they were not left alone. The baronet was a broken man, and his daughter plainly did not know quite what to make of him after seeing the bile that had been directed towards him by John Prior. She was solicitous of his health, but there was a slight reserve in her manner that I had not noticed before. Holmes spoke to no one, repulsing any attempt by Sir George thank him for his actions.
“No one comes out of this affair with any glory, Watson,” he told me before retiring for the night. “There is a lesson to be learned from what has happened here, that is it far better to tell the truth. A scandal may be an appalling prospect, but trying to keep a secret will in the end produce greater strife. How many lives have been ruined by the foolish actions of those young people nearly thirty years ago?”
I did not disagree, though I remarked that youth is often foolish, and no one is able to see the far-reaching consequences of their actions. He merely snorted and closed his door.
By the following morning it became clear that the house was somewhat overcrowded, and I acquiesced with relief to Holmes’s suggestion that we return to London on the afternoon train. Molly was disappointed, but agreed that, since the Melvilles were not eager to return to their home just yet, things would only be cramped for us all. She could also see as well as I that Holmes was itching to be away. Now that the case was concluded he wished to be back amongst the bustle of Baker Street, with the enticement of a return to the work that he loved.
“You will stay for the Maying, won’t you?” Molly asked, and Miss Melville added her voice to the plea.
“Oh, you must, Mr Holmes! We must do something to thank you.”
“I need no rewards, Miss Melville,” Holmes said, but she would not hear of us leaving until after the procession. With a long-suffering sigh, he agreed that perhaps we could stay a little longer. I did speak to Miss Melville and suggest that perhaps she should be resting following her ordeal but she simply smiled at me and made it clear that after days of incarceration she wished to breathe as much fresh air as possible. She spent much of the morning with Henry Edwards, who was being cared for by Doctor Bateman and a local nurse at his own cottage.
Holmes and I strolled from the house towards the green just before twelve o’clock, having seen Samuel and the two women off a few minutes ahead. Sir George remained behind, unable to bear the thought of being amongst his tenants so soon after the upheaval at the hall which had seen many of them losing their jobs. I wondered whether he would ever be able to hold his head up amongst them again once the news was out.
“How did they manage to keep the marriage a secret the first time?” I wondered as we walked, taking the path that would lead us past the church and down the avenue of yew trees. “Surely in a community so small someone must have known.”
“And so they did. But Sir George has been fortunate that in Reverend Culver he has a good friend and a man of discretion. Culver is of the belief that a confidence should be kept no matter what, and only revealed the circumstances to me once I had assured him that I meant Sir George no harm,” Holmes said.
“And yet in a way you have done the man harm, Holmes. That which he wished to conceal will be made public.”
“There is little that can be done about it now. The truth had to be revealed in order to extricate him from the predicament in which he found himself, a predicament to a certain extent of his own making. He could have refused to believe John Prior’s claims and sent him away, weathered whatever scandal erupted, and carried on with his life, but he decided to hide once again, and look what came of it. It is now time for him to show some of the strength he claims to lack.”
I sighed. “Such a tangled web. But what of this Jack in the Green business? How did you know that this Frenchman and John Prior were one and the same?”
“I vaguely recognised him when we spoke at the hall yesterday morning, but my memory has not been at its best of late and I was unable to place him until I saw those photographs of Sir George and his brother playing in the local cricket team. Prior looks far more like his uncle than his father, which explains why no one in the household guessed the truth. I also recognised his boots – Jacques dans le Verte was very much the dandy, Watson, and no matter how much he tried to be English he could not hide his liking for expensive footwear. I got a good look at them while he was haranguing us yesterday. Besides, there is also that.” We had reached the church, and he lifted his stick to point to the Green Man above the door. The thing leered down at us.
“What has that repulsive creature to do with it?” I asked in surprise.
“There is something else that the Reverend Culver was good enough to tell me: some of the local young ladies regard Jack as some sort of protective spirit. This avenue is popular with courting couples, as they believe that Jack will watch over their union and make it fruitful.” Holmes raised an eyebrow. “One of those young ladies was Alice Prior. She would visit Jack, so I am told, on a regular basis. It does not take a detective to deduce that she mentioned the sprite to her son when a child, and that the name lodged itself in his memory. Being unaware of the local customs, when he used the framework for the Jack in the Green costume to hide what he believed to be the body of Henry Edwards he did not realise that he was giving another clue to his identity.”
I shook my head. “It is all quite incredible.”
“Did I not say that there is more to be feared from the country than the town?”
“Repeatedly.”
“I find myself vindicated once again. Ah – here is your cousin.”
Molly and Miss Melville had come to meet us. Behind them came the strains of music, and the tinkling of the bells worn by Morris Men. I allowed them to lead me to the green, Holmes following us somewhat reluctantly. The dancers were there in full regalia, the clashing of their sticks drawing forth excited whoops from the crowd as they weaved to and fro to the tune of The Flowers of Edinburgh.
“Harry wishes me to thank you, Doctor Watson,” Miss Melville said, clutching my arm as we walked. “He says that if it weren’t for you he would be dead.”
“I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time,” I told her. “How is Mr Edwards?”
“The doctor says it may be too early to say, but they think he will recover, in time. I have spoken with Papa, and he has agreed that we may be married, once I am of age. Harry may not be what he wished for in a son-in-law, but he is honest, and true, and he loves me.”
“That is what matters. I am sure that your father can appreciate the sentiment.”
“The village will need a new schoolteacher,” observed Holmes, who had caught up with us as we stood at the edge of the green watching the dancers. There was a look of barely-disguised distaste on his face as he took in the spectacle of bells, streamers, flowers and clogs.
“I am going to step in,” declared Molly. She smiled broadly when she saw our surprise. “Well, Sam decided that I need something other than my imagination to occupy me, and I think he’s right. Just this time, mind,” she added when her husband looked pleased with himself. “So there will be no more Mary Quinn novels for a while, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that is a shame,” I said, and cast a mischievous glance towards my friend. “Whatever will Holmes read on the long winter evenings now?”
Holmes shot me a glare from beneath his panama and turned his attention to the chaotic scene before him. The entire village had turned out for the occasion, children laughing and running in and out of the adults’ legs, the ribbons of the maypole and the May Queen’s throne fluttering in the breeze. Flowers were everywhere – on the houses, the tavern, carried by the pretty young queen and her attendants, and by the gaggle of schoolchildren who surrounded the maypole itself. I saw the foliage-covered form of ‘Jack’, head and shoulders above everyone else.
“You will come back for a more relaxing weekend, won’t you?” Molly asked me, tucking her arm through mine. “Later in the year?”
I smiled. “Of course. I will look forward to it.”
“And you, Mr Holmes? I promise I will leave you free from any investigations.”
“Please don’t, my dear – a weekend without a mystery to solve would be utter misery for Holmes.”
“Thank you, Watson,” my friend said with a tight little smile. “I will be happy to visit again, Mrs Foster, should my work allow me the luxury of any free time in the near future.”
I opened my mouth to remonstrate with him, but then I stopped and actually looked at him properly. His face was pale, as it always was, but the dark circles beneath his eyes which had become a permanent fixture of late seemed just a shade lighter, the worry lines which had marked his forehead smoothed out. His appearance spoke to me of a man who had at last had a good night’s sleep, and as I moved my gaze to the hand which rested upon the head of his walking stick, I realised that it was almost steady. He noticed my scrutiny, of course, and the smile spread a little further. I knew then that there would be no stopping him from throwing himself back into his work the moment we returned to Baker Street.
“At any rate,” he added, addressing Molly, “we will have to return for the trial.”
“Oh, don’t let’s speak of that now,” said Miss Melville quickly. I could understand her sentiments. She glanced over her shoulder – behind her the Morris Men were leaving the green, followed by their troupe of attendants. Robin Hood raised his bow and fired an arrow decked with flowers into the crowd. A space was cleared about the maypole, the children leaving the area to make way for the young people. A wicked gleam came into Miss Melville’s eye. “Would you like to dance, Mr Holmes?”
I have rarely seen Holmes speechless, but he was at that moment. I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile, but Molly laughed out loud. Holmes flushed, glaring at the pair of us.
“I am afraid I have no aptitude for dancing, Miss Melville. Thank you all the same,” he said smoothly when he had found his voice.
“Nonsense! It’s the easiest thing in the world. Come along, I’ll show you.” She reached to take his hand, a girl with evidently more courage than most, but he slipped away from her, looking around him for an escape.
It came in the form of Samuel. “I think there’s someone in the Green Man who would like a word, Mr Holmes,” he said with a wink. Miss Melville pouted, but Holmes was relieved.
“Thank you, Mr Foster. Lead on, please.” He gestured to Samuel to lead the way, touched his hat to the ladies, and the two of them vanished into the crowd.
Molly shook her head, watching her husband go. “Typical. No sense of occasion. He wouldn’t dance with me when we were younger either.”
I will admit that I was tempted to join them in the tavern. Miss Melville gave me a speculative glance, but thankfully before she could try to coerce me to dancing with her a lad of a similar age to herself approached and doffed his cap, shyly asking her to join him at the maypole. She looked flattered, considered the offer, but realised that Molly was looking at her disapprovingly and ultimately shook her head.
“Not until Harry can dance with me,” she said, and Molly nodded, pleased with her answer.
The festivities continued for some time, and I did not manage to drag myself away until barely an hour before our train was due to leave. Samuel went off to collect the dog cart to take us to the station and I made it my mission to find Holmes. It did not take me long – he was sitting in a quiet corner of the Green Man, apparently relishing the solitude and finishing a pint of the local ale.
“Ready to go, Holmes?” I asked.
“Ah, Watson. Yes, I believe so.” He got to his feet and put on his hat. “Have you enjoyed your weekend?”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Apart from unravelling the convoluted history of the Melville family and being threatened with a savaging from a very large dog, yes, enormously,” I replied.
Holmes’s mouth twitched; and he clapped a companionable hand on my shoulder. “I think we both have had far too much country air. The atmosphere of Baker Street, some of Mrs Hudson’s most unimaginative cooking and the anticipation of what employment either the post or Lestrade might bring us will do us both wonders, I am sure.”
“Holmes…” I said in a warning tone, but he held up a hand. A steady hand.
“Come along. Mr Foster will be outside.” He shepherded me out of the tavern and into the sunshine, but before he climbed into the waiting cart he stopped and turned back. “One more thing, Watson. Promise me something.”
I looked at him, surprised. “If I can, Holmes. What is it?”
His mouth twitched again, into a proper smile, as he swung himself up into the back of the dog cart. He did not speak until I was beside him, and we were leaving Hope Barton behind. Then he cried,
“Promise me that you will not force me to leave London for anything other than the most urgent of cases for as long as is humanly possible!”
I laughed and shook my head. “I promise, Holmes.”
And so I did.
***
We returned to Oxfordshire for the trial of John Prior some weeks later. He was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, and still adamantly maintained his right to the Melville inheritance as he was being taken below to the cells.
Miss Melville married Mr Henry Edwards in a small ceremony at St Peter’s church in Hope Barton in August of that year. The groom was still recovering from his injuries, but he made good progress and his new young wife was a most devoted nurse. They live with the young lady’s ailing father at Melville Hall, and will I am sure make a worthy addition to Oxfordshire society.
Sir George Melville did not recover from the shame of having his early foolishness aired in the police courts and the newspapers. He does not leave his home now, but he is visited regularly by Molly and Samuel, who, with his daughter and son-in-law, do their best to make his reclusive life comfortable for him.
Molly does not regret her return to teaching, though she does still write when she has the time. A new Mary Quinn novel was published that November, a copy of which she sent to me, and which I put to one side, knowing it would make a marvellous and amusing Christmas present for Holmes. To my surprise he declared it to be just the thing he needed, and thanked me profusely for such a well-chosen gift. I began to wonder if he had run mad until I discovered a few weeks later that the book happened to be just the right size to prop up the wobbly leg of his dressing table. I am grateful he has never seen fit to put any of my stories to such use, but look forward to being there when Molly asks his opinion of the work…
FIN.
Author: charleygirl
Rating: G
Words: 2956
Characters involved: Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson
Genre: Mystery, Drama
Disclaimer: These characters, while out of copyright, were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and do not belong to me. Hope Barton and its inhabitants do, however.
Summary: The end of the case, and the May Day celebrations...
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
JACK IN THE GREEN
CHAPTER TEN
The sun is half up and betokens the hour
When the children arrive with their garlands of flowers
So now let the music and the dancing begin
And toast the good heart of young Jack in the Green
- Martin Graebe, performed by Magpie Lane
It was a subdued party which returned to Samuel and Molly’s home that afternoon.
My mind was still grappling to make sense of the many revelations I had heard in the past few hours. Prior was still ranting at Sir George as he was taken away by the police; his companion, a young clergyman who had run instinctively when Taplow and Cartwright appeared from the house, was found to have been bribed by Prior to conduct the ceremony. It took some time for the sergeant to take statements from everyone, and by the time we departed we were all tired and disinclined towards conversation.
Molly insisted on Sir George and Miss Melville coming with us, as they both needed attention and with the staff at the hall dismissed for the day it would be better for all concerned that they were not left alone. The baronet was a broken man, and his daughter plainly did not know quite what to make of him after seeing the bile that had been directed towards him by John Prior. She was solicitous of his health, but there was a slight reserve in her manner that I had not noticed before. Holmes spoke to no one, repulsing any attempt by Sir George thank him for his actions.
“No one comes out of this affair with any glory, Watson,” he told me before retiring for the night. “There is a lesson to be learned from what has happened here, that is it far better to tell the truth. A scandal may be an appalling prospect, but trying to keep a secret will in the end produce greater strife. How many lives have been ruined by the foolish actions of those young people nearly thirty years ago?”
I did not disagree, though I remarked that youth is often foolish, and no one is able to see the far-reaching consequences of their actions. He merely snorted and closed his door.
By the following morning it became clear that the house was somewhat overcrowded, and I acquiesced with relief to Holmes’s suggestion that we return to London on the afternoon train. Molly was disappointed, but agreed that, since the Melvilles were not eager to return to their home just yet, things would only be cramped for us all. She could also see as well as I that Holmes was itching to be away. Now that the case was concluded he wished to be back amongst the bustle of Baker Street, with the enticement of a return to the work that he loved.
“You will stay for the Maying, won’t you?” Molly asked, and Miss Melville added her voice to the plea.
“Oh, you must, Mr Holmes! We must do something to thank you.”
“I need no rewards, Miss Melville,” Holmes said, but she would not hear of us leaving until after the procession. With a long-suffering sigh, he agreed that perhaps we could stay a little longer. I did speak to Miss Melville and suggest that perhaps she should be resting following her ordeal but she simply smiled at me and made it clear that after days of incarceration she wished to breathe as much fresh air as possible. She spent much of the morning with Henry Edwards, who was being cared for by Doctor Bateman and a local nurse at his own cottage.
Holmes and I strolled from the house towards the green just before twelve o’clock, having seen Samuel and the two women off a few minutes ahead. Sir George remained behind, unable to bear the thought of being amongst his tenants so soon after the upheaval at the hall which had seen many of them losing their jobs. I wondered whether he would ever be able to hold his head up amongst them again once the news was out.
“How did they manage to keep the marriage a secret the first time?” I wondered as we walked, taking the path that would lead us past the church and down the avenue of yew trees. “Surely in a community so small someone must have known.”
“And so they did. But Sir George has been fortunate that in Reverend Culver he has a good friend and a man of discretion. Culver is of the belief that a confidence should be kept no matter what, and only revealed the circumstances to me once I had assured him that I meant Sir George no harm,” Holmes said.
“And yet in a way you have done the man harm, Holmes. That which he wished to conceal will be made public.”
“There is little that can be done about it now. The truth had to be revealed in order to extricate him from the predicament in which he found himself, a predicament to a certain extent of his own making. He could have refused to believe John Prior’s claims and sent him away, weathered whatever scandal erupted, and carried on with his life, but he decided to hide once again, and look what came of it. It is now time for him to show some of the strength he claims to lack.”
I sighed. “Such a tangled web. But what of this Jack in the Green business? How did you know that this Frenchman and John Prior were one and the same?”
“I vaguely recognised him when we spoke at the hall yesterday morning, but my memory has not been at its best of late and I was unable to place him until I saw those photographs of Sir George and his brother playing in the local cricket team. Prior looks far more like his uncle than his father, which explains why no one in the household guessed the truth. I also recognised his boots – Jacques dans le Verte was very much the dandy, Watson, and no matter how much he tried to be English he could not hide his liking for expensive footwear. I got a good look at them while he was haranguing us yesterday. Besides, there is also that.” We had reached the church, and he lifted his stick to point to the Green Man above the door. The thing leered down at us.
“What has that repulsive creature to do with it?” I asked in surprise.
“There is something else that the Reverend Culver was good enough to tell me: some of the local young ladies regard Jack as some sort of protective spirit. This avenue is popular with courting couples, as they believe that Jack will watch over their union and make it fruitful.” Holmes raised an eyebrow. “One of those young ladies was Alice Prior. She would visit Jack, so I am told, on a regular basis. It does not take a detective to deduce that she mentioned the sprite to her son when a child, and that the name lodged itself in his memory. Being unaware of the local customs, when he used the framework for the Jack in the Green costume to hide what he believed to be the body of Henry Edwards he did not realise that he was giving another clue to his identity.”
I shook my head. “It is all quite incredible.”
“Did I not say that there is more to be feared from the country than the town?”
“Repeatedly.”
“I find myself vindicated once again. Ah – here is your cousin.”
Molly and Miss Melville had come to meet us. Behind them came the strains of music, and the tinkling of the bells worn by Morris Men. I allowed them to lead me to the green, Holmes following us somewhat reluctantly. The dancers were there in full regalia, the clashing of their sticks drawing forth excited whoops from the crowd as they weaved to and fro to the tune of The Flowers of Edinburgh.
“Harry wishes me to thank you, Doctor Watson,” Miss Melville said, clutching my arm as we walked. “He says that if it weren’t for you he would be dead.”
“I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time,” I told her. “How is Mr Edwards?”
“The doctor says it may be too early to say, but they think he will recover, in time. I have spoken with Papa, and he has agreed that we may be married, once I am of age. Harry may not be what he wished for in a son-in-law, but he is honest, and true, and he loves me.”
“That is what matters. I am sure that your father can appreciate the sentiment.”
“The village will need a new schoolteacher,” observed Holmes, who had caught up with us as we stood at the edge of the green watching the dancers. There was a look of barely-disguised distaste on his face as he took in the spectacle of bells, streamers, flowers and clogs.
“I am going to step in,” declared Molly. She smiled broadly when she saw our surprise. “Well, Sam decided that I need something other than my imagination to occupy me, and I think he’s right. Just this time, mind,” she added when her husband looked pleased with himself. “So there will be no more Mary Quinn novels for a while, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that is a shame,” I said, and cast a mischievous glance towards my friend. “Whatever will Holmes read on the long winter evenings now?”
Holmes shot me a glare from beneath his panama and turned his attention to the chaotic scene before him. The entire village had turned out for the occasion, children laughing and running in and out of the adults’ legs, the ribbons of the maypole and the May Queen’s throne fluttering in the breeze. Flowers were everywhere – on the houses, the tavern, carried by the pretty young queen and her attendants, and by the gaggle of schoolchildren who surrounded the maypole itself. I saw the foliage-covered form of ‘Jack’, head and shoulders above everyone else.
“You will come back for a more relaxing weekend, won’t you?” Molly asked me, tucking her arm through mine. “Later in the year?”
I smiled. “Of course. I will look forward to it.”
“And you, Mr Holmes? I promise I will leave you free from any investigations.”
“Please don’t, my dear – a weekend without a mystery to solve would be utter misery for Holmes.”
“Thank you, Watson,” my friend said with a tight little smile. “I will be happy to visit again, Mrs Foster, should my work allow me the luxury of any free time in the near future.”
I opened my mouth to remonstrate with him, but then I stopped and actually looked at him properly. His face was pale, as it always was, but the dark circles beneath his eyes which had become a permanent fixture of late seemed just a shade lighter, the worry lines which had marked his forehead smoothed out. His appearance spoke to me of a man who had at last had a good night’s sleep, and as I moved my gaze to the hand which rested upon the head of his walking stick, I realised that it was almost steady. He noticed my scrutiny, of course, and the smile spread a little further. I knew then that there would be no stopping him from throwing himself back into his work the moment we returned to Baker Street.
“At any rate,” he added, addressing Molly, “we will have to return for the trial.”
“Oh, don’t let’s speak of that now,” said Miss Melville quickly. I could understand her sentiments. She glanced over her shoulder – behind her the Morris Men were leaving the green, followed by their troupe of attendants. Robin Hood raised his bow and fired an arrow decked with flowers into the crowd. A space was cleared about the maypole, the children leaving the area to make way for the young people. A wicked gleam came into Miss Melville’s eye. “Would you like to dance, Mr Holmes?”
I have rarely seen Holmes speechless, but he was at that moment. I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile, but Molly laughed out loud. Holmes flushed, glaring at the pair of us.
“I am afraid I have no aptitude for dancing, Miss Melville. Thank you all the same,” he said smoothly when he had found his voice.
“Nonsense! It’s the easiest thing in the world. Come along, I’ll show you.” She reached to take his hand, a girl with evidently more courage than most, but he slipped away from her, looking around him for an escape.
It came in the form of Samuel. “I think there’s someone in the Green Man who would like a word, Mr Holmes,” he said with a wink. Miss Melville pouted, but Holmes was relieved.
“Thank you, Mr Foster. Lead on, please.” He gestured to Samuel to lead the way, touched his hat to the ladies, and the two of them vanished into the crowd.
Molly shook her head, watching her husband go. “Typical. No sense of occasion. He wouldn’t dance with me when we were younger either.”
I will admit that I was tempted to join them in the tavern. Miss Melville gave me a speculative glance, but thankfully before she could try to coerce me to dancing with her a lad of a similar age to herself approached and doffed his cap, shyly asking her to join him at the maypole. She looked flattered, considered the offer, but realised that Molly was looking at her disapprovingly and ultimately shook her head.
“Not until Harry can dance with me,” she said, and Molly nodded, pleased with her answer.
The festivities continued for some time, and I did not manage to drag myself away until barely an hour before our train was due to leave. Samuel went off to collect the dog cart to take us to the station and I made it my mission to find Holmes. It did not take me long – he was sitting in a quiet corner of the Green Man, apparently relishing the solitude and finishing a pint of the local ale.
“Ready to go, Holmes?” I asked.
“Ah, Watson. Yes, I believe so.” He got to his feet and put on his hat. “Have you enjoyed your weekend?”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Apart from unravelling the convoluted history of the Melville family and being threatened with a savaging from a very large dog, yes, enormously,” I replied.
Holmes’s mouth twitched; and he clapped a companionable hand on my shoulder. “I think we both have had far too much country air. The atmosphere of Baker Street, some of Mrs Hudson’s most unimaginative cooking and the anticipation of what employment either the post or Lestrade might bring us will do us both wonders, I am sure.”
“Holmes…” I said in a warning tone, but he held up a hand. A steady hand.
“Come along. Mr Foster will be outside.” He shepherded me out of the tavern and into the sunshine, but before he climbed into the waiting cart he stopped and turned back. “One more thing, Watson. Promise me something.”
I looked at him, surprised. “If I can, Holmes. What is it?”
His mouth twitched again, into a proper smile, as he swung himself up into the back of the dog cart. He did not speak until I was beside him, and we were leaving Hope Barton behind. Then he cried,
“Promise me that you will not force me to leave London for anything other than the most urgent of cases for as long as is humanly possible!”
I laughed and shook my head. “I promise, Holmes.”
And so I did.
***
We returned to Oxfordshire for the trial of John Prior some weeks later. He was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, and still adamantly maintained his right to the Melville inheritance as he was being taken below to the cells.
Miss Melville married Mr Henry Edwards in a small ceremony at St Peter’s church in Hope Barton in August of that year. The groom was still recovering from his injuries, but he made good progress and his new young wife was a most devoted nurse. They live with the young lady’s ailing father at Melville Hall, and will I am sure make a worthy addition to Oxfordshire society.
Sir George Melville did not recover from the shame of having his early foolishness aired in the police courts and the newspapers. He does not leave his home now, but he is visited regularly by Molly and Samuel, who, with his daughter and son-in-law, do their best to make his reclusive life comfortable for him.
Molly does not regret her return to teaching, though she does still write when she has the time. A new Mary Quinn novel was published that November, a copy of which she sent to me, and which I put to one side, knowing it would make a marvellous and amusing Christmas present for Holmes. To my surprise he declared it to be just the thing he needed, and thanked me profusely for such a well-chosen gift. I began to wonder if he had run mad until I discovered a few weeks later that the book happened to be just the right size to prop up the wobbly leg of his dressing table. I am grateful he has never seen fit to put any of my stories to such use, but look forward to being there when Molly asks his opinion of the work…
FIN.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-06 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-06 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-06 08:48 pm (UTC)I've read almost the whole story today (did not earlier have the time for reading) and it's absolutely great. This last chapter was really funny. Holmes and dancing :D . I try to imagine him on the dancefloor *lol*
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Date: 2008-07-07 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 09:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-07 04:20 pm (UTC)