"Baker's Three" (SH ACD fanfic, rated G), 2014 JWP Prompt #14
Title: Baker’s Three
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Word Count: 2550
Rating: G
Summary: What did Mary Watson do while her husband was off with Holmes?
Author's Notes: For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #14, brought to you by maestress83 : All For One And One For All. Have any three characters cooperate to overcome some obstacle. Bonus points if they are characters that don't normally interact and/or work well with each other.
“It’s kind of you to have me over for tea, Mrs. Hudson.”
Rosalie Hudson pooh-poohed the notion. “With the way Mr. Holmes leaves at a moment’s notice, and can’t seem to do without your John? It’s generous of you to let him go.”
Mary Watson smiled, a little wistfully. “John does get so down in the mouth when he’s not up and after Mr. Holmes’ heels; it does him and our marriage a world of good to have a change. I could use a change myself, though, it gets very dreary staying at home. Oh, I knew he was a soldier when I married him. And when his general shouts an order, off he must go.”
Both women laughed at that image, and passed some pleasant minutes in local news and small talk.
“Have you done your week’s shopping yet, my dear?” Mrs Hudson asked. “Only there was the most charming exhibit on the riverside this morning whilst I was off getting a nice bit of halibut for supper. A man from Japan was in the Thames, who could catch things whilst diving in the water!”
“Ugh! That he could find anything in that murk is a wonder in itself,” Mary Watson said wryly.
“Oh, he said he was quite used to that sort of thing back home - that he dove for pearls with the rest of his family!” Mrs. Hudson said. “He made the children laugh, catching their pennies.”
Mary set down her tea cup.
“My dear, are you all right?” Mrs. Hudson asked anxiously.
Mary looked at her. “Mrs. Hudson. I believe I need to buy some fish. Where was this Japanese gentleman?”
When she left Baker Street Mary headed not to the riverside, but back to her house. She walked past the servant girl up the stairs, and into her husband’s study, and then to the book-case where the issues of the STRAND were neatly shelved in order of his writings. She pulled out the book marked luridly on the cover with a set of footsteps - one foot, one peg.
The chapter involving the thrilling chase-scene was helpfully illustrated with a map of that particular part of the river. She found a map of London and confirmed the stretch. Five, maybe six miles. A needle in a haystack. Unthinkable. Undoable. Impossible.
Mary Morstan Watson marked the map in pencil, and put it in her shopping basket.
***
Mary had not proofread her husband’s manuscripts for nothing. Where other laughing people tossed farthings and pennies for the smiling pearl-diver, she threw in a sovereign. She nodded to his surprised stare when he looked up at the generous Englishwoman, and looked over at a nearby café abutting the wharf. He nodded, and held up two fingers. Two hours. Just enough time to pick up a nice haddock, and visit the bank.
“I have heard of your husband’s friend!” Mr Hiroto exclaimed over his tea. “There is a rumour that the Emperor has consulted Holmes-sama, and his esteemed brother, on very vital state matters.”
Good. Mary drank her tea. “Have you read my husband’s story about how we wed?”
“’Shi no Kizashi’ - The Deadly Four.” He nodded, and smiled. “Very romantic. Treasure, little men with poison darts, a love story.”
Mary smiled, and showed Hiroto-san the map.
His eyes lit up. Mary smiled. So she wasn’t the only one on board.
“I had hoped to look,” he said. “But I must feed my family.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “It’s also a lot of the river to cover, and I know the odds are not good.”
The diver shrugged. “My uncle went to California as a young man, to look for gold. He said gold-panning is like that - wagonloads of mud, then a little gold nugget.” Mr. Hiroto smiled sadly. “He was treated very badly in gold country. Only white men can have claims. But he sold tools and groceries to the gold-miners. And he got rich.”
Mary smiled. “And that’s how he got his gold. Well, in the meantime, we can but try. This may be a treasure hunt, but mouths must be fed and it’s better to make a business of it. What are your current wages?”
“One pound a week,” said Mr. Hiroto.
Mary nodded, made some sums on a scrap of paper, nodded. “I will give you five pounds a month,” she said, “to help find the Agra Treasure.”
Mr. Hiroto smiled. “I think other family members would help, for that pay.”
They shook hands.
***
Mrs. Pendergrass passed her the sugar. “Mary, dear, Amelia Johnston says she saw you talking to an Oriental in a café the other day.”
“Mr. Hiroto is from Japan, Catherine. They’re splendid gardeners. John and I are looking for a replacement and I was asking his advice.” Mary stirred her tea as her women friends nodded and smiled, relieved.
***
“Oh my dear,” said Mrs Hudson. “Hiring a treasure hunter?” She clicked her tongue. “He could take the jewels and run. If there’s anything I’ve learned from dealing with Mr. Holmes’ clients, it’s that big rewards can lead to big trouble.”
“I received the prize pearl of that collection the day John screwed up his courage and asked me to marry him,” Mary replied serenely. Her eyes sparkled. “But a woman needs a subsistence, too.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled. “How can I help?”
Mary beamed. “Keep the secret. Be sure Mr. Holmes always has plenty of work that requires his faithful Watson to accompany him. And you have access to that safe of Mr. Holmes, do you not?”
A gleam appeared in the landlady’s eyes. “I’m very fond of blue gemstones,” she said, and Mary laughed.
***
“I’ll be damned,” Watson said, reading his letters. “The stock market is booming, but some of my shares just aren’t producing the dividends they should - they’re short by at least a hundred pounds!”
“Let me look into that, John.” Mary held out her hand. “Perhaps some new fees are bleeding away the dividends. I’ll see if I can rebalance or reinvest.” She grinned, “It’s a good thing I can sign your name so well on the order forms!”
Watson shook his head, laughing, and handed the letter to his wife. “Mary, I thank God one member of this family actually understands this business!”
***
April, come she will.
May, she will stay.
June, she’ll change her tune. - children’s rhyme
***
“By all means, John, go with Mr. Holmes,” Mary said, laughing a little ruefully. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’m quite used to it by now. I’ll manage until you come home.”
Watson, travelling bag in hand, kissed his wife on his way out the door. “Mary, my love, you are a gem among women. We shan’t be home till week’s end, at earliest.”
“I shall endeavor to fill the time, my dear.” Mary waved until the hansom was out of sight. And dashed over to Baker Street.
“Well, out with it, girl!” Mrs Hudson crowed, letting Mary in. “You found something!”
Mary reached into her pocketbook, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth - which proved to be a ruby necklace set in gold.
Mrs. Hudson covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes shining as well.
“All of the divers are in that spot right now.” Mary handed Mrs. Hudson the stones. “Mr. Holmes has that safe no one but the bank president can get into.”
“The bank president and the landlady,” Mrs. Hudson corrected her archly, re-wrapping the diadem, and Mary burst out laughing as she headed to the vault. “How are you able to pay for five pearl divers, Mrs. Watson?”
“What you don’t know you don’t have to lie about,” Mary replied demurely, following her down the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson sighed, fiddling with the combination. “Embezzlement, Mary. And you married to Sherlock Holmes’ best friend!”
Mary made a rather unladylike snort (her back turned to keep Mrs Hudson’s and the bank president’s secret). “And coverture isn’t embezzlement of women’s funds by another name, Rosie? In this country John has the legal right to drink or gamble away every penny we own together, but I commit a crime if I take part of my own money out of our shared account!”
“You’ve one muddy necklace to show for your investment, my girl,” Mrs. Hudson reminded her as she closed the vault door once again.
“One muddy necklace, and three splendid pearls,” Mary corrected, helping the older woman to stand up. “That’s part of the deal with the Hirotos - Saburo, his three brothers and his uncle may keep every pearl they find. They’re very happy to keep their mouths shut about their new job.”
Mrs. Hudson beamed. “Smart woman.” Her face changed. “But how will you sell the jewels?”
Mary sighed. “I’ll have to find someone and ask - I’d need to do that just to appraise jewelry containing pearls to make sure the Hirotos get their share - but who would keep our secret?”
Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips. “I think I know the person we need. I’ll write Mrs Turner - she chars for Mr. Mycroft Holmes, and what she doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing - and she’ll know how you can contact the one I have in mind.”
***
Mrs. Irene Norton (nee Adler)
34 14th Street
Trenton, New Jersey, USA
Dear Mrs. Norton:
I write to you as an acquaintance linked by the red thread of Fate. In doing so, I provide you with yet another piece of intelligence that will ensure your own secrets are kept, lest this transaction come to light.
I require the expert opinion of a woman who has received many precious stones as gifts from admirers and music devotees over a long and distinguished career - and for reasons of my own I need to keep this transaction as secret as possible.
Enclosed is a sketch of some of the pieces in question, with their descriptions and sizes. Please let me know what prices these could command, and any advice you can give me regarding the engagement of a gem broker.
If you are willing to wait for me to sell some pieces I can remunerate you for your advice, in either cash or a share of the jewelry.
Sincerely yours,
Mary Watson (nee Morstan)
***
MW
A RAJAHS RANSOM STOP
BRAMS JEWELERS ON WENTWORTH STREET FOR APPRAISAL NONE ELSE STOP
ASK FOR HEINZ SAY THE JERSEY ROSE SENT YOU STOP
WILL COST YOU £100 OR ONE PERCENT OF JEWELRYS VALUE STOP
PAY THE £100 IF AT ALL POSSIBLE STOP
PAYMENT IN DIAMONDS ACCEPTABLE FULL STOP
IN
“My dear, who can have possibly sent you a telegram?” Watson murmured sleepily.
Mary kissed her husband’s forehead where he lay on the couch reading the afternoon paper. “Mrs. Forrester just has to let me know the latest antics of the children on their seaside holiday. I can read them off for you -“
John shook his head, laughing. “No need.”
***
July, she will fly
August, die she must
September, I’ll remember. - children’s rhyme
***
“That’s a relief.” Watson smiled and handed their stockbroker’s letter over to Mary. “Whatever you did seems to have fixed the problem. We’re even up by nearly another £100. Mary, you’re a wizard!”
The telephone rang.
“Go pack your bag, dear.” Mary picked up the phone with her husband’s laughter going up the stairs. “Good morning, Sherlock!”
***
“And that patch seems to be done,” Mrs Hudson said, bent over the worn and pencil-scratched map with her accomplice.
Mary blew a tuft of damp hair out of her eyes as she blackened out another patch of the Thames River. “It would be a sight easier to take a job as a banker.”
“But not nearly as diverting.” Rosie beamed.
Back into the vault went the only two things they kept in it now - the map, and the ledger. Kept as painstakingly as Mary’s household expenditures, the ledger detailed the number of jewels, their dispersion and/or price. Pearls to the divers, the best five diamonds to their connection, two sapphires to Rosie, and the rest sold through Heinz (who clearly had a history of brokering jewelry sales for women in delicate circumstances).
“Our adventure must end soon,” Mary said. “Mr. Saburo Hiroto wishes to return to Japan with his family and open his own pearl-brokering business.”
Mrs Hudson sighed. “It will be nice, not having to worry about me old age,” she said.
“And there’s another who needs that reassurance,” Mary added.
***
“Package for you, Small!” the gaoler boomed.
Jonathan Small laid down his shovel and hobbled across the prison yard.
When he was back in his cell he opened it. The paper parcel contained a black lacquered box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and as dainty an item as could be imagined. Inside was a rolled-up piece of paper - a letter, in a woman’s handwriting and scented with bergamot.
Dear Mr. Small:
This box is empty too - but not as empty as it seems.
The best way to destroy a monster is to burn it and scatter its ashes far and wide. So it is with a monster of a treasure that has brought death, misery and suffering to so many, you not the least among them. You began the job; I have continued it.
With the aid of friends I have regained a portion of the treasure from the river. There will be no heirs nor heiresses here, no richest man nor woman in England, no rajahs. The jewels are scattered and sold; remuneration for the fearless pearl divers; for the three women who conspired to make this happen; for the man whose brother fell to your friend’s blow-pipe; and for the sole survivor of The Four.
Your prison stay will end in eight years. When you leave, go to the Bank of London and ask for the account of Jon Small. There you will find enough for a peaceful old age, enough to keep yourself out of the poorhouse when you leave prison; you will be undisturbed wherever you choose to retire.
For the sake of my father’s memory, I beg to remain
Very sincerely yours,
Mary Watson (nee Morstan)
“Likely story,” Small muttered bitterly. “So Morstan’s daughter gains our treasure after all, Tonga, and I’m left eating brick-dust.” He angrily smacked the little box.
Thud.
Small froze. He re-read the top of the letter.
…not as empty as it seems.
Seems. Seams.
He groped along the little box, along the side that had sounded full and not hollow when thumped. There. The mother-of-pearl seam twisted, slid, and the top of the wall came away.
Another message was wrapped around the roll of banknotes in the recess.
This may make your stay a little more comfortable, in the meantime. - MW
He threw back his head and laughed. As sneaky as her father!
***
“Mrs. Hudson, you’ve changed your frock haven’t you?” Sherlock Holmes said, eyes focusing on the agony column rather than on his supper.
“Not at all, Mr. Holmes,” his housekeeper said serenely, setting down the tray.
“New ribbons? Ah, it’ll come to me.” Holmes buried his face in the paper again.
“No doubt, sir,” Mrs. Hudson said; the gaslight caught and sparkled in the sapphires in her ears as she turned away.
***
MW
WISE CHOICE TO SCATTER ALL STOP
ALWAYS PLAY THE GAME FOR THE GAMES OWN SAKE STOP
MY DIAMONDS ARE BEAUTIFUL FULL STOP
IN
Author: gardnerhill
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Word Count: 2550
Rating: G
Summary: What did Mary Watson do while her husband was off with Holmes?
Author's Notes: For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #14, brought to you by maestress83 : All For One And One For All. Have any three characters cooperate to overcome some obstacle. Bonus points if they are characters that don't normally interact and/or work well with each other.
“It’s kind of you to have me over for tea, Mrs. Hudson.”
Rosalie Hudson pooh-poohed the notion. “With the way Mr. Holmes leaves at a moment’s notice, and can’t seem to do without your John? It’s generous of you to let him go.”
Mary Watson smiled, a little wistfully. “John does get so down in the mouth when he’s not up and after Mr. Holmes’ heels; it does him and our marriage a world of good to have a change. I could use a change myself, though, it gets very dreary staying at home. Oh, I knew he was a soldier when I married him. And when his general shouts an order, off he must go.”
Both women laughed at that image, and passed some pleasant minutes in local news and small talk.
“Have you done your week’s shopping yet, my dear?” Mrs Hudson asked. “Only there was the most charming exhibit on the riverside this morning whilst I was off getting a nice bit of halibut for supper. A man from Japan was in the Thames, who could catch things whilst diving in the water!”
“Ugh! That he could find anything in that murk is a wonder in itself,” Mary Watson said wryly.
“Oh, he said he was quite used to that sort of thing back home - that he dove for pearls with the rest of his family!” Mrs. Hudson said. “He made the children laugh, catching their pennies.”
Mary set down her tea cup.
“My dear, are you all right?” Mrs. Hudson asked anxiously.
Mary looked at her. “Mrs. Hudson. I believe I need to buy some fish. Where was this Japanese gentleman?”
When she left Baker Street Mary headed not to the riverside, but back to her house. She walked past the servant girl up the stairs, and into her husband’s study, and then to the book-case where the issues of the STRAND were neatly shelved in order of his writings. She pulled out the book marked luridly on the cover with a set of footsteps - one foot, one peg.
The chapter involving the thrilling chase-scene was helpfully illustrated with a map of that particular part of the river. She found a map of London and confirmed the stretch. Five, maybe six miles. A needle in a haystack. Unthinkable. Undoable. Impossible.
Mary Morstan Watson marked the map in pencil, and put it in her shopping basket.
***
Mary had not proofread her husband’s manuscripts for nothing. Where other laughing people tossed farthings and pennies for the smiling pearl-diver, she threw in a sovereign. She nodded to his surprised stare when he looked up at the generous Englishwoman, and looked over at a nearby café abutting the wharf. He nodded, and held up two fingers. Two hours. Just enough time to pick up a nice haddock, and visit the bank.
“I have heard of your husband’s friend!” Mr Hiroto exclaimed over his tea. “There is a rumour that the Emperor has consulted Holmes-sama, and his esteemed brother, on very vital state matters.”
Good. Mary drank her tea. “Have you read my husband’s story about how we wed?”
“’Shi no Kizashi’ - The Deadly Four.” He nodded, and smiled. “Very romantic. Treasure, little men with poison darts, a love story.”
Mary smiled, and showed Hiroto-san the map.
His eyes lit up. Mary smiled. So she wasn’t the only one on board.
“I had hoped to look,” he said. “But I must feed my family.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “It’s also a lot of the river to cover, and I know the odds are not good.”
The diver shrugged. “My uncle went to California as a young man, to look for gold. He said gold-panning is like that - wagonloads of mud, then a little gold nugget.” Mr. Hiroto smiled sadly. “He was treated very badly in gold country. Only white men can have claims. But he sold tools and groceries to the gold-miners. And he got rich.”
Mary smiled. “And that’s how he got his gold. Well, in the meantime, we can but try. This may be a treasure hunt, but mouths must be fed and it’s better to make a business of it. What are your current wages?”
“One pound a week,” said Mr. Hiroto.
Mary nodded, made some sums on a scrap of paper, nodded. “I will give you five pounds a month,” she said, “to help find the Agra Treasure.”
Mr. Hiroto smiled. “I think other family members would help, for that pay.”
They shook hands.
***
Mrs. Pendergrass passed her the sugar. “Mary, dear, Amelia Johnston says she saw you talking to an Oriental in a café the other day.”
“Mr. Hiroto is from Japan, Catherine. They’re splendid gardeners. John and I are looking for a replacement and I was asking his advice.” Mary stirred her tea as her women friends nodded and smiled, relieved.
***
“Oh my dear,” said Mrs Hudson. “Hiring a treasure hunter?” She clicked her tongue. “He could take the jewels and run. If there’s anything I’ve learned from dealing with Mr. Holmes’ clients, it’s that big rewards can lead to big trouble.”
“I received the prize pearl of that collection the day John screwed up his courage and asked me to marry him,” Mary replied serenely. Her eyes sparkled. “But a woman needs a subsistence, too.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled. “How can I help?”
Mary beamed. “Keep the secret. Be sure Mr. Holmes always has plenty of work that requires his faithful Watson to accompany him. And you have access to that safe of Mr. Holmes, do you not?”
A gleam appeared in the landlady’s eyes. “I’m very fond of blue gemstones,” she said, and Mary laughed.
***
“I’ll be damned,” Watson said, reading his letters. “The stock market is booming, but some of my shares just aren’t producing the dividends they should - they’re short by at least a hundred pounds!”
“Let me look into that, John.” Mary held out her hand. “Perhaps some new fees are bleeding away the dividends. I’ll see if I can rebalance or reinvest.” She grinned, “It’s a good thing I can sign your name so well on the order forms!”
Watson shook his head, laughing, and handed the letter to his wife. “Mary, I thank God one member of this family actually understands this business!”
***
April, come she will.
May, she will stay.
June, she’ll change her tune. - children’s rhyme
***
“By all means, John, go with Mr. Holmes,” Mary said, laughing a little ruefully. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’m quite used to it by now. I’ll manage until you come home.”
Watson, travelling bag in hand, kissed his wife on his way out the door. “Mary, my love, you are a gem among women. We shan’t be home till week’s end, at earliest.”
“I shall endeavor to fill the time, my dear.” Mary waved until the hansom was out of sight. And dashed over to Baker Street.
“Well, out with it, girl!” Mrs Hudson crowed, letting Mary in. “You found something!”
Mary reached into her pocketbook, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth - which proved to be a ruby necklace set in gold.
Mrs. Hudson covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes shining as well.
“All of the divers are in that spot right now.” Mary handed Mrs. Hudson the stones. “Mr. Holmes has that safe no one but the bank president can get into.”
“The bank president and the landlady,” Mrs. Hudson corrected her archly, re-wrapping the diadem, and Mary burst out laughing as she headed to the vault. “How are you able to pay for five pearl divers, Mrs. Watson?”
“What you don’t know you don’t have to lie about,” Mary replied demurely, following her down the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson sighed, fiddling with the combination. “Embezzlement, Mary. And you married to Sherlock Holmes’ best friend!”
Mary made a rather unladylike snort (her back turned to keep Mrs Hudson’s and the bank president’s secret). “And coverture isn’t embezzlement of women’s funds by another name, Rosie? In this country John has the legal right to drink or gamble away every penny we own together, but I commit a crime if I take part of my own money out of our shared account!”
“You’ve one muddy necklace to show for your investment, my girl,” Mrs. Hudson reminded her as she closed the vault door once again.
“One muddy necklace, and three splendid pearls,” Mary corrected, helping the older woman to stand up. “That’s part of the deal with the Hirotos - Saburo, his three brothers and his uncle may keep every pearl they find. They’re very happy to keep their mouths shut about their new job.”
Mrs. Hudson beamed. “Smart woman.” Her face changed. “But how will you sell the jewels?”
Mary sighed. “I’ll have to find someone and ask - I’d need to do that just to appraise jewelry containing pearls to make sure the Hirotos get their share - but who would keep our secret?”
Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips. “I think I know the person we need. I’ll write Mrs Turner - she chars for Mr. Mycroft Holmes, and what she doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing - and she’ll know how you can contact the one I have in mind.”
***
Mrs. Irene Norton (nee Adler)
34 14th Street
Trenton, New Jersey, USA
Dear Mrs. Norton:
I write to you as an acquaintance linked by the red thread of Fate. In doing so, I provide you with yet another piece of intelligence that will ensure your own secrets are kept, lest this transaction come to light.
I require the expert opinion of a woman who has received many precious stones as gifts from admirers and music devotees over a long and distinguished career - and for reasons of my own I need to keep this transaction as secret as possible.
Enclosed is a sketch of some of the pieces in question, with their descriptions and sizes. Please let me know what prices these could command, and any advice you can give me regarding the engagement of a gem broker.
If you are willing to wait for me to sell some pieces I can remunerate you for your advice, in either cash or a share of the jewelry.
Sincerely yours,
Mary Watson (nee Morstan)
***
MW
A RAJAHS RANSOM STOP
BRAMS JEWELERS ON WENTWORTH STREET FOR APPRAISAL NONE ELSE STOP
ASK FOR HEINZ SAY THE JERSEY ROSE SENT YOU STOP
WILL COST YOU £100 OR ONE PERCENT OF JEWELRYS VALUE STOP
PAY THE £100 IF AT ALL POSSIBLE STOP
PAYMENT IN DIAMONDS ACCEPTABLE FULL STOP
IN
“My dear, who can have possibly sent you a telegram?” Watson murmured sleepily.
Mary kissed her husband’s forehead where he lay on the couch reading the afternoon paper. “Mrs. Forrester just has to let me know the latest antics of the children on their seaside holiday. I can read them off for you -“
John shook his head, laughing. “No need.”
***
July, she will fly
August, die she must
September, I’ll remember. - children’s rhyme
***
“That’s a relief.” Watson smiled and handed their stockbroker’s letter over to Mary. “Whatever you did seems to have fixed the problem. We’re even up by nearly another £100. Mary, you’re a wizard!”
The telephone rang.
“Go pack your bag, dear.” Mary picked up the phone with her husband’s laughter going up the stairs. “Good morning, Sherlock!”
***
“And that patch seems to be done,” Mrs Hudson said, bent over the worn and pencil-scratched map with her accomplice.
Mary blew a tuft of damp hair out of her eyes as she blackened out another patch of the Thames River. “It would be a sight easier to take a job as a banker.”
“But not nearly as diverting.” Rosie beamed.
Back into the vault went the only two things they kept in it now - the map, and the ledger. Kept as painstakingly as Mary’s household expenditures, the ledger detailed the number of jewels, their dispersion and/or price. Pearls to the divers, the best five diamonds to their connection, two sapphires to Rosie, and the rest sold through Heinz (who clearly had a history of brokering jewelry sales for women in delicate circumstances).
“Our adventure must end soon,” Mary said. “Mr. Saburo Hiroto wishes to return to Japan with his family and open his own pearl-brokering business.”
Mrs Hudson sighed. “It will be nice, not having to worry about me old age,” she said.
“And there’s another who needs that reassurance,” Mary added.
***
“Package for you, Small!” the gaoler boomed.
Jonathan Small laid down his shovel and hobbled across the prison yard.
When he was back in his cell he opened it. The paper parcel contained a black lacquered box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and as dainty an item as could be imagined. Inside was a rolled-up piece of paper - a letter, in a woman’s handwriting and scented with bergamot.
Dear Mr. Small:
This box is empty too - but not as empty as it seems.
The best way to destroy a monster is to burn it and scatter its ashes far and wide. So it is with a monster of a treasure that has brought death, misery and suffering to so many, you not the least among them. You began the job; I have continued it.
With the aid of friends I have regained a portion of the treasure from the river. There will be no heirs nor heiresses here, no richest man nor woman in England, no rajahs. The jewels are scattered and sold; remuneration for the fearless pearl divers; for the three women who conspired to make this happen; for the man whose brother fell to your friend’s blow-pipe; and for the sole survivor of The Four.
Your prison stay will end in eight years. When you leave, go to the Bank of London and ask for the account of Jon Small. There you will find enough for a peaceful old age, enough to keep yourself out of the poorhouse when you leave prison; you will be undisturbed wherever you choose to retire.
For the sake of my father’s memory, I beg to remain
Very sincerely yours,
Mary Watson (nee Morstan)
“Likely story,” Small muttered bitterly. “So Morstan’s daughter gains our treasure after all, Tonga, and I’m left eating brick-dust.” He angrily smacked the little box.
Thud.
Small froze. He re-read the top of the letter.
…not as empty as it seems.
Seems. Seams.
He groped along the little box, along the side that had sounded full and not hollow when thumped. There. The mother-of-pearl seam twisted, slid, and the top of the wall came away.
Another message was wrapped around the roll of banknotes in the recess.
This may make your stay a little more comfortable, in the meantime. - MW
He threw back his head and laughed. As sneaky as her father!
***
“Mrs. Hudson, you’ve changed your frock haven’t you?” Sherlock Holmes said, eyes focusing on the agony column rather than on his supper.
“Not at all, Mr. Holmes,” his housekeeper said serenely, setting down the tray.
“New ribbons? Ah, it’ll come to me.” Holmes buried his face in the paper again.
“No doubt, sir,” Mrs. Hudson said; the gaslight caught and sparkled in the sapphires in her ears as she turned away.
***
MW
WISE CHOICE TO SCATTER ALL STOP
ALWAYS PLAY THE GAME FOR THE GAMES OWN SAKE STOP
MY DIAMONDS ARE BEAUTIFUL FULL STOP
IN