FIC: Gen: The Tale of the Yankee Spinster, PG, Sherlock Holmes
Title: The Case of the Yankee Spinster, Chapters 2 and 3
Author: Alex
Type: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on a factual case. I do not own the Holmes characters.
Warnings: Description of brutal murders.
Beta: Larry, Larian, Luin
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Watson, Lizzie Borden.
Archive: Oeam, Archive of our Own, Alex’s Story Book
Author’s Note: This is my entry in the 1st annual OEAM Big Bang fiction challenge
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: What if Holmes had been asked to investigate the Borden murders?
~~~
Chapter Two - Crossing the Sea
I set about booking passage to America almost immediately.
We would sail on the Servia out of Liverpool for New York City on the sixteenth of January. Thanks to our employer, I purchased first class accommodations for the three of us. Though Holmes probably could have afforded it anyway, I certainly could not on my surgeon’s salary.
Maybe those few days at sea could be the honeymoon that Mary and I never had. I even got her a new fur stole to wear on the cold nights at sea. Holmes never seemed to like my wife very much but he was kind enough not to say negative things about her in my presence. He actually never seemed to care for any woman and sometimes I felt that he saw my love for my wife as a weakness. Or perhaps he simply wanted me to be at his own beck and call.
When I arrived at 221 B Baker Street on the day before we were to leave for Liverpool, Holmes was reading his paper.
“Why are you wasting my time on this trip?” He said as he looked at me when I came in.
“Because they are paying us to come?”
“I am not sure what the lawyer expects of us, but I will not lie to give him his due.”
“I am sure he doesn’t expect you to lie, Holmes. I think he feels that if you can find evidence that Miss Borden did not do these crimes, then he will be able to clear her easily and quickly.”
Holmes sighed. His melancholia had not passed as of yet though I’d not seen the syringe any more. That much was a relief to me.
*
We left London on the fifteenth. We went by train to Liverpool and stayed the night with an acquaintance of mine from the war. Holmes was still moody though he did make an effort to be polite to my fellow veteran. He even talked politely to Mary during dinner.
We were up very early in order to get our trunks checked in and to board the ship. It was a far cry from the naval ship I’d sailed home on from Afghanistan. The staterooms were fairly large and quite luxurious, much more luxurious than I’d have been able to afford otherwise. Our rooms were adjoining though I didn’t expect us to visit one another very often outside meals.
Mary and I were on deck at our departure, laughing and waving to the people on the dock even though there was no one we knew there to wave back. Mary stood so close that I could smell the floral perfume that she wore so well. It is a smell that takes me back to those days with my dear wife to this very day.
“Where do you suppose Mr. Holmes is?” She asked as we finally set sail.
“He is sulking in his stateroom, I suspect. Or reading the papers.” I thought a moment. “I do hope he left his violin at home.”
Mary laughed. “Is he really that bad?”
“He can actually play quite well but spends too much of his time playing seemingly random discordant notes. I suspect that he does this often just to anger me.”
She smiled. “I think he does many things to anger you, John.”
*
We dined with the captain that evening. Holmes even made an appearance though he ate little. He was polite to all and I was actually quite pleased with him.
The food was quite good and I ate more than I should have but then I usually did when there was a fine meal. The long hours I worked with no chance to even have a spot of tea assured that I had more than I should when I did have the time.
Mary was positively glowing. I’d never seen her so beautiful. For once, I did not concern myself with Sherlock Holmes. After dinner, Mary and I strolled on the deck and talked of what we would do when we got back to England.
“I should like a small house in the country,” Mary said as we stopped to look over the side of the ship.
“Then perhaps we should look into a country practice for me. I might like to be out of the hustle and bustle of London.”
“How would you feel about little Watsons running about?” Mary said in a rush. I almost didn’t understand her words.
When I did, my heart thudded wildly in my chest. I tried to speak but words failed me. She hugged me as we made our way back to our rooms. I poured myself a bit of Scotch and Mary a sherry and finally I sat down.
“When?” I finally managed to ask.
“I think August. Early in August.”
I was shocked to say the least. I had never even thought about having children. One would think that being a physician, I’d think that perhaps we’d have children but alas, I was a surgeon and thought more to fix broken people rather than about making new ones.
“You should have stayed in London,” I blurted out and immediately regretted it. We made our way back to our stateroom.
“John,” she whispered as she sat in my lap, “I am perfectly fine.” She put her arms around me and kissed me. I started to push her away. “It’s fine. I asked the midwife and she said it won’t harm me or the baby.”
“Do you mean the trip or…” I let my words drop off. Some things one did not talk about quite so openly even if one did those things in the night.
“Both, my dear husband,” she murmured as she kissed me.
Mary was a most demure woman. She was very proper and even a bit on the shy side. Except in the marriage bed. There, she was bold and demanding, what a man might expect of a courtesan. Instead of being put off by this, I was delighted to have such a wonderful wife.
She made her needs known to me in no uncertain terms and I did my very best to meet them.
Later as we lay naked in one another’s arm’s, she pushed the covers down and laid my hand on her belly. I could feel that it was rounder than it had been.
“He is beginning to stir now and again, John. He feels rather like a tiny goldfish flitting about in my tummy.”
I leaned down and kissed her tiny mounded stomach and it was quite a while before we went to sleep.
*
We arrived in New York in six days. I was sad to see the trip end. Mary and I had spent most every hour together and many of those, naked and in bed. I told her that I hated to see it end on the last day of the trip.
“We will have many more days like this, John, you’ll see.”
We packed our belongings and disembarked in New York City. Mary’s friend, Mrs. Turner, and her husband, were at the dock to meet us. Mrs. Turner had been a governess in London several years before and had married a visiting American and moved to New York City. She and Mary were thrilled to see one another again so I did not feel quite as bad about leaving her here to journey to Massachusetts and the murder of the century, as they were calling it.
~~~
Chapter Three - Meeting Miss Borden
After saying my goodbyes to my sweet Mary, Holmes and I boarded a train for Boston. There we would be met by Mr. Robinson, who would fill us in on the case and take us to Fall River and to Taunton, where Lizzie was being held in jail until her trial.
“Watson, I should like you to interview Miss Borden and her sister while I investigate the house and property. My skills are better used to investigate than to talk to old maids.”
I nodded. I had already figured he’d do this, mostly because of his distaste for the whole business. I had been looking forward to it but now, I only wanted to get back to my wife and go home. I had already decided to start looking for a country practice when we returned to England.
“Watson, you’re positively giddy. What has happened?”
I could not bring myself to tell him. “The sea air was good for me, I suppose.”
For once, I was glad that he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Robinson was the former governor of Massachusetts and he was a very confident man, a man used to power and to getting his own way. He met us with smiles and humility though I suspected that both were contrived on his part. This was no country lawyer needing the expertise of Sherlock Holmes to win his case. We were there simply to find what he wanted us to find, though I am sure he never understood what he was asking for when he asked for Sherlock Holmes.
I wondered how he would take it if Holmes found that Miss Borden was indeed the murderess. Would he refuse to defend her? Would he change his defense? Perhaps it didn’t matter to him at all. Time would answer those questions. They were not our domain. Finding out what happened was what Holmes had come for.
And he would do that. Of that I had no doubt whatsoever.
*
We went first to Fall River. After we’d rested, we’d go to Taunton, where Lizzie was being held awaiting her trial. Mr. Robinson had booked us into a decently clean hotel and we had adjoining rooms. He left us for the day to get settled in and to rest from our travels.
I unpacked my belongings and went to assist Holmes. He was sitting in a chair by the window. His bags were still sitting where the porter had put them. He was smoking a cigarette and looking outside.
“Well, what did you think of our Mr. Robinson, Watson?”
“I think he wants us to tell him something different from what he already knows.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m not sure yet. I read about the case in London but I … Holmes, you know I’m wrong almost as often as Lestrade is. Why ask me?”
“Because your mistakes often lead me to the right answers. You know that. Oh and congratulations.”
My jaw dropped.
“You and Mrs. Watson are expecting a baby?”
“Yes, but-”
“She is a bit larger than the last time I saw her. A little fuller in the face. And she glows.”
“I didn’t know until we were onboard the ship. And I’m a doctor.”
“You were too close to see the signs, Watson. That is all. Now, tell me what you plan to talk to Miss Borden about.”
“I am not decided. I can’t think that asking her if she’s guilty is very polite.”
“Splitting one’s parents’ skulls open with an axe is not very polite either.” Holmes put out his cigarette and faced me. “Ask her to describe the basement to you. Ask her about her trip to the barn.”
I must have looked surprised.
“Humor me, Watson.”
We had dinner in a small restaurant in town and went back to our hotel. I had inquired of a barber and somewhere to have tea before bed. We bought the evening papers and retired to our rooms to read them.
I wrote to Mary before I went to bed. I missed her more than I expected I would. Much more.
We rose before the sun and had our tea. Holmes decided that he could shave himself better than a barber. He seldom went to the barbershop back in London either, but having someone do it for me was one of my few indulgences and I was loathe to give it up here so I had my shave before meeting my cab for the prison.
Holmes caught a cab to the Borden house. He would be going over the house and property to see what answers awaited there while I had a preliminary interview with Miss Lizzie Borden at the Taunton Jail.
I expected the place to be dark and depressing but it was not. Despite what I saw printed in some papers and have read since, Lizzie’s cell was much like a dormitory room at a boarding school. She had some furniture as well as a bed and some comforts from home. She seemed to be well supplied with magazines and papers as well as fresh flowers all around. The jailer told me that her supporters sent them every day.
The matron showed me around as if the jail were a fine hotel and indeed, Lizzie’s accommodations were quite fine for a person in jail on suspicion of such a terrible murder as that of the Bordens.
Lizzie herself was sitting in a rocking chair. She was a rather plain woman with a heavy jaw and eyes that seemed to almost bug out. She looked stubborn and immovable in her fine green dress. I had read that Miss Borden liked finery but was still shocked at her clothing. She looked dressed for a luncheon with the ladies rather than an interview with a detective conducted in a jail cell.
“Hello, Miss Borden. I am Dr. John Watson. I believe Mr. Robinson told you that I would be coming to speak with you today.”
She just stared at me for a moment that seemed to stretch out forever.
“How do you do, Mr. Watson?” She held out her hand for me to kiss. And I did, all the while wondering if that hand had wielded the hatchet that split her father’s eyeball in two. I decided not to correct her on my title. It wouldn’t do to aggravate her so early in our investigation.
~~~
Author: Alex
Type: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on a factual case. I do not own the Holmes characters.
Warnings: Description of brutal murders.
Beta: Larry, Larian, Luin
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Watson, Lizzie Borden.
Archive: Oeam, Archive of our Own, Alex’s Story Book
Author’s Note: This is my entry in the 1st annual OEAM Big Bang fiction challenge
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: What if Holmes had been asked to investigate the Borden murders?
~~~
Chapter Two - Crossing the Sea
I set about booking passage to America almost immediately.
We would sail on the Servia out of Liverpool for New York City on the sixteenth of January. Thanks to our employer, I purchased first class accommodations for the three of us. Though Holmes probably could have afforded it anyway, I certainly could not on my surgeon’s salary.
Maybe those few days at sea could be the honeymoon that Mary and I never had. I even got her a new fur stole to wear on the cold nights at sea. Holmes never seemed to like my wife very much but he was kind enough not to say negative things about her in my presence. He actually never seemed to care for any woman and sometimes I felt that he saw my love for my wife as a weakness. Or perhaps he simply wanted me to be at his own beck and call.
When I arrived at 221 B Baker Street on the day before we were to leave for Liverpool, Holmes was reading his paper.
“Why are you wasting my time on this trip?” He said as he looked at me when I came in.
“Because they are paying us to come?”
“I am not sure what the lawyer expects of us, but I will not lie to give him his due.”
“I am sure he doesn’t expect you to lie, Holmes. I think he feels that if you can find evidence that Miss Borden did not do these crimes, then he will be able to clear her easily and quickly.”
Holmes sighed. His melancholia had not passed as of yet though I’d not seen the syringe any more. That much was a relief to me.
*
We left London on the fifteenth. We went by train to Liverpool and stayed the night with an acquaintance of mine from the war. Holmes was still moody though he did make an effort to be polite to my fellow veteran. He even talked politely to Mary during dinner.
We were up very early in order to get our trunks checked in and to board the ship. It was a far cry from the naval ship I’d sailed home on from Afghanistan. The staterooms were fairly large and quite luxurious, much more luxurious than I’d have been able to afford otherwise. Our rooms were adjoining though I didn’t expect us to visit one another very often outside meals.
Mary and I were on deck at our departure, laughing and waving to the people on the dock even though there was no one we knew there to wave back. Mary stood so close that I could smell the floral perfume that she wore so well. It is a smell that takes me back to those days with my dear wife to this very day.
“Where do you suppose Mr. Holmes is?” She asked as we finally set sail.
“He is sulking in his stateroom, I suspect. Or reading the papers.” I thought a moment. “I do hope he left his violin at home.”
Mary laughed. “Is he really that bad?”
“He can actually play quite well but spends too much of his time playing seemingly random discordant notes. I suspect that he does this often just to anger me.”
She smiled. “I think he does many things to anger you, John.”
*
We dined with the captain that evening. Holmes even made an appearance though he ate little. He was polite to all and I was actually quite pleased with him.
The food was quite good and I ate more than I should have but then I usually did when there was a fine meal. The long hours I worked with no chance to even have a spot of tea assured that I had more than I should when I did have the time.
Mary was positively glowing. I’d never seen her so beautiful. For once, I did not concern myself with Sherlock Holmes. After dinner, Mary and I strolled on the deck and talked of what we would do when we got back to England.
“I should like a small house in the country,” Mary said as we stopped to look over the side of the ship.
“Then perhaps we should look into a country practice for me. I might like to be out of the hustle and bustle of London.”
“How would you feel about little Watsons running about?” Mary said in a rush. I almost didn’t understand her words.
When I did, my heart thudded wildly in my chest. I tried to speak but words failed me. She hugged me as we made our way back to our rooms. I poured myself a bit of Scotch and Mary a sherry and finally I sat down.
“When?” I finally managed to ask.
“I think August. Early in August.”
I was shocked to say the least. I had never even thought about having children. One would think that being a physician, I’d think that perhaps we’d have children but alas, I was a surgeon and thought more to fix broken people rather than about making new ones.
“You should have stayed in London,” I blurted out and immediately regretted it. We made our way back to our stateroom.
“John,” she whispered as she sat in my lap, “I am perfectly fine.” She put her arms around me and kissed me. I started to push her away. “It’s fine. I asked the midwife and she said it won’t harm me or the baby.”
“Do you mean the trip or…” I let my words drop off. Some things one did not talk about quite so openly even if one did those things in the night.
“Both, my dear husband,” she murmured as she kissed me.
Mary was a most demure woman. She was very proper and even a bit on the shy side. Except in the marriage bed. There, she was bold and demanding, what a man might expect of a courtesan. Instead of being put off by this, I was delighted to have such a wonderful wife.
She made her needs known to me in no uncertain terms and I did my very best to meet them.
Later as we lay naked in one another’s arm’s, she pushed the covers down and laid my hand on her belly. I could feel that it was rounder than it had been.
“He is beginning to stir now and again, John. He feels rather like a tiny goldfish flitting about in my tummy.”
I leaned down and kissed her tiny mounded stomach and it was quite a while before we went to sleep.
*
We arrived in New York in six days. I was sad to see the trip end. Mary and I had spent most every hour together and many of those, naked and in bed. I told her that I hated to see it end on the last day of the trip.
“We will have many more days like this, John, you’ll see.”
We packed our belongings and disembarked in New York City. Mary’s friend, Mrs. Turner, and her husband, were at the dock to meet us. Mrs. Turner had been a governess in London several years before and had married a visiting American and moved to New York City. She and Mary were thrilled to see one another again so I did not feel quite as bad about leaving her here to journey to Massachusetts and the murder of the century, as they were calling it.
~~~
Chapter Three - Meeting Miss Borden
After saying my goodbyes to my sweet Mary, Holmes and I boarded a train for Boston. There we would be met by Mr. Robinson, who would fill us in on the case and take us to Fall River and to Taunton, where Lizzie was being held in jail until her trial.
“Watson, I should like you to interview Miss Borden and her sister while I investigate the house and property. My skills are better used to investigate than to talk to old maids.”
I nodded. I had already figured he’d do this, mostly because of his distaste for the whole business. I had been looking forward to it but now, I only wanted to get back to my wife and go home. I had already decided to start looking for a country practice when we returned to England.
“Watson, you’re positively giddy. What has happened?”
I could not bring myself to tell him. “The sea air was good for me, I suppose.”
For once, I was glad that he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Robinson was the former governor of Massachusetts and he was a very confident man, a man used to power and to getting his own way. He met us with smiles and humility though I suspected that both were contrived on his part. This was no country lawyer needing the expertise of Sherlock Holmes to win his case. We were there simply to find what he wanted us to find, though I am sure he never understood what he was asking for when he asked for Sherlock Holmes.
I wondered how he would take it if Holmes found that Miss Borden was indeed the murderess. Would he refuse to defend her? Would he change his defense? Perhaps it didn’t matter to him at all. Time would answer those questions. They were not our domain. Finding out what happened was what Holmes had come for.
And he would do that. Of that I had no doubt whatsoever.
*
We went first to Fall River. After we’d rested, we’d go to Taunton, where Lizzie was being held awaiting her trial. Mr. Robinson had booked us into a decently clean hotel and we had adjoining rooms. He left us for the day to get settled in and to rest from our travels.
I unpacked my belongings and went to assist Holmes. He was sitting in a chair by the window. His bags were still sitting where the porter had put them. He was smoking a cigarette and looking outside.
“Well, what did you think of our Mr. Robinson, Watson?”
“I think he wants us to tell him something different from what he already knows.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m not sure yet. I read about the case in London but I … Holmes, you know I’m wrong almost as often as Lestrade is. Why ask me?”
“Because your mistakes often lead me to the right answers. You know that. Oh and congratulations.”
My jaw dropped.
“You and Mrs. Watson are expecting a baby?”
“Yes, but-”
“She is a bit larger than the last time I saw her. A little fuller in the face. And she glows.”
“I didn’t know until we were onboard the ship. And I’m a doctor.”
“You were too close to see the signs, Watson. That is all. Now, tell me what you plan to talk to Miss Borden about.”
“I am not decided. I can’t think that asking her if she’s guilty is very polite.”
“Splitting one’s parents’ skulls open with an axe is not very polite either.” Holmes put out his cigarette and faced me. “Ask her to describe the basement to you. Ask her about her trip to the barn.”
I must have looked surprised.
“Humor me, Watson.”
We had dinner in a small restaurant in town and went back to our hotel. I had inquired of a barber and somewhere to have tea before bed. We bought the evening papers and retired to our rooms to read them.
I wrote to Mary before I went to bed. I missed her more than I expected I would. Much more.
We rose before the sun and had our tea. Holmes decided that he could shave himself better than a barber. He seldom went to the barbershop back in London either, but having someone do it for me was one of my few indulgences and I was loathe to give it up here so I had my shave before meeting my cab for the prison.
Holmes caught a cab to the Borden house. He would be going over the house and property to see what answers awaited there while I had a preliminary interview with Miss Lizzie Borden at the Taunton Jail.
I expected the place to be dark and depressing but it was not. Despite what I saw printed in some papers and have read since, Lizzie’s cell was much like a dormitory room at a boarding school. She had some furniture as well as a bed and some comforts from home. She seemed to be well supplied with magazines and papers as well as fresh flowers all around. The jailer told me that her supporters sent them every day.
The matron showed me around as if the jail were a fine hotel and indeed, Lizzie’s accommodations were quite fine for a person in jail on suspicion of such a terrible murder as that of the Bordens.
Lizzie herself was sitting in a rocking chair. She was a rather plain woman with a heavy jaw and eyes that seemed to almost bug out. She looked stubborn and immovable in her fine green dress. I had read that Miss Borden liked finery but was still shocked at her clothing. She looked dressed for a luncheon with the ladies rather than an interview with a detective conducted in a jail cell.
“Hello, Miss Borden. I am Dr. John Watson. I believe Mr. Robinson told you that I would be coming to speak with you today.”
She just stared at me for a moment that seemed to stretch out forever.
“How do you do, Mr. Watson?” She held out her hand for me to kiss. And I did, all the while wondering if that hand had wielded the hatchet that split her father’s eyeball in two. I decided not to correct her on my title. It wouldn’t do to aggravate her so early in our investigation.
~~~