A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [67]
“The lad,” Billy, being old enough to be my father.
“Hello, Uncle John. It was good of you to turn out at this hour.” I kissed his smooth cheek. He’d taken time to shave, which indicated that Holmes had stayed with Veronica himself for some time before asking Watson to report for guard duty. “Where is he?”
“Holmes? Don’t know. Around somewhere. He’ll probably look in towards morning. Any time now. How have you been, Mary? Did you have a good Christmas? And I missed your birthday, but I have a little something for you, brought it back from Philadelphia. Lovely town, that.”
“Oh, yes? Er, thanks, and Christmas was fine.” I couldn’t remember Christmas just at that moment. “How is Veronica? Do you know what happened?”
“Seems to have fallen in front of a train coming into an Underground station. Elephant and Castle, was it? Or Borough? No, the Elephant and Castle station. Concussion, broken arm, lots of scrapes and bruises. Nothing bad, lucky girl. Shockingly easy to happen. Still, Holmes seemed to think it mightn’t have been an accident, so I’m playing nursemaid for a few hours. Her people were here, and a young man with Holmes, but no one else, just the nurses. Until you, of course.”
“Look, Uncle John, he was right. We can’t take chances. Even… even the hospital staff. Keep a close eye, and if anything doesn’t seem right—an unnecessary procedure, an injection—don’t let them do it until you check.”
“You and Holmes.” He shook his head. “The two of you think I’m new to the game. I’m not about to let a stranger inject her with a lethal dose just because he’s wearing a white coat. Me, of all people! Your Miss Beaconsfield is safe. Now run along and get yourself cleaned up before they catch sight of those boots and throw you out of here.”
I decided that Holmes was right to trust Watson and that there was nothing I could do for Veronica here. I turned to go, but Watson made that noise beloved of Army colonels— which can best be transcribed as “harrumph”—so I paused.
“By the way, er, Mary, has Holmes brought up… That is, did he say anything to you about, aharrumph, well… fairies?”
“Fairies?” Holmes had many arcane interests, but nursery tales were a new one to me.
“Yes, you know, fairies, dancing, with wings and… you know, wings and things.” He waved his hand vaguely and looked uncomfortable.
“I haven’t seen a great deal of him lately, but when I did, he never mentioned them. Why should he?”
“You haven’t seen it, then. It truly was not my fault,” he burst out, “and if I had been consulted, I certainly should have objected. I have already complained strongly to the editors, but they say I have no recourse, since he’s only my agent.”
I seized on the last word.
“Are you talking about Doyle? What has he done?”
He groaned miserably. “I cannot bear to talk about it. Holmes was insufferably rude to me, said I’d ruined his career by getting mixed up with the man, said no one will ever take him seriously again.”
“I’m certain he meant no such thing, Uncle John. You, of all people, ought to know how he is. He’ll have forgotten it in a week.” Whatever ‘it’ was.
“It’s been two weeks; he was barely civil when he asked me to come here. Truly,” he pleaded, “there was not a thing I could have done.”
“I’ll talk to him about it,” I said soothingly, but if anything, his agitation increased.
“No! No, you mustn’t. He’s not rational on the subject, believe me, Mary. Say nothing about fairies, or Doyle, or The Strand. Or about me.”
“Fine, Uncle John, I’ll take care. And don’t worry, it will come out right in the end.”
Puzzled, I took my leave, and walked out of the hospital without, I think, any obvious haste. Even Watson, who knew me well, could not have guessed that the very sight of a hospital set my flesh to creeping. Even long days of VAD work during the war hadn’t cured me. Such was my haste that the street sweeper outside the hospital had practically to trip me with his broom to catch my attention, despite the fact that I had known he would be there, in some guise or other.
He did not