And In Walked Portia Adams

Over peas

"We should pick a regular night, don't you think?" I said, calling Portia's attention back to me.

We were shelling peas in my mother's kitchen later that same day, and we had fallen into the repetitive rhythm of the work.  Leek soup simmered on the stove behind us as we sat at the small wooden table, the smell thick and inviting.

My mom popped her head into the kitchen. "I'm stepping over to the O'Reilly's to borrow an egg," she said, pulling on her jacket, "an' your father is still out walkin' the dogs."

We nodded to her and she left us alone again.

"I'm sorry, what, Mr. Dawes?" She said

"I mean for you to come to dinner, here, with us," I said as soon as my mother was gone. "You know, make it a regular night."

She smiled, always a beautiful sight. "That would be nice, Mr. Dawes, and probably more efficient for your mother than dropping in randomly so that she doesn't know if she's cooking for three or four. I'm sure that's annoying."

I snorted, "My mother is far too intimidated by your Mrs. Jones to worry about efficiencies — I think she'd be fine with you coming down every night if it meant your Mrs. Jones would show her rare approval.

She hasn't been around for a few weeks. Your guardian, I mean," I continued, picking up my bowl to fish out a pea that was slightly off-color. "Until I saw her today, I thought maybe she had decided to leave you to your own devices. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? To not have a guardian at all?"

She cocked her head. "You don't like Mrs. Jones much, do you Mr. Dawes?"

I shrugged, thinking about her superiority and attitude. "It's not that I don't like her. She doesn't much seem to like me," I said. "As soon as she sees me her shoulders come up an' so, might I say, does her nose..."

She laughed. "I have to admit, I have come to care for and even admire Mrs. Jones. Though she has her foibles, as we all do."

"I like how she treats you," I replied, honestly. "She cares for you very much, and I like that you have that in your life."

Portia glanced down at her bowl. Her shyness was fascinating to me. She was so confident in so many aspects of her life, but socially, she was very innocent. It made me feel slightly guilty for the feelings I was developing towards her. It was why I had not asked her to go out with me. She didn't seem ready and I didn't want to rush her.

"Well, also, she's the only connection I have to Dr. Watson and my grandmother. Even if she weren't my guardian, I'd still want a relationship with her," she stammered. "She is, after all, the only person who can tell me about that entire side of my family. Though getting information out of her is not an easy task."

"Well ... not the only person," I answered, my mind turning away from romantic thoughts to more practical ones.

She looked at me quizzically.

"There is, after all, Sherlock Holmes," I said with a smile.

--------------------  The End of Jewel of the Thames ------------------