Scandal's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight

A bell ringing...Hands squeezing...

Gasping, I sat up in my bed. It took several moments before I realized I was still in my room at 221 Baker Street. I was safe, though still sore and aching from the attack. Taking a deep breath, I swung my feet to the floor. How long had I been sleeping this time?

I smelled tea and decided to find me some. I got to my feet. While I had been put to bed fully clothed, someone had been kind enough to take my shoes off. My clothes were wrinkled beyond recognition, so I slowly changed into something more presentable and with a high neck to hide my lovely bruises.

Opening my door, I stepped out and made my way to the kitchen. A kettle was whistling, though there was no sign of Mrs. Hudson. I poured myself a cup and sat at the table to drink it. I was starving, but my throat hurt so terribly with just tea, I didn't think I could face something solid.

I went over the events of the previous day. I had many questions. Why had William Smith come after me? Was it because I had accused him of being the murderer he was, or was there some other reason behind it? How had he tracked me to this residence?

"Mary!" Mrs. Hudson's exclamation brought me back to the day. She was standing over me, studying me like a nervous and concerned mother hen. "You're finally up! Its nearly eleven now. How are you feeling?"

"I'm... all right," I said, grimacing in pain and at how hoarse I was. I had to swallow hard between every other word. It was very irritating. "You should not be on your foot like that."

Mrs. Hudson set a tray out and began getting tea things ready. "Mr. Holmes' brother is here," she explained. "I suppose you must have heard him ring the bell. I'll take this up to them and then get you something to eat. I don't want you to do a thing, do you understand me?"

I was already on my feet. "I can do it," I insisted. I'd never read or heard much about Mr. Holmes' brother. Mycroft, I think his name was. If I took the tea up, I would see him and Mr. Sherlock Holmes would know I was up. As soon as this visitor was gone, we would talk. Well, he would talk, and I would manage.

"Oh, very well," Mrs. Hudson said, allowing me the tray. She sank into her seat with a quiet sigh of relief. "My foot is aching me today."

Carrying the tray with steady hands, I went out. I shuddered as I went past the place in the hallway where I'd nearly been strangled to death. I went up the stairs, and entered apartment B.

As soon as Dr. Watson saw me, I thought he was going to jump out of his seat and order me back to my bed. Sherlock Holmes merely glanced me over and then returned his attention to his brother. The man had turned to see what had shocked Dr. Watson so, and I found myself under his scrutiny.

Mycroft Holmes was very much like his brother. He was much larger, though I estimated them to be of the same height. His steely grey eyes were sharp and alert.

I came forward to set the tray on the table. I stepped back, and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Mr. Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, that is.

"If you would, pour the tea, please," the detective requested.

That made Mr. Mycroft Holmes' eyebrows go up, and Watson made a sound of protest. With a short nod, I took my position at the table and began to pour out their tea. I noticed he had not called me 'Mary' as he had in the past. "You were saying, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked.

The large man glanced at me. "She can be trusted," Sherlock assured him. "In fact, she would listen outside my door and then how could we be sure of what she would hear?"

I couldn't help a smile. I'd wondered if he'd ever noticed my eavesdropping and clearly he had. His brother frowned in displeasure. "I need you to locate someone," he said, seeming to accept his brother's word. "I have already had some of my best men searching, and they can find no trace of her."