Trollheart

II: A Most Perturbed Visitor

Banging downstairs, we gave Mrs. Hudson quite the fright, but this was no time for finesse. Holmes opened the door carefully, as it appeared the lady had fallen against it, and opening it too suddenly or roughly might have hurt her. Like someone gathering up a fallen bird, Holmes exhibited that gentleness which was for him so rare, but which he was capable of displaying, and carried the woman into the parlour. She began to make faint moaning sounds, to our immense relief, and as Mrs. Hudson, who had fled into the kitchen at sight of Holmes' unconscious burden, returned with some brandy and water, colour began to return to her cheeks and her eyes flickered open.

“Wh- where am I?”

She looked around, and it seemed to me that for a moment, naked terror was in those hazel eyes. She scanned the corners of the room, as if looking for something, something I got the distinct impression she feared to see. Once assured by her eyes that she was free of whatever had been troubling her, she sighed and seemed to relax a little.

“You are in Baker Street, madam,” Holmes told her kindly, gently. “This is my associate, Dr. Watson, who will, with your permission, conduct a quick examination to ensure you are not hurt.”

Her eyes flew open, and recognition sparked in them.

“Dr. Watson! Then you must surely be Mr. Sherlock Holmes!”

“At your service, madam.” Holmes bowed stiffly. She reached out and grasped his hand.

“Oh, Mr. Holmes!” she gasped, as he, uncomfortable as he was with human contact, drew back involuntarily. “Do forgive my forwardness, but I now recall: it is you to whom I was bound when I had my faint.” She frowned. “Do you know what happened? Did you see it?”

“See?” Holmes seemed a little lost, a position almost alien to my friend. “I am afraid I was not a witness to your fall, madam -”

“Mrs. Fraser,” the lady introduced herself. Holmes bowed again, as did I.

“Mrs. Fraser,” he repeated the name. “I merely heard a noise in the street, looked out the window and noticed you had fallen. I did not, I am sorry to say, see how it occurred, or why.”

Mrs. Fraser was by now able to sit up a little straighter, and I had finished my very cursory examination.

“You seem perfectly fine to me, Mrs. Fraser,” said I. “Can you tell us what caused you to swoon in the street?”

She seemed hesitant.

“You will think me foolish indeed, sirs, but I swear that what I tell you is the truth.”

“Go on,” said Holmes gently. “We will make no rash judgement upon your sanity, I do assure you.”

“Well, as I am not familiar with your address, Mr. Holmes, I walked around a little before I could find the street. I was looking for a policeman to assist me when I saw a man whom I seemed to recognise, though his face seemed in shadow. This in itself I found odd, as it is, as you can see, a bright sunny day outside, and the sun is in the centre of the sky at this moment, throwing the shadows the other way, away from your door. Yet there he stood, shrouded in darkness, his head down, walking along the street. He stopped then at a door, leaning against it, and I approached him, to ask directions, when – and you must believe me, Mr. Holmes – he simply vanished before my eyes!”

Holmes' eyebrows raised and he rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“I now realise,” went on our visitor, “that the door he had been leaning against was your own, and so I had found my destination. However at the shock of his disappearance I fainted, and remember no more until you revived me just now.”

Holmes folded his arms, a determined look on his face.

“So,” he sighed. “You are yet another victim of the West End Phantom?” He turned a terrible gaze upon her, the kind of look I have seen strong criminals quail and crack under. “What is the meaning of this, madam?” he demanded harshly of her. “Does someone play a trick on me? Are you part of a conspiracy to drive me mad?”

“My dear Holmes!” I remonstrated with him, placing myself between him and Mrs. Fraser, to shield her from his wrath. “Such behaviour is most unbecoming of you!”

For the barest instant, a look the likes of which I have seldom seen crossed my friend's face, and I actually thought he was going to strike the lady. Then his expression changed, the tension went out of him and he relaxed, like a spring uncoiling.

“Forgive my brusque manner, madam,” he said, somewhat stiffly I thought. “But the newspapers have been full of so-called reports of this spirit, and it is an affront to my logical thinking that such things should be given credence. I am weary of reading about these sightings, and to think one such had been brought to my door...”

He stopped, bowed, shrugged.

“I do not know what it was I saw, Mr. Holmes,” the shaken woman averred. “Perhaps it was a ghost, perhaps it was my own imagination, or the fact that I have not slept properly these last six nights, but I swear to you on all that is good, on the grave of my departed husband, that I saw what I saw. I have no explanation for it, but I believe it must be connected to the reason I came to see you.”

Holmes appeared to have control of himself now. Never had I seen him so enraged. Well, perhaps once or twice. The affair of the “Five Orange Pips”, when he had sent a man unknowingly off to his death. The anger that had caused him to snatch up his whip and drive “Hosmer Angel” out of Baker Street. And of course, the time on the moors, when we had come across what we believed to be the body of Sir Henry Baskerville. Clearly, these sightings of the West End Phantom were affecting him more than he would care to admit.

“You shall tell us all about it, madam,” he promised, “ but I fancy you would be happier to discuss the details in a more, ah, private setting, am I correct? Do you think you might manage the stairs? I know I am always more comfortable hearing the particulars of any case when in my own apartments, and it will undoubtedly be more conducive to our conversation.”

Mrs. Fraser nodded, and I thought I detected what looked like gratitude in her eyes.

“I believe I could make it upstairs indeed, Mr. Holmes,” said she, smiling at Mrs. Hudson, who still looked a little prickly. “Thank you indeed for your kindness, Mrs. Hudson. I am indebted to you.”

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