I dedicate this first story of mine in the original Sherlock Holmes canon to Ennui Enigma, without whom I wouldn't have considered going into a time warp and trying to follow in the footsteps of the great Arthur Conan Doyle. Thanks for all your suggestions and corrections, couldn't have got there without you. Many of the quotes and salutes to the original ACD canon are down to her.
I hope that at least some of this little tale ring true with lovers of the original canon.

How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth? - Sherlock Holmes

Part 1: The Case of the Beautiful Woman

During my long acquaintance with the celebrated detective, Sherlock Holmes, there were extended periods when I did not see my friend and colleague for some time. I am not talking now of when Holmes had feigned his own death in order to pursue a criminal gang and so ensure his friends' safety, but times when he was absent from my life for several weeks at a time with no word of his whereabouts. The most frequent periods of his absence, indeed, were during the early years of my marriage.

My wife and I did all we could do to make Holmes welcome and she had told him on more than one occasion that he could visit us at anytime. We respected that he was a very private man and that he preferred solitude to company, so we left him to his bachelor life in the main.

I was working as a general practitioner in those days and Holmes called on me infrequently at my surgery to enquire after my health or share some puzzling aspect of a new case. One such occasion was a windy evening when my last few clients must have thought better of braving the storm brewing and had not showed for their planned appointments. Holmes had slipped in before the rain had started and by the time we were snuggled up in front of the fire in my consulting room, the wind was up and the rain was coming down in earnest and there was no chance of escaping home to a hot meal cooked by my wife.

Holmes was always a gentleman where it came to the fairer sex, though I have never known him to take an interest in any woman beyond the confines of an investigation, except perhaps one, but that on an intellectual level as far as could be told. He treated all the vulnerable who came to his apartments with equal deference and concern, owing more to their perceived worth, than class or position, as other mere mortals would have. I have witnessed my friend snubbing a Duke, whereas a street urchin is treated with deference and respect in the chambers of Mr Holmes, as long as he is an honest one.

Holmes settled himself into a chair in front of the fire. "Chambers came to see me about a peculiar matter some weeks past. You remember the man, Watson?"

"Oh yes, indeed, fine man, keeper of the keys at the women's wing of Holloway Prison last I heard. And how is Mrs Chambers, Holmes?"

"Oh blooming, by all accounts; replete with a twelfth heir to the Chambers inheritance. The prospective father says they had always counted on a round dozen - a baker's dozen and more if they carry on at that rate." Holmes smiled pleasantly at the thought that his good friend, who had brought much work our way over the years, was having such a rewarding life.

"Chambers wanted to bring to me a potential case", he continued, "though he said that the client would be a most reluctant one. A certain Mrs Doolittle of King Street is residing at the prison, accused of murdering both her husband and the local Vicar, the incumbent of St Peter's until his untimely death.

The young couple had moved to the area some eighteen months prior to the unfortunate demise of the two aforementioned gentlemen. Mr Doolittle had been a baker with a small shop below their residence where Mrs Doolittle had sold the products of her husband's industrious nature. They were making a reasonable living and had a good reputation for the quality of their breads and baked goods and the honesty of their dealings with the general public.

"Some months past, Mr Doolittle attended Holy Communion with his wife at St Peter's and promptly collapsed and died at the altar rail. Other communicants testified that his eyes turned black and he had a most demonic look on his face as his wife leant over to hear what turned out to be his dying words. A local physician, one Dr Smallwood, had stepped forward to try to help the unfortunate victim and heard him say just audibly, 'You did this, you have killed me', directly looking at his wife as he spoke.

"I believe that Smallwood worked for some time at St Barts. Did you make his acquaintance there?"

"Oh yes, I know Smallwood. Petty little man, but knows the trade, not killed as many as some, at least."

"So we can trust his testimony then, Watson?"

"I see no reason not to. Why would he fabricate the final words of a dying man? I can see no profit in it for him. "

"In reporting those words, immediately following the death, Smallwood made no accusations nor did he attempt to accuse the widow, as she now was, of any impropriety. Indeed, he described the symptoms as being that of a stroke, the peculiarity of the eyes, the victim clutching his heart just prior to collapse and having slurred speech. The inspector who interviewed those concerned did not suspect any foul play and put the man's outburst down to over excitement during the brain storm that killed him.

"He had reason to question his initial assessment when the Vicar of the parish died, just prior to the husband's funeral. The verger, who had found the dying man in the vestry following evensong, described the same symptoms; dilated pupils, palpitations, and slurred speech. The Rev called out to him, 'I have seen the very devil in widow's weeds!' before expiring in convulsions. A challis was found later upturned under the choir stalls." With a touch of his customary sarcasm, Holmes continued, "Naturally the local constabulary had done all they could to destroy as much evidence as humanly possible. If only Lestrade had not been in Essex visiting family."

"That seems more than coincidence, Holmes", I said, "And hearing the symptoms of the first and knowing Smallwood as I do, I would want to look more closely at those bodies. As for the diagnosis, I could not say for sure without hearing more - as you rightly say, Holmes, you cannot make bricks without clay. On the surface they seem to fit the diagnosis of Dr Chambers, but we both know there is more than one explanation. A concentrated dose of belladonna would induce the same effect. I am in no doubt that the deaths of these men are linked by more than proximity and that the one may well have led to the other."

"Ah, Watson, my good man, you have anticipated some vital evidence that I withheld from you. Following a visit to the home of the Doolittles the constabulary came across all the paraphernalia required to distill a lethal dose of belladonna poison, which our grieving widow claimed was a beauty product. I see that you have spotted the initial erroneous assumption made by the police. I trust you will deduce their second mistake and are not well on your way to walking down the same path in pursuit of the error number two."

"What can you mean?" I asked, perplexed at the leap in logic that went beyond my comprehension.

"Why simply that you have wit enough to see the error that the investigators came to after the first death and are not so quick to follow the mistakes of their second attempt; that the same means were employed for both a murder and a suicide in the unhappy parish of St Peter's. For that is the erroneous conclusion that our local inspector came to."

Holmes shifted in his seat and I realized that I had ignored the social niceties in not offering my dearest friend any hospitality.

"A drink Holmes? It seems my last client has thought better than to seek the tender touch of this old saw bones. My time is now my own again. We can take up our old position at the Green Dragon, it's only a step away, and we have overcoats that would keep out a Delhi monsoon. Or I have a rather fine bottle of single malt, a present from a satisfied customer on the successful birth of his twin boys last month. My wife wasn't expecting me to finish up here for a while and she will assume that I am weathering the storm, holed up here, if the telling takes much longer."

Holmes indicated that the bottle would be his preferred course of action and we settled into a companionable silence, giving our full attention to a masterpiece of drinks.

It was some minutes before Holmes resumed his tale, none of which sounded as intriguing as he'd led me to believe thus far.

"So what about this has caught your eye and why did Chambers see fit to bring such a dull case to your attention?" I asked. "Surely he has seen many prisoners in his time who have similar tales to tell of circumstantial evidence bringing them through his doors?"

"Indeed he has," Holmes said with feeling, "But none so striking in appearance as the widow Doolittle."

"But he's a man married in the most happy circumstances, surely you're not suggesting that he wishes to save this woman for himself?"

"Yes indeed, most happy circumstances," Holmes reflected, "And I - a man married to his work - and yet, the womanly wiles of Mrs Doolittle are not beyond the ken of this confirmed bachelor, Watson." And I realized that even the Great Detective, as long as our acquaintance had been, could still surprise me.

"There was also the circumstances of death of the Rev Hart. You will recall, Watson, how a locked room will pique my interest in an otherwise unremarkable case."

"Ah yes, Holmes," I recalled, "there are several of your more celebrated cases where the proof of guilt rested on how a murderer came and went through a locked door to carry out his devilish purpose. I take it in this case there were no snakes nor a mongoose involved in the adventure?"

"No indeed," Holmes admitted, "There was not. Though those cases as well as that in which your dear wife was introduced into our acquaintance have made me overly suspicious of suicide and death by fright being too easy an explanation for death behind locked doors. I believe it may have more in common with that little conundrum brought to us by a certain Dr Trevelyan in that there was a trial and a sentencing that was executed."

We replenished our glasses as Holmes confessed that though he had gleaned many facts about the case he had been unable to interview the accused who refused to speak to anyone. "She has at the last moment relented and agreed to see me first thing tomorrow while the court sessions are postponed for the weekend. I would be very much obliged if you would accompany me there, Watson, if you can spare the time?"