So, here is the next part. At last, I know... - Sorry for taking so much time at the moment to update, but at least it is getting somewhere again. Slowly but surely.

Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story, I really appreciate it and now, hopefully, enjoy ;)

Love

Nic

A case of high treason – Part 4

Harriet:

After my husband's hasty departure, it had been impossible to rest any longer and as much as I tried, for the next half hour, sleep would not come again and so, in the end, I slipped out of bed and got dressed, well aware that at this ungodly hour Martha was not in the best of moods and besides still busy setting up things for the day, such as lighting the fire in the kitchen, cleaning the carpets and grates and so forth. Yet there were more than enough things for me to take care of as well. And perhaps, seeing that this was not one of the days I went down to Scotland Yard, I could just as well start on preparing the nursery. Admittedly, it was a room I had neglected ever since I moved into my little house, and in consequence many bits and bobs had ended up in there and it was high time to finally sort through them and discard of everything that was not needed any longer. Besides, the room would need painting and definitely a new carpet, and then there was also the nursemaid's chamber adjacent to it that just would not do the way it was now. I had always taken care that my servants had it as comfortable as possible, with a decent bed, and at least a table and chair to sit at besides the mandatory chest of drawers to store their meagre belongings, and the bed I found in the attic was in a desolate state to say the least. No person could sleep in it comfortably and a nursemaid would need all the rest she could get in between taking care of a small child or possibly even two. Not that I felt very comfortable in leaving my children in the care of another woman anyway and I was pretty certain that the first few months we could do very well without. So far so good.

Martha indeed had just lit the stove and pushed the kettle towards the middle and due to the early hour, she did look quite grumpy. I greeted her as cheerfully as I could despite my sinking feeling regarding Sherlock's case and the sheer need to put my mind off it and then put the kettle on and taking care of the breakfast. Other maids surely would be offended but Martha knew me too well to even remark on it and with a small smile, she left for the living room to air and then dust it. After all, this was no criticism towards her that she was working too slow, merely that I was up earlier than my usual time.

"You do seem worried," my maid remarked when she re-entered the kitchen, just as I poured the tea and then pulled the pan with the scrambled eggs off the stove.

"Well, I am. That my husband's brother should come knocking on our door this early in the day is a little disconcerting, to say the least," I told her.

"Yes, the other Mr Holmes seemed to be in a right state, I tell you!"

"How so?" I wondered for it was difficult to picture Mycroft any other way than being completely put together and calm to the point of being perhaps a bit boring.

No, actually, boring was the wrong word, the few times I had met him, he was just perhaps overly correct and a bit starched up, but not boring. I liked him a lot, this or the other way.

"Well, he was quite unkempt and had not shaved and he didn't wear an overcoat, though at this time of day it was still cold and also raining mind."

Now, this was indeed unusual as far as I could judge and my unease increased.

"Mr Holmes mentioned some lost papers and though I didn't hear a reply, I could see from his brother's expression that he had hit the nail on the head. What papers were they talking about, Madam?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

And truth be told, even if I had an inkling I probably would have still given the same answer seeing that Mycroft worked at the ministry and the papers that seemingly were now missing were of some importance.

"Ah, I don't think we need to worry anyway. Mr Holmes will find the papers in no time, surely," Martha carried on, now that she had a cup of tea before her and some hearty breakfast in a much better mood.

I only hoped she was correct. Though I trusted my husband to do his best, there was still the slight chance he might fail and what then? If those papers were not of immense importance, Mycroft would not have come here at that time of day, surely.

But again, pondering on the case would lead me nowhere and so I did finish my meal and got to work. Perhaps more vigorously than I should have and hastier than was necessary. By ten the boxes had been sorted through and tidied away, putting the things within either where they belonged, or onto a neat pile in the disused stable behind the house to be brought away eventually. The few dresses amongst the other stuff I gave to Martha, who could not believe her sheer luck, especially seeing that I had no objections in her actually wearing them, unlike many other ladies who gave out old dresses but then were offended when their maids looked so fine.

We had just finished, when Tom arrived with a note for me, grinning broadly.

In case you have forgotten all about that grumpy husband of yours already, I just wanted to remind you, that he loves you very much. It read, making me smile. And this smile turned even wider when I read the lines: Don't overdo things and start turning the whole house upside down, my dear. Put your feet up and rest. Love Sherlock

He definitely knew me too well. Not a bad thing, actually, but sometimes a bit irksome to be so easily seen through.

Well, while Tom was here, he and Martha could just as well bring down the old rusty bed and then I could take my time to decide what to do with the now empty rooms.

xxx

Sherlock:

At least the papers were safe and that was indeed something to be thankful for considering all but where even to start with the search for the missing man? Well, the obvious step would be to follow in his footsteps and then go from there. He had to get to the station somehow if he ever got that far, that was.

I once again made my way to Morton's lodgings and found that he had taken the cab. So far so good. The nearest stable was just two roads down and in a back alley and again, I was in luck.

"Good morning," I greeted the stable master.

A jovial looking chap who, no doubt, had already had a couple of pints despite the early hour.

"Morning, Sir. Do you need a cab?"

"Not immediately. I have a question though. You would not happen to know if one of your cabbies had taken a man from Suffolk Place down to Waterloo Station?"

"Aye, Sir, that I know, for the man came back laughing, saying that he had just had good luck and earned himself two full guineas and would take the rest of the day off, seeing that he had made his fair share already and would now go to the pub instead of driving around much stingier folks. Can you believe it?! Two guineas, when the fare would have hardly been a shilling! I guess the man was a bit... - You know not in his right mind to hand out so much money, but then again, Miller sure does deserve his good fortune seeing that he never drinks while at work and such. Good man that!"

"And is this Mr Miller back at work today?"

"He sure will be soon. Should be here in about fifteen minutes, seeing that he is also always a bit early. Got a wife and kid at home, you know?"

I decided to wait for the man, but when more than half an hour had passed and he had not appeared even the stablemaster started to get worried, where before he had merely been annoyed at the cabby's tardiness.

"Do you know where he lives?" I eventually asked and received a prompt answer.

"Carlisle Lane, down in Lambeth, right by Waterloo Station, Sir."

Now the irony wasn't left on me. There had been a man almost home only to have to go back to return his cab where it belonged before having to walk all the way to where he had just dropped his last fare.

With handing out a few coins for all the man's help I made my way down there on foot. It was some way off, that much was true, but if he should merely be late I would certainly recognise a cab-driver on foot passing me. I did not, however, no matter how many people I glanced over in passing. There was the odd soldier on leave, a basket maker, several sailors, even more clerks, a carpenter and his boy, a policeman on his beat, but no cabby anywhere, safe for the ones perching on their cabs, naturally. Of them there were plenty.

I reached the man's address, a run down house with various flats, grimy and overflowing with tenants, though the room he and his family occupied, I soon found, were well kept and though shabby looking, at least clean and tidy. His little daughter sat in one corner, happily plaing with a cat, while his wife seemed worried.

"Sir?" she asked upon opening the door.

From the way her face fell, she had seemingly expected her husband and not some stranger. But at least her features relaxed enough upon seeing I was not police bringing bad news. Though suddenly I was not so sure of the latter.

"I am looking for your husband, Mrs Miller," I explained.

"And I am waiting for him since last night Sir!" she exclaimed with some woe in her voice.

With some trepidation, I told her what I knew and a small smile flickered across her comely face.

"Oh, bless him. He does so but rarely and never drinks more than a pint or two."

Then with an anxious expression, she pressed her hands to her mouth gasping: "But what if he has been robbed? It sure is a lot of money. We could pay our rent here for a good half year with that amount and still have some spare!"

Seeing the place, that was easy to believe and my heart clenched. If something had happened to her husband she would find herself wandering the streets soon. It was a cruel reality, sickening if one thought about it, that in a country this wealthy, people could get so desperate that they were left no choice but to sell the only thing they still had – themselves. I'd rather not think about the little girl in this instance. Harriet and her former work at St Anne's came to mind and that though it was not much she had been able to do, it still had been something. Who ran the place now? I would try and find out, only to satisfy my curiosity.

"Madam, I cannot possibly say at this point, but I will try and find out. Do you know which pub he usually attended?"

"The Crown down on Lambeth Road, Sir. It's as respectable a place as you'll find anywhere around, not one of those bawdy alehouses, but a place where all kinds of folks meet. I sometimes help there with the cleaning, you must know."

"And I am sure you do a very good job of it," I complimented her smiling in order to cheer her up a little.

Not that it was much and at any rate rather hollow.

"Thank you, Sir. If only you could find my poor Harry, I would give you everything I own!"

"That won't be necessary," I assured her and left giving the girl now curiously looking a little wave.

Only now I noticed that she was deaf and as much as I worried about Morton's whereabouts, to find this girl's father was even more important. But first things first, and in this case, this would be to go and persuade dear old Watson to join me in my quest. Oh, and perhaps inform my wife what I was busy with now, knowing full well that she was likely to burst at the seams from sheer curiosity.

No, my wife was not a nosy person, but when a case was involved her mind would ultimately be busy with what was going on, no matter what little information she had especially now that she could not actively join me and besides, she might worry about my whereabouts. Hm, I would have to come up with something to occupy her mind a little at least for a couple of days and I already had a vague idea. However, again that was something I had to worry about later. Finding Morton was one thing, finding Miller was pressing for the sake of his family.