Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) short stories

What a Lovely Thing a Rose Is

Missing: Rose Wilkinson. Seven and a half months old. Missing since the evening of September 14th. £500 reward for her safe recovery or for information leading to her safe return home. Wearing a light pink silk dress with a white blanket. If found, contact Martin Wilkinson at 35 Thatcher Street, Woking.

"That was two days ago," I said once I had finished. "What do you think happened? Abduction?"
"Most probably," Holmes said. "Hand me my book."
I removed it from the shelf and passed it to him, holding it out of reach of Rose as I did. She sat up and stretched out her hands to touch it, then gave a little cry when Holmes snatched it.
He flipped through the pages. "Here it is," he said. "Wilkinson, Martin. Quite rich. Owns the Elmfield Manor. Was once arrested on the suspicion of murdering his wife, but was released for the lack of evidence. Interesting, but likely irrelevant. He remarried three years later to one Edna Hollister. No doubt a servant kidnapped her to demand ransom."
"But how did she end up in the alley?"
"Likely the abductor became fearful of discovery and left her there if only for a moment. No doubt he or she would have come back for her moments after you snatched her off the streets."
"Ah," I said. "We must notify Mr. Wilkinson at once. I can walk to the telegraph office if you watch her."
Holmes shot out of his chair and crossed the room for his overcoat and hat in that quick, darting manner that was so familiar to me. "No, no. I will go to the telegraph office and you will watch the baby." He checked his watch. "The last train from Woking has just left. I fear we will have to watch the baby until tomorrow. Good evening, Watson. I will return soon."
With that he rushed out the door, slamming it behind him as he always did.
I pulled Rose's blanket off and laid it on the floor, putting her on her back on top of it.
"I'll bet you'd like to stretch a bit," I said.
Rose smiled at me and waved her arms wildly as if she were having a hard time controlling them.
"You've had quite the adventure," I said, standing akimbo. "You must be getting hungry soon, and I'll have to get you something to eat. Not to mention we need somewhere for you to sleep."
"Nnn gah," Rosie said.
"I infer you are agreeing with me."
Rose seemed happy on the floor, I took my novel I had been working on lately and sat back in my chair, opening it to my bookmark. I had read for about five minutes before I looked up to check on her. She was off the blanket and on her belly, kicking her little legs as if practicing the dog-paddle.
"Now how did you manage that?" I asked.
Rose rolled back onto the blanket and onto her back again, her arms waving in that spasmodic little fashion of hers.
I went back to my book.
Holmes returned in another half hour. "I have notified them and no doubt will receive an answer before we go to bed."
"Where will the baby sleep?" I asked. "And what if she gets hungry?"
"You know more about babies than I do. I shall depend on you to care for it."
"Her."
"Her."
"I suppose babies wouldn't have space in your brain-attic. After all, you have sworn never to marry 'lest your judgment become biased'. And I quote."
"Precisely! Mrs. Hudson can surely accommodate Rose with a cradle."
"And what about food?"
Holmes looked at me blankly for a moment. "I don't think either of us are capable of providing her that, but if you were to get her some cow milk I'm sure that would satisfy her tastes."
I closed my book and set it back on the shelf.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Holmes yelled. "Mrs. Hudson!"
The sound of Mrs. Hudson clambering up the stairs could be heard. She opened the door, breathless and flustered. With a flutter of her hand she said, "I wish you wouldn't do that, Mr. Holmes. I'm not your housekeeper, I'm your landlady." Her eyes fell on the baby. "Oh, what a beautiful little thing!" She paused, and a puzzled expression crossed her face. "Where did you two get—"
"I found her in an alley," I explained quickly. "Someone had left her there. It turns out she had been abducted from Elmfield Manor."
"Oh, the poor dear little thing! I'll be right back with some milk for her. And you'll be needin' a cradle, won't you?" she said, turning to Holmes.
"Yes. We aren't in possession of one at the present."
"Oh, of course, silly me. I'll be right back up with what you need." She again turned to the baby. "We'll make this right, love. Mrs. Hudson will get you some milk and everything will be just right."
Rose made a little sound that could have been some excited groan.
Mrs. Hudson disappeared back down the stairs.
"Well, Watson, I'd say we're grounded for tonight."
"She is cute, isn't she?" I said, kneeling down beside her.
"Yes, quite." Holmes went back to brooding in his chair.
"Hallo, there," I said, smiling down at her.
She smiled back and reached for me with her hands.
"Aw. Holmes, look at her."
Holmes turned, his lids half closed and an apathetic expression had shaded over his face like a curtain. "Yes. Adorable."
"I think I'm going to retire," I said. "Will you be fine with her?"
He turned back to the flickering fire and flourished his long, white hand at me. "Of course."
"Mrs. Hudson should be back with the milk soon. She will feed her for you."
"Yes," he said, his voice growing louder. "Good night, Watson."
"Goodnight," I said, shrugging, then left the room.
Back in my bedroom, I changed into my nightshirt and slipped into bed.

___

I woke sometime in the night to the baby crying. I lit a candle and checked my watch in its light. It was 2:15 A.M. I groaned, then slipped into my dressing gown, emerging from my room still half asleep. I paused at the door to the sitting room, hearing Holmes' voice amongst the pitiful crying. I cracked the door open.
Holmes was bent over a cradle —obviously the one Mrs. Hudson brought up— talking in soothing tones to Rose.
"You musn't make such a racket," he said. "You'll wake Watson."
Nevertheless, the baby kept crying.
"Oh, alright. Come here," Holmes said. He reached down and removed Rose from the cradle, holding her in his arms. He rocked her for a moment, and she almost instantly calmed down. "That's better," he said. "I still don't see why you had to make such a fuss."
He sat down in his chair and held her against his shoulder. Rose snuggled in and buried her face in the folds of his dressing gown.
Holmes eyes widened in surprise. "Ah, I see. You were just lonesome. I was suffering from the same condition as well."
I cracked the door open a bit wider. The room was even messier than it had been before I went to bed. The newspapers were scattered all across the floor and several letters were jackknifed to the mantle above the fireplace. His makeshift laboratory was cluttered even more so than it had been before. The Persian slipper and violin were both next to his chair on the ground, and his pipes were scattered in various hiding places rather than on their rack.
"Then I was introduced to Dr. John Watson. He made things better."
The sound of Holmes' voice was calming the baby down, and soon she fell asleep on his chest.
"I don't know how I got along without him," Holmes said, then went quiet.
I quietly pulled the door closed again and returned to my bedroom, a warm feeling enveloping me. Holmes rarely gave me any notion that he cared about me. Once I had tried to help him and he told me that I had done remarkably badly. Oft times during the day I would be ignored, especially when he was not on a case. It had appeared to me that his cases were of more importance than his roommate and companion.
Now I knew differently.

___

The next morning I woke early and found Holmes still asleep in his chair, though the baby had been returned to her cradle.
I gently shoved his shoulder. "Holmes."
"What?" he mumbled.
"You've received an answer to your telegram. Rose's parents are coming by the 11.15."
His eyes snapped opened and he woke immediately. "Ah! What good news. I shall be dressed in a moment."
He dashed from the room.
I checked on Rose, who was still sleeping. She had a soft smile on her face, and I dare say it was the sweetest smile I had ever seen.
Her parents soon arrived, and with thankful hearts, took her home in their arms, rejoicing with one another as they went.
Holmes stood by the window, watching them go.
"I'm glad she gets to go home," I said.
Holmes grunted. "Yes. Hallo, someone has rung the bell!"
Inspector Lestrade burst into the room. "Sherlock Holmes, all of England needs you!"
He looked at me, his lips flickering into a brief smile.
I returned his gaze.

The game is afoot.