The Forgotten Niece of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke early, so early that the Sun had not even risen yet. I felt nauseous, today was the day that my life could possibly change. I kept my eyes closed and wrapped the blankets more tightly around me. I lay still and listened to sounds around me and listened to the sounds around me, I listened to my breathing, it was surprisingly calm but I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. I heard a few horse pulling carts, their hooves clopping on the cobble stones. These sounds were calming and I closed my eyes and thought about today.

Matilda had told me to follow the directions she had said to me as I carefully wrote them down, double-checking street names and landmarks. I now felt ready. But what would happen to Matilda when I found him? I would have thought that I would have a new home with Sherlock, but I couldn’t leave Matilda, maybe I could explain the circumstances to him, maybe he’ll help?

That could all be sorted at a later date; the main priority now was just finding the address and hopefully finding him there too. I now heard Matilda on the other side of the wall, getting out of bed and begin to get dressed, I knew that I should do the same, but I felt so warm and safe in my nest of blankets that I stayed there for a few more minutes.

Once I  had the strength to leave my bed, I dressed quickly, pulling my blue dress over my head quickly as it was becoming  a little chilly, I brushed and tied up my hair with a black ribbon, I pulled on my shoes, that were now, wearing a little  at the heels. I looked at myself in the cracked mirror that lay on my small table at the foot of my bed.

I looked at the room around me taking everything in, as it could be my final time that I spent in this little house, I walked down the creaking steps and entered the kitchen, there was Matilda, pottering around preparing breakfast, I stood and watched her slight figure put a heavy kettle of water on the fire, she was an old woman but a strong one at that.

I took a few steps into the kitchen and Matilda turned around, her eyes slightly red and blotchy, this sometimes happened when she was around the stove for a long period of time, but I knew that she had been crying and I felt a pang in my heart, the realisation of leaving my home, my home that I so dearly loved.

We didn’t say anything but we both took a few steps and hugged each other tightly, not wanting to let go. “I am so proud of you, Eliza, you are so grown-up, it’s hard to imagine you as a baby anymore, and your eyes, so much like your mother’s…” I could now tell that she was crying, as well as realising that I was crying as well. I sniffed knowing that this was the last warmth of family that I would have. Matilda pulled back gently and went back to making tea. I sat on one of the three hard, wooden chairs and traced the pattern on the small table with my fingers.

Matilda sat down on the chair across from me, her joints stiff as she sat cautiously down, with her she had a small wicker basket and said “This morning I made you up a food package, it’s quite a while to Baker Street so you’ll need lunch, there’s also some money as well-“ I interrupted her by saying “Oh Matilda! I cannot take your money! You have already gone out of your way to help me find Baker Street but a basket full of food as well? I cannot accept-“                                                                                                                       

“No no! I will hear nothing of it, you will need this lunch and you will need the money, do not feel guilty in taking it, my dear,  at least ration the food, so it lasts as long as possible and the money, please, just take it and use when absolutely necessary!”

I could not argue to this, I did not feel worthy of it but Matilda was an old woman but she had a fiery personality and I knew that backchat was not an option, grudgingly I took the basket and the money and placed it by the front door, ready for when I left.     

The morning passed in a blur from that point, we had breakfast, we talked for at least another 20 minutes, and before I knew it, I was out of the door in my hooded cloak and the basket hung from my arm and began my journey to Baker Street.

I had never really been on the streets of London, only a few times a week to sell flowers for a little extra money, other times I went out with Matilda to buy groceries for the week ahead; I now felt nervous, knowing that I could turn back, but I set off and walked down the murky street.

I had followed Matilda’s directions and soon ended up in Prince Albert Road (God bless his soul), I followed the signs to Ave Road and came into Regent’s Park, I knew that well as I took walks here sometimes, I had walked part of the perimeter and passed the boating lakes, where I saw couples strolling, families walking and felt a pang when I saw them. They were happy, smiling, something I had not yet experienced.

I pushed this thought out of my mind and carried on walking. I soon found myself in Park Road I now knew that I was so close to finding my family, or at least, the closest thing to a family. I had now entered Baker Street, my heart hammering; I kept on walking, my pace quickening. And then I stopped dead…

221 B Baker Street stood before me.

 I could not breathe.

**

okay chapter 3 if finally here!

Thatnks for being so patient!

Vote, comment, etc etc

xx