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acdholmesfest2014-11-05 10:21 am
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Fic for methylviolet10b: The Grosvenor Square Furniture Van; G
Title: The Grosvenor Square Furniture Van
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
methylviolet10b
Author:thesmallhobbit
Rating: G
Characters, including any pairing(s): Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson/Mrs Mary Watson
Warnings: None
Summary: When Dr Watson returns home from visiting a new patient, Col Warburton, he finds Mr Holmes waiting for him, since his assistance is required in the case of the missing Welsh dresser.
Disclaimer: Any reader who tries to understand the continuity between this case and others mentioned by Dr Watson may find there are certain inconsistencies. This is not a unique occurrence.
Author’s Note: A great many thanks are due to my betacanonisrelative who worked very hard on this.
I first encountered Colonel Warburton at the request of his nephew, who was concerned that his uncle was having trouble with his breathing. The old man had not taken kindly to my visit, declaring himself perfectly well. He then proceeded to demonstrate this by jumping round the room, making squeaking noises, which were occasionally halted by coughing fits, after which he informed me that he was clearly as fit as a flea and suggested that I depart, in language that I will not record.
The nephew escorted me out and I attempted to reassure him by saying that it was not unusual for more elderly patients to suffer with their breathing in early spring, but that I was hopeful that as the weather improved so would the colonel’s health. The nephew thanked me and asked if I would come out again at a later date if necessary and I was able to say that his uncle’s eccentricities were not off putting.
When I arrived home I found Holmes waiting for me in my parlour. I was prepared to instantly take up my hat and coat again, but Holmes remarked that although he had come to request my assistance, the case was not sufficiently urgent for me to forego my luncheon and that Mary had requested that he join us.
Accordingly, after we had eaten, Holmes hailed a cab and we set off for Grosvenor Square. I began by asking Holmes the nature of the case.
“It is that of a missing Welsh dresser,” he replied.
I stifled a laugh. “I presume you must be referring to a lady from the Principality who works at one of the theatres,” I said, “for I cannot imagine how anyone can miss such a large piece of furniture.”
Holmes smirked. “Then I must confound your lack of imagination, for it is indeed the furniture for which we seek.”
“Since I cannot imagine that you have been called in purely for one missing item of furniture, I think you had better tell me the full story.”
“This morning I received a visit from a Sergeant Potter, who you may remember is one of Lestrade’s men. He was clearly concerned and said that he was sorry to trouble me, but he didn’t know who else he could turn to. I could tell that the matter involved a member of his family, and since it wasn’t in the nature of potential infidelity, which I would not have wished to involve myself with, I asked him to give me the details.”
I nodded to show that I had followed so far and Holmes continued, “It seems that his eldest daughter has a position as housemaid with a Mrs Hetherington of Grosvenor Square. The lady is the widow of the recently deceased Brigadier Hetherington. With the brigadier’s death the house is to be sold and the widow is to move to a smaller property. It had been suggested that some of the furniture, which will not be needed in the new house should be removed. Josiah Hetherington, the elder son, had wanted the Welsh dresser, and had arranged for it to be taken to his own house.”
“So where is the problem?”
“According to Sergeant Potter, his daughter said the furniture van arrived at the beginning of the week to collect the dresser. But that yesterday afternoon, Josiah Hetherington called round to Grosvenor Square, went to see the dresser, which of course was no longer there, and demanded to know where it was. The house maid explained that it had been collected, Hetherington denies receiving it, and she has been accused of arranging for it to be stolen.”
“I presume you believe the girl to be innocent,” I said.
“Since I am not aware of any particular trade in stolen Welsh dressers,” Holmes said with a smile, “that is my starting point. We should, however, learn more soon, as I believe we are at our destination.”
Holmes led the way to the tradesman’s entrance, where a young girl let us in. “Dad said you’d be calling this afternoon, Mr ‘Olmes,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to ‘elp me.”
Holmes merely inclined his head. “Is it possible for you to show us where the dresser stood, Maisie?”
“Yes, come this way. The mistress is out visiting this afternoon, so there’s no one around.”
She led the way into a back parlour.
“The dresser wasn’t in regular use, I presume,” Holmes said.
“No. It used to show off some of the plates what the master and mistress brought back from India, but cook said the mistress bought all new on her return, so the old crocks were never used. The mistress didn’t really seem to want many reminders of her time in India. I dunno why, it seems such a glamorous place to have been.”
“Do you know if they brought the dresser back as well?”
“Oh yes. They’d had it made special while they were over there. It had some funny carvings on it, elephants and such things.”
“I see. Was it just the dresser that the removal men collected, or was there anything else?”
“They took the dining table that went with it. Oh, and the two chairs.”
“Just two chairs?” Holmes asked. “Are you sure about that?”
Maisie thought for a moment. “Yes, I am sure. There were only two chairs.”
At that moment the front door bell rang.
“Go and answer that,” Holmes said. “We’ll see ourselves out. And don’t worry; I shall get to the bottom of this.”
Once outside Holmes turned to me. “What do you make of all that?” he asked.
“It does seem strange that there were only two chairs,” I replied. “I suppose if there were others they could have been broken, or lost in transit.”
“That seems unlikely. The fact that the furniture was brought back from India implies that it was of good quality, and therefore unlikely to break, or if it did, it would almost certainly have been mended. There must be other chairs, for this was furniture made for a family. The real question isn’t where has the Welsh dresser gone, but where are the other chairs? Find them and I suspect we shall find the other.”
I accompanied Holmes back to Baker Street, where he took down Burke’s Peerage to look up the family. “Ah, here they are: Brigadier and Mrs Hetherington, oldest child Josiah, the one who expected to receive the dresser; two daughters, one living in the north, the other returned to India with her husband, I think we can discount both of them; and then a younger son, with a considerable age gap between him and his nearest sister.”
“Do you suspect him of being involved?” I asked.
“It is too early to surmise. However, I have found in the past when family heirlooms go missing that it is worth considering all the family.”
“What will you do?”
“I shall see if I can identify the furniture van, because if the owner believes it was hired legitimately then he will be able to tell me where the dresser was taken.”
***
The following morning, shortly after I had seen out the last patient from my surgery, the maid knocked on my study door to tell me that Mr Holmes was at the door and wondered whether I was free to join him. Pausing only to give the maid instructions for Mary, I hurried out, to find Holmes waiting for me in the hansom.
As soon as I had mounted the cab and sat down I said, “I presume you have made progress.”
“Indeed. I spent a fruitful evening in one of the public houses that I knew was frequented by a number of drivers and put it about that I was looking for someone to transport some items of furniture. I said that I had caught sight of a van in Grosvenor Square earlier in the week, but had failed to catch the name, although I thought it ended with ‘& Sons’.
“After about half an hour a driver came in and came over to me, ‘You the geezer what’s looking for a furniture van?’ he asked.
“‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘I have some furniture in Berkeley Square that I want moving. It needs to go to my cousin, but he lives on the Surrey side of the river. I don’t want to have to pay too much.’
“‘You’d ‘ave to speak to the guvnor about charges. That job we did from Grosvenor Square, we took the stuff to near Clapham Common, so it ain’t a problem for us.’
“I thanked the man, bought him a drink and he gave me the address for his ‘guvnor’”
“You seem pleased, so I presume Clapham Common meant something to you,” I said.
“You may not be too surprised to learn that Mr Walter Hetherington, the younger son, has a house close to Clapham Common,” Holmes replied.
“But we are not going to see him,” I said, observing the direction the cab was taking.
“No. I think our first call should be with Mrs Hetherington.”
As we approached the front door of the house in Grosvenor Square it was thrown open. A man with a florid face was about to step out, but first he turned and called back, “I mean it mother. Sack the girl. Of course she was involved. Tell her to leave at once.”
He pushed past us as he left and then uttered an ungentlemanly curse as our cab, which he had tried to hail, drove off, apparently not having seen him.
Before the front door could be closed Holmes had stepped inside, so I followed him. We were in time to hear the lady of the house saying, “Get your hat and coat and leave immediately. Your things will be sent on to you.”
We caught a glimpse of the distraught expression on Maisie’s face as she ran up the stairs and then Holmes said, “Mrs Hetherington, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I would like to have a word with you about the missing furniture.”
The lady looked disdainfully at us, but led the way into the front parlour. She remained standing and said, “I believe I have heard your name mentioned somewhere. But I fail to see why you should presume that this gives you the right to enter my house, unless you have found the furniture?”
“I know where it is,” Holmes answered. “Tell me, is it particularly valuable?”
“No. We brought it back from India, but many others brought similar pieces home.”
“So why is it so important to your son? He seemed very upset at its loss.”
“He says it was an heirloom and rightfully his.”
“And how will he react when he learns that it was his brother that had taken it?”
“He won’t know. He never visits his brother. They rarely meet at all.” She blanched and abruptly stopped speaking; then glared at Holmes. It was clear that his words had caused her to admit to something she now regretted saying.
“And you are prepared to dismiss your housemaid, who is completely innocent, to keep the secret?” Holmes’ anger was obvious.
“She is expendable. I cannot afford to have a rift between my sons.” Mrs Hetherington went to open the door to show us out.
Holmes refused to take the hint but said coldly “I will make it my business to acquaint Mr Josiah Hetherington of the facts unless you write Maisie an excellent reference, which you will do at once and give to me to deliver to her, explaining that you are reluctantly forced to let her go as you will not be in need of so many servants once you have moved.”
Mrs Hetherington glared at Holmes, but nevertheless went across to her writing desk. She wrote the reference, passed it to Holmes for his approval, and then she sealed it. Holmes put it safely in his pocket.
Once we had left the house Holmes remarked, “This is not a very satisfactory end to the case, but I do not see that matters would be improved by returning the furniture to the unpleasant elder Hetherington. I shall speak to Mycroft and ask him to recommend a suitable position for Maisie Potter.”
***
I was contacted again regarding Colonel Warburton at the beginning of autumn in that year. This time instead of visiting the house, his nephew came to see me. I escorted him into my consulting room, where he wasted no time in explaining the purpose of his visit.
“My uncle seemed to improve in his spirits over the spring, but since then his behaviour has gone downhill. He has taken to wandering into neighbouring houses and then standing in their hallways looking concerned. Of course, our neighbours have contacted us and we have either collected him or he has returned of his own accord. Fortunately they have been quite understanding, and it has merely been a slight embarrassment to us. However, over the last few weeks he has got worse. He has starting taking a cab to different destinations and walking into strangers’ houses. No-one has yet made a formal complaint, but it can only be a matter of time.”
“How is he able to do this?” I asked.
“It is not a regular occurrence. There are days when he seems completely lucid and will pass the time of day with our neighbours like any other elderly gentleman. Indeed some days he will take the cab to his club and return home again without incident. So we do not know when an ‘attack’ if we may term it as such, will happen. I think it is highly possible that when he enters the cab he is entirely lucid, so that the driver will not be aware that there is any problem.”
“I can understand that this might be worrying for you. Is there a particular reason why you are coming to see me now?”
“Yes, there is. As I said, up to now all my uncle has done is walk into a house and stand in the hallway or perhaps the front room and look confused. One of our neighbours’ housekeepers referred to it as if he’d been sleep walking and woken from a dream. But yesterday he was found in a house near Clapham Common, looking in the drawers of a Welsh dresser.”
I must have started at that point, for the colonel’s nephew looked at me strangely.
“Do you think this is significant?” he asked.
“I was surprised at the sudden change in your uncle’s behaviour,” I replied, aware that my reaction was somewhat extreme for such a relatively minor change. “What did the gentleman who found him do?”
“Mr Hetherington sent his man out for the local constable. The constable escorted my uncle home. Mr Hetherington wrote me a note saying that my uncle had told him that he had been an officer serving out in India, and since his own late father had been similarly employed, he had no wish to press charges, but he hoped that we could do something to avoid a repeat episode. The note did not contain full details, but when I questioned the constable he explained what had happened.”
“I, of course, wrote back, thanking him for his actions and assuring him that we would take steps to prevent my uncle’s future wandering. Which is why I am here.”
While the nephew concluded his tale I had been thinking furiously. I therefore said, “I have a colleague who specialises in such cases. I will be in touch with him at once and we will see what can be done. I hope that we shall be able to call upon you either some time this afternoon or at the latest tomorrow.”
The nephew thanked me and as soon as he had left I made my way to Baker Street. As I had suspected Holmes was delighted to adopt the disguise of a doctor specialising in mental disorders and accordingly we set off later that afternoon.
***
Our first call was not on the colonel, but at Walter Hetherington’s house in Clapham. Holmes was of the opinion that for the colonel’s behaviour to have changed so suddenly there must be some reasoning behind it. I was doubtful as to whether a direct visit to the house would yield any results, but agreed with Holmes that if it did this would save us from having to undertake any clandestine activities that night. I have to admit that there is a part of me that enjoys such activities, but they are best kept for when no alternative is available.
As it was, when Holmes introduced himself to Hetherington as Professor Pennington, a specialist in mental disorders amongst those returned from the Indian sub-continent, and myself as his associate, we were invited in. I had expected Hetherington to be reluctant to show us the dresser, but Holmes launched into a long explanation about how sight of certain objects can trigger behavioural problems, using a succession of long words, which I suspected he had made up specifically for this purpose, so that Hetherington, in self-defence, took us through to see it. He explained that, other than it being a family heirloom, he did not think there was anything particularly remarkable about it.
Holmes looked at me and said, “My dear chap, are you all right? You seem to be somewhat paler than usual.”
This was my cue to say, “I’m sorry. Seeing the dresser brings back so many of my own memories.” Turning towards Hetherington I said, “I don’t suppose I might have some water?”
Hetherington left to obtain some for me and Holmes took the opportunity to open the drawers of the dresser and feel inside them. By the time Hetherington returned Holmes was standing at a small distance from the dresser, making notes in his pocket book.
“Thank you very much for your assistance,” he said. “I believe the sight of your dresser triggered some unexpected memories in Colonel Warburton, as it did in my colleague. I shall speak to the colonel, but I do not believe that there will be a repeat of this occurrence.”
We left the house and Holmes hailed a cab to take us to see Colonel Warburton.
When we were seated in the cab, I remarked to Holmes, “How extraordinary. I don’t know if you noticed Hetherington’s left hand? Of course you did. It is not common to see syndactyly and yet both Hetherington and the colonel appear to suffer from it.”
“I did notice that Hetherington’s left ring and little fingers appeared to be partially webbed. But if that is the case then I think you have provided me with the final piece of this mystery,” Holmes replied.
He refused to say any more and I spent the rest of the journey trying to understand the significance of the fact, but failing to put the pieces together by myself.
When we arrived at the Colonel Warburton’s house his nephew let us in. I introduced Holmes as Professor Pennington and the nephew told us his uncle was sitting alone in the parlour.
“I would like to speak to him without you,” Holmes said. “It is often the case with my patients that they are more likely to reveal their troubled selves in the absence of other family members.”
The nephew agreed and showed us the way. The colonel was sitting in an armchair and reading the paper when we entered the room.
“I understand that you have been having unfortunate episodes,” Holmes began.
“My nephew is too quick to act. There is nothing to concern you.” The colonel put down his newspaper and looked directly at Holmes.
“Maybe not. But answer me one question,” Holmes continued. “What did you take from the Welsh dresser?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The colonel remained completely calm, and I noticed no expression of surprise on his face.
“The time for games is past, colonel. As is often the case with such pieces of furniture, there was a secret drawer. When I examined it the drawer had recently been opened. You were therefore the obvious suspect.”
The colonel remained silent.
“Would you like me to tell you what I believe happened?” Holmes continued.
“Please do. But before that, please give me the courtesy of telling me your real name.”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes,” the colonel inclined his head slightly, clearly he was familiar with Holmes’ name, “and my friend Dr Watson has brought your case to me. It became very clear to me early on that you had adopted this particular behaviour as a disguise; that of a harmless, confused old man. Yet you are nothing like that. In fact, your mind is very sharp and clear. There was something in the dresser that it was imperative for you to obtain. Now that I have met both you and Mr Walter Hetherington and observed a number of small likenesses, in addition to the slight webbing on your fingers, I presume it was something that related to his paternity. So, acting the part of the confused gentleman you were able to seek and find what you were after, but, because you had been behaving in a similar fashion for a number of months no-one believed there was anything suspicious in your behaviour.”
The colonel nodded, thought briefly and then said, “What will you do if I tell you the truth?”
“Unless it transpires that a serious crime has been committed I see no reason to inform anyone else of the reason for your actions.”
The colonel shut his eyes and it was clear that he was reliving certain events in his head. I knew the look and readied myself to hear of events that had not been told for a long time. “Very well. Many years ago I was stationed in India with the Hetheringtons. One winter the Brigadier went up country for a number of months. Mrs Hetherington and I became very friendly. At first we would meet for dinner, for she was lonely, but matters progressed in the manner that you have surmised. Then the brigadier returned and our life reverted to how it had been previously. Mrs Hetherington barely acknowledged my presence and I accepted that that was how it must be. It became apparent that she was expecting again and I wondered whether it might be my child. However, there was no whisper of scandal and Hetherington was proud to have another son. Over the years I occasionally saw Mrs Hetherington, but she never spoke more than the minimum to me and made it clear that I was nothing to her anymore.”
The colonel stopped to take a deep breath.
“But something changed?” Holmes asked.
“As you are probably aware the brigadier died earlier this year. Shortly after his death I received a letter from his solicitor which contained a second sealed letter which the brigadier had written. In it he told me that he had always known that I was Walter’s father. At the time he had written a full account of the case, which he had hidden away for such point as he should need it. He told me that he had left another letter with his solicitor to be opened a year after his death. This letter would reveal the hiding place of the account, which would expose his widow and declare Walter illegitimate and therefore no longer a beneficiary under the will. (The will stated that all monies were to be held for one year before their release.) He was therefore giving me one year to make provision for the woman I had taken from him and my son.”
“That must have been a shock,” I said.
“I only have my military pension to live on. It means that I am able to pay my way living with my nephew, but I am in no position to support another and the brigadier was well aware of this. I was not going to allow him to defeat me and I therefore determined to take on the character of an occasionally confused gentleman, as you so correctly say. And yes, I have safely retrieved the letter, so all is well.”
“My compliments, sir, on your success,” Holmes said. “I can see no benefit in causing a scandal, so I am happy to leave matters as they stand. I have one question, though, if you would not mind answering my curiosity?”
“That will depend on the nature of the question.”
“How did you manage to find the letter?”
The colonel smiled. “The letter was written a long time ago and had to be have been hidden somewhere that was not only available at the time, but would be a safe place for many years. Therefore the obvious hiding place was the dresser. As you are perhaps aware the Hetheringtons’ house is up for sale and there was a formal viewing day. I asked my nephew’s wife to go to the viewing and make enquiries about the dresser; at that point I had a vague notion that I might buy it. My nephew is my sister’s son and therefore their surname would not be suspicious. Amelie returned to tell me that the dresser had gone, and that it had been stolen. She also added that there was some gossip amongst the servants that Walter Hetherington had been involved. I decided that it would be worth seeing if I could find the dresser at his house, before I widened my search.”
“Thank you,” Holmes said. “I can see that there are no problems whatsoever with your abilities. I will assure your nephew that he need not concern himself, but to be aware that there may be the occasional future small episode.”
The brigadier nodded his head in acknowledgement, and having spoken to the nephew, we left the house.
Once outside I reproached Holmes. “Surely you did not need to mention further possible episodes; we know that the brigadier is quite well.”
“Oh, indeed. However, I suspect the brigadier, having discovered how useful his disguise is, may occasionally resort to using it again.”
Recipient:
methylviolet10bAuthor:
thesmallhobbitRating: G
Characters, including any pairing(s): Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson/Mrs Mary Watson
Warnings: None
Summary: When Dr Watson returns home from visiting a new patient, Col Warburton, he finds Mr Holmes waiting for him, since his assistance is required in the case of the missing Welsh dresser.
Disclaimer: Any reader who tries to understand the continuity between this case and others mentioned by Dr Watson may find there are certain inconsistencies. This is not a unique occurrence.
Author’s Note: A great many thanks are due to my beta
canonisrelative who worked very hard on this.I first encountered Colonel Warburton at the request of his nephew, who was concerned that his uncle was having trouble with his breathing. The old man had not taken kindly to my visit, declaring himself perfectly well. He then proceeded to demonstrate this by jumping round the room, making squeaking noises, which were occasionally halted by coughing fits, after which he informed me that he was clearly as fit as a flea and suggested that I depart, in language that I will not record.
The nephew escorted me out and I attempted to reassure him by saying that it was not unusual for more elderly patients to suffer with their breathing in early spring, but that I was hopeful that as the weather improved so would the colonel’s health. The nephew thanked me and asked if I would come out again at a later date if necessary and I was able to say that his uncle’s eccentricities were not off putting.
When I arrived home I found Holmes waiting for me in my parlour. I was prepared to instantly take up my hat and coat again, but Holmes remarked that although he had come to request my assistance, the case was not sufficiently urgent for me to forego my luncheon and that Mary had requested that he join us.
Accordingly, after we had eaten, Holmes hailed a cab and we set off for Grosvenor Square. I began by asking Holmes the nature of the case.
“It is that of a missing Welsh dresser,” he replied.
I stifled a laugh. “I presume you must be referring to a lady from the Principality who works at one of the theatres,” I said, “for I cannot imagine how anyone can miss such a large piece of furniture.”
Holmes smirked. “Then I must confound your lack of imagination, for it is indeed the furniture for which we seek.”
“Since I cannot imagine that you have been called in purely for one missing item of furniture, I think you had better tell me the full story.”
“This morning I received a visit from a Sergeant Potter, who you may remember is one of Lestrade’s men. He was clearly concerned and said that he was sorry to trouble me, but he didn’t know who else he could turn to. I could tell that the matter involved a member of his family, and since it wasn’t in the nature of potential infidelity, which I would not have wished to involve myself with, I asked him to give me the details.”
I nodded to show that I had followed so far and Holmes continued, “It seems that his eldest daughter has a position as housemaid with a Mrs Hetherington of Grosvenor Square. The lady is the widow of the recently deceased Brigadier Hetherington. With the brigadier’s death the house is to be sold and the widow is to move to a smaller property. It had been suggested that some of the furniture, which will not be needed in the new house should be removed. Josiah Hetherington, the elder son, had wanted the Welsh dresser, and had arranged for it to be taken to his own house.”
“So where is the problem?”
“According to Sergeant Potter, his daughter said the furniture van arrived at the beginning of the week to collect the dresser. But that yesterday afternoon, Josiah Hetherington called round to Grosvenor Square, went to see the dresser, which of course was no longer there, and demanded to know where it was. The house maid explained that it had been collected, Hetherington denies receiving it, and she has been accused of arranging for it to be stolen.”
“I presume you believe the girl to be innocent,” I said.
“Since I am not aware of any particular trade in stolen Welsh dressers,” Holmes said with a smile, “that is my starting point. We should, however, learn more soon, as I believe we are at our destination.”
Holmes led the way to the tradesman’s entrance, where a young girl let us in. “Dad said you’d be calling this afternoon, Mr ‘Olmes,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to ‘elp me.”
Holmes merely inclined his head. “Is it possible for you to show us where the dresser stood, Maisie?”
“Yes, come this way. The mistress is out visiting this afternoon, so there’s no one around.”
She led the way into a back parlour.
“The dresser wasn’t in regular use, I presume,” Holmes said.
“No. It used to show off some of the plates what the master and mistress brought back from India, but cook said the mistress bought all new on her return, so the old crocks were never used. The mistress didn’t really seem to want many reminders of her time in India. I dunno why, it seems such a glamorous place to have been.”
“Do you know if they brought the dresser back as well?”
“Oh yes. They’d had it made special while they were over there. It had some funny carvings on it, elephants and such things.”
“I see. Was it just the dresser that the removal men collected, or was there anything else?”
“They took the dining table that went with it. Oh, and the two chairs.”
“Just two chairs?” Holmes asked. “Are you sure about that?”
Maisie thought for a moment. “Yes, I am sure. There were only two chairs.”
At that moment the front door bell rang.
“Go and answer that,” Holmes said. “We’ll see ourselves out. And don’t worry; I shall get to the bottom of this.”
Once outside Holmes turned to me. “What do you make of all that?” he asked.
“It does seem strange that there were only two chairs,” I replied. “I suppose if there were others they could have been broken, or lost in transit.”
“That seems unlikely. The fact that the furniture was brought back from India implies that it was of good quality, and therefore unlikely to break, or if it did, it would almost certainly have been mended. There must be other chairs, for this was furniture made for a family. The real question isn’t where has the Welsh dresser gone, but where are the other chairs? Find them and I suspect we shall find the other.”
I accompanied Holmes back to Baker Street, where he took down Burke’s Peerage to look up the family. “Ah, here they are: Brigadier and Mrs Hetherington, oldest child Josiah, the one who expected to receive the dresser; two daughters, one living in the north, the other returned to India with her husband, I think we can discount both of them; and then a younger son, with a considerable age gap between him and his nearest sister.”
“Do you suspect him of being involved?” I asked.
“It is too early to surmise. However, I have found in the past when family heirlooms go missing that it is worth considering all the family.”
“What will you do?”
“I shall see if I can identify the furniture van, because if the owner believes it was hired legitimately then he will be able to tell me where the dresser was taken.”
***
The following morning, shortly after I had seen out the last patient from my surgery, the maid knocked on my study door to tell me that Mr Holmes was at the door and wondered whether I was free to join him. Pausing only to give the maid instructions for Mary, I hurried out, to find Holmes waiting for me in the hansom.
As soon as I had mounted the cab and sat down I said, “I presume you have made progress.”
“Indeed. I spent a fruitful evening in one of the public houses that I knew was frequented by a number of drivers and put it about that I was looking for someone to transport some items of furniture. I said that I had caught sight of a van in Grosvenor Square earlier in the week, but had failed to catch the name, although I thought it ended with ‘& Sons’.
“After about half an hour a driver came in and came over to me, ‘You the geezer what’s looking for a furniture van?’ he asked.
“‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘I have some furniture in Berkeley Square that I want moving. It needs to go to my cousin, but he lives on the Surrey side of the river. I don’t want to have to pay too much.’
“‘You’d ‘ave to speak to the guvnor about charges. That job we did from Grosvenor Square, we took the stuff to near Clapham Common, so it ain’t a problem for us.’
“I thanked the man, bought him a drink and he gave me the address for his ‘guvnor’”
“You seem pleased, so I presume Clapham Common meant something to you,” I said.
“You may not be too surprised to learn that Mr Walter Hetherington, the younger son, has a house close to Clapham Common,” Holmes replied.
“But we are not going to see him,” I said, observing the direction the cab was taking.
“No. I think our first call should be with Mrs Hetherington.”
As we approached the front door of the house in Grosvenor Square it was thrown open. A man with a florid face was about to step out, but first he turned and called back, “I mean it mother. Sack the girl. Of course she was involved. Tell her to leave at once.”
He pushed past us as he left and then uttered an ungentlemanly curse as our cab, which he had tried to hail, drove off, apparently not having seen him.
Before the front door could be closed Holmes had stepped inside, so I followed him. We were in time to hear the lady of the house saying, “Get your hat and coat and leave immediately. Your things will be sent on to you.”
We caught a glimpse of the distraught expression on Maisie’s face as she ran up the stairs and then Holmes said, “Mrs Hetherington, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I would like to have a word with you about the missing furniture.”
The lady looked disdainfully at us, but led the way into the front parlour. She remained standing and said, “I believe I have heard your name mentioned somewhere. But I fail to see why you should presume that this gives you the right to enter my house, unless you have found the furniture?”
“I know where it is,” Holmes answered. “Tell me, is it particularly valuable?”
“No. We brought it back from India, but many others brought similar pieces home.”
“So why is it so important to your son? He seemed very upset at its loss.”
“He says it was an heirloom and rightfully his.”
“And how will he react when he learns that it was his brother that had taken it?”
“He won’t know. He never visits his brother. They rarely meet at all.” She blanched and abruptly stopped speaking; then glared at Holmes. It was clear that his words had caused her to admit to something she now regretted saying.
“And you are prepared to dismiss your housemaid, who is completely innocent, to keep the secret?” Holmes’ anger was obvious.
“She is expendable. I cannot afford to have a rift between my sons.” Mrs Hetherington went to open the door to show us out.
Holmes refused to take the hint but said coldly “I will make it my business to acquaint Mr Josiah Hetherington of the facts unless you write Maisie an excellent reference, which you will do at once and give to me to deliver to her, explaining that you are reluctantly forced to let her go as you will not be in need of so many servants once you have moved.”
Mrs Hetherington glared at Holmes, but nevertheless went across to her writing desk. She wrote the reference, passed it to Holmes for his approval, and then she sealed it. Holmes put it safely in his pocket.
Once we had left the house Holmes remarked, “This is not a very satisfactory end to the case, but I do not see that matters would be improved by returning the furniture to the unpleasant elder Hetherington. I shall speak to Mycroft and ask him to recommend a suitable position for Maisie Potter.”
***
I was contacted again regarding Colonel Warburton at the beginning of autumn in that year. This time instead of visiting the house, his nephew came to see me. I escorted him into my consulting room, where he wasted no time in explaining the purpose of his visit.
“My uncle seemed to improve in his spirits over the spring, but since then his behaviour has gone downhill. He has taken to wandering into neighbouring houses and then standing in their hallways looking concerned. Of course, our neighbours have contacted us and we have either collected him or he has returned of his own accord. Fortunately they have been quite understanding, and it has merely been a slight embarrassment to us. However, over the last few weeks he has got worse. He has starting taking a cab to different destinations and walking into strangers’ houses. No-one has yet made a formal complaint, but it can only be a matter of time.”
“How is he able to do this?” I asked.
“It is not a regular occurrence. There are days when he seems completely lucid and will pass the time of day with our neighbours like any other elderly gentleman. Indeed some days he will take the cab to his club and return home again without incident. So we do not know when an ‘attack’ if we may term it as such, will happen. I think it is highly possible that when he enters the cab he is entirely lucid, so that the driver will not be aware that there is any problem.”
“I can understand that this might be worrying for you. Is there a particular reason why you are coming to see me now?”
“Yes, there is. As I said, up to now all my uncle has done is walk into a house and stand in the hallway or perhaps the front room and look confused. One of our neighbours’ housekeepers referred to it as if he’d been sleep walking and woken from a dream. But yesterday he was found in a house near Clapham Common, looking in the drawers of a Welsh dresser.”
I must have started at that point, for the colonel’s nephew looked at me strangely.
“Do you think this is significant?” he asked.
“I was surprised at the sudden change in your uncle’s behaviour,” I replied, aware that my reaction was somewhat extreme for such a relatively minor change. “What did the gentleman who found him do?”
“Mr Hetherington sent his man out for the local constable. The constable escorted my uncle home. Mr Hetherington wrote me a note saying that my uncle had told him that he had been an officer serving out in India, and since his own late father had been similarly employed, he had no wish to press charges, but he hoped that we could do something to avoid a repeat episode. The note did not contain full details, but when I questioned the constable he explained what had happened.”
“I, of course, wrote back, thanking him for his actions and assuring him that we would take steps to prevent my uncle’s future wandering. Which is why I am here.”
While the nephew concluded his tale I had been thinking furiously. I therefore said, “I have a colleague who specialises in such cases. I will be in touch with him at once and we will see what can be done. I hope that we shall be able to call upon you either some time this afternoon or at the latest tomorrow.”
The nephew thanked me and as soon as he had left I made my way to Baker Street. As I had suspected Holmes was delighted to adopt the disguise of a doctor specialising in mental disorders and accordingly we set off later that afternoon.
***
Our first call was not on the colonel, but at Walter Hetherington’s house in Clapham. Holmes was of the opinion that for the colonel’s behaviour to have changed so suddenly there must be some reasoning behind it. I was doubtful as to whether a direct visit to the house would yield any results, but agreed with Holmes that if it did this would save us from having to undertake any clandestine activities that night. I have to admit that there is a part of me that enjoys such activities, but they are best kept for when no alternative is available.
As it was, when Holmes introduced himself to Hetherington as Professor Pennington, a specialist in mental disorders amongst those returned from the Indian sub-continent, and myself as his associate, we were invited in. I had expected Hetherington to be reluctant to show us the dresser, but Holmes launched into a long explanation about how sight of certain objects can trigger behavioural problems, using a succession of long words, which I suspected he had made up specifically for this purpose, so that Hetherington, in self-defence, took us through to see it. He explained that, other than it being a family heirloom, he did not think there was anything particularly remarkable about it.
Holmes looked at me and said, “My dear chap, are you all right? You seem to be somewhat paler than usual.”
This was my cue to say, “I’m sorry. Seeing the dresser brings back so many of my own memories.” Turning towards Hetherington I said, “I don’t suppose I might have some water?”
Hetherington left to obtain some for me and Holmes took the opportunity to open the drawers of the dresser and feel inside them. By the time Hetherington returned Holmes was standing at a small distance from the dresser, making notes in his pocket book.
“Thank you very much for your assistance,” he said. “I believe the sight of your dresser triggered some unexpected memories in Colonel Warburton, as it did in my colleague. I shall speak to the colonel, but I do not believe that there will be a repeat of this occurrence.”
We left the house and Holmes hailed a cab to take us to see Colonel Warburton.
When we were seated in the cab, I remarked to Holmes, “How extraordinary. I don’t know if you noticed Hetherington’s left hand? Of course you did. It is not common to see syndactyly and yet both Hetherington and the colonel appear to suffer from it.”
“I did notice that Hetherington’s left ring and little fingers appeared to be partially webbed. But if that is the case then I think you have provided me with the final piece of this mystery,” Holmes replied.
He refused to say any more and I spent the rest of the journey trying to understand the significance of the fact, but failing to put the pieces together by myself.
When we arrived at the Colonel Warburton’s house his nephew let us in. I introduced Holmes as Professor Pennington and the nephew told us his uncle was sitting alone in the parlour.
“I would like to speak to him without you,” Holmes said. “It is often the case with my patients that they are more likely to reveal their troubled selves in the absence of other family members.”
The nephew agreed and showed us the way. The colonel was sitting in an armchair and reading the paper when we entered the room.
“I understand that you have been having unfortunate episodes,” Holmes began.
“My nephew is too quick to act. There is nothing to concern you.” The colonel put down his newspaper and looked directly at Holmes.
“Maybe not. But answer me one question,” Holmes continued. “What did you take from the Welsh dresser?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The colonel remained completely calm, and I noticed no expression of surprise on his face.
“The time for games is past, colonel. As is often the case with such pieces of furniture, there was a secret drawer. When I examined it the drawer had recently been opened. You were therefore the obvious suspect.”
The colonel remained silent.
“Would you like me to tell you what I believe happened?” Holmes continued.
“Please do. But before that, please give me the courtesy of telling me your real name.”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes,” the colonel inclined his head slightly, clearly he was familiar with Holmes’ name, “and my friend Dr Watson has brought your case to me. It became very clear to me early on that you had adopted this particular behaviour as a disguise; that of a harmless, confused old man. Yet you are nothing like that. In fact, your mind is very sharp and clear. There was something in the dresser that it was imperative for you to obtain. Now that I have met both you and Mr Walter Hetherington and observed a number of small likenesses, in addition to the slight webbing on your fingers, I presume it was something that related to his paternity. So, acting the part of the confused gentleman you were able to seek and find what you were after, but, because you had been behaving in a similar fashion for a number of months no-one believed there was anything suspicious in your behaviour.”
The colonel nodded, thought briefly and then said, “What will you do if I tell you the truth?”
“Unless it transpires that a serious crime has been committed I see no reason to inform anyone else of the reason for your actions.”
The colonel shut his eyes and it was clear that he was reliving certain events in his head. I knew the look and readied myself to hear of events that had not been told for a long time. “Very well. Many years ago I was stationed in India with the Hetheringtons. One winter the Brigadier went up country for a number of months. Mrs Hetherington and I became very friendly. At first we would meet for dinner, for she was lonely, but matters progressed in the manner that you have surmised. Then the brigadier returned and our life reverted to how it had been previously. Mrs Hetherington barely acknowledged my presence and I accepted that that was how it must be. It became apparent that she was expecting again and I wondered whether it might be my child. However, there was no whisper of scandal and Hetherington was proud to have another son. Over the years I occasionally saw Mrs Hetherington, but she never spoke more than the minimum to me and made it clear that I was nothing to her anymore.”
The colonel stopped to take a deep breath.
“But something changed?” Holmes asked.
“As you are probably aware the brigadier died earlier this year. Shortly after his death I received a letter from his solicitor which contained a second sealed letter which the brigadier had written. In it he told me that he had always known that I was Walter’s father. At the time he had written a full account of the case, which he had hidden away for such point as he should need it. He told me that he had left another letter with his solicitor to be opened a year after his death. This letter would reveal the hiding place of the account, which would expose his widow and declare Walter illegitimate and therefore no longer a beneficiary under the will. (The will stated that all monies were to be held for one year before their release.) He was therefore giving me one year to make provision for the woman I had taken from him and my son.”
“That must have been a shock,” I said.
“I only have my military pension to live on. It means that I am able to pay my way living with my nephew, but I am in no position to support another and the brigadier was well aware of this. I was not going to allow him to defeat me and I therefore determined to take on the character of an occasionally confused gentleman, as you so correctly say. And yes, I have safely retrieved the letter, so all is well.”
“My compliments, sir, on your success,” Holmes said. “I can see no benefit in causing a scandal, so I am happy to leave matters as they stand. I have one question, though, if you would not mind answering my curiosity?”
“That will depend on the nature of the question.”
“How did you manage to find the letter?”
The colonel smiled. “The letter was written a long time ago and had to be have been hidden somewhere that was not only available at the time, but would be a safe place for many years. Therefore the obvious hiding place was the dresser. As you are perhaps aware the Hetheringtons’ house is up for sale and there was a formal viewing day. I asked my nephew’s wife to go to the viewing and make enquiries about the dresser; at that point I had a vague notion that I might buy it. My nephew is my sister’s son and therefore their surname would not be suspicious. Amelie returned to tell me that the dresser had gone, and that it had been stolen. She also added that there was some gossip amongst the servants that Walter Hetherington had been involved. I decided that it would be worth seeing if I could find the dresser at his house, before I widened my search.”
“Thank you,” Holmes said. “I can see that there are no problems whatsoever with your abilities. I will assure your nephew that he need not concern himself, but to be aware that there may be the occasional future small episode.”
The brigadier nodded his head in acknowledgement, and having spoken to the nephew, we left the house.
Once outside I reproached Holmes. “Surely you did not need to mention further possible episodes; we know that the brigadier is quite well.”
“Oh, indeed. However, I suspect the brigadier, having discovered how useful his disguise is, may occasionally resort to using it again.”
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I bet Maisie ended up in a better position than with Mrs Hetherington. Definitely a happy ending for her.
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I'm sure Maisie ended up with a much better employer.
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The portrayal is excellent, the evil character (or actually characters) of the day are full of surprises (and not evil at all ^^), and Mary is tolerant as ever, nothing else to wish for.
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Brava, anon! I'll be rereading this one often, and grinning every time I do.
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One of the reasons I like the ACD stories is that quite often there are mysteries, but the solution doesn't have to be a standard crime.
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Thank you for this most enjoyable tale!
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I'm glad you liked it.
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One minor quibble: I would have liked to have glimpsed a wee bit of Mary Watson somewhere in the story, even just as a bit of dialogue at the beginning.
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