The Case of the Season

Chapter Twenty

As they left the inn the next morning, Robin was quiet. In the carriage, she burrowed into Sherlock, resting her head on his chest and shutting her eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace before they reached their destination.

He held her close, resting his lips on her forehead. "Everything will be fine, Robin. I promise."

She hugged him tightly. She believed that he meant it, but she also knew that he couldn't be sure.

Several more hours in the carriage brought them to Norland Park. Robin sat up when they reached the edge of the estate. Sherlock looked out the window with her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.

"I'm afraid it's overgrown," she apologized ruefully. "I garden around the house when I can, but I've never been able to get out this far."

"It will all be rectified in due time, Robin," Sherlock soothed her.

She nodded hopefully. She would sincerely love to see her childhood home restored. She couldn't even remember a time when it had been pristine, and she wanted to see it that way one day.

Not long after, the grounds gave way to the house. It was obvious that it was falling apart. The whole left side was uninhabitable because the roof and windows needed repairing. She had managed to keep the right side comfortable, but it was a feat that often seemed thankless. She'd never been able to get ahead.

As the carriage stopped in front of the ramshackle steps, Robin couldn't help smiling. Betsy was waiting for her there, clearly excited.

Sherlock exited the carriage first, turning to lift her down. She let him, needing the comfort of his closeness and touch.

He kissed her cheek before they made their way towards Betsy. "You're home," he told Robin.

"Oh, Robin! Let me look at you, love," Betsy exclaimed, catching her in an embrace as soon as she was near enough. "You're as beautiful as ever." She turned to Sherlock. "And is this your man? Your father won't let us read his letters, of course, but we're getting the pages from that Lady Whistledown in the village. I read about him in there."

Robin blushed deeply and nodded, glancing up at Sherlock. "This is him, Betsy. Sherlock Holmes, the world's greatest detective, and my fiancé."

The pride in her voice was evident, which had the effect of making him blush as well. "It's a pleasure to be here, Betsy," he said, assuming she wouldn't mind the familiarity in his address. "I've heard so much about you. I must thank you for being so kind to my Robin. I wouldn't have found her if you hadn't taken care of her when she was born."

"Oh, sir, it was my pleasure," Betsy assured him. "I had lost my own babe, sadly, but I was more than happy to save another. She has turned out so well, don't you think?"

Robin shook her head in embarrassment as Sherlock heartily agreed. "She did indeed."

"Come inside, both of you. It's so good to have you home, love, if only for a little while."

They followed Betsy inside and Robin quickly turned somber. Even in this wing, the plaster was starting to crumble. Paint was chipped, wallpaper was peeling, and stray leaves littered the halls.

"I've done the best I could while you were gone, Robin," Betsy explained hurriedly.

"You have done an amazing job, Betsy, and I will accept no other evaluation," Robin declared. "The entire estate will be undergoing repairs shortly, thanks to the generosity of Mr. Holmes."

"I am truly impressed by all the work that has been done over the years to keep Norland Park functioning," Sherlock complimented them. "I want it to be a lovely home for us and our children." He beamed at Robin, unable to contain his excitement about their eventual family. "Of course, you and Donald are invited to remain as long as you wish, Betsy."