Welcome to Baker Street

27. Sherlock Holmes baffled?

Sherlock pushes open the door of a sumptuous sitting room; an elegant woman with a grief-stricken face is sitting daintily on an armchair.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Chadley. I am Sherlock Holmes, pleased to meet you," he introduces himself.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Holmes. Are you a police officer?" She smiles weakly at him, shaking his hand.

"Thankfully no, but I'd like to ask you some questions, anyway, if you don't mind." He simpers at her while John rolls up his eyes. Holmes shouldn't be let anywhere near grieving people; tactlessness is his speciality.

"You're my guest, now. Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable." She does the honours, waving a hand towards a couch and an armchair. While his friends take a seat, Sherlock paces the room.

"I prefer to stand, thanks. It helps me think. So, Mrs Chadley, first of all—"

"First of all, we're very sorry for your loss," Giulia intervenes, cutting Sherlock off.

Mrs Chadley attempts a polite smile. "Thank you. Please, call me Lilian."

Holmes clears his throat uneasily. "Well Lilian, how would you describe your husband?"

Her eyes stare into the void as she replies, "He was a good man: devoted to his work and affectionate with me."

"You've been married for fifteen years," he states, strolling around and stealing a glance at some photos on the wall. The portrait of Lilian Chadley in her wedding dress and her husband smile brightly in one of the pictures. A formal invitation has been framed and hung next to the newlyweds' image. The refined cursive writing says:

~ We are pleased to invite you to the wedding ofMs Lilian Ann Kane
and
Mr Michael Damian Chadley ~

"Yes. I met him when I was forty. I was divorced, disenchanted, and cynical. Encountering him saved me," she remembers with a faint smile and passes a trembling hand through her ginger hair.

Sherlock spins around and looks directly into her eyes, disregarding the tale of their love story.

"Did he have any enemies?"

She arches a brow. "None. At least, not that I am aware of."

He bites down his lower lip, preventing himself from smirking, then asks curtly, "Did you trust him?"

She shoots him an outraged look. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry, I am sure he meant no disrespect," John chimes in and scowls at his friend.

Holmes fakes a smile. "In fact, I just wanted to know if there was complete confidence between the two of you. I thought I caught a distrustful tone in your answer. Has he ever lied to you?"

Lilian looks taken off guard, swallows hard, and stares back at him with watery eyes.

"Well, Mr Holmes, I think we'll never know, now."

She looks away, and the room falls silent. Then she breaks the stillness with a faint voice.

"However, I know my husband for the lovable, caring man he was. He was always kind and cheerful; he used to take care of his clients and his employees. I have never heard a single word of criticism against him. So, no, Michael didn't have any enemies. And before you ask, I have no idea nor suspicion about who might have killed him."

At that moment, the doorbell echoes inside the house. A minute later, the maid steps into the sitting room and addresses Mrs Chadley. "Delivery for you, ma'am."

A postal worker shows up in the doorway handing a box to her. She stands up and carefully opens it.

"His ties," she whispers, raising a hand to her mouth in shock and sorrow. "He ordered them one week ago. Surely, he didn't think he would wear one of these in his casket." She sighs heavily to hold back the tears.

Sherlock watches her take the pen between her freshly polished nails and sign the receipt. Lilian dismisses the postman and turns to the detective, a sad look on her face.

"If you don't have any further questions for me—"

"I don't," he cuts her short and puts up a fake smile. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Chadley. Condolences. Goodbye."

He storms out of the room without a word. While walking past the fireplace, he instinctively glances at it. Only earlier, he had confidently bantered with Giulia in front of it while heading to the crime scene. Now, instead, he is rushing outside, disoriented and clouded by uncertainty.

He steps out in the cold air and strides along the pavement as his flatmates try to catch up with him. They can almost see the gears turning in his mind. He is restless, vexed; a thousand questions fidget inside his skull, but for once, the answers don't seem too obvious.

"What's your verdict, then?" John asks with curiosity.

Holmes says absent-mindedly, "What are you talking about?"

"The case, Sherlock. First things first: are you going to take it?"

He exhibits his characteristic arrogant frown. "Of course I am."

"And... solve it?" Watson ventures.

"All in good time," is his cryptic reply.

"You've never needed good time to solve a crime."

"This murder is different. There's something wrong. Too little information, too many missing pieces."

"Wanna have a solitary journey to your mind palace?" John suggests tactfully, concerned about his friend's unusual confusion.

Holmes sighs heavily; a distinctive note of defeat resounds in his tone when he says, "It's completely useless, at the moment. I just have to meet with someone who might know things I don't."

John looks bewildered at him, then he suddenly catches the meaning of his implication and smirks.

"A baffled Sherlock Holmes is turning to his big brother for help. God, I thought I wouldn't live to see this day."

"Shut up," Sherlock grumbles, raising a hand to hail a cab that quickly pulls over. He opens the passenger door and nods at his friends. "Are you two coming?"

"Another trip to Buckingham Palace? No thanks, I'll pass. Give my regards to Mycroft." John bows his head courteously (and only a tiny bit sarcastically).

"Fine. What about you?" Sherlock gazes at Giulia, and she smiles.

"I've always wanted to see where Mr British government himself works."

She hops on and the detective takes a seat beside her. She turns her head towards him and timidly asks, "Sherlock, are we really going to Buckingham Palace?"

He looks out the window with a sly grimace. "Of course not. He is in Parliament, today."