The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Fifteen

Much to my surprise, Mr. Holmes directed us to a small but smart looking hotel. He guided me in, made the arrangements with the clerk, and managed to look disapproving at the gleeful exclamations I made over the decorations.

Finally, I was ushered up to a small but charming suite on the third floor of the hotel. "You have your mother's knack for hiding in plain sight," Mr. Holmes said as soon as the door closed behind us. "The stage does not know what it has lost."

"Are there any Bohemian nobility visiting London at the moment?" I asked as I made a thorough inspection of the room. The walls were covered in a striped paper of rose pink and pale gold. A thick red carpet was beneath my feet. "Besides Herr Meyer, of course."

"There are, as of today, twelve men with ties to Bohemia," Mr. Holmes said without hesitation. He moved to the fireplace and knelt down. "I believe three of those twelve are members of King Wilhem's court."

Curious, I watched him. "So how will you know which of those three are behind taking my parents?"

"I have my Irregulars observing them at the moment."

It would seem the one detail Dr. Watson had gotten perfectly was just how unwilling Mr. Holmes could be when he did not wish to divulge information. Resisting the urge to sigh, I stepped closer to have a better view of what he was doing.

From his pocket, he pulled out the first paper we had found at Briony Lodge and examined it. To my surprise, he sniffed it once and then gave a nod as though he had confirmed something.

"What is so important about a blank sheet of paper?" I asked.

"Are you so sure it is blank?" He lit a match and then held it under the paper. The tiny flame licked close to the paper but didn't touch it. Slowly, writing began to appear and it took but a moment for me to recognize it.

"That's my mum's handwriting!"

She is not who they think she is.

His forehead creased with a frown, Mr. Holmes shifted back to sit on a chair. "That's it? Who is Mum referring to?" I wondered.

"She could mean herself," Mr. Holmes said. He slowly looked at me. "Or she could mean you. In either case, it would fit."

Sighing, I sat across from him. "I was afraid of that."

The detective raised an eyebrow at me. "You think you have pieced together your importance?"
"I wouldn't word it like that. I've pieced together a supposition, but it is mere guesswork based on what we have learned."

"There's many people who will jump to conclusions or react to 'guesswork.'" Mr. Holmes steepled his fingers under his chin. "You wonder if your father might be King Wilhelm."

I crossed my ankles and leaned back. If we were to have an honest conversation of equals, I would be comfortable. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"And, I assure you, it has more than crossed the mind of the king's advisors. Unless I am very much mistaken, it is the sole reason for why you are currently being hunted down by those men."

It was refreshing to be treated as an intelligent adult and not just a child. "I had come to that conclusion myself. I'm afraid it took me longer than it ought to have. What I cannot be certain of, though, is whether my suspicions are true."

Mr. Holmes gave a curt nod. "As I have told Watson, when all other possibilities have been removed, whatever remains, however unlikely—"

"Must be the truth," I said with a sigh.

"Most times. In this instance, it is my belief that we do not have sufficient information to make any judgements. Guesses are abhorrent to me. We know what Herr Meyer believes, and that is enough for us to proceed."

Was it possible that this was all happening because the king—or those who advised him—had made an assumption? They misunderstood the situation and were acting on it when they ought to have reconsidered?