A
Study In Satin
by Tigger
"Good morning, Ma'amselle Cherie," Katrina sang, throwing open the bed chamber curtains to permit the bright, snow-reflected sunshine to flood the room. "It is a glorious day and you are being the lazy lay-a-bed! Get up, get up! Vite, vite!" Sherla felt like burrowing into her covers, but the little minx dispensed with those next. Cursing mentally, she tested her equilibrium with a careful movement and was pleased to find that the world did not instantly go into a colored maelstrom. She felt brave enough to sit up in bed and scowl at her grinning lover. "How can you be so perky this morning? You said you were suffering from your own monthly." A thought crossed Sherla's mind and she pinned Katrina with a hard look. "That wasn't a little fib to make me feel like a whiner, was it?" "Non, non, my love," Katrina laughed merrily. "I am having my monthly, but I am used to this where you are not, and the worst is past for me. You should be feeling better today as well, if not at your best. Aren't you hungry this morning?" Surprisingly, she was. With a quick bound, she was out of bed, and nearly on the floor. "Easy, petite," Katrina said as she moved to support Sherla. "You are better, not all the way better." "So I see," Sherla said with some asperity. "Help me to the necessary. I need to clean up. I feel filthy." Later, after she had seen to her toilette and her feminine hygienic needs, Sherla moved very carefully into the sitting room where a light breakfast had been laid. Sherla found she was ravenous, but decided to be cautious until she was certain what she ate would stay down. Weak tea and dry toast may not sound like a great deal, but it tasted heavenly to Sherla and made her belly smile. "Aren't you going to eat more, dear?" Irene asked when Sherla set her plate aside. "If it stays down for an hour, I will have the same again." "Ah, good plan. So, what are you going to do while Katrina and I are out and about this morning?" About to say she would stay in the room, Sherla recalled the lovely sunny day outside. "I think I would like to sit in Frau Schmidt's solar and take some sun among her plants. Perhaps read a bit." "A capital plan," Irene enthused. "I shall help you downstairs and get you settled before I leave to meet with Herr Kreuger. I should be back by two in the afternoon, but I will speak with Herr Schmidt so that someone checks on you periodically in the event you need help getting back to the room before that." ~-------------~ The plant-filled solar was delightfully warm and was aromatic with the scents of flowers and moist earth. Sherla found herself comfortably situated on a lounge chair near a small bubbling fountain with the sun beaming in on her. Her muscles, still sore from the previous day's cramps, began to relax in the humid heat of the glassed-in room. The Schmidts made a point of dropping in on her every half hour or so, bringing in some tea, or a sweet biscuit warm from the oven, or just to chat. She managed to make it to the common room at noontime and ate a substantial if bland luncheon before returning to her seat in the solar. It was about an hour after she'd returned from luncheon when *it* happened. Sherla had been dozing in her seat when two towheaded tornados zoomed by, squealing and laughing. "Greta! Johann! Come back here, you imps!" another voice called from the door to the main hotel. A pretty young woman, a baby in her arms, hurried into the solar. She saw Sherla and came over to her. "Pardon me, Fraulein, did you see two children run by?" Sherla noted her harried look, her blond hair had begun to escape what had likely been a very neat bun earlier that morning, and her blouse showed signs of something spilled or spat up on it. Pointing in the direction of the children's escape route, Sherla smiled. "They went that way. I suspect they are hiding in those bushes at the end of the room." "Drat the little demons. I shall have to go in myself and roust them out." Then she looked at the small bundle in her arms. "Please, Fraulein, would you mind watching little Eva? She is ready to nap so she won't be a problem, but if I do not have my hands free, I will never catch up with those two for their naps." "But. .but. . .but. ." The young woman did not hear Sherla nor did she expect anything but a positive response for the next thing Sherla realized, she had a lapful of baby whose Mother was already halfway across the room. "Oh lord, now what do I do?" Sherla breathed as she quickly reached down to get a hold on the baby. Worried that she might somehow harm the child, she did a rapid scan of her memories, trying to recall anything she or Sherlock had ever read about caring for small children. It was not something in which the Great Detective had ever had much interest. Then she remembered that one had to "Support the head. Very well, how does on do that?" Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around the baby so that she lay in Sherla's arms - her head crooked in her right elbow. For her part, Eva found the strange lady who was looking down at her very interesting. Waving her small arms, she grinned up at Sherla. "She said you were supposed to sleep, Eva, so you will please go to sleep." Sherla ordered. The baby giggled up at Sherla. "That wasn't meant to be funny," Sherla retorted, which only made the baby giggle more. "Happy, aren't you," Sherla asked, suddenly finding this small person interesting. "Ga da da ma ma ga." Eva said very seriously. This time, Sherla was the one to laugh. "Is that so, young Miss? I would never have known that." She said, smiling broadly as she repositioned Eva in her arms much to the baby's pleasure. She was now close enough to grab hold of the lace embroidered into Sherla's day-gown's collar. "Oho, so you like lace, do you? What are you going to do with it if it comes loose, eh?" Then, the baby gave a huge yawn, and closed her eyes, nearly throwing Sherla into a spasm. She was about to scream for the little girl's mother when she realized that the baby was still breathing. *She can't have just gone to sleep. She was so alert just a few moments ago, and yet. . ." Sherla leaned over and put her cheek near the baby's mouth, and felt the light, feathery movement of her breathing. *Fascinating. She did just fall asleep. Such unthinking trust. Amazing.* Intellectual curiosity led Sherla to examine the sleeping child closely. Sherlock had never given much thought to children, unless he was tracking a kidnapper or unless it was one of his Baker Street Irregulars. It occurred to Sherla that she had never been so close to a child so young for so long a time in either of her lives. While she was considering this, the baby shifted in her arms and cuddled closer, her little arms seeking and finding Sherla's bosom. Eva pillowed her head against Sherla's softness, gave a happy little sigh and melted something deep inside Sherla. It was not an altogether comfortable feeling, and one Sherla was not certain she should explore further. *Ah, here comes the Mother. . * she thought when she saw the blond woman marching in her direction, one very displeased-looking child held firmly in each hand. "Oh, good, she went to sleep. Ah, Fraulein . . . ?" "Cheryl. Cheryl Huxley," Sherla replied absently, as she tried to decide the best way to safely transfer the sleeping child back to her MOther. "Thank you. I am Frau Helga Mueller. I wonder if you would do me the favor or holding her for just a few more minutes while I get these two ready for their own nap? I mean, since you are not doing anything right now." *What? Not DOING anything? She thinks I'm just laying about idly? Why, I'm . . well . . . um . .* "Ah, of course, if it would help." "Oh, yes, immensely," Frau Mueller said, over her shoulder as she turned after one of her charges who had already slipped from her grasp. Sherla sighed as she watched the trio disappear into the main hotel. It was too bad there was no way she could tell that woman that she was involved in a case upon which outcome the peace of the world might well stand. Sherla merely LOOKED as if she was doing nothing. Clear, rational and logical thought took great effort. *Too bad you could not come up with any of that commodity when Frau Helga dropped the responsibility for this child quite literally in your lap, Miss Holmes,* she mentally chided herself. Uncertain as to how one looked after a sleeping child, Sherla reassured herself again that the tiny baby she held was still breathing regularly. Of course, THAT was the reason, the ONLY reason, she lowered her head down to where her cheek rested on the child's equally-soft one. The soft susurrus of breath whispered against her cheek, confirming that the frail bundle was life - new life, so fragile, yet so full of promise. It, no, 'she', Eva, stirred in her sleep, snuggling deeper into the warmth of Sherla's bosom, her little mouth opening and closing as even in sleep, she sought a comfort that only a woman could provide. It caused a most unexpected response in Sherla. Her hidden nipples erected with an alacrity hitherto only called forth by decidedly adult endeavors, yet there was no sense of wrongness, no sense of arousal about the feeling despite the presence of a young child in this instance. Instead, there was a rightness, as though the delights of the flesh that so amazed Sherla had yet another dimension of fulfillment to be explored. "Ah, Fraulein Cheryl, aren't you just the perfect picture?" Frau Schmidt said expansively, distracting Sherla from a truth she was all too near to discovering. "I would wager that you can not wait until you are holding one of your own in your arms, now can you?" Frau Schmidt continued, fond memories shining from her eyes. "Oh, um, I haven't given that much thought," said Sherla. "Well, from what I hear of your adventure with young Herr Krueger yesterday, you had better start," the older woman said with a laugh. The laugh caused Sherla to start, her sudden movement motion partially rousing little Eva. But, thankfully, only for a moment. The baby looked up into Sherla's dark eyes and gave a happy little gurgle, then yawned so hugely it looked impossible for the tiny face. Yet, with another little squirm, she was once again soundly asleep. Neither woman said anything for a moment, lost in a shared sense of wonder at the tiny miracle of a sleeping child. When Frau Schmidt spoke, her voice was soft and full of love. "Dear child, do not be ashamed of the impulses you feel. One of the most wonderful joys in a woman's life is being able to bear and to love children. There is no higher calling," she said, reaching out to gently stroke the infant's head. Then she snickered and said, "And as beautiful as you are, you will not lack for those willing to bestow that gift upon you." Before Sherla could disagree, she continued, "If we could capture your image, sitting here cloaked in the radiance of my solar with a child in your arms, men of any age would line up for the chance to make that picture real." "I, um, no . . . ah, . . ," stammered Sherla. "Oh, hush, girl. I know it is too early for you to admit such things. One just come into the flower of her beauty, such as you, is still unsure of her true appeal and of her true needs." Now Frau Schmidt's hand reached up to stroke Sherla's midnight-dark tresses. "But I was not always this old, or this stout," Frau Schmidt claimed with a twinkling smile, "and Herr Schmidt was quite a handsome man in his youth, too. Someday you will find your man. And find how blessed a child of your own can be." She bustled off about her business, her check of the young woman complete. But her effect on that same young woman was far from finished when the door to the solar closed. *Is a child, my own child, truly that desirable?* Sherla mused. *I have to admit, the smile on little Eva's face, one put there by the comfort of my embrace, was a very beautiful thing to see and to experience. I wonder what it would be like to have a child of my own. To feel her grow within me, and to bear her, and to feed her from my own body . . .* *But that would mean I would have to lie with a man, to let him plow my so-very-fertile furrow,* Sherla realized - then realized the idea was not as horrifying as it should be, as she thought it should be, at least . . . She leaned back in her chair so that she could support the infant with no real effort and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine such a man in her life, and was not surprised when his face took on the features of Hans-Peter. She formed the mental picture of him cuddling her in his arms, as she had just cuddled the baby in her arms. It felt. . . strange - right. . .and yet, somehow wrong as well. "And what have we here?" Irene's voice broke through that mental picture. "Who is your friend?" The older woman asked as she seated herself opposite Sherla and began stripping off her gloves. "A mother was chasing her other two children and asked me to watch this one while she put the others down for their naps." "You seem quite at home with her," Irene observed. "I wouldn't have thought Sherlock would have had much experience with small ones." "Experience? Try none, Irene, and as to being "at home?" I have been terrified since the moment her Mother all but dropped her in my lap." "Oh, well, then let me take her. . " "NO!, she's FINE. . . I mean, I've gotten used to her. . .and. . and. . she's sleeping. . ." *And when did I learn to lie to myself? I don't WANT to give her up. . * A quick glance at Irene's smug expression told Sherla that she had not fooled THE Woman one little bit. "Of course, dear. I was just offering," was all she said. Irene considered the pair seated across from her. *She becomes more a woman with each passing day. When she applies her rational side, she seems every bit as formidable in that realm as was Sherlock, and yet, Sherla seems so much more than that to me. Would I have felt that way about Sherlock had I truly known him? Known him as more than the rival I always had to outdo, or as the living embodiment of a masculine world that I was excluded from solely by virtue of my birth? Somehow, I doubt it. She has grown much in her knowing these past days, and more than that since she wrote those early passages in that journal she still keeps. I would wager a fat purse that there shall be a very interesting entry in that soon enough. If she can bring herself to deal with this honestly.* Looking up from checking the baby again, Sherla gave her curiosity full rein. "And what did you discover on your outing, Mother?" A knowing look crossed Irene's face, but she replied. "Nothing suited to our needs and requirements, I am afraid. According to Herr Kreuger, we were well over halfway to Meringen at one point. He fears that he will not have anything more to show us soon, and will be forced to refer us to a colleague of his in Meringen." "That is too bad. And what of the chateau Hans-Peter told us of? The one near Rosenlaui?" "Herr Kreuger tells me that the current tenants have an option to extend the lease at their discretion, provided they are willing to increase the rent a suitable amount each time. He cannot guarantee its availability in any reasonable time frame." "That is too bad. It sounds more and more interesting each time I hear of it." "Doesn't it, though?" Irene agreed. "Perhaps when we remove to Meringen, we will get a chance to at least see the place, eh?" Sherla was about to reply when she heard, "Ah, Fraulein Cheryl, thank you so much." Frau Mueller's voice interrupted Irene's report and precluded a return to the more private musings the child had sparked in each of them. Musings that, at least in Sherla's case, had been almost frightening, yet still compelling; certainly too consuming for her peace of mind. She let the harried mother reclaim her infant, not without an instant's pang of loss. Irene also watched the mother and child depart, but she watched Sherla more carefully. "A lovely child," she finally offered. "Yes, she was," Sherla said, almost absently. "Irene?" "Yes, sweet?" "Did you ever regret . . I mean. . did you ever consider. . ." Sherla stumbled as she tried to find a way to phrase her question. "Did I ever want a child of my own body, dear girl? Is that what you are trying so hard to ask?" Irene's voice was soft, and gently indulgent. Finally, Sherla was able to nod. It was done very quickly, and just barely perceptibly, but it was a nod. AT least, Irene elected to take it as such. "A difficult question, my dear. One might as well ask what have I done in those years that might have gone undone had I instead been a full time mother? There is no good answer to that question, Sherla. For my part, I can only say that one must make choices in life, and I don't regret the ones I made. It helps that my dear friend Nel has given me several children to spoil - and then there has been Katrina . . .and you. No, I don't regret not having born a child." ~------------------~ "How long will you have to be doing this stuff," Katrina in her best 'disgusted boy' voice asked. Erich looked up from the dustpan-full of monkey droppings he'd collected and grinned. "Don't tell my Father, but I actually like doing this. . .taking care of animals, I mean." "Oh really? Seems like a pretty nasty chore to me," Katrina/Karl plied as she carefully measured food into one animal's food dish. "Well, he wants me to follow in his footsteps here, take over the train station when he retires. Me? I want to be an animal doctor. But, I heard the man who ordered this lot is coming down with a big cargo sleigh tomorrow to take some of them back with him. Might make another trip the next day if the tracks to Meringin still aren't fixed." "You ever seen this guy before?" Katrina asked, trying to sound off handed. "I mean, what kind of person needs so many monkeys. . .and what was it you called these big ones? Chimpandas?" "Chimpanzees, stupid," Erich tossed off the insult companionably. "My Papa says the guy told him they were for research on some type of medicines. Hope they don't hurt these fellows doing it. As to the man, well, I saw him a few times around the station. Big man - taller than my father and he's over a hundred eighty centimeters and big all over. Talks funny. My dad says he's English like your Momma, and I have been learning to speak English in school, but he doesn't talk the way we're taught." "What do you mean?" "He just has a really funny saying things, like some of the letters aren't there. Like when he had me help him hitch up his team. He said, "'Ere, boy, over 'ere. Gimme an 'and with these 'arnesses." Like I said. . .some of the letters were missing." Katrina nodded her understanding and spat into the straw. "So he's coming tomorrow?" "That's what my Papa told me. Right after lunch because he has a fifteen kilometer sleigh ride and those big sleds are not very fast." "Well, hopefully they will all get delivered soon so that we can get back to our other games." Katrina said, injecting what she hoped was sufficient disappointment into her voice. "Oh, we will. Best of all, Papa wants me to be here tomorrow when the delivery is made so I won't have to go to school in the afternoon. We can go off on our own after I help load the sleigh. Got something I want to share with you, too. Something special." "Sounds great." Katrina/Karl enthused. A bell chimed from the clock at the front of the warehouse. "Well, I have to be getting back to the hotel so I can get cleaned up and changed for dinner." "Change clothes just for dinner," Erich said, shaking his head in resignation. "Unbelievable." Katrina gave him a last "What can you do?" shrug of her shoulders and headed out the door and into the brisk evening air. She had information Sherla and Irene would want to hear.
