A Study in Satin

by Tigger

Part III: Dum Vivimus Vivamus!

 

Chapter 3: Opening Gambits

 

Sherla got up from her chair and strode over to the window where she stood staring outside, a look of clear disgust on her lovely face. The snow had begun falling just before they had arrived in Brienz and had continued falling steadily for the past five hours. Already nearly half a meter of new snow had accumulated and the storm showed no signs of abating anytime in the near future.

Irene was quite comfortably situated on lovely settee near a lovely warm fire with a book to occupy her mind and a cup of rich Swiss chocolate to hand. She looked up from her reading to watch with tolerant amusement as Sherla flounced back to her own seat, the frilly layers of her dress billowing in her wake. "You know that the innkeeper told us that the storm will likely continue until sometime tomorrow."

"Yes!" the girl exploded as she bolted from her chair once again, this time to begin pacing. "And then it will likely be DAYS before we can move about with any ease at all. We have an investigation to carry through!"

*Ah, so at last we see the mercurial and justly famous Holmes temperament. I wonder if she realizes that she shows only excess energy at her confinement, and not the ennui that led her male self to attempt to end his life?* Irene mused when another thought occurred to her. *And perhaps he did succeed. It's true that my meetings with Sherlock were only passing at best, but I have studied the man as I have studied no other save my husband. While I see no diminution in the powers she possessed as the world's greatest investigative detective, there is so much more to her - to *Sherla* - than I ever dreamed there could be to a man whom even his best friend could not make seem warm when he wrote of their mutual adventures.*

"How can you just SIT there, Irene?" Sherla demanded as she literally stomped over to confront the older woman. "Moriarty is out there, I can FEEL him, dammit! Every minute we delay is another minute he has to succeed at his damnable scheme, and the very LAST thing we want to deal with in this confounded tangle is a Moriarty, young and renewed, at the height of his considerable powers! We have to DO something!!"

A chuckle Irene could not repress further infuriated Sherla who spun on her heel to storm out of the sitting room of their suite. "STOP RIGHT THERE!" Irene ordered, and was pleased when the girl did stop, if not quite managing to get her to turn back to face her. "If you continue to stride about in that very unseemly fashion, I shall be forced to order Katrina to start tightening your stays again. You will call undue attention to yourself and by connection, to all of us. We cannot have that, my dear," she warned darkly. "Katrina, as we proved in Freisburg, is not yet ready for such pointed scrutiny."

"Well, she should learn to stay out of Lady's Waterclosets when she's dressed as a male," Sherla snapped.

Irene eyed watched Sherla for a few more moments, thinking that if the girl were any more tightly wound, the very air about her would likely begin to vibrate. *Perhaps I SHOULD order her laced more tightly, if only to give her something more controllable than a late winter blizzard in the Alps about which to complain,* Irene thought but then mentally shook her head. *No, as appealing as that might be, particularly to Katrina, that solution is for the moment out of the question. Sherla's reasons for not being tightly corseted still obtain. She needs to maintain her strength and ease of movement until this battle is over. Damn the girl! If she will not give over, she will force me to take an action that might ultimately prove detrimental to our cause?*

Irene was wracking her brain, trying to find some least harmful manner in which she might have to press the girl when suddenly, Sherla seemed to deflate. Shoulders drooping, the lovely young woman turned back to face Irene. "But Irene, the snow. . " she complained with just a touch of whine in her voice.

Sighing, Irene set aside her book, rose from her seat and walked over to take the distraught young woman in her arms. "This is Switzerland, sweet, the high Alps, and it is barely more than a week into March. It is winter here still." She said soothingly.

Sherla dropped her head onto the taller Irene's shoulder. Then she too sighed. "Oh, I know," she growled, "Goodness, somewhere I recall researching the area, probably for the first trip up here, and finding out that May snows are not uncommon in these climes. But I feel we are so close to our goal and adversary - so very, very close, and yet. . . ."

"So far?" Irene offered, her tongue pressed firmly in her cheek. "I know, love, but we must play the hand we are played. On the positive side, the Swiss are used to this and will have dealt with the aftereffects of this storm far more quickly than could be managed in either Paris or London. Besides, don't sleds leave tracks? I suspect Professor Moriarty might be even easier to find under such circumstances."

"Once we find one of his henchman to follow," Sherla said quietly.

"Which we will do, dear." A knock on the door distracted them both. "Enter," Irene called.

The innkeeper and a young maid entered followed by two porters, each burdened by several cases and a trunk. "Madame, we could not manage to get all of your luggage into the small sleigh, but we did bring the bags you said were most important. The rest are secured at the train station pending the end of the storm. Fraulein Schapp will unpack for you and your daughter. Where would you like this?" he asked holding up a violin case.

Sherla all but pounced on the leather case. "I will take it, Mein Herr," she said in impeccable German. "I need some diversion."

"Excellent," Irene said with a smile. *And just in time!* "Oh, and Herr Innkeeper, would you perhaps have a chess set we could use? My daughter and I would enjoy a game or two to while away the snowy arms."

"It shall be up as soon as the porters have finished helping Fraulein Schapp. Will there be anything else, Madame?"

"Another pot of your most excellent chocolate and some sweet biscuits, I think. We shall make a party of being snowed in."

The dapper innkeeper snapped off a formal bow, his heels clicking ostentatiously, and then left without another word.

With some relief, Irene heard the soft melodies of a Strauss waltz fill the room. For the moment, Sherla's active mind and intense nature were being soothed by music's magic charms.

~--------------~

After dinner, the trio intrepidly ventured out to look upon the wintry scene. Well bundled against the cold snow and colder winds, they made their way toward the small stable the innkeeper maintained for his guests' animals as well as his own. The path they followed had been just recently cleared, but was already beginning to refill with the falling and blowing snow.

"It seems to be letting up somewhat, don't you think, Irene?" Sherla asked hopefully once they were inside the pleasantly warm stables. Idly, she stroked the white-blazed head of a particularly curious chestnut mare as she looked at Irene for encouragement.

"Compared to what?" Katrina snorted as she shook the snow from her hat and shoulders. "If anything, I think it is falling harder, although with that wind it is difficult to tell with any certainty."

Irene smiled, glad that her lips had not truly frozen as she had momentarily feared. "I think that Karl is correct, Sherla, but on the other hand, it has been my experience that such storms to seem to crest like waves before they begin to ease. We must be patient."

"Oh, very well," Sherla said. Then she made a visible shaking movement of her thickly coated form and turned to face her allies. "I think it might be a good idea to discuss our plans a bit further."

"What's to discuss?" Katrina asked impishly. "You've been haranguing me about what to look for at those warehouses and train stations since you first put me in these very unbecoming and very uncomfortable clothes."

"I know, I know," Sherla said with a forced little laugh. "But I also have something for you. Give me your right hand," she ordered firmly.

Sherla peeled back the sleeve of 'Karl's' greatcoat after Katrina extended her arm. From her reticule, Sherla removed a stout piece of leather, perhaps six inches long and two inches wide. This she strapped to Katrina's wrist. The she again dipped into her reticule and produced a small derringer pistol. She opened the weapon to ensure it was unloaded, and then connected it to a strange little lattice metal mechanism which she then attached to the leather wristband on the inside of Katrina's wrist. Holding Katrina's forearm in one hand, Sherla pressed the weapon back toward the wristband, the lattice mechanism folding into a small, tight package at the back of the pistol's handgrip.

Sherla replaced the sleeves and then stood back. "Now, make a fist and quickly flick your right hand outward at the wrist." Katrina did as she was bidden, and with a quiet snapping sound, the pistol popped from her sleeve. It would have been right at hand had the stunned Katrina thought to bring her hand back to catch the weapon.

"What is it?" Katrina asked, unable to take her eyes off the small weapon.

"A special concealed weapon, designed to come immediately to hand when you need it. Just move your hand back to normal position and open your fist, and you are armed and dangerous. Here, you reposition the weapon like this," and Sherla guided Katrina's free hand as she pressed the pistol back beneath her sleeves.

"It is a two shot derringer, but its range is severely limited. If you must use it, it might be best if you were as close to touching your target with the weapon as possible. Please practice with the actuation device until you are facile with it, Katrina, then come to me for a final assessment of your abilities with the weapon. I will give you ammunition which fit in those little loops about the leather band for it once you are proficient with the deployment and retrieval of that nasty little weapon."

"But why do I need such a thing?" Katrina asked, even as she could not stop playing with the new device.

"Because the places we are asking you to surveille are dangerous in the best of times, and since we are here for Moriarty, we can scarcely call this the best of times. Secondly, because the type of minion Moriarty is likely to employ consists of dangerous men who would not scruple killing a young man. . . or a young woman. Unfortunately, that may be our only means to locating Moriarty, although I have hopes for a scheme I have developed with Irene as the key player in my little drama.

"Moi?" Irene asked, a mischievous twinkle in her amber eyes.

"Oui, Madame," Sherla said with a mock curtsy. "I think that you shall visit what estate agencies are to be found in this small city."

"Estate agencies? Are we looking for a domicile, my dear?"

"A very specific domicile, I think," Sherla agreed. "Something near Rosenlaui, I think, but not too close, with plenty of land on all sides of the main house and support buildings."

"Looking for privacy, am I," Irene said with a husky laugh. "A lover's paradise, perhaps?"

"You must use your own best judgement which I am sure you will when discussing such delicate matters, but the house must have a view and over look the surrounding country for as far as the eye can see."

"On a high point?" Irene asked before answering her own question, "Yes, that makes sense. All right, dear. I understand. Just as soon as we can move about I shall undertake this investigation for you."

"I don't understand," Katrina complained. "I thought we were only staying long enough to find and stop this Moriarty fellow. Why should we need to bespeak more permanent lodgings? Not that this place is not beautiful, but it is horribly cold, and if we were to stay, I should be stuck in these abominable male clothing."

Sherla and Irene both smiled at Katrina's outrage. "Non, ma belle," Sherla soothed, "We are not searching for a house for us, but rather, for the one that Moriarty has taken."

A firmness came into Katrina's eyes and she became thoughtful. "Explain, please," she ordered, her voice just short of imperious.

"What I have described," Sherla told her lover, taking one of Katrina's shivering hands in her still-gloved ones, "is the type of establishment I believe Moriarty would look for. Rosenlaui because, well, because I think that is where he fled. Private because he won't want unexpected visitors and the Swiss are very hospitable people. Same with a great deal of land about him. Combine that with a main complex built on a high point to command the immediate area, it would be difficult to mount any type of armed attack against him and have it succeed without significant loss of life and the likely escape of our prey."

"Marvelous," Katrina clapped her hands in pleasure. "I am going to learn SO much from you, petite." Then a very crafty grin crossed her smooth features. "And what is the plan for you, little one?"

"For me?" Sherla said with some surprise, "Why, I expect to assist Irene in her researches."

"Oh, I think that will work, at least some of the time," Irene put in, "but I think Katrina asks a more fundamental question. Yes, I think I know what our little Miss Sherla, or as she is now known, Miss Cheryl Huxley, shall do and how she shall present herself."

If Sherla had learned nothing about this magnificent woman in her short tenure in Irene's home, it was to be very cautious when that tone entered Irene's voice. "Yes? And just what is that role, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"You, my dear, shall be our flirt!"

"FLIRT?!? ME?!??!"

*Lord, the look on her face is priceless! I don't know whether she is shocked or terrified. . . likely both.* "Well, it certainly won't be *Karl*, and I, though I must admit I am a fine figure of a woman for my age, am just a bit past the age of the true femme fatale. By process of elimination, my dear, that leaves you. Sweet 16, just out of the school room, and an incorrigible flirt."

"But. . but. . . "

"Sherla. . ." Irene strung the syllables out, her mein stern.

"Who says we need someone to be a flirt? Who would she. . I mean. .who would *I* flirt with?"

"Why, I don't know," Irene said, a half smile on her lips. "Perhaps the man you believe Karl will find at the train station. Perhaps someone else will show up and we will need you to employ your womanly weapons to advance our cause. Besides, having you act a bit like a slut might provide us with some other advantages."

Sherla's brows went up and then her brow furrowed. "What kind of advantages? I confess I cannot think of a single one!"

"Oh, that is because you have been thinking like a male when you stopped to consider what your role would be in this little adventure. And while I agree you are going to be required to move about rather freely in the prosecution of this investigation, you MUST remember that you are a female in a small, relatively conservative country, darling. Only females with a certain . . .shall we say . . .loose moral fiber walk about in the dark or go out and about alone? A man could. . .Sherlock could. . A woman, which is who you as Miss Cheryl Huxley are, cannot."

"What? So I dress and behave like some lady of the evening in order to get freedom of movement? I have been in this land before, Irene, and my freedom would last only so long as I kept out of the way of the police. Which would likely not be for very long."

"Silly!" Irene laughed with real mirth. "Not a whore. . .just a . . .young lady with too much spirit and too much independence. We could even play that up as part of the reason why we came to this out of the way part of the world. . .why I want the type of place you just described. We can hint that it is an effort to get you away from the young society bloods until you mature enough to know better. It gives us a cover story, and an excuse for me to run around town looking for you while you move around on your own investigations."

It was clear from the look on Sherla's face that while she understood the possibilities, she did not like the idea of being or even pretending to be intimate with a man. "Perhaps," she said, still noncommital.

"Oh, don't worry, Ma'amselle Cherie," Katrina piped in. "You flirt very well for a beginner, and when you have to get too close to a man, your pesky little brother will be close by to . . ah. . . foil your lecherous plans."

Sherla gave 'Karl' a telling look, and then grinned. "I suppose it is the beginning of a plan, however," and here she pinned Irene with a hard glare, "the plan will be far more complete and foolproof when and IF we ever implement the "get too close to a man" part of your stratagem."

"True enough," Irene agreed meekly enough, knowing that she had won. "And tomorrow when the rest of our luggage arrives, we will check to see how your new wardrobe fits."

"What. . . NEW. . wardrobe?" Sherla demanded cautiously.

"Oh, you will love it. I thought of this little stratagem while before we left, and visited my modiste. She made heroic efforts to complete my. . .somewhat fast daughter an appropriate wardrobe."

"Oh, sounds lovely!" Katrina enthused. "I cannot wait to see them."

"I think I could and quite happily," Sherla said with much less anticipation, "But I will concede Irene's greater knowledge of the womanly weapons' potentialities. Well, I am for bed, I think. Lady and *gentleman*, shall we brave the storm that stands between us and our warm, comfortable beds? Hopefully, tomorrow will be a busy day."

 

 

 

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