A Study In Scarlet Women by Sherry Thomas

which gave the household sufficient time to fetch a physician and for the physician to diagnose an overdose of chloral, even if that diagnosis came too late for anything to be done.
    Had the maid not tried to rouse him, he would have been found dead, and the cause of death would most likely have been given as failure of theheart or an aneurysm of the brain—causes set down on the death certificates of Lady Amelia Drummond and Lady Shrewsbury, respectively. And his passing, however unexpected, would have been treated much in the same manner as theirs, attracting its share of gossip and speculation but no legal notice.
    Each death, taken singly, may be accepted as unfortunate but not suspicious. However, the proximity of all three, not only in time, but in their social and familial connection, becomes difficult to ignore.
    I urge you, sir, to share this intelligence with your jury.
    Yours truly,
Sherlock Holmes
    Lord Ingram swore again. By tomorrow the news would be in all the London rags. Holmes never once mentioned the word, but how long before speculations leaped from mere suspicious deaths to the most conspiratorial of murders? He didn’t want to imagine the bedlam that would be unleashed.
    Was this circus but a sleight of hand on Holmes’s part, to draw the glare of unwanted attention away from a certain beleaguered relation? No. If a diversion had been all that was required, Holmes would have accomplished it without provoking a public uproar.
    He read the letter again, pressing two fingers against the center of his forehead. Holmes believed that something was wrong—believed it enough to write from the wasteland of exile, in the hope of influencing the outcome of the inquest.
    Lord Ingram closed his eyes, but it was no use. He was too accustomed to giving Holmes everything he could, always with a sense of urgency. And a sense of futility: What Holmes wanted most was beyond his power.
    Some people never meet the right person in life. They, on the otherhand, met when they were too young to realize what they had found in each other. And when they did at last see the light, it was too late.
    He tossed aside the newspaper clipping and headed for the front door.

    â€œMy lord!”
    Inspector Treadles found himself a little uncertain at the appearance of Lord Ingram in his parlor. It wasn’t yet late, but it was after dinner and he hadn’t anticipated any social visits, let alone one from his lordship.
    Lord Ingram inclined his head. “Mrs. Treadles, Inspector, I hope I haven’t disturbed you in your hour of repose.”
    â€œOf course not.” Alice rose from her seat and shook Lord Ingram’s hand. “Do please sit down and let us know what brought you here.”
    â€œThis brought me here.” Lord Ingram handed over a large-ish newspaper clipping that had been carefully folded. “If you will do me the honor of reading the article to the end.”
    Alice rang for tea. Then she and Treadles sat down with the article. They gasped at almost the same time, upon the first mention of Sherlock Holmes. Treadles sucked in another breath as he reached the conclusion of the letter.
    â€œDoes this mean that Holmes is well again?” he asked. “Or is this from before his misfortune?”
    â€œI have no way of ascertaining—Holmes remains beyond reach.” Lord Ingram’s gaze strayed to the mantel and lingered on a photograph of the Treadleses and himself, taken on the Isles of Scilly, in those days when Holmes was only a quick note away. “But it doesn’t take a mind of extraordinary caliber to deduce that this must be important to Holmes.
    â€œI understand Mr. Sackville’s death took place outside the Metropolitan Police’s district of authority. But I also understand that itis not unusual for county police to request help from the C.I.D., especially in case of suspicious deaths, where there isn’t enough local expertise to handle the