Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess by Suzette Hollingsworth Page A

  “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t wear a corset, Miss Mirabella, but it should be worn under the clothing.”
    “Well naturally a corset must be worn on the inside of the clothing,” Mirabella muttered, picking up the duster to keep her hands busy as she glanced at him through her eyelashes.   It was a most embarrassing topic, which ordinarily she would never discuss with a gentleman, but he was a doctor after all.   “A young lady can’t go without one.”
    “Of course. There are a great deal of health benefits to corseting,” Dr. Watson stated in his professional tone of voice.   “A corset supports the back—and holds women’s organs in place.”
    Sherlock raised his eyebrow at his mate, placing the sheet of music on the table before him, studying it while he conversed.   “You believe that women have a greater need to hold their organs in place than men do?”
    “It is not my belief, but a medical fact,” Dr. Watson replied in his professional capacity.   “It is well known in medical circles.   The male is the stronger sex and in less need of support.   The corset is also needed due to the childbearing functions of women.”
    “Ah.   I marvel that the women in Jane Austen’s era were able to bear children at all—as did my mother and your mother, being as they were without the aid of corsets.”
    “M-men are much more active in their everyday lives,” Dr. Watson protested.
    “And yet our organs follow us about quite nicely.”   Sherlock chuckled, glancing up momentarily.   “I would question that supposition, Watson.   Consider that the corset is nothing more than a whim of fashion.   And, as such, Miss Belle must wear one—and on the correct side of her clothing.”  
    “You, unlike me, are not well versed in medicine, Holmes,” Dr. Watson retorted.
    “Back to the matter at hand.”   Sherlock turned his gaze to Mirabella, now dusting the fireplace mantle.   “More than clothing or speech, a woman’s attitude defines her station in life.   I can assure you that if the Duchess of Devonshire were dressed in a barmaid’s clothing, you would know she wasn’t a barmaid.”
    “So it is hopeless,” she concluded, turning to face him.   Sherlock’s words were the final nail in the coffin, having the effect of convincing her that she was incapable of performing this assignment.   “No matter what I wear, I will be unable to fool anyone.   Is this what you are telling me, Mr. Holmes?”
    “To the contrary,” Sherlock replied.   “I am saying that you must also work on the manner in which you present yourself to others, Miss Belle—in addition to improving your wardrobe.”
    “How can I be anyone other than who I am?   Oh no !”   She gasped, suddenly realizing her situation, as she dropped the duster where she stood and covered her face with her hands.   “I’ve already spent half of your money on apparel, Mr. Holmes!   Even with all the frugalities it was a huge sum!”
    “Precisely.”
    “I’ll have to pay it back,” she gulped.   “I can’t go there.”
    “Can’t go where ?”   Sherlock looked up momentarily from plucking his violin.   His complexion was clear, healed of all wounds, and he was unusually well-groomed, his hair over-long but his face shaven.   He was of a calmer bent than she had seen him in recent days.  
    Unlike herself, whom he had only just ignited a fire under.
    “I can’t go a finishing school.”
    “Why not, pray tell?   From your complete lack of knowledge on how to be a proper young lady, you would seem to be the perfect candidate.”
    Dr. Watson cleared his throat, sitting across from them.   “Now, Holmes, if she doesn’t want to . . .”   He tipped his brown derby hat at Holmes, running his hands along his leather suspenders, the muscles in his arms accentuated as he leaned forward in his chair.
    Mirabella shook her head vehemently.   “Because I would be found out even before I opened my mouth, your