10th of May, 1891
I was woken up by the sound of bells. "8 o' clock! I'm far too late!", I thought and practically jumped out of bed. In a rush, I made my bed and went to the bathroom to get ready. I didn't even have time for breakfast. Once I had made my hair and put on a nice dress, for it was Sunday, I was on my way to church.
I walked the London streets alone- I think have gotten used to this. But I still remember how it was living with them. This had been one of the reasons why I had decided to let some rooms in my house: I didn't want to live alone. I needed company, and renting a room to a consulting detective was a perfect way to make sure it won't become boring. In fact, it had never been, but sometimes I wished it were so. If it wouldn't be him... I probably wouldn't have to worry that much as I do now.
In the church, I sat down in one of the back pews and closed my eyes for a while. The reason why I almost had been late and why I was so tired now was the telegram, of course.
I had been staying up very late the last few nights, unable to sleep. I had sat by the fire and let my thoughts wander. I could recall very well the day I had met those two.
"The sleuth and the doctor... When I first saw them enter together, I somewhat knew they'd be a great team." I smiled softly.
When the organ started to play, I quickly opened my eyes again and rose. I was so distracted that I almost dropped my hymn-book trying to find the right page. When the vicar held his sermon, I hardly listened. I could only think of what might happened to Holmes.
"I should really not worry that much. He always proved to be a man being able to take care of himself..."
But that thought didn't calm me as much as it should have.
Somehow I seemed to be looked at by more and more people as the mass continued. I was starting to get uneasy. Why did they stare at me like that? I got so confused that when the mass was over, I left the church in a hurry. Outside I noticed that in my haste I had left my handbag inside. When I was about to turn, I suddenly was addressed from behind my back: "Excuse me, milady?"
I turned and saw a man stand before me, holding my bag in his big hands. He was stout, and had light and watery eyes which gave him a distracted look, but he focused me keenly as his massive face formed a smile. "You have forgotten something."
Handing me the item, his grin transformed into a more serious, yet friendly expression.
"Thank you, sir.", I replied and wanted to leave, but he continued to speak:
"Wait, aren't you the landlady of the famous Sherlock Holmes?" I stopped, and nodded reluctantly. "Well, may I ask you a question?- Where is he all of a sudden? No one has heard of him for longer. Quite unusual, no?"
At this question, I almost burst into tears. "Uhm, he's..." I hesitated. "He's sick."
The man looked a little surprised, then he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders: "Give him my regards and best wishes. It was nice talking to you, milady."
He disappeared into the crowd before I could even ask for his name, and left me a little stunned.
This incident had made it all clearer to me. So that's why people had stared at me during church. They saw me alone and obviously worried- I guess that you could tell from my face, without being one Sherlock Holmes, that I hadn't been sleeping much lately. And if it was so well known that I was Holmes's and Watson's landlady, then of course people could easily form the hypothesis that they must be connected with why I should look so worried. I felt exhausted.
"I should really get home, and get some sleep.", I thought. So I made my way through the crowd standing in front of the church chattering and returned to Baker Street.