Read Online Sherlock Holmes and the Dance of the Tiger by Suzette Hollingsworth - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzette Hollingsworth
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older gentleman feeding the pigeons? Or the girl selling flowers? Each of them has a life, with people they love and care for. Every person is a magnificent universe unto himself. Look at that beautiful young woman in mourning, such a becoming sheer black veil she is wearing, doesn’t it touch your heart to see her longing for her love, Mr. Holmes?”
“She is a lady of the night selling her wares,” Sherlock stated. “It is a disguise.”
Mirabella gasped, placing her hand on her mouth. “You don’t mean it, Mr. Holmes!”
“I wish that I did not,” Sherlock replied. “Most morbid. But the costume is apparently stimulating to some men—clearly it is to the fellow pulling the vegetables. As for the older gentleman feeding the pigeons, he is homeless and has very little to eat, and yet he spends what little he has to feed his only friends.”
Mirabella bit her lip, making a mental note to buy a loaf of bread and a slice of cheese for the gentleman seated on the bench. The birds would have no use for the cheese, so at least the old man might eat that.
“See here, Holmes!” Dr. Watson interjected, apparently attempting to divert his friend even as he forcibly turned Mirabella to face the building. He was never one to approve of ungentlemanly conversation in her presence. “Consider the Cirque d’Hiver, if you will. What you see here is a twenty-sided masterpiece of architecture, a Corinthian column at each of the twenty sides so as not to obstruct the views of the central circle. And it holds four thousand people ! I know architecture to be an interest of yours, Holmes.”
Sherlock bestowed an expression of disdain upon the structure before them. “The Cathedral of Notre Dame is a masterpiece. This building before us, however, is the effort of one who did not know when to stop. Simply because one exerts effort does not mean that the effort is useful or worthwhile. Take Scotland Yard, for example.”
Giggle. Mirabella was finding Sherlock’s sarcasm surprisingly amusing today. But then, anyone could please her today!
I’m in Paris! Mirabella had thought she could not be more impressed when she first saw London, but she had never seen such a beautiful city in her life or with more fashionable people than Paris.
She smoothed her beautiful peach silk crepe de chine gown, feeling very attractive, a most unusual feeling for her to have. She was, after all, too shapely for the fashion of the day, added to the fact that she had plain brown hair and plain brown eyes—and was too tall.
But if one were lucky enough to be here, how could one not be gay in Gay Paree ?
And what a thrilling trip it had been! The three of them along with her Aunt Martha had taken a train from London Charing Cross to the Dover Priory station. The train had boarded a ferry at Dover—it was astonishing! They never even left the train!—then the ferry took the train to Calais where she entered France for the first time in her life. From there the train brought them to Paris. Once they had landed here at the Cirque d’Hiver , Aunt Martha had left to visit a friend before her return trip to London. Although Mirabella didn’t expect to have a ladies maid at her Paris lodgings, presumably she would have a companion. Being a domestic in a gentleman’s home was one thing, but travelling with two gentleman unchaperoned was another.
“I never saw so many columns,” Mirabella exclaimed, returning her eyes to the home of the Parisian circus. “And look at the statues of the Roman soldiers!” The soldiers stood on podiums guarding the entrance, a green marble sign above the massive doorway embellished with gold. A wrought iron fence surrounded the astonishing structure.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Dr. Watson stated, taking Mirabella’s arm and leading her towards the entrance.
Giggle. “We’re not in Rome,
“She is a lady of the night selling her wares,” Sherlock stated. “It is a disguise.”
Mirabella gasped, placing her hand on her mouth. “You don’t mean it, Mr. Holmes!”
“I wish that I did not,” Sherlock replied. “Most morbid. But the costume is apparently stimulating to some men—clearly it is to the fellow pulling the vegetables. As for the older gentleman feeding the pigeons, he is homeless and has very little to eat, and yet he spends what little he has to feed his only friends.”
Mirabella bit her lip, making a mental note to buy a loaf of bread and a slice of cheese for the gentleman seated on the bench. The birds would have no use for the cheese, so at least the old man might eat that.
“See here, Holmes!” Dr. Watson interjected, apparently attempting to divert his friend even as he forcibly turned Mirabella to face the building. He was never one to approve of ungentlemanly conversation in her presence. “Consider the Cirque d’Hiver, if you will. What you see here is a twenty-sided masterpiece of architecture, a Corinthian column at each of the twenty sides so as not to obstruct the views of the central circle. And it holds four thousand people ! I know architecture to be an interest of yours, Holmes.”
Sherlock bestowed an expression of disdain upon the structure before them. “The Cathedral of Notre Dame is a masterpiece. This building before us, however, is the effort of one who did not know when to stop. Simply because one exerts effort does not mean that the effort is useful or worthwhile. Take Scotland Yard, for example.”
Giggle. Mirabella was finding Sherlock’s sarcasm surprisingly amusing today. But then, anyone could please her today!
I’m in Paris! Mirabella had thought she could not be more impressed when she first saw London, but she had never seen such a beautiful city in her life or with more fashionable people than Paris.
She smoothed her beautiful peach silk crepe de chine gown, feeling very attractive, a most unusual feeling for her to have. She was, after all, too shapely for the fashion of the day, added to the fact that she had plain brown hair and plain brown eyes—and was too tall.
But if one were lucky enough to be here, how could one not be gay in Gay Paree ?
And what a thrilling trip it had been! The three of them along with her Aunt Martha had taken a train from London Charing Cross to the Dover Priory station. The train had boarded a ferry at Dover—it was astonishing! They never even left the train!—then the ferry took the train to Calais where she entered France for the first time in her life. From there the train brought them to Paris. Once they had landed here at the Cirque d’Hiver , Aunt Martha had left to visit a friend before her return trip to London. Although Mirabella didn’t expect to have a ladies maid at her Paris lodgings, presumably she would have a companion. Being a domestic in a gentleman’s home was one thing, but travelling with two gentleman unchaperoned was another.
“I never saw so many columns,” Mirabella exclaimed, returning her eyes to the home of the Parisian circus. “And look at the statues of the Roman soldiers!” The soldiers stood on podiums guarding the entrance, a green marble sign above the massive doorway embellished with gold. A wrought iron fence surrounded the astonishing structure.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Dr. Watson stated, taking Mirabella’s arm and leading her towards the entrance.
Giggle. “We’re not in Rome,
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