#but I thought I’d miss this altogether!! which made me even sadder!!

[huffle-dork]

For septicartrevival 2023 immm submitting…!

this cuz I’m still super proud of it and!! Tbh my original YouTube video of this is how I was found by a lot of jse friends!

It was born out of genuine love for the spooky ego lore Jack was putting out- which will always be my favorite part of the channel! But most importantly- my followers, friends and people I’ve met from being in the fandom and doing Fanart has been my favorite- and this piece really solidifies that love for me! :’)

especially because drawing this originally was my first solo art stream! And I met some of my best friends in the whole world because of those streams!!

And can’t forget the 5 year glow up!!

I’ve loved being in the fandom these last 5 years I’m so happy to see the spark again! Keep creating everyone 💚

[emiraxtemel]

bella--johnson​:

“A year now, I left after uh…” It didn’t need to be said, it sucked enough already without constant reminders. There was something sadder about the end of a friendship. Sure, Bella hadn’t mastered the art of getting over relationships either but trying to forget a childhood bond that surpassed teenage angst into adulthood? Now, that was impossible. She hoped she made it clear she didn’t harbor any grudges for Emira’s work, her friend was stuck between a rock and a hard place and Bella knew she’d love her regardless. But Zak’s struggle seemed to outweigh Bella’s rational thinking, even though now she had nothing to show for the choice. Just more tears which Emira used to wipe away. Pushing away the thoughts, Bella smiled and nodded. “Fox seems…really fitting actually. From what I saw, anyways. Bouncy thing, isn’t he?” she laughed, trying desperately to keep the conversation as light as possible. God, this felt worse than she could have imagined.

“Sure, don’t mention it.” Bella shrugged softly and felt the familiar twang of guilt and sadness. It was hard to know what was okay to say, or how to navigate everything entirely. “Yeah they er…we’ve all sort of regrouped here which is kind of cute.” she chuckled lovingly, and gave Emira another smile. “I bet Yas is like over the moon you’re back too. I always felt bad that I got to see more of you than she did for a while.” she admitted but she had said it before. “Would you uh…would you wanna grab a coffee or something sometime? It’s fine if you don’t, I didn’t particularly handle the…I’d love to catch up like properly.”

•

Their lease ending had felt like the definitive conclusion of their friendship. When Emira moved to a studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen and adopted Atlas, that had been that. No outreach on either end, mostly because Emira was still working on the story that had been the catalyst for Bella ending their relationship, and Bella hadn’t reached out, for likely the same reason. “Yeah, kinda all over the place but,” she lifts her shoulders, “he’s mostly alright. Yas is happy so I am.” She’s grateful to bypass the topic of Zak altogether, almost feeling more bitterness now at the thought of him than she had then. Realizing just how much he’d changed her life without really ever touching it. Bella had been one of the most important people in Emira’s life for so long, and –– stop. The past is the past is the past. She can’t change it. Choices had been made and lived with and here they both were, back in town anyway. “That’s great. Do you guys live together?” Emira nods at the mention of her own sister, smiling a bit more broadly now. “She is. I’ve been crashing at hers for a bit but it’s been fun. I did miss her.” And despite Yas visiting New York to see her, it’s different living together. 

The offer of coffee takes her by surprise, a fact she hides behind a rapid blink and awkward laugh. “Uh…” God, did she want to? A part of her screams yes, I missed you more than you know. And another part of her wants to put her guard up, that impenetrable armor she’s known for, blocking out all chances of getting hurt again. I loved you and you turned your back on me. She chews the inside of her cheek, casting a quick glance back to the store where Yas and Fox are poured over a stack of records and she nods, going with her gut. “Sure. Ambrosia?” she gestures down the street, already sending Yas a quick text that she’d see her later. 

[purplesurveys]

1012

survey by chasingghosts

If you have a job, who's your closest friend at work? I wanna say it was Justine at first, but it will probably shift to Angel in the near future because we were recently put in the same team. Our little intern family was adorable though and I hope we’ll all always stay friends.

Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? Yes, my mom has a rowing equipment thingy and a pair of dumbbells. I know she was also thinking of getting a bike, but that plan never panned out.

Were your parents born in the same country they now live in? Yes. We’ve always lived here and never migrated. Though I wish we did.

How did you celebrate New Year’s last year? Playing Mario Kart on the Switch with my cousins the entire evening and then going up on the rooftop at midnight to have a 360º view of the fireworks, which always makes me happy. And of course, deleted social media to avoid everyone’s wholesome family posts.

What would you do if you found a wallet containing $100 on the street? I think I’d be more concerned about whether there are IDs inside or not so that I could locate or contact the owner. I never really think of stealing.

Have you told anyone you love them today? Angela. I had also gone back on Facebook to share recent life updates and several relatives sent their congratulations. I replied today, thanking them but also telling each of them that I love them.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 4, I think. I fell asleep at 4 AM, woke up at around 7:45.

Are you in any physical or emotional pain right now? Ugh, both. Today I stubbed my toe so hard on the last stair going up and the nailbed ended up bleeding so much, so apart from it hurting like a bitch I also had to concentrate on not throwing up or fainting altogether because of the blood. And of course, emotional pain is always lurking around.

What's the time right now? 6:07 PM.

Is the sun still up, or is it dark?  It’s completely dark. My only light source at the moment is my laptop screen and the backlight on the keyboard.

Have you seen all The Hunger Games films that have been released so far? I’ve only seen the first one because they aired it so many times on one of the local movie channels here at one point. But since I was never really a fan, I didn’t go out of my way to see the next two that came out.

Is there an automatic fog light in your yard? No. But we do have a motion sensor light.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? Around 45 minutes ago to get Band-Aids for my toe.

How many living grandparents do you still have? Three. I’m grateful that they are all still super healthy, but I also always miss my grandpa. The four of them were really close in-laws, and I miss seing them as a complete set.

Are you currently in a relationship? Not anymore.

Have you ever heard people having sex in the next room? No, actually. If anything, we’re probably the ones who were heard in the past.

What are your plans for the rest of the day? Have dinner with my family, eat and savor the rest of my Monte Cristo sandwich (I made my first one today!); maybe take a few more surveys because it’s my last weekend being unemployed and my plate will for sure get very busy in the next few days; and try to avoid the sads by watching Good Mythical Morning.

How many times have you been sick this year? Once, which is usually the case every year.

Is there a garage or carport attached to your house? We do have a carport, yes.

Were you born somewhere other than a hospital? Nope, you got it at hospital.

Do you fold or scrunch? Man I thought you were talking about poker until I Googled what the hell this was referring to. I use a bidet, man. Then I fold to dry the area off.

Have you ever been on a strict diet and exercise regime? No. I never really needed to, so I’ve never felt like getting on one.

Who did you text today, and what did you talk about? I messaged Andi because I saw a Facebook post that reminded me of them and our thesis. That’s pretty much it for today, at least so far. 

What colour is your toothbrush? Maroon and white.

Do you have a favourite author? Not really.

Is Christmas a joyful time for you, or just plain stressful? Stressful because of the triggers, and I imagine it’d even be sadder this year since our extended family can’t be together. My mom already mentioned we'll most likely settle for a family reunion/party on Zoom, so we’re definitely not meeting up and relatives living in different countries won’t fly here. I will start earning my first salaries in time for Christmas though, so I can’t wait to get things for myself(!!!) and my family. I’m already thinking of getting Super Smash Bros. Ultimate for the Switch so I’m crazy excited to get my hands on that.

How long do you usually take in the shower? 3-7 minutes. I don’t like taking too long.

Have you ever worked in an office? I did during my first internship. But my second one was a WFH situation and my upcoming job will be the same. Impossible to tell when we can be able to report to the office.

Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Dad or mom, whoever’s free to do so.

How many times have you been out of state that you can remember? Yeah, definitely answered this before...thanks Bzoink for promoting the same few surveys every few months, lol. I kinda do it all the time, actually. I live right on the border of Metro Manila and my home region.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel without your parents or older relatives? Yes. But the one time I did had still been paid for by my parents.

Do you prefer margarine or butter, and why? Butter. We don’t buy margarine, so I simply don’t get to have it a lot.

What time do you plan to wake up tomorrow? Idk, depends on what time I’m going to fall asleep tonight. 

What is your favourite way to eat rice? Anything but rice cakes. Rice is...life lol

Have you ever been in serious trouble at work or school? Nah. I hate the idea of getting in trouble in any situation or getting reprimanded or punished, so I’ve always followed rules.

Do you have any strange fears or phobias that you're embarrassed of? I’m not embarrassed by it, but I prefer not to watch TV advertisements at night lol. Some effects or jingles can be spookier at that time.

Can you smell anything right now? I can faintly smell my sandwich, but that’s it. 

Would you be scared if you saw 5 missed calls from one of your parents? Only if it’s from my mom. I wouldn’t worry too much if it came from my dad.

Have you ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe? No.

Do you own a pair of gumboots or wellies? Nah.

When was the last time you watched a movie? Around two weeks ago, but I didn’t finish it because I started crying too much.

Do you know anyone who struggles with a mental disorder? Yeah, a number of people.

What's your go-to activity when you're bored? Surveys.

Have you ever been vegan or vegetarian? No, but I opt for vegan dishes whenever there’s an available option.

Are you tired right now? A little bit, but I don’t want to sleep because it’s the weekenddddddddd. Might make myself a second cup of coffee to keep myself up.

[cloudparadox]

Remnants || Chapter 1 - A Familiar Face

Summary: AU in which Tim can see things others can't.

As he got older, it became less and less, to the point where he thought his "ability" had disappeared completely, until one day it comes back full force and Tim is forced to come clean to his family about it, which ends up putting more strain on their already delicate relationship. And then there's Jason who'd never really been about delicate. 

Words: 1686

Warnings: Angst, death, ghosts, teeny tiny bit of gore (nothing explicit), mental health issues, bad parenting

Pairing: Tim Drake x Jason Todd (eventually)

Notes:  So this is my first Jaytim fanfic and also first Batman-related fanfic altogether. I'm absolutely not sure about anything here, really, but I'll try my best. This first chapter just kind of happened, but I really like it, so I thought I'd get my shit together and actually post it, rather than letting it sit forever in my drafts. I'm sorry for any spelling errors or the likes. Thank you for every like and reblog and especially comment! I appreciate it <3

Taglist: @sweeetsummerchiild  (please tell me I remember correctly that you told me to tag you for this >.<)

Tim had been but a young child, a tiny little thing, with chubby cheeks that bloomed cherry-red at the smallest amount of affection and attention, when he saw the first one.

The first ghost. Spirit. A revenant. Spectre. Whatever you wanted to call them. The dictionaries had fed Tim many words for what he was seeing.

His younger self had been naive enough to tell his mother about it later on. About the woman that was never noticed by anyone, always trying to get them to see her. The woman had then realized he could see her when she caught him staring. She was nice. In fact, she was the first ghost that talked to him. She was beautiful and young. Too young to have died. Not much older than his own mother.

It was weird. Some ghosts looked utterly horrifying. Torn, bloody clothes, wounds all over their skin, or worse. One ghost, he remembered in vivid detail. He had aimlessly wandered through a creepy alleyway that Tim and his parents walked by one evening, in late December. One of his eyes was missing and he was so thin and so frail, barely older than forty, maybe.

How he died, Tim didn't want to know. Mother often told him about the bad people in this city. Father did, too. What terrible things they did and that only people who did said bad things suffer because of it. 'Bad things only happen to bad people, Timothy'

Tim didn't believe that, not even as a young child. Maybe it was his intelligence that he was so often praised for, or maybe just the fact that he just knew differently, that he'd seen things that proved that statement to be false.

But this woman looked nothing like that. Not a single injury, no blood, nothing. In fact, she looked eerily familiar, yet Tim's tired brain failed to catch up properly at the moment since he'd just woken up to see a ghost in his own room.

Her smile made Tim's insides feel all fuzzy, as did the warmth in her green eyes as she beckoned him to come closer. Not once before had a ghost followed him into his house.

"Don't be afraid." her voice made the boy jump which caused her to smother a grin. "I won't hurt you. I am just here because I'm running out of time, and I think you're the only one who can help me with this."

"B-but I-. How am I supposed to help you, ma'am?"

The way he addressed her made her laugh. It was gentle, almost sounding like the faraway Christmas bells he loved listening to in the evenings. "You can call me Mary, sweetheart."

Tim's cheeks flushed brightly at the nickname and he allowed himself to relax and ease himself back on his bed, kicking his legs a little to get rid of the remaining tenseness of his body.

The woman- Mary, continued. "I don't have much time left, sweetheart. I know I'm not supposed to be here anymore. But I need to make sure it's alright for me to leave." her smile dimmed and she gingerly sat down on his bed, how that worked Tim didn't want to try and figure out right now, and brushed some of her dark hair behind her ear in a way that poked and tugged at Tim's brain because her face seemed so familiar and-

"You're Mrs. Grayson, from the-"

"Circus. Yes. I'm surprised you remember."

"But- You- that was months ago! I- how?" his voice became smaller as he tried to take in the fact that someone he'd seen dying, seen the death of, was here, in his house, his room, sitting on his bed and asking for his help.

"It's been that long?" a frown worked its way onto her face and Tim felt bad for telling her.

"I'm sorry." Tears gathered in his eyes as he recalled that night, the one that was supposed to be happy, and it was, if only at the start. He thought of the screams, the blood, about the young Dick Grayson crying over his parent's bodies and-

"Don't cry, silly. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything it should be me apologizing. No child should have to see that."

Dick had to, Tim thought bitterly. More proof that what father said was wrong. None of the Graysons were bad people. "But, how can I help you? I'm just a kid."

Mary sighed and it was heavy, like she was hesitant to go on. "I know. And I'm sorry that I have to burden you with this, but- I need to know what happened to my son. I need to make sure it's okay for me to leave, that he's fine and not-" the woman choked on the words and Tim's little heart hurt, his chest feeling heavy.

"You couldn't find him." It wasn't a question but she nodded anyway. "Dick was adopted by Bruce Wayne." Coincidentally they were basically neighbors. Something like that, with more distance. "I didn't meet him or anything, but he seems fine. Happy, even." Well, as happy as a boy who lost his parents could be. "I'm sorry," he said again. Why, he didn't know. There was a lot of reason to be sorry.

"Thank god. I- I thought-" she stopped, clearing her throat and wiping at a few tears that had dropped. "I know this is a lot to ask for, but can you keep an eye on him?" the request shocked Tim and it must've shown on his face. "Just make sure he's not- not in any danger at home? I doubt anything would happen to him there, but..."

"Okay. I promise," he swore, already debating how and what and where and thinking about all the ways when Mary shocked both him and herself by carefully touching his shoulder. "How are you-?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I've never been able to touch anyone, even by accident. It was just a reflex to reach out. But I guess you're just something special, huh?" her soft smile was back and Tim's cheeks were once again crimson. It made her laugh, in a way she hadn't since that day. "Thank you, for this, Timothy."

"You can call me Tim if you want." In his head, he sent out a silent plea that she would because with his parents it was always Timothy and Timothy was everything they wanted him to be and not always what he actually was. "You don't have to thank me, though. I didn't really do anything."

"You did, sweetheart. I know my place isn't here anymore. But I could not leave without making sure Dick is safe and thanks to you, I know that now. Know where he is. So, thank you, Tim."

The emphasis on his preferred version of his name made him grin before it faltered. "You're leaving then?"

"I have to. I'll just make sure to see my son one more time, now that I know where he is. Maybe I'll finally see his father again, wherever I'm headed to after...moving on."

"Are you scared?" Dying and then having to leave for the unknown sounded terrifying to him.

"Not anymore." she got up from her seat next to him, green eyes alight with hope and love and more Tim couldn't identify. "You're a very special boy, Tim. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I'm sure you'll do lots of good in the future with that bright mind of yours." she playfully tapped his head before gently ruffling his messy black hair. "Goodbye, Timmy."

Tim blinked and she was gone with a last smile directed at him. "Bye," he whispered after what felt like an eternity.

Tim had shared some of this occurrence with his mother after a lot of debate. He definitely regretted doing that.

Some of the dictionaries also told Tim that he might simply be insane. He knew the word well after all father used it a lot when he talked about other people, especially from work. But that would mean Tim was a bad person, and he couldn't be bad just because he saw things others didn't, right?

That's what he told himself throughout his mother's scolding, his father's lecture about not ruining the good family's name and then the regular meetings he had with a "specialist". That didn't help him at all. The man had declared him completely sane. That day, after the doctor had told him he wouldn't come back as it wasn't necessary, father had a long talk with him. Tim had managed to hide his tears well behind his bangs, only speaking up to agree with what his father said. Something along the lines of 'my son will not be one of those crazies'.

Tim wondered if his father knew about mother's own struggles. She was sad a lot. Sometimes it seemed like she wasn't there with them at all. Her body was, but her mind wasn't. Mother loved him, that he was sure of. Her hugs were always so warm. Even if they became rarer and rarer over time. Now his parents were gone more and more, leaving him alone in this big, cold house. Mrs. Mac was still there though. Sometimes. Not enough.

Still, he kept seeing the ghosts. He started calling them Fades at one point. Now he learned to ignore most of them, save for the ones that took note of him. Most didn't.

He tried to pretend he was normal. That he couldn't see these things. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn't, not in the beginning anyway. Tim didn't want to be crazy. He didn't want to make his father mad, didn't want to disappoint him or make his mother even sadder.

He had tried explaining it, tried to find actual help, but no one listened. He was alone with his fears and nightmares, kept captive by what others didn't know, didn't see, or simply didn't want to acknowledge.

Maybe it was no fear, but madness.

And Tim learned over time, if you're crazy, you don't exist anymore.

[holmesoverture]

The Telegraph Boy, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Be Here Chapter 5 Be Here

“I was somewhat cavalier as a young man, as are most young men, so confident are they that neither age nor consequences ever shall ensnare them.  It was with such jejune buoyancy that I familiarised myself with the bedrooms of London’s most dapper unnatural offenders, eventually growing careless enough to dispense with the bedrooms altogether and to enjoy the company of my many acquaintances in whatever location was most convenient and, more importantly, most thrilling.

“It was during one such encounter in a theatre that a newspaperman spied us and went directly to my father to see how he might profit by his splendid eyesight.  You must forgive my vagueness when describing this event.  It seems so long ago now and there was so little emotional attachment to the other gentlemen and to the venue that when I try to recall either of them, I find myself confronted with a great blank spot in my memory.  Red velvet seats, a shock of dark hair, a woman’s strained soprano—trifling details are all that are left to me now.  As for the newspaperman, I have my doubts as to his true motives for observing our activities, but that hardly matters now.  He had observed them, and he exhibited an enthusiastic willingness to sacrifice the Walmsleys’ reputations for the sake of establishing his own.

“My father paid him well and we have never since been harried by him, but the passing of the Criminal Law Amendment Act had brought an end to my dear father’s patience.  ‘You will be married immediately,’ said he, ‘to Helen Willoughby, Lord Willoughby’s eldest daughter.  I am loathe to hand over a shameless wastrel such as yourself to so fair a creature, but perhaps she will succeed in domesticating your impulses where I have failed.’

“My father spoke truthfully in his assessment of Lady Willoughby.  If you gave a man a hundred years to find a wife, he should never find one as loyal or as fine as my own, but there has never been a shred of true affection between us.  Whatever you may think of me, I am not so much of a cur as to divulge Helen’s secrets, but suffice to say she is no more capable of loving me than I am of feeling more than platonic gratitude for her.  I imagine she was well-pleased to find me gone.”

“She was not displeased,” Holmes allowed.

“Nor should I have been, were our positions inverted.  Still, I have tried to make the best of our unenviable situation.  We both were fully aware of our respective circumstances before our wedding and had no grand expectations of each other, so it was with a pure conscience that I pursued the company of Reuben Kendall.  We met at our club and had in common both our hobbies and our restive temperaments.  Perhaps you will find the sentiment abhorrent, but Reuben is dearer to me than any woman ever was to a man, and the one occasion upon which we separated plunged me into a despair such as I had never imagined.

“I had grown paranoid, you see, that we might eventually be discovered.  Every man on the street, in the train, and in my clubs appeared to my eye as another newspaperman hungering for the kind of publicity that only Reuben and I could provide. I convinced myself that breaking off our relationship was for the best, and Reuben saw that I had made up my mind about it and offered little protest.

“‘I only hope that you never have cause to regret your decision,’ he said, little suspecting that I was already wishing I had bit off my tongue rather than part company.  

“That evening found me at the home of a friend, one whose name I shall not reveal lest he be forced to share my fate.  He was sympathetic to my situation and determined he would cheer me by bringing me to Mr Hammond’s establishment in 19 Cleveland Street.  There my friend passed a pleasurable enough evening.  I could not bring myself to move past the entryway, still consumed as I was by my self-inflicted sorrow.  I felt quite the fool, sitting alone for nearly an hour with my hat in hand.  Of far greater moment was the aftermath of that evening.  No newspaperman came knocking upon my door to ransom my honour, nor did the newsboys on the street shout my wickedness to lure customers.  I had done as I pleased without bringing the slightest bit of shame upon myself or my name.  After a number of other such evenings, my confidence was like that of a king, and I hastened to Kendall Estate to beg Reuben’s forgiveness.  That he granted it so readily is a testament to his compassionate nature and to my very good fortune.”

“And on none of those occasions did you ever venture past the entry?” I asked, incredulous.

“Not once.  I had no desire for the sort of entertainment to be found there, only for the challenge the place offered me.  Escaping without consequence only once could have been simple coincidence, but if such an incident occurred several times, then I could know my paranoia was just that, and that Reuben and I might have a chance together after all.

“Upon the night in question, I was in my study burning our correspondence.  I do not do so for every epistle written by Reuben’s hand but on occasion we forget ourselves and compose an especially poetic yet incriminating passage that I, now a sadder and a wiser man, know would ruin the both of us.  Still I was more than content with my lot in life when I heard a soft knocking upon the door.  I bade the stranger to enter and in came Sally Farrier, who curtsied and asked if we might have a word.  She seemed frightfully out of sorts, pale and stiff and trembling from head to foot.  I assumed it to be nerves and offered her a drink to soothe her.

“I envisioned our interaction going thusly: I would fix her a drink, she would calm enough to tell me of her quandary, I would do all in my power to help her, and she would return to her work all the more contented for it.  But before I had taken five steps in the direction of my desk, she spoke again.  She said, ‘My brother is Alfred Farrier.  He recently has found employment in Cleveland Street.’  At first I did not respond, for I knew nothing of the name she had uttered, but at the mention of Cleveland Street, my heart fairly stopped within me.  Sally must have known the impact her remark would leave and stood in perfect, silent stillness, allowing ample time for her terrible words to strike home.  She knew of my sins, and she had seen fit to inform me that she knew, which spoke to only two outcomes of our meeting: she intended either to blackmail me or to ensure I did not leave that room with my life.  As I said, I had done nothing but sit by myself in 19 Cleveland Street, but no one but myself, my friend and Mr. Hammond were aware of this, and in any event, my mere presence in such a place would be more than enough to condemn me.

“‘What are your plans for this information?’ I asked.

“‘I’ll be honest with you, sir.  When Alfred confessed to me where he got all that money, I was so angry that if you’d have been there I’d have shot you where you stood, and that’s the truth.  But then I caught myself, and I thought that you being dead wouldn’t do anybody any good, least of all the ones you wronged.’

“‘So it is money you’re after.’

“‘Give us enough to leave the city and set ourselves up someplace else, someplace nice, and the pair of us won’t ever trouble you again,’ she said, nodding.  Sally had become increasingly confident as she went on, more confident than ever I had seen her, and my old paranoia rose with her assuredness.  Could I trust her to keep her word?  Even if I gave her my fortune, my household and all within it, would she never again be tempted to benefit by her illicit knowledge?  But as the silence lengthened her confidence was joined by anxiety.  Seeing her fear reminded me with whom I was dealing and allowed me to take command of my own fears.

“‘I take no joy in saying such things, I assure you,’ said she, eyes wide, ‘but of all the possible outcomes of these circumstances I really think this is the most profitable for everyone involved.’

“In addition to bonds and documents and such I kept one hundred pounds in cash in my strong-box.  I gave it all to Sally, much to her surprised delight.  I daresay she did not fully expect her gambit to meet with such success so quickly.  She finally accepted the brandy I had offered, but even as she relaxed I could hear Lady Walmsley prowling the halls.  Her insomnia must have been troubling her again, but if nothing else it served to remind me that someone may look at the empty strong-box or at Sally’s abrupt departure and suspect illegal activity, so I left there a little note telling her what had happened and left the study door ajar to encourage her to find it.”

“Ah, so that’s what you wrote,” said Holmes, looking satisfied.  “It was quite clever of you to rip up and throw away the blotting paper you used so that no one would read what must have been a most incriminating missive.  Still, you’d have been better served by leaving your letter in some more obvious place.  Lady Walmsley did not find it until after the police had been called.”

“Oh, how awful!” Lord Walmsley cried.  “Oh, how foolish of me!  The police haven’t caught Sally, have they?”

“Not that I’m aware.  If you were to write another letter, one that is not quite so incriminating, that absolves Sally of responsibility for the missing funds, I should be glad to deliver it to one with the authority to end the chase.  Lady Walmsley would certainly be glad to follow any instructions found in such a letter.  But please do finish your testimony first.”

“Yes, of course, Mr Holmes.  I shall do exactly as you say.  The sound of Lady Walmsley’s footfalls brought the precariousness of our positions to the forefront of our thoughts.  We knew we had to leave immediately to avoid suspicion and capture, but we didn’t want to risk having a cab driver see us together.  By a wonderful stroke of luck, the groom’s widowed mother had taken ill that morning, and of course Lady Walmsley gave him the day to tend to her.  With the stables thus abandoned and the house servants retired for the evening, it was a simple thing for us to bid a harefooted farewell to Shrewsbury House and slip out.  The police will find the horse and carriage abandoned at the St Pancras station, if they have not already done so.

“For all her success, Sally Farrier was not meant for such an underhanded business.  She nervously chattered the entire way to the station.

“‘I should never have even considered blackmail as a solution to my situation,’ said she, ‘but my uncle has been so very ill and would greatly benefit from a new atmosphere, and as for my dear brother, well sir, this is most kindly intended, but I feel it’s better for me to sully my own hands a little than to allow him to sully his own, thinking it’s the only way to support the three of us.’  She even recommended a friend of hers to take her place as our maid.  She is a very good girl, in spite of it all, and I told her so before we parted ways.

“At the station Sally boarded an unknown train for an unknown destination.  She said she would send for her relatives once she was safely away from London.  What o’clock is it?  Almost eleven?  Well she has surely done so by now.”

“In that case, I have one final question for you. Why did you run?”

“I have had quite enough of blackmail for one lifetime.  I came here intending to stay only until I could secure passage to France, where I would spend my remaining years in exile.  I want to resent Sally Farrier for her actions, but now that I am forever free of the prison in which my own youthful foolishness placed me, even if I have only traded that prison for another, I am grateful it was Sally who uncovered my secret rather than someone with neither heart nor conscience.”

The ticking of the clock exploded in the silence that followed this singularly sympathetic narrative.  It was soon joined by the scratching of a pen as Lord Walmsley made good on his word and cleared the good name of Sally Farrier while excluding any mention of his own indiscretions.  With the missive safely in his coat pocket, Holmes rose and extended his hand.  

“I wish you a safe and pleasant journey to the Continent, Lord Walmsley,” said he.  “Please convey our regards to Lord Kendall.”

I shall never forget the expression of pure relief that these words brought to Lord Walmsley’s features.  The toll imposed by years of dread and hiding was, for this one small moment, forgotten and supplanted by an unfettered joy that I have only rarely been privileged to witness, much less experience first-hand.

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Chapter 7 Be Here

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Notes of Interest

Criminal Law Amendment Act – Specifically, Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885.  This stupendously vague law made it illegal for two men to engage in “gross indecency.”  The punishment was up to two years in prison, which was actually an improvement considering that previous punishments included life imprisonment and execution.