ed. note: This is one of many unproofed manuscripts found in Dr. Watson's abandoned tin dispatch box after his service in World War I. Although it is undated, it is useful to the chronological puzzle of The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, as certain comments herein place the better known adventure clearly in the post-Reichenbach period.

It was a dreary afternoon at Baker Street, made drearier still by the mood of my roommate, Sherlock Holmes. His genius for detection made these dark moods inevitable, for so dearly did he love the challenge of his work, that after a brief period of elation, the defeat of a worthy adversary left him in a state of ennui and irritability. Since witnessing Milverton's murder by one of his own victims, Holmes had little interest in any of the letters that arrived daily, asking for his help. On the occasions he agreed to meet with a client, he sent them away after a few words of instruction or advice.

"Trifles and ciphers, Watson! London has nothing to offer me today" he snapped when I asked him if the morning post had brought any items of interest. He continued in a bitter tone, "Perhaps I should take a more challenging role, such as that of an educator."

"Holmes!" I could not help but protest this idea, though it be no more than a whim. "There are hundreds of teachers, professors, and tutors in this great nation, but none other does what you do."

"There are hundreds of policemen, prosecutors, and private inquiry agents as well, Watson. Perhaps I could do for the minds of my students what I have done for London. Tidy up the streets of their minds, remove the scum of misinformation, and see to it that some system of order can reign."

"To what do we owe your sudden interest in education?"

"Ah, Watson, can I hope to succeed with the general public, when I have never succeeded in getting you to practice my methods? If I were to tell you why you bring up a particular subject, you would accuse me of reading your mind. Yet, though you say my methods are clear when I explain them, you fail to put them to use yourself. Watson, did I not speak to you once with some amount of pain, of the conversations I was obliged to have with that maidservant? And just now, my eyes alighted on this volume of Pope's. ‘A little learning is a dangerous thing'-- she had not drunk deeply from that Stygean spring, and yet she had enough knowledge of what she called ‘real education' to expose her follies the more. For instance, I forgot myself and spoke once of Platonic ideals-- she said she believed she'd seen one at The British Museum, among the marbles. A bit of discourse made it clear that she was thinking of an idol of Pluto. I really had difficulty restraining the impulse to laugh. Where else but in London could a country girl be so exposed to culture that she becomes more ridiculous than complete ignorance could make her?"

I sighed, and handed him the agony column of the newspaper. There, perhaps, he could find something to take him out of this dark humour. He accepted it with a languid hand and I returned to my own pursuits. With some satisfaction, I looked to the empty spot where once his syringe case had been stored; had I not assisted him in breaking that pernicious habit, he would likely have turned to his drugs in his depression. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind, than the sound of cries downstairs, followed by the rush of unfamiliar footsteps-- "A young lady," observed Holmes-- caught our mutual attention. The detective frowned and waved a hand. "I have no appointments. I have received nothing of interest. Tell her I am out." So saying, he turned the basket chair to face out the window and slouched into invisibility.

A moment later, there was a rap at the door. I opened it to find a lass who seemed but a handful or years over twenty. Her clothing was the plain grey dress of a housemaid, but her face under a grey bonnet bedecked with crimson roses and ribbons was fresh and pleasant. Her accent was the broad drawl of Yorkshire, which I shall only indicatein part. "I moost beg yur pardon for dropping in like this, but I could not write. Is Mr. Holmes in, please? I've heard he's a great friend for a girl to have, when she finds she's in a bind, and I've scarce been more so."

"I'm sorry, miss, but Mr. Holmes is not in at the moment. You shall have to call again. If I may tell him where to find you?"

"But I told you, I could not write, and this is why; I've lost my place, as my master recently died. So I cannot say where I shall be tomorrow."

"Oh, dear," I could not help but feel sympathy for this poor lass. "Perhaps... no, I am sorry, you shall have to call again."

"But will I be let up without an appointment? Your housekeeper seemed to think he was too grand to be seein' me, and so I had to hire some of the lads on the street to steal a pie that was cooling in her window, and thus I was able to come up while she was down the street after them."

This caught me by surprise. If the girl was clever enough to come up with a ruse like that, might not her puzzle be challenging enough to be of interest to my friend? He never cared where his cases came from so long as they were sufficiently challenging. I decided to give her a chance to interest him, without acting against his instructions. "Please, miss, if you will tell me your story, I think I may able to persuade him to consider it. If so, Mrs. Hudson will be instructed to show you up whenever you may return."

"That's very good of you." The maid began to pace up and down the room with gentle steps. "It isn't about my master, though he was murdered under the strangest of circumstances, and I do say, the police have been asking me some pretty hard questions about why the place was not properly locked up, nor did none of us in the house come quick when we heard shots. But such were his orders and there was more than one mouth to confirm the same. No, this is another matter. For I was engaged to be married shortly before all this happened, and now my dear man has disappeared without no trace whatsoever."

"Disappeared?"

"Aye. He has not called upon me for days, and so I got worried and took it on myself to look for him. But I could not find him, no, and naught was there to say where he'd ever been. For his name was Arnold Escott, and I could find not a single plumber by that name in all of London. So he may have lied to me, or perhaps he was a-visitin' some relatives here and comes from another town, I'm thinking."

With a blush rising to my cheeks, I realized who this girl was... and why, perhaps, he had refused to see her, had he recognized the footstep. This was the very housemaid whom Holmes had wooed while seeking information on Charles Augustus Milverton's home and habits. Indeed, we had been silent witnesses to the death of her unscrupulous master. However, the girl was innocent of all knowledge of this. I had to dismiss her, but still I felt a pang of pity for this girl who had been so misled. "I am sorry," I told her, "but Holmes has been quite busy as of late and this is not likely to--"

"You are Dr. Watson, are you not?" she inquired suddenly.

"Well, yes."

"Then you won't be telling me he don't take cases like mine! I read the Strand, same as most everybody does since you've been makin' his adventures know. He's like to be a Sir Gawain or Galahad, for comin' to the aid of ladies in distress!"

"He has numerous calls for his time..."

"And he likes a challenge, no?"

"This would scarcely be challenging enough."

"Thank you, but I'll wait for him to make that decision!" she declared, and walked away from me, further into the room.

"See here!" I protested, "You simply cannot--" Alas, she could walk over to the basket chair before I could stop her, and as she turned to it, she gave a cry of astonishment.

"Mr. Escott!"

"Young lady, you have the advantage of me." Holmes' voice was dry and cold, and I was sure his face gave no betrayal of recognition.

"Of course I do! No wonder I couldna find Mr. Escott. But I'd know that neb anywhere!"

"Excuse me?"

"The nose, luv, your profile. Though I must say you have changed your look quite I bit."

"Perhaps your Mr. Escott bears some resemblance."

I drifted into viewing range and saw her quickly grab his hand. "See here, this scratch mark. I know how you got it. There was a rough spot on your plumber's bag and it tore your poor skin and I tried to put plaster on it, but you said you had to use your hands too much, it'd do no good."

He a-hemmed uncomfortably in his throat and retreated further back into his chair. "A most unusual coincidence."

"I canno' believe you!" she cried. "You are denying th'art my dear Escott?'

"I am not Escott. I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"What I mean to say," she replied, "is are you denying you claimed to be Escott, one week past."

His eyes dropped to the floor in shamed silence. "I cannot lie in this matter. But you surely understand, your master was a shameless predator on the follies of others. I had no intentions against you, but I had to mislead you in order to get information to stop him."

"And then you are surely one to talk of preying on follies. I trusted you. I thought you loved me."

"I am sorry to have had to resort to such deception, Miss Brooke, but you can surely see that I meant you no harm--"

"You meant no harm, I'm sure, but I'm engaged to you and I did not even know who you really were."

"The engagement is off."

"You cannot say that."

"I cannot marry." Holmes rose and bowed swiftly, "You have my most humble apologies. And I fear I forgot that you might be in a predicament with your master's death. I will be happy to make some amends for my behavior by finding you a new place."

"Here would do."

"Absolutely not."

"Well, where shall we live once we are married?" she asked with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

He stared at her in profound astonishment. I doubt he had ever found himself so contradicted in his will by a woman. He slowly began, "You don't seem to realize that I mean what I say."

"If you break your word, Mr. Holmes, you shall have to tell it to a jury."

"Miss Brooke!" I broke in on their discussion. "Surely you would not drag Mr. Holmes to court on a breach of promise suit?"

"Would I not?" She was defiant now, hands on hips, and the girl who had struck me as so sympathetic only minutes before now repelled me as an absolute shrew. Still, I knew Holmes had brought it on himself. I had to appeal to her better nature. "He is not the man who wooed you. Surely you can see it would be a mistake for you to insist upon this marriage. You would be most unhappy if he did oblige you. You are from different worlds, different levels."

"Watson," Holmes broke in sternly, "I cannot marry this woman, but hardly for the reason of difference in station. I have nothing but disgust for men who have used such an excuse to abandon a woman they have claimed to love. And yet," he addressed her now, "I have no need or place for a woman in my life. I am not a man that could make any woman happy. You are young and pretty and deserve a chance to find a husband whom you can love and who will love you in return."

"I think I may have."

"Surely you are referring to someone else. You scarcely know me." "Better than you think I do, perhaps." An odd smile played across her face, then she became matter-of-fact once more. "Does not every reader know of your habits, Mr. Holmes? And did not my conversations with Mr. Escott please me and did my little mistakes not amuse you? Seems we knew each other well as many a couple has. If you were wearin' a mask of sorts, tis not unusual for a suitor to do so."

"I will not marry."

"Then you must explain to a court why you asked me if you intended otherwise."

Holmes' face froze once more, and I, for once, was able to follow his thoughts perfectly. The only rational explanation of his courtship, aside from the usual dishonorable role, was the truth... his intent to burgle Milverton's home to discover his client's compromising letters. From that, it would become obvious that he and I had witnessed the man's murder, or, worse yet, it might be assumed we were responsible. In either case, the consequences would be dreadful.

Holmes said quietly, "I have tried to be a force for good. To bring me into court would compromise my ability to work. I would lose respect among men of honor, and among the underclass as well, for the moral edge I have on them often puts them at a psychological disadvantage. You would not compromise me in such a manner? After all, I wooed you, but in such a way that you could hardly be compromised or dishonored. I scarcely touched you."

"True that." Her expression softened, "And such a gentlemanly way I thought you had, and yet I never thought the truth, that a gentleman was exactly what you were. But I can scarce pretend you were never in my life."

"Indeed? I should think you would be more than glad to forget me after I lied to you. But why not? What of your other beau?"

"I was never interested in him at all. You just seemed more quick to move to the question, when you knew you had a rival. I've often heard nothing motivates a man like the thought of losing."

"I thought then, that I would not break your heart. If I am myself most unsucceptable to the gentler emotions, I at least respect them in others."

"Oh, indeed? Then you'll respect mine by marrying me?"

He frowned determinedly. "Miss Brooke, the worst that will happen when you take me to court is that I shall be forced to pay you some money to punish me and to make up to you for the fact you are unwed. Such is the result of a Breach of Promise case. I believe five thousand would be a typical sum, perhaps on the generous side." He began to reach for his cheque book, which he kept in a glove box on a magazine stand.

She tossed her head back in an imperious gesture. "I would never let a man buy off his promise with money."

Holmes examined her expression, then nodded thoughtfully. "I believe you would not. Then, you are insisting, not out of a matter of benefit to you, but on account of the principle?"

"Aye, that and I summat fancy you."

He shook his head in disbelief at that, then said, "Suppose I was to marry you. I am a confirmed bachelor, and I take no delight in company. I am, in short, a solitary sort of man. Neither am I passionate. If I were to marry you, for the sake of principle, I should be inclined to shake your hand after the ceremony, and send you off somewhere. Hardly the treatment you fancy."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, I am a pretty enough lass, and perhaps I can change your mind. I could give it a try."

He made no response to her flirtation. "What possible benefit could you gain from such an alliance?"

"Well, for one thing, Mr. Holmes, I would feel much safer."

"Would you? It would be best for both of us if the marriage were secret. I have many enemies. Most dare not strike at me directly, but a woman traveling alone? You would be a target."

"Aye, the world does not need to know. But I would know, and you would know, and so would the witness. Or, I should say witnesses, for it is not a legal marriage unless there are two of them, and unless both parties use their real name."

"I see you anticipate any tricks I might use. You speak of safety; are you in trouble, then?"

"I have had quite a knack for trouble. You may have guessed."

Some strange tension was flowing between them then. I did not understand it, other than perhaps a mixture of anger, pride and fear, although I had no idea what might be the trouble she referred to. But the tension broke, Holmes sighed. "I see I have no choice. You have the advantage of me, and you have a will of steel. And unlike Watson, who is blinded by social prejudice, I must admit, I see you being on a level very close to my own. I shall not insult you any further by attempting to escape or delay. Will Wednesday morning suit your schedule?"

"It seems suitable enough."

"Surely--" I said, then stopped as Holmes sent me a remonstrating look.

"And Watson shall consent to act as best man and one of the witnesses, I hope."

I nodded dumbly, my stomach falling. Surely Holmes would not allow himself to be blackmailed into such an unsuitable alliance, and yet I feared assisting him in any scheme that would further affront her. How I shocked I had been when he first told me of his sham engagement! And now that it had returned to haunt him, I wanted, not to rub in my disapproval, but rather, find some way of rescuing him from his folly that would not do more harm.

The calendar rapidly flew towards the fateful Wednesday which would see Holmes married in name if not in body. Holmes mood had improved; being trapped was tonic for him. Where other men would fret, he found joy in the challenge of escape. That was the only way I could interpret his occasional smug glance, his cheerful dealing with several routine cases, and even the apparent planning for the wedding. Several times I tried to broach the matter with him and find what his true plan might be, for he was far too pleased with himself to really be without a solution. Yet he was always evasive with his replies, reminding me only that, "It seems a difficult predicament, and yet I think you will find that the end result will not be so terrible as you assume."

"She will doubtless publicize the matter. What else could she be hoping for but notoriety?"

"You are hard on the girl. I once thought, Watson, that you had too much of a tendency to give all benefit of doubt to a pretty face."

"But what other reason could she have?" I protested.

He teasingly remarked, "Now, Watson, what a way you talk to me, now! I have often tired of you trying to persuade me of the benefits of married life, and now, when I have met a girl who wishes-- nay, insists on granting me her hand, you begin to doubt. Indeed, you insult my charms, as well."

I gave up, knowing, as always, I should simply be ready for such time as he needed my assistance. Yet when Wednesday morning came, and he paced our rooms, glancing repeatedly at the mirrors to fuss over his hair and his tie, I could hold back no longer.

"You must tell me what you intend!"

"I intend to leave without you if you are not ready in half an hour, Watson. Mycroft is going to be there; he is the only other person whose discretion I fully trust, but if you are not ready, I shall find Wiggins and drag him in your place."

"I will be there," I said, kicking off my slippers and replacing them with dress shoes. "But I never thought you would let things go so far."

"But it seems the woman has left me no alternative."

"You would not be so happy to marry against your will," I told him, "therefore you have some solution, which you are keeping secret in order to increase my suspense. I do not really mind when you do this in a case, but in a matter of such personal importance..."

"You are putting all your deductive powers into this, I see," he responded. "I will admit this, then. Your premise is correct."

And yet, at the church, he made no clear objection to the circumstances. I heard no changes to the usual vows, and he answered the minister quite seriously. I noticed some trepidation on his part when she gave her responses, and still I could not see how he planned to deny the marriage. Of course, he might plan on an annulment later; that would be simple enough, as he had told her the truth about his passionless nature.

The wedding license was handed to me for my signature as witness. The pen dropped from my hand, and left a splash of ink on Mycroft's spats. Sherlock Holmes had acknowledged the truth of my premise, that he would not be so happy to marry against his will. But my conclusion had been utterly false. For I saw the bride's name listed, the name of the woman, of the woman, Irene Adler. I looked up at the smiling eyes of my friend. "Congratulations," I managed to stammer out.

He laughed. "I began to suspect her identity when she made her refusal of the money. Was there not a queer parallel between the maid's manner and Irene's attempt to punish the King of Bohemia for breaking his word? But I was not sure, even then, until she mentioned the matter of the witness."

She smiled, "'Godfrey Norton' was no lawyer, but an actor I'd worked with before, who offered to help me out of my jam. Could I stand to be constantly burglarized and shadowed? But when the photograph disappeared several years later, I knew I had to get it back, or Wilhelm would think I'd betrayed my word. So I went undercover as a maid, once I found out Milverton was the leader of London's blackmail business. I knew ‘Mr. Escott' pretty quick, but I played the country fool too well for him. One thing's no lie, though, I did take a fancy to him while we were on our outings, and I really thought I might be able to change his mind about keeping a cold heart."

"And have you?" I asked, as I picked up the pen and dipped it in the inkwell once more.

"Watson," said Holmes, "this is one adventure you must never publish, though you may write it up for your own amusement. It will do none of us credit."

Irene tilted her head and smiled up at him, "You did not answer his question."

Holmes smiled, "Because I do not wish that to be answered, even in his own notes. Now, carina, we have much to discuss." He offered her his arm, and they walked out together.