The case of Grimwood Girl’s School

There are several cases involving Mr. Sherlock Holmes that for one reason or another, I was not able to release near the time that they happened.

Usually, this was because of the sensitive or possibly embarrassing nature of the case, especially when it involved a person of higher standing.

This is true of the case I’m about to relate, but the person who was most affected by it was myself.

It occurred during the final year before my marriage caused my leaving my apartment at 221B Baker Street, and it began with me finding Holmes looking thoughtful, almost sad, so I asked him what was the matter.

“I am on the horns of a dilemma, Watson” he replied, “A case with some possibly serious ramifications has come to my attention, and I wish I could give my aid to the individuals involved, however, I have been engaged by a member of a European royal family in another matter, and therefore cannot give this case the attention it deserves.”

“And this case cannot wait until you would be able to come?” I inquired.

“Alas, it does not appear so. The person who sent me the request believes that if the matter is not resolved very soon, one or more young English women will be hurt, perhaps even killed.”

“My goodness!” I exclaimed. “Holmes, we cannot allow this to happen. In the past, I have done my best to act in your place when you were otherwise engaged. Allow me to do so now.”

Holmes smiled sadly and said “While I appreciate your chivalrous offer, there is a complication. The girls in question are at a private all-girl school, and part of its charter is that no man enters the main house.”

“Surely they would make an exception under such dire circumstances?”

“The Headmistress has sent an appeal on my behalf to the trustees, but while she believes that the threat is growing more serious by the day, so far they are not convinced. And while they may bend in allowing myself to go even still, I do not believe they would accommodate you - until after it is too late.”

I could think of no reply, so remained silent.

A few minutes past, and then Holmes said, “I have an idea, but it would require a considerable sacrifice on your part.”

“I am willing to help any way I can, Holmes.” I replied.

“Do not be so quick to offer. As you have no doubt observed, on occasion, I have used disguises to assist my investigations.”

“Indeed, you have surprised me more than once with your transformations,” I replied.

He nodded, and then said, “I have passed myself off as a woman more than once. It might be possible for me to do a similar transformation on you - if you are willing to undergo the process.”

I considered this for a while, and then asked, “You feel certain that the risk to the girls at this school is dire enough for such a measure?”

“I do.” He replied, “I would not put you in such a position otherwise.”

“Then I will make the attempt.”

****

Holmes quickly called a cab and took me to a nearby theater, where he said we would be able to engage the services of a man who had assisted Holmes in making some of his disguises.

Once inside, Holmes introduced me to a distinguished-looking older man and explained the situation, and soon he took me back to a change area with a large number of costumes. While this was going on, Holmes told me that because of the strange events at the school, some of the staff had given notice, and that my role would be as a replacement teacher, and so the costume chosen would be one suited to that role.

The next hour was both mortifying ... and informative, as by the end the person who looked back at me in the mirror, while no ravishing beauty, would certainly pass muster.
“There is one more thing I can do to assist you.” The old actor said as I examined his handiwork, “Certain techniques of mental discipline that will assist you to stay in character, so to speak. To aid you with your walk, your voice, your mannerisms.”

He sat me down and had me focus on a watch, and then ... well, things got a little fuzzy, but afterward, I was filled with confidence that I could perform as a woman.

My confidence was so high that while Holes arranged for my arrival at the school I went out and purchased a luggage set and filled it with clothes, makeup, and accessories that one would expect a woman traveling to have.

None of the proprietors I dealt with even blinked at me, and with each interaction, my confidence only grew.

Finally, everything was arranged, and I made my way to the school which was inside an estate given the less-than-cheerful name of Grimwood, and upon my arrival I was greeted by the Headmistress, a charming woman named Isabel Cunningham, and once she read the letter Holmes had prepared with the cover story she would give to the staff - that I was a woman named Mary Watson, a recently widowed teacher coaxed out of retirement by the Headmistress.

Once introductions were made and my luggage was sent to what would be my room, the Headmistress began to give me a tour, telling me some of the history of the estate, that the trustees had been able to acquire it a few years previously when the previous owner had passed away without an heir. At the same time she explained the strange occurrences that had caused her to write to Mr. Holmes - what first seemed harmless pranks had been growing more and more serious until several of the staff had given notice claiming the place was clearly haunted, and while no one had yet been hurt, there had been enough close calls that many of the students were also ready to abandon the school.

“And then the notes came.” She said.

“Notes?” I inquired.

“Come to my office and I will show you.”

We went back to her office, and she showed me the notes. They had messages like “The Hunter is watching, the children are not safe”, and “The Hunt will start soon, take the children and flee”.

“The hunt? The hunter?’ I asked.

“There is a story that I was told when we were given this place, that a man once used this property as a hunting preserve - and his prey was other people.”

“Surely that cannot be a true story” I exclaimed.

“True or not, it seems to be what the writer is referring to.” she said.

“The bigger question is why send these notes? To further frighten you, or to aid you?” I mused.

“Aid me?”

“I recall a case where a woman tried to warn a victim indirectly, being afraid of what would happen to him, but also afraid to act more obviously.”

“You then believe this is the case with our letter writer?” she asked.

“I feel certain that Mr. Holmes would not want us to discount it, at least not yet. But I also feel he would find it premature to make such an assumption at this point.”

“And as he is not here, we must do our best to emulate him.” she replied with a smile.

I nodded, and then I thought for a moment, then added, “Speaking of Holmes, I have an idea. Tomorrow night, make an announcement that Holmes will be coming in a day or two.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because we may be able to upset our foe, make them feel their time is running out to accomplish whatever it is they are trying to accomplish. They then may make a mistake, and give us a chance to catch them.”

“That sounds good. Now, what can we have you teach tomorrow?” She inquired.

“I could talk about the British Afghan campaign.” I suggested.

“I believe that would be acceptable.” She replied, “For now, try and get some sleep, and we’ll arrange a classroom in the morning.”

Sadly, we would have to make other plans. Whether my arrival played a part we did not know, but the “hunter” struck again that very night ...

As things turned out, it was lucky that I had not taken off anything that would reveal I wasn’t a woman, before I heard the scream.

As a result, it didn’t take me long to reach the screamer, a girl named Alvena Hicks. She was standing over the abused remains of one of the dogs who patrolled the grounds at night, and while she had stopped screaming, she had started sobbing loudly.

I managed to steer her to the infirmary while the Headmistress got the girls who had also responded to her screams to go back to bed. I examined Alvena, and as she did not seem physically hurt but simply in shock, I arranged for her to get a strong cup of tea with a few drops of alcohol in it and go to bed herself.

I had just completed that task when the Headmistress came with an older woman, saying, “This is Kristine Marstand, who, along with her husband, handles the dogs for us. He has a place just outside the grounds.”

“Terrible thing was done to that poor dog, Ma’am” Kristine said, “Did that girl see who did it?”

“Not clearly,” I replied, “She described a shadowed creature that stood on two legs like a man, but she also says it had a lion’s mane.”

“A lion’s mane?” murmured the Headmistress, “I recall a story of Hercules. He killed some special lion, and then wore its skin as protection.”

“Sounds more likely than a man-lion monster.” I replied.

The Headmistress smiled, and then said to Kristine, “Please let us know if there is anything we can do to assist in regards to that poor dog.”

“Thank you, Ma’am, but since the poor beast is outside the main building, my husband can retrieve it without violating the school’s policy.” Kristine replied, and then added, “speaking of skinning, that’s just about what the poor dog looks like.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“My husband’s dad was the dog man on this estate when Mr. Grimwood himself owned the place, and I came over all the time. Mad about hunting, he was, used the dogs for fox hunting and the like. Had all manner of skins as trophies, gone now, probably for the best, not the best environment for your girls Ma’am. Died in Africa chasing more wild beasts, he did, or so I heard. My man was grateful when the trustees said they would keep him on, after the old man died without an heir, so long as he never entered the main house, which he never had much anyway.”

“Well, give him our gratitude.” the Headmistress replied.

Kristine curtsied and left us.

Isabel turned to me, and said, “You should try and get some sleep. We are going to not let this incident prevent us from giving the girls their lessons.”

I nodded, made an attempt at a curtsy, and left.

It was only after I returned to my room that the full scale of my failure hit me. I was here as Holmes’ eyes and ears, and yet I had done no examination of the dog nor of the surroundings. I felt certain that Holmes would have learned a great deal about our “hunter” and I had not only failed to find those hints, I had not even looked.

I fell asleep praying that my failure would not end up being a costly one ...

I got up early enough to make sure I would be presentable for breakfast and then went to join the other teachers at the main table.

Of course the previous night’s event was the main topic of conversation, as well as a more in depth introduction of myself to the others.

Once breakfast was over, the headmistress asked me to come to her office. Once there, she said, “I’m sending the notes to Mr. Holmes, because we got another one this morning.”

She handed me a note that simply said, “The Hunt is on, I’m sorry.”

I sighed, and said “I fear this means our time is limited if we wish to find this Hunter before one of the girls gets hurt.”

The headmistress replied, “I think you’re right. Heaven help us.”

****
I will mostly pass over my time in the classroom, other than to say my students seemed to enjoy my account of the Afghan war, more so than one might expect a group of girls would be.

When I wasn’t in charge of the girls, I spent the day helping the others, or escorting girls so no one would have to be alone.

Perhaps because of this precaution, no signs of trouble were detected during the day, and we reached the supper hour without incident. Then, Kristine Marstand came to me and asked me to come to the kennel, because her husband had found some information for me.

I went to the kennel, and there were two men there, for not only did I see before me a large man I assumed to be Kristine’s husband, but beside him was none other than ...

“Holmes!” I cried.

Holmes replied, “It is good to see you, Mrs. Watson.”

I blushed, and remembered my cover, and said to Kristine and her husband “Mr. Holmes was a good friend of my late husband.”

“Indeed,” Replied Holmes, “And when your headmistress told me of the goings-on here, I sent out some inquiries. And I discovered that the previous owner of this estate had a son.”

“How can that be, Mr. Holmes?” asked Kristine’s husband, “I was a lad here then, and he never married that I know of.”

“He didn’t marry here,” replied Holmes, “but he did have a child while in Africa. What’s more, my sources say all traces of this child were lost a few years ago.”

“So what are you thinking, Holmes?” I asked.

“I dislike making theories without facts. I only came to reassure you that I have not forgotten this problem, even as I have been working on my other case.”

“Does this mean you will not be staying?” I asked, trying to keep my disappointment from showing in my voice.

“No, I cannot,” he replied, “I’ve managed to only get away from my other case for a few hours, long enough to tell you what I had found and to examine the corpse of the attacked dog. I must return without delay.”

“What shall I tell the headmistress?” I asked.

“Tell her to take whatever precautions she is able to. And I will come when I can. Oh you can also tell her the notes were written by a woman, or more likely a girl. ” he replied, and then he nodded to Kristine and her husband and took his leave of us.

Kristineoffered to escort me back to the school, but I said, “That would have you returning on your own. I’ll manage.”

I bid them both goodbye and walked back to the main house. But about halfway there I distinctly heard a girl crying somewhere in the bushes, and turned to investigate. I called out as I approached the bushes, but instead of a response the crying cut off, and I heard someone running away.

I was going to pursue but stopped when I realized that on the ground in front of me was a girl’s skirt and blouse, the same color as the uniforms worn by the students. I must admit that I was so taken aback that I lost all sense of which direction the fleeing person had gone.

Not knowing what else to do, I picked up the clothes and made my way back to the main house, and took them to the headmistress. I told her about what Holmes had told me, as well as what had happened to me on the way back, and she said, “That was rather foolish of you. This so-called ‘hunter’ could have been there.”

“So could have one of your students. And I did find these” I replied, showing her the clothes.

“My goodness. Those look like two of the items that some of our students and staff have claimed to be stolen since the start of our troubles!” She exclaimed.

“I remember you mentioning the loss of clothing as part of your issues. So these were not the only items missing?”

“Oh yes. The teacher you are replacing, Grace Brooks, claimed her main reason for leaving was the number of clothing items stolen from her.” the headmistress said.

“Strange.” I replied.

“I agree,” She said, “But regardless, I am going to make an announcement that we should expect Sherlock Holmes any day, as we discussed.”

“Excellent,” I replied.

“I only wish it was truly the case. My feeling is things will only get worse.” she said with a sigh.

****

So it was that the next morning the headmistress made the announcement to the girls, who were much relieved, so that my secret hope that the writer of the notes (who I was convinced was one of the students) was dashed.

This only added to my frustration in terms of my attempts to unravel this mystery. Holmes had done more while in London working another case, than I had accomplished being here.

So then I decided that I would drop the pretense of being a teacher, although I would not reveal that I was really a man.

Because I didn’t want to blindside the headmistress, I went to her office after breakfast and told her my plans, and she said “I’m unsure, but hopefully it will be for the best.”

***
So later that morning, when the girls came to me, I confessed I was an agent of Holmes, and we discussed the case. One of the girls said, “I’m sure whoever it is has been using the secret passages.”

“Secret passages?” I asked.

“Sure. my family’s home is like this place, and it has a whole set of secret passages. They were made for the servants, so they didn’t bump into the family while doing their jobs.”

“My family home has those too,” another girl added, and we have a tunnel that goes from inside the house to a bolt hole in the grounds too. First time I saw the old guardhouse here I thought it might have one.”

“Old guardhouse?” I enquired.

“Sure. Here is a map they gave us of the grounds” she said and pulled out a piece of paper from her books, “here is the main house, over there is the kennels, the stables, and the homes of most of the outside workers. But here,” she said, and pointed to a spot on the map, “here is the old guardhouse.”

I looked at the map, and pointed to a spot near where she had indicated, saying “What’s that?”

“That’s where the head groundskeeper lived,” she replied, “he left near the start of our troubles, we figured he got scared away.”

A thought came to me, and I said, “You girls want to help me find out?”

The girls smiled and me, and all of them nodded.

****

I knew I was taking a risk in revealing my status as a friend of Holmes, and perhaps a bigger one in getting the girls to help me, but I was tired of accomplishing so little, and I felt sure that in a large group we were reasonably safe.

As we approached the old guardhouse I realized we were very close to the spot I had found the clothes the night before, and I ordered the girls to stay close to me.

The old guardhouse was not large and looked like it could fall apart. It reminded me of my own state after I had come home from the Afghan war before I met Holmes - an old soldier in dire need of repair.

We opened it up, and we could see there was a tunnel leading back into the house.

Before I took the role of a woman, I would have run inside, down the tunnel, fearless in pursuit of this ‘hunter’. But perhaps taking on the role of a woman, or perhaps because I had the students with me, I hesitated, wondering what the right thing to do was.

Then I looked at the girls, saw they were determined to see this through and decided to forge ahead. I sent two of the girls back to the school to tell the headmistress what we were about to do, and then led the rest of the students into the guardhouse, and to the tunnel within.

We hit a stroke of luck at the beginning in that there was clearly one main path back toward the house, and it was clear it had been in use by this “hunter”.

And as we went down the passage, I was determined that they would become the hunted instead ...

We came out in a larder near the kitchens, and no sooner than my eyes began to adjust to the brighter light I heard a scream coming from not far away. I rushed towards the sound and saw one of the kitchen girls, and she was pointing to a figure in the shadow on the other side of the room.

The figure stepped towards us, and if it were not for her skin tone, which was a rich coffee-with-cream color, I would have believed she was one of the students.

“I stopped him” she said, “You’re all safe. I’ve killed the hunter.”

She then toppled forward, and I saw blood flowing from both her wrists ...

****

I rushed the girl to the school’s infirmary while sending a couple of the girls to find the headmistress. By the time she arrived at the infirmary, I had stabilized the girl, and the headmistress arranged transport to the nearest hospital.

That is where Holmes joined us, several hours later. I and the headmistress had chosen to remain at the hospital, and shortly before Holmes has arrived we had been informed that the girl would survive, but her care would be transferred to the psychiatric wing.

“This case will not need to go into your chronicles, Watson” Holmes said upon arrival, “Since I was hardly needed at all, other than perhaps supply some details you missed in solving the matter.”

“You’re saying it’s over, Mr. Holmes?” the headmistress asked, “That yonder poor girl was behind all the trouble? “

“Yes,” He replied, “And I can provide you with proof. On my way here I took a moment to stop at the school grounds, and I found this in the gardener’s residence.” He then handed over a large book and added, “You will find the pages are the same type as the notes you received, and it’s written in the same hand. I shall give it to the doctors here, perhaps it will help them treat that poor soul.”

I sat in silence as the headmistress flipped through the pages of the book, and finally she said, “What a terrible thing. She was trapped between extremes in terms of her heritage and her gender. Trapped between Africa and England. Trapped between male and female. No wonder she finally broke.”

“Indeed,” replied Holmes. “However, perhaps the doctors here will be able to help her. Regardless, your school is now safe, so I’m afraid I must take back the good Mrs. Watson, unless she plans to leave her former life behind?”

I stood, and said,”No. It has been a ... unique adventure, but I shall return to being my former self.”

I said goodbye to the headmistress and asked her to give my regards to the girls for me, and then went with Holmes back to London. On our way, I asked Holmes, “I didn’t think of it at the time, but I wonder how the girl knew the servant's passages and the tunnel to the gardener's house. Do you have a solution?”

He replied, “In the book I found, there was a map of the estate, including the tunnel and secret passages. It’s not in her hand, so I cannot be certain of its origin, but I believe it was given to her by a personal aide of her father’s after her father’s death. It seems that her father had a plan to bring her back to the estate, a plan she followed through on after his passing”

I nodded, and we finished our return to London in silence. Once there, we stopped at the theater and I left behind my female attire and attitudes, returning to my former male self..

Once I put away the notes I had made about the case, I tried my best to put the whole thing behind me and Holmes never mentioned it again. But my brief time as a woman would come back to my mind, and even after I married, I would find myself wondering about the gulf between the sexes. I found myself feeling a strong empathy for the girl at the center of the case, feeling that I had something in common with her struggle between a male and female side.

So finally I had decided to write the adventure out, and give it to my wife, hoping for her understanding.

And all I will say of her response is that I received more grace than I thought possible ...

Dr. John Watson, July 25, 1915.

End.