The Magpie & The Raven

f o u r

By the time her train arrived into London station Calliope could feel the anxiety brewing just under her skin, like it might burst out at any second. Her hands shook as they twisted in her lap, her breath came in short, and all she could think was how disappointed her Uncle would be in how she presented herself today.

  First impressions are important, Mary.

He would always use her first name, he deemed it only proper. God given.

Calliope's suitcase became a stress reliever, something to clutch and pick at as she stepped onto the platform and began to scan the crowd for her Uncle. London was as busy and dirty as she remembered. Smoke from the train curled up towards the ceiling of the covered platform, similar clouds of smog could already be seen rising high from the factory's in the distance, the platform was filled with passengers and porters, bustling to and fro. Men and children alike shouted their adverts in the hope people might stop and buy from them, the entrance alone was half taken up by vendors and boys selling newspaper's for six pence or less.

Everything was a competition here, everyone jostling for a spot in it all.

In the end her Uncle found her first. Calliope had just knocked into a man with a bowler hat, frantically looking about the station, and had just been about to ask if he needed help, fearing he may have lost a child or some such family member, when her Uncle had strode over and grasped her arm so tight and quick Calliope nearly dropped her case.

Then, without a word, began marching her out to their carriage. People sent looks their way, likely wondering what the well known Lord was doing with someone who looked as she did. Calliope followed without complaint, head ducked in shame and worry still gnawing at her stomach.

When they reached the carriage her Uncle didn't even have to lift a finger or utter a word before the footman was taking her case from her, stowing it safely and opening the door to allow them in all in the same breath. Breathing a quiet thank you to the man, Calliope let her uncle usher her into the carriage where she sat, tucked into the far corner. Making herself as small as possible would often divert her Uncle's attention, like if she was small and neat enough  about herself he would simply cease to see her.

Then her Uncle stepped in, rapped twice on the roof and they were off.

At first the ride was silent and Calliope thought maybe she'd been lucky enough that her plan of shrinking herself down to nothing in the corner had worked. She was wrong.

"You're a very lucky girl, you are aware of that aren't you?" His voice was cool, and all consuming.

Calliope only nods.

"Aren't you, Mary?" He persists, slightly less cool now but filling the space all the same.

She glanced up then, surveying her Uncle but careful not to make eye contact. He hasn't changed much; still tall and strong and reserved even in his aging, with neatly styled hair and a clean shaven face, gloves at all times but no cane in sight her Uncle represents all the organisation she fought against with her simple dresses, gardening and loose hair. She knew her fight would near enough be over now she was here again.

"Yes, Uncle."She responds quietly, fixing her gaze on his lappeles, close enough to show she was paying attention but not so much as to dare making eye contact.

"And you were fortunate that I allowed you this ridiculous position at the Holmes' hall, were you not?" Calliope nods again, "Then my disappointment when you present yourself as some common grounds woman shouldn't surprise you. i agreed because it was Mycroft Holmes assuring me you would not slip into such behavior, but I can only believe he is as disappointed as me and, quite honestly, it shocks me that you did not receive an earlier notice of termination. However, to return home wearing- this! Is unacceptable behaviour, we do not keep such common company."

"I am a common grounds woman. It's my job." She murmurs, unsure what else she can input bar this simple truth.

"Not anymore!" He finally breaks, his voice rising in anger, "You are my ward and that is all. That is all I can trust you to be."

"Can- Can't I try and find a job... here?" Even as she asks calliope knows her hopes are about to be dashed into the mud from the tightening of his jaw and the flexing of his hands.

"No."

"but I-"

"This is not up for discussion. You will do as you are told, that is your job. It would do you well to remember that."

Calliope can't help the tears welling up in her eyes at the loss of not only her home at Ferndell but also her plants. She loves the green open spaces, the soil between her fingers, the soft and gentle process of bringing a sapling, a seed to life. And will miss it dearly.

That hurts more than when her Uncle grabs her chin, twisting and pulling at her face to look at him. His eyes honing in on the crusted blood and surrounding bruising on her lower lip. His fingers tighten.

"What did you do, stupid girl?"

"I just- there was a low hanging branch and I didn't see-"

"Well thank the Heaven's for small mercies!" He drops her chin then, leaving her head hanging suddenly unsure of herself, "This family doesn't need any more humiliation. Let alone the embarrassment that you would bring upon us should Mr Holmes have tired enough of your presence to strike you."

Calliope has nothing to say in response, although she knows he is wrong and every time he comes out with such a statement it brings a hot flush of anger to her veins, he Uncle is one man she can't stand against. She simply doesn't know how.

They travel the majority of the journey in a stony silence, Calliope resigned to watching the painfully familiar twists and turns of London's roads. She tries to ignore her Uncle's gaze on her, picking her apart much the same way she picks, guiltily at the threads of Sherlock's handkerchief where she'd tied it around her wrist. It was almost as calming as the man himself.

Finally, when the carriage pulls to a stop outside the cold frontier of her Uncle's house, he turns towards her. She knows not to get out of the carriage without his permission. So she sits and waits.

"You will work whilst you are here. You will watch the house, you will help the cook, you will return to your studies, your harp, and you will do as you are told. Understand?"

"Yes, Uncle."

He nods once, a sharp jerk of the head, "There is a ball tonight, at the Tewksbury Estate. We shall reintroduce you to society there, Mrs Bell will help you dress. I will also have her go through your case, have her throw out the other useless garments you brought back with you."

"Mrs Bell's still here?" Calliope tries, tentatively hopeful at the mention of her childhood nursemaid and only glimmer of kindness she knew before going to Ferndell.

"Yes. She is the housekeeper now, and you are to do as she asks too."

"Yes, Uncle." Calliope murmurs through the smile threatening to break its way out of her. Maybe there was some light to be found here afterall.

With another short, sharp nod her Uncle opened the carriage door and let's her out to face the cold, shining facade of Watson House. Calliope Watson had hoped she would never feel this small ever again.