Sherlock Holmes Housekeeper の小説・ストーリー

After bathing and washing my hair, I got dressed, dried my hair, and put on some lotion, which makes me nauseated, but I still wear them anyway because I ain’t no way I’ll be walking around dry and ashy as hell. Just as I was applying my lip gloss, I heard knocking on my door and a message ping. I check my text first……. My new housekeeper is here. Yeah… I finally got one. Thanks to Keisha. I slowly stood up from my vanity chair and walked carefully to the door. I opened it, and was met by a middle-aged woman probably in her early fifties, with dark hair, pale skin, and average height. “Miss Ann?”, I asked.

Then something moved. A shadow. Behind the door. And then— “AHHH!” I screamed as a figure stepped into view. A woman. Tall. Elegant. Wearing black. I stumbled back, heart in my throat. “W-Who the hell are you?!” She didn’t flinch. Just lifted a brow like I was the intruder. “I’m the housekeeper,” she said smoothly. Her voice had the softness of velvet, but her tone? Icy. “And you must be… the new Mrs. Blake.”

she said. “Excellent,” Ethan said as he sighed in relief. The housekeeper disappeared up the stairs as the Cook went back to the kitchen. Pleased now that there is at least a form of progress, Ethan proceeded to take a sip from his coffee. “You wanted to see me,” Alice said behind Ethan. He did not expect her to arrive so early; he hadn’t even finished his small cup of coffee! Anyway, Ethan is beyond impressed. He ought to do something nice for that housekeeper for being so efficient, he thought, but then she is only doing her job.

Seeing what he did to Sophia, and the fact that she was so young, made me sicker than I expected. The doorbell gonged through the house, clearly set loud enough to be heard on all floors, and the butler I’d learned was named Palmer hurried to open it. He’d been handling the domestic staff during these last few days, and he was the one I had to thank for the Mansion being as clean as it currently was. I got the sense cops could come through with a blacklight, and I’d be able to smile as I waved them away with no evidence. Palmer opened the door, had a quick conversation, and then led in a muscular woman with straw-colored hair I remembered from the Haven’s renovation over the summer.

I felt like a lamb walking into a lion's den. The massive front doors opened, and a woman stepped out. She was severe-looking, with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun and a uniform that looked military-crisp. "You are late," she clipped out. "Traffic," Henri said simply, grabbing my bags from the trunk. The woman turned her sharp gaze on me. "I am Mrs. Higgins, the Housekeeper. Come. Monsieur Aurelien is waiting for you in the sunroom." I followed her inside. The foyer was grand enough to fit my entire parents' house inside it. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and art that looked centuries old lined the walls.

I opened the door and saw a woman in her forties or fifties. “Hi. You are—?” “I’m the housekeeper for the scheduled cleaning.” I nodded and stepped aside to let the housekeeper in. As I was sitting on the couch watching TV, suddenly, a scream came from upstairs. I rushed into the bedroom. The panicked housekeeper looked at me. Next to her feet was a broken photo frame. This was Bishop’s bedroom, so the framed photo— I guessed it was probably a photo of him and his mother when he was a child.

This place was home. I wandered down the hall, hearing low murmurs and laughter and the occasional gasp of, “Would you look at this bathroom?” I finally spotted Mrs. Greaves, the head housekeeper, standing just outside her suite. Her suitcase sat untouched beside her as she ran her fingers along the embroidered edge of the quilt like she was trying to convince herself it was real. “Everything alright?” I asked gently, stepping up behind her. She turned around fast, like she was caught doing something she shouldn’t, and blinked at me through watery eyes.

“Perfect.” “Don’t give me that look. Tee, what was that about? Me finally having a woman in my life?" Immediately we enter the study and the doors shut, I raise the question. “I didn't know she was your housekeeper; I wouldn't have made such a remark. She is very attractive and has a great sense of style and humour as well." “And all these you've discovered in the few minutes you arrived? I need to change the door lock combination." “Don’t you like your new housekeeper?"

The woman, however, shakes her head and says, "You can't not have anything. Let me get you a glass of water at least." I try to decline the offer, not wanting to trouble the housekeeper further, but her persuasive tone and warm smile convince me otherwise. "Thank you, that would be very kind." The housekeeper nods and excuses herself, disappearing down the hallway to fetch the water. Left alone once again, I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings. The grand mansion exudes an air of old-world charm, with its antique furniture, intricate tapestries, and polished hardwood floors. Each room seems to have its own story to tell, and I find myself captivated by the tales that resonate withi

There was just one thing I was here for and that was to kill the Alpha King. The house keeper was a very old lady with grey hair wearing the normal house keeper outfit worn by all house keepers of the pack. But hers was more regal. While every other one wore shorter gowns, this house keeper wore a long gown that made her look like those housekeepers from the nineteenth century. She looked to be in her late fifty's or early sixties and at the sight of her, I absolutely adored her. I smiled even before she took notice of us. We stood in front of her table. The guard explained who we were and her face suddenly lit up. Her joyful aura filled the air and even lightened up my mood a little.