The Case Of The Left-Handed Lady - Plot & Excerpts
“Dr. John Watson, M.D.” I spoke the name aloud to assure myself I was seeing it rightly, for I could not believe that this, of all persons, should be the very first client to enter the newly opened – January, 1889 – office of London’s – and, indeed, the world’s – only Scientific Perditorian. Dr. John Watson? John was a common enough name, but Watson? And a medical doctor? It had to be, but still I did not wish to believe it. “Is it who I think it is, Joddy?” “ ’Ow wud I know, m’lady?” “Joddy, I have told you before, you are to address me as Miss Meshle. Miss Meshle.” I rolled my eyes, but what could one expect of a boy whose mother had named him Jodhpur (misspelled Jodper in the parish registry) because riding breeches sounded genteel to her? It was Joddy’s awe of my ruffles and puffed sleeves that made him call me “lady,” but he mustn’t, or people would start asking questions. I wanted the page-boy to retain his awe, which kept him from realising I was actually a mere girl not much older than he, but I wanted him to cease and desist the “m’lady.”
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