Sherlock Holmes Housekeeper Novels & Stories

I pause, and run my fingers through my hair to tidy it before slipping into a simple jacket and head to the door. My fluffy slippers make soft shuffling sounds against the floor as I approach the door. Opening it, I find a kindly–faced woman standing there, dressed in a simple floral boubou. “Hello, Miss White,” she greets with a bow and warm smile. “I’m your new housekeeper , ma'am. I am employed to cook, clean, wash, do your laundry… just make things easier for you.” The woman explains. I blink in surprise, my wolf instantly alert. Allister never mentioned hiring anyone.

The number was unfamiliar, an Evercrest code, but not saved to my contacts. “Who’s calling?” Elijah asked. “I’m not sure.” I swiped to answer. “Hello?” A female voice spoke on the other end, rushed and trembling. “Madam, this is Mrs. Longman, Mr. Rothchild’s housekeeper.” My heart stuttered. “Mrs. Longman?”

Don’t get lost. By the time she went downstairs, the house was quiet except for faint clattering sounds from the kitchen. She followed them. Mrs. Helen, the older housekeeper, was struggling to reach the top shelf to get a jar of honey. Camilla smiled faintly and walked over. “Let me help,” she said softly, grabbing it with ease and setting it on the counter. The woman chuckled. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself, madam. That’s what we are here for.” Camilla shook her head. “You make this place feel like home. The least I can do is help.”

Edward’s POV My hand moved to her smoothly, instinctively. I wanted to caress her head. She smelled good, as though lavender. I pushed the stray strands off her beautiful face. Suddenly, John’s face appeared in my mind to scatter and burn the tiny sympathy. Walking out, I faced Huxley’s twinkling eyes. Was he excited to hear something? We strode out, and I saw the new housekeeper they hired. This woman was in her early thirties and seemed humble. I could not bear bully wenches around Elenore. Only I could do whatever I wanted to her.

Seraphina cared for me, but I never imagined she would still be kind after everything that had happened, after the rushed marriage, the whispers, the shame. For a brief moment, hope flickered. After freshening up, hunger finally pushed me out of the room. My steps were slow as I made my way downstairs, following the faint clatter of plates. In the dining area, I saw a woman in her fifties arranging cutlery with practiced efficiency. “Good morning,” I said politely. “Who are you?” She turned quickly, startled. “Good morning, ma. I’m Mrs. Whitmore, the new housekeeper.”

Instead, I paused at the last step, frowning as a soft clatter echoed from the dining room. A woman—maybe mid-fifties—stood near the table, placing down a tray of toast. She looked up at me just as I opened my mouth to speak. "Oh! Good morning, dear." Her voice was warm, her smile even warmer. "You must be Luna." I blinked, my brow raising. "Uh, yeah. And you are...?" "Alice. The new housekeeper. Mr. Hardin hired me. Today's my first day." Housekeeper? I hadn't even gotten over the fact that Hardin had actually comforted me last night, and now this?

"What family secrets would you like to know, Miss Smith?" Keisha beat her teeth down and glared at Grace who had on the most innocent smile on her face. With a smile that was definitely forced, Keisha turned around slowly to face the housekeeper, Mrs Patterson. She was a gigantic woman with blonde tresses that were constantly tied in an impeccable bun; something they were all required to do. It had dawned on Keisha from the first day she had set her eyes on the housekeeper, that she was definitely a perfectionist and it was no use to attempt to match her knack for perfecting everything she laid her hands on.

She had fallen deep asleep on the table while she was jotting things down, and the sudden sound of a thud in her room had jolted her awake. “ I'm so sorry to have woken you up, ma'am,” she heard the voice of a woman behind her, and turned to see the unfamiliar woman, standing and smiling at her. Eloise stood up with a wrinkled forehead, “ Good morning, sorry please, who are you?” she asked the woman who seemed to be in her late forties, “ Hi Mrs Eloise, I am Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper.” “ Oh,” Eloise mouthed and bowed slightly, “ Good morning,”

I made my way toward the stairs, but I had barely taken a few steps when one of the housekeepers hurried toward me. "Sir?" I stopped and looked at her. Her expression was unusually worried. She was the head housekeeper and also been the one in charge of most things most of the times we were not around. "What is it?" She hesitated before speaking. "Sir, what about Madam? I hope she's fine?" My brows furrowed. "Why are you asking?" She clasped her hands together nervously, taking in a deep breath biting her lower lips. "The other day, I cleaned blood off the floor. It was quite much and it just just in one area and not splattered."

Someone drove to pick it up far away, and KrisTinaen Oliver recognized it as the housekeeper of the island at a glance. It's over. He knows himself. KrisTinaen Oliver hurriedly put on sunglasses to avoid being recognized. Unexpectedly, the housekeeper didn't expose her either. 'EthanMr. Wharton, Miss Healey, the manor is ready.' KrisTinaen Oliver was relieved and winked at the housekeeper behind her back. The housekeeper responded with a little smile and didn't say much. After returning to the manor, only by listening to Anna Garcia's loud admiration did she show the luxury of the manor, with all kinds of flowers in her eyes. It can't be overstated to say that it is full of flowers.