Sherlock Holmes Housekeeper Novels & Stories

The housekeeper hesitated for a moment, then cautiously added, “Sir, would you like me to make some soup for your hangover? You were quite drunk last night. Luckily, Mr. Han brought you back safely. Madam took care of you afterward.” Her words were casual, delivered with practiced neutrality, but they held a quiet undertone of concern. She had worked for the Montclair household long enough to observe things others might not. She rarely overstepped, mindful of her boundaries, but she also couldn’t help but worry. The house had felt different lately—warmer, perhaps, in quiet, fleeting ways. She didn't say anything extraneous. After all, she was worried about losing this job. While it was easy

Her face littered with freckles and the biggest smile ever. The woman reminded me of Mrs. Cuthbert from Anne of Green Gables. She wore a white blouse and long black skirt; an apron tied neatly around her waist as she entered a set of keys resting on her hip. Along with her came two armed guards both of whom move to stand by the door. Introducing herself to me, I learned her name was Angela. She was the head housekeeper before chasing the guards back outside. Telling them it was inappropriate for them to watch a lady like that. When they try to protest, saying it was direct orders from the Boss does she frown.

She withdrew her gaze and said, "It seems like my circuit breaker tripped. I'm sorry to disturb you so late." Noticing that Josephine wasn't intending to come in, the housekeeper felt relieved. "It's okay. You can call the management to fix it." "I got it. I just moved here and am not familiar with this place yet. Do you live here, Madam? We're neighbors now." "No, no, I work as a housekeeper here. I'm not the owner." Josephine nodded in understanding. She glanced at the sign next to her. "Then, is Mr. Leigh at home?"

He asked. “Connection–our connection is quite interesting because I'm – I’m your housekeeper!” She hollered, but that didn't feel right. My housekeeper? But how could I not recognize her, or even Meredith? “I don't believe it, so why don't you prove it?” I blurted.

"And Mr Haswell. He lives here too?" "He's my husband. Of course he lives here." "So, you're not here in the role of say, a housekeeper? You say you have access to the house office?" My head's beginning to spin. "This is my home. Yes, I have access to the office. And no, there's already a housekeeper. At least…" I stumble over my words… "… there was a housekeeper." "There was a housekeeper? Where is she now?" "She was dismissed."

“Mr. Aslan hasn’t left his room at all. I haven’t seen him.” Skylar furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? Aslan’s room is tidy. Didn’t you tidy it up?” Upon hearing that, the housekeeper shook her head. “I haven’t tidied up Mr. Aslan’s room at all. He hasn’t left his room, so I didn’t want to disturb him.” Skylar’s previously calm expression suddenly changed upon hearing the housekeeper’s explanation. “Are you sure Aslan hasn’t left his room?”

There were so many things I could have done differently to avoid this situation, but now, I was right where I should never be in the first place. There was a knock on my bedroom door, and I knew that it was my housekeeper even before I went to open the door. “What is it?” I asked her impatiently. I already said I didn’t want to be disturbed, so I could not understand why she was coming back to my room again today. “Sir, it is almost time for lunch and you haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday,” she said calmly and worriedly. She was a middle-aged woman who was excellent at her job. Ivy could never have picked the right candidate if I had left it to her and believed her judgment. Just o

This crystal hair clip was hers! "There you are, Ms. Joyner!" Sage was still reeling in from the shock when a housekeeper pushed the door open and walked in. "Sandy has been looking for you everywhere. Who would've known that you were hiding in the small cabinet under the desk? No wonder Sandy couldn't find you!" Noticing her silence, the housekeeper asked once more, "What's wrong, Ms. Joyner? What are you looking at?" Sage figured the housekeeper would be familiar with the ins and outs of Holcomb Manor since she had been working here for many years. So, she pointed to the desk and asked, "Do you know who used this desk?"

Blaine looked back at the housekeeper. Maybe it was just a mannerism. Some domestic staff always found it difficult to maintain eye contact with their bosses, although it did not make sense why her eyes only strayed to that window spot instead of anywhere else. “And?” he prodded, urging her to continue with the story. “She never returned.” Blaine frowned, “What do you mean she never returned?” The housekeeper shook her head, “She never came back to tell me whether the new mistress needed anything or not.” She frowned, looking down at her hands for the first time, and Blaine could clearly see she was hesitating.

The cramped apartments and the dirty streets and the men in suits who beat me in the hallway—all of it is lost in the glitter. A woman appears at the top of the staircase. She is Beta, middle-aged, her gray hair pulled back in a neat bun. She wears a simple black uniform and an expression of professional neutrality. "Miss Vale?" She descends the stairs with practiced grace. "I'm Mrs. Hartley, the housekeeper. Mr. Draven asked me to show you to your rooms." "Our rooms?" "Yours and your sister's." She glances at Emery, and her expression softens, just slightly. "There's a bedroom prepared for the little one. It's adjacent to yours."