Esme had been working in St James Street for just over a week.  She had seen a number of different people come and go, but so far her life had been rather less interesting than the one she had experienced at 221B Baker Street.  So when the butler informed her there would be a dinner that evening, and it would be necessary for her to keep her wits about her, she was rather excited.

The three gentlemen arrived separately, and Esme served them with drinks in the drawing room.  One of the gentlemen looked vaguely familiar to her, but she hadn’t recognised any of their names, so despite her curiosity she behaved as if they were complete strangers.

It was not long before dinner was served and the three went into the dining room.  Esme went too, as the butler had told her she would be required to serve whilst he poured the wine.  She listened carefully to the conversation as she served the soup, and then the main course, but it was of a very general nature.  She presumed the discussion would become more interesting once she and the butler had left the room.

When the butler judged it would be time to return to clear the plates, Esme followed him back.  The dining room was very warm, and as soon as she entered the room, Esme realised there was a problem.

Accordingly, when she bent down to collect the plate of the gentleman she thought she recognised, she said very quietly, “Mr Holmes, your beard is coming loose at one side.”  Then she straightened up, and continued in a normal voice, “I trust everything was to your satisfaction, sir.”

“Yes, thank you,” Holmes replied.  “But I fear I am a little warm.  Would you gentlemen excuse me if I were to step outside for a few minutes to cool down?”

The other two gentlemen nodded, and seemed pleased they would have the time to themselves.  Holmes left the room, followed by Esme and the butler with the plates.

As soon as they were away from the dining room door, the butler said, “Go and help him.  You have ten minutes before we shall need to serve the dessert.”

Esme hurried off.  She ran upstairs, and Holmes called her from one of the bedrooms.

“You will need to glue the beard back on,” Holmes said.  He produced a small bottle of spirit gum from his pocket and passed it over.

Esme felt slightly uneasy at touching Holmes’ face, but then she remembered helping Mrs Hudson clean the scratches on Holmes’ face, on one occasion when Dr Watson had been elsewhere.  Then they had been using surgical spirit and Mrs Hudson’s instruction was ‘just make sure he doesn’t set fire to anything’.  Esme moved the candle a little further away, before applying the glue to Holmes’ face and then firmly pressing the beard back on.

Holmes looked at himself in the mirror, said “Excellent, thank you,” and returned downstairs.

Esme watched him go and followed about a minute later.  It would be important no-one saw them together.

The rest of the evening passed without a hitch, and all three gentlemen departed shortly after eleven o’clock.  About fifteen minutes later Mycroft Holmes arrived.  He was just removing his overcoat when there was a knock on the door.  The butler opened it, and Sherlock Holmes entered.

Mycroft looked closely at him.  “You weren’t recognised?” he asked.

“Not at all, although Esme had to glue part of my beard back on midway through the meal,” Holmes laughed.

Mycroft sighed, then turned to Esme.  “Thank you my dear, your help is proving invaluable.  If you could provide coffee for us in the drawing room that will be all we shall need for tonight.”

She did as instructed, and then retired to bed.  After she had left, Sherlock Holmes confirmed to Mycroft the cabinet minister who had been at the dinner was prepared to sell certain papers to the third man present.

Mycroft pursed his lips.  “Such a shame.  The man had promise, but he will need to be moved.  Still, better we find out now than later.”