The Devil's Due

by Bonnie MacBird

  ‘No! He did not die!’ cried Holmes. ‘Just someone in his clothes!’

  ‘Are you sure about your brother, sir? What is the matter with you? Dr Watson, what is the matter with him?’

  ‘Where is Lady Eleanor now?’ screamed Holmes in a voice I hardly recognized, as he lurched towards the umbrella stand.

  ‘At her home. I just told you!’ said Lestrade, deeply alarmed at what appeared to be a mental breakdown.

  ‘Mycroft is not dead,’ said Holmes with certainty.

  I was growing less certain by the minute.

  Lestrade looked at me, his concern palpable. ‘Doctor, is he … coherent? The body is clearly Mycroft. I suppose an autopsy may furnish more—’

  Holmes swayed, and Heffie and I moved closer to him. I touched his arm. ‘No!’ shouted Holmes and he broke free from the two of us, rushing to the landing just outside the sitting-room door. He grabbed his coat that we had replaced on the rack and began struggling with it. I moved closer to him.

  ‘At least tell me where you are going, Holmes,’ I said softly, fully intending to follow him.

  ‘The Baker Street Bazaar,’ he said. ‘The message from Mycroft. “The bizarre on your road. The sun at its highest,” it said. The Baker Street Bazaar at noon. Do you see? He will be waiting for me.’

  His eyes registered something behind me at the same time I heard a noise on the stairs. I turned. There was Lady Eleanor, just below us.

  ‘Lady Eleanor,’ murmured Holmes, weakly.

  ‘Oh, Mr Holmes, thank God you are here!’ She rushed up the stairs and flung herself into his arms. He embraced her awkwardly, with only one arm working.

  If I had not steadied him and then gently untangled her, I am certain he would have capsized. I took her in hand firmly and held her at arms’ length. She seemed near hysteria.

  ‘There, there, Lady Eleanor,’ I said. ‘You are terribly upset! What brings you here?’

  Holmes backed away, confused, wobbling. I hated for anyone to see him in this state, and stepped between them to block her view. ‘Lady Eleanor, surely you have read of last night’s horrific events? Mr Holmes is exhausted—’

  ‘I read that Mycroft Holmes is dead. Mr Holmes’s brother!’

  ‘He is not dead, Lady Eleanor,’ Holmes said.

  She staggered back in surprise. ‘Mycroft Holmes is not dead?’

  I felt a movement and turned to see Holmes staring at Lady Eleanor. Through the fog of exhaustion and trauma, his eyes were pinned on her.

  ‘The two men the police left to protect me are dead,’ she said. ‘They … I …’

  Lestrade burst onto the landing. ‘Perkins and Mead? Dead! What happened?’

  ‘They were … shot, Mr Lestrade, in front of my eyes!’ said the lady. She seemed partially in shock herself.

  ‘When? By whom?’ rasped Holmes.

  ‘A stranger. A big man. Well dressed!’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just twenty minutes ago. Oh …’ She swooned. I caught her, and Lestrade and I helped her into the sitting-room. I sat her down on the sofa. I glanced back at Holmes, who stood motionless on the landing with a strange expression I could not translate. I gestured for Heffie to look after him. She went to him and took his arm.

  ‘What did this man who shot them look like?’ I said gently to Lady Eleanor. Behind her, Holmes and Heffie lingered on the landing.

  ‘A terrible man. Large, very heavy, well-dressed. Oxbridge voice. I did not know him.’

  My insides turned to ice. What if I had been right about Mycroft Holmes? What if Sherlock Holmes was blind to his own brother’s murderous nature? If I was right …

  I glanced at the landing. Holmes seemed to confer with Heffie. I thought of something.

  ‘Was he wearing shiny shoes?’ I asked. ‘Did he have a double watch chain?’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ the lady said.

  ‘Mycroft Holmes!’ I said.

  ‘Perkins. Mead. My two best men,’ moaned Lestrade. ‘Could it be that Mycroft Holmes killed them?’

  ‘Lady Eleanor, did he say anything? Anything to give you a reason why he was attacking you?’ I implored.

  ‘Yes, he did. Something about “G”. Oh … I feel faint.’

  In an instant, I poured her a brandy and kneeled before her. Lestrade stood ready to help.

  ‘He said … he said …’ She closed her eyes. ‘He said that he was clearing the way to a brighter future. Eliminating the rubbish that had washed up on our shores. He said my school was a false front for criminal activity, and that I must have known. And I would pay for it now.’

  ‘My God!’ Was it possible … Lady Eleanor was the “G” on the list? And Mycroft was the Alphabet Killer!

  ‘I begged him to understand that I knew nothing. I had only recently become aware that my prize student, Judith—’ Lady Eleanor continued, then burst into tears. ‘That … that awful young girl! She fooled us all!’

  ‘Not me,’ said Heffie who had entered silently and now stood across the room with her arms folded. She watched the scene with a kind of strange detachment. Of course, how could a girl like that understand the complexity of this case?

  Where was Holmes? I glanced at the landing but he was gone!

  ‘Holmes?’ I called out. I ran to the landing but I was calling to the wind. I rushed back in.

  ‘The man took out a gun. He was about to shoot me!’ exclaimed Lady Eleanor.

  ‘Excuse me, Dr Watson?’ Heffie said. ‘I got to tell you—’

  ‘Not now, Heffie.’ I turned back to Lady Eleanor. ‘How did you escape?’

  ‘He told me to step away from the front window. So that no one would see. As I did so, Belle ran into the room and attacked the man. He … he fell, and the gun discharged. I ran from the room and came straight here. He may very well be dead on the floor of my sitting-room. But I do not think so.’

  ‘Dr Watson? Mr ’olmes, ’e wanted—’ Heffie started again.

  ‘Heffie, not now!’ I turned back to the lady. ‘Why do you think he is not dead?’ I asked.

  ‘Because I heard a second gunshot on the way out and a scream from dear Belle. I think it likely that my dear cat is dead and … I don’t know … that Mycroft Holmes must still be alive.’

  ‘Then Holmes is in danger,’ I cried. ‘Lestrade!’

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Heffie. ‘Will you, for the love of Pete, listen? Mr Holmes just now asked me to tell you this, Dr Watson.’

  ‘What, Heffie? What?’

  ‘He told me to tell you he is heading down to the Baker Street Bazaar. His brother is there and sent him a secret message to meet him there at noon. He wants you to join him.’

  ‘I know all that!’ Holmes knew that I knew. My worries about his mental state doubled. It seemed certain that he was walking into a trap. But I had no time to ponder it, for at that instant there was a thundering knock at the door downstairs, then a pause … then a sharp crack as it was kicked off its hinges, followed by pounding footsteps up the stairs and Mrs Hudson’s cries of outrage.

  Titus Billings burst into the room with two deputies. Mrs Hudson was on his heels, aghast, furious.

  ‘Sir!’ she cried. ‘Dr Watson, he just—’

  Billings looked around as though he had walked in on the wrong play. ‘Where is Sherlock Holmes?’ he thundered.

  ‘He’s gone!’ cried Lady Eleanor. ‘Have you come to arrest him?’

  ‘I – yes! I have come to arrest Sherlock Holmes for the murder of his brother!’

  ‘Impossible, Billings!’ I exclaimed. ‘Mycroft Holmes is alive!’

  Lady Eleanor turned to him. ‘Are you Mr Titus Billings? The new head of police? Oh, thank heavens! Help me, please! This man is right. Mycroft Holmes is alive. He just tried to kill me!’

  Billings turned to the lady in astonishment. ‘Madam?’

  ‘I am Lady Eleanor Gainsborough,’ said the lady, gathering her wits about her faster than anyone in the room. ‘I am in fear for my life. Please, sir, I beg you. Is there anyw
here safe you can take me? Do not leave me with some random constables, as this man did.’ She gestured dismissively at Lestrade. ‘Mycroft Holmes is on the loose!’

  ‘Why would Mycroft Holmes wish to kill you?’ asked Lestrade. There was no time to explain to him.

  ‘I am on some kind of list!’ she cried. ‘I do not understand it. Some kind of list, along with my husband and other people. The Alphabet something …’

  Billings turned to stare at the lady. ‘Holmes was blathering about that in my office. So, that fool detective, along with his brother, was behind the entire thing!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, the hubris! Obviously, he underestimated Titus Billings.’

  ‘Help me, sir. Take me away. This man—’ she gestured to Lestrade – ‘Mr Holmes asked him to protect me, but he left two policemen, and both are dead—’

  ‘Perkins and Mead,’ said Lestrade at Billings’s sharp look.

  ‘You do not take orders from Sherlock Holmes, Lestrade. You are responsible for the deaths of those two men. You are relieved of duty as of now – permanently.’

  Billings turned to Lady Eleanor. ‘Madam, consider yourself under my personal protection. I shall look after you myself until Mycroft Holmes is locked up. You have my guarantee. Come, I have somewhere you will be safe.’

  I put a hand up to object, but Billings shouted, ‘You! I’ll be dealing with you and Holmes later! Take a step closer and you’ll wind up like your friend.’ The nippers were already in his hand.

  Heffie ran to the top of the stairs and watched them go off. I was torn. I did not trust Billings, his sadism, his need for control, his dubious actions on the case.

  ‘Dr Watson,’ said Heffie. ‘Now they’re gone, Mr ’olmes also asked that Mr Lestrade brings six men as fast as possible down to the Bazaar, but quiet like, no noise at all.’

  Lestrade nodded. ‘I’ll be at the Bazaar with the men shortly.’

  ‘But you have been relieved of duty,’ I said.

  ‘No one will have that heard yet!’

  With a tinge of worry about allowing Lady Eleanor to be carried off by Titus Billings, I knew I had one priority. That was to follow my friend to the Baker Street Bazaar and his meeting with his brother, who could very well be the Alphabet Killer. I ran up to my room, gathered what I needed, and was on the street in a minute, Heffie by my side.

  CHAPTER 30

  The Baker Street Bazaar

  The Baker Street Bazaar, a huge indoor market place, took up an entire block just a few minutes’ walk from 221B. Holmes and I had once ventured there for an exhibition of Chinese porcelain, another time for a horse show, and Mary and I had attended a flower show there. It had also been the home for Madame Tussaud’s eerie collection of wax figures.

  Years ago, the vast main hall had been turned into an artificial ice-skating rink by means of a strange concoction of animal lard and chemicals, with painted Swiss mountains and chalets all around it. It had been a popular destination at Christmas time, safer than skating over the frozen Thames, but nevertheless took a strong stomach, for the stench was said to be fierce. This year promised a Glaciarium, a new method of creating a rink out of real ice, and the attraction was highly anticipated.

  Heffie and I arrived at the main entrance on Baker Street to find it locked, and dark inside. A sign on the door proclaimed ‘The return of Winter Wonderland – Holiday ice skating indoors – on REAL ICE – for the delight of old and young, boys and girls alike’. A smaller sign was added in one corner: ‘Pardon us as the elves and fairies create this Wonderland for you. Closed for preparations. Will open November 30th, 1890.’

  Holmes, I was certain, was already inside. And perhaps his brother as well. Mycroft’s attack on Lady Eleanor made no kind of sense I could fathom, and I had to warn my friend. If my suspicions about his brother were justified, Holmes was in great danger.

  How had Holmes got in? I pressed my face to the glass door, trying to see inside. In the darkness, only a small lobby area was visible. Heffie had an idea and tugged on my sleeve, motioning me to follow her into an alley behind the Bazaar. A fire escape to the first floor had been lowered to the ground, and the window above it was broken.

  Eager to reach my friend, I stopped there and asked Heffie to wait in Baker Street and to warn me with a scream if anyone other than Lestrade and his men appeared. ‘No, sir, I wants to ’elp Mr ’olmes,’ she said, backing down only when I told her that Holmes himself had asked me to post her as a sentinel.

  ‘If ’e said so … I’ll do it. But—’

  I showed her the revolver in my pocket. ‘He is in good hands, Heffie.’ I said. ‘I was the best shot in my regiment. When Lestrade and his men get here, direct them our way.’

  She reluctantly complied and, in a trice, I followed his path up the ladder. The window opening was too narrow for me and I had to knock out more glass to squeeze through. Mycroft certainly could not have entered this way, but Holmes had.

  The jagged edges of the glass tore at my coat. The window opened into a suite of offices. Passing through them and several more doors, I found myself on a dimly lit balcony encircling the cavernous grand hall. Below me I could just make out the mechanical ice rink under construction. I had read of it, and under other circumstances would have been fascinated to see the works. Real ice, I knew, was promised, frozen by a complex system of copper piping and a cooling fluid pumped through them.

  I squinted into the gloom from above, looking for Holmes or his brother but seeing no one. Dotted about the cavernous space were individual electric lights on poles, their fragile bulbs each encased in a protective cage. These threw a weak grid of light across the vast space, with darkness extending off into various corners.

  From above I saw a circular wooden frame resembling a circus ring, three feet high and enclosing an area some fifty feet in diameter. Inside was a kind of shimmering black lake, dotted with pieces of floating ice. Barely visible just under the surface was a complex array of metal piping. From this construction, a large pipe emerged and disappeared into a grouping of canvas structures on wheels, like theatre flats. I could barely discern in the dimness that these were painted to resemble snowy mountains and chalets. They had apparently decided to restore the Swiss Alps theme.

  I could see neither of the Holmes brothers. Had I come in time? I strained my ears, but except for dripping water, there was no sound.

  I drew my revolver and carefully descended the stairs into the grand hall, acutely aware of my visibility to anyone below. I was an easy target, but managed to reach the main floor without mishap.

  I ducked behind one of the canvas flats next to a steam-driven pump. I put out a hand to steady myself. The pump was hot! Perhaps they had been testing the system, which would explain the chunks of ice. But where was Holmes?

  From this vantage point, the theatrical flats created a kind of maze. Off to one side, a row of false pine trees stood in a line. Between where I stood and the rink were six lights, dimly illuminating an area about twenty feet across. An island in a sea of darkness.

  ‘Holmes?’ I whispered.

  I heard the sounds of dripping water. I dearly hoped it was only water, and not blood. I was letting my imagination carry me away. I was nervous about calling out. If Mycroft were here …

  Once again, I felt the comforting steel of the Webley in my pocket.. I knew to keep my weapons at the ready when on a case with Holmes. Perhaps even more worrying than the possibility of Mycroft’s deception was the thought that Holmes, dosed as he was with morphine and cocaine, was not in his right mind. The two drugs, when used simultaneously – a combination I had witnessed only once before, during my army service – could easily prove deadly. The stimulant would prevail but place him physically in danger. The heart rhythms could be affected, and I knew well that sudden cardiac failure was a real possibility, as was a mental breakdown. And then there was his broken wrist …

  ‘Watson!’ The voice was low, urgent, practically in my ear. I jumped.

  ‘Holmes!’ I gasped.
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  ‘Good man. I need your help,’ he whispered. ‘Keep your voice quiet.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Shh! Softer yet. Stay here with me, out of the light. You have your pistol?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Watch me closely. No matter what, do not shoot, except on my signal.’

  I squinted at him. It was too dark to read his expression or condition. He sounded nearly normal.

  ‘You are in danger,’ I said. ‘Lady Eleanor said Mycroft killed two of Lestrade’s men.’

  ‘Yes, I heard.’

  ‘She only escaped because of the leopard.’

  ‘Did Heffie tell you I was here? To meet Mycroft?’

  ‘Yes, yes. But I already knew that, Holmes. We had just discussed it. Are you all right?’

  He gave no reply. It was very cold in here. I shivered. I squinted trying to read something about his condition in the dim light.

  ‘What is your signal, Holmes?’

  There was a pause. ‘The signal is “Now”.’

  ‘“Now”? Can’t you think of something more distinct? “Parallelogram?”. Or “fireworks”?’

  ‘No. The word “now”.’ He patted my arm.

  ‘But what if you say that word accidentally?’

  Holmes murmured something I could not catch. Was he slurring?

  ‘Holmes?’

  ‘Watson, pay attention. Do not shoot unless I tell you to. Remember the word.’

  ‘“Now”?’

  ‘“Now”.’

  Was that a sound beyond the dripping from across the room? We waited. Nothing.

  ‘Holmes, there is more. After you left, Titus Billings arrived to arrest you for killing your brother by setting the fire. But Lady Eleanor told him that Mycroft was still alive, and she begged him for protection. He took her off somewhere. I worried about allowing her to—’

  He sighed. I felt his hand on my arm. ‘But you are here now, Watson. That is all that matters. Thank you.’

  ‘My choice was clear, Holmes. Either help her or come to you. I sincerely hope that she is in safe hands now. But Mycroft! You must face the facts, Holmes! Your brother—’

  ‘I understand your fears, Watson.’