“Yes, I did. I didn’t know about Mrs. Holmes contacting your brother, but I know Dr. Bahareth has talked to the minister, yes.”
“And do you know if my brother has agreed to divulge the location of the time-machines?”
“I don’t know this for a fact, Mr. Holmes, but I believe Mr. Mycroft Holmes was most reticent about giving Dr. Bahareth any detail regarding the machines.”
“Ah-ah, yes, very much like Mycroft. If nothing else, my brother is a decisive and determined individual, Watson. And I have to believe your Dr. Bahareth will have to face an uphill battle if he tries to extract such information out of my brother.”
Watson didn’t answer and stayed slumped on the bench like a discarded doll at the fair. His spirit and enthusiasm seemed to have all but abandoned him.
Noticing this, Holmes went on, “If what we discussed presently has any bearing on the future, I would suggest that the two men are going to meet shortly, are they not?”
Watson nodded but didn’t look up at his friend.
“Very well then. It’s seems to me that the only thing left for me to do is to contact Dr. Bahareth personally and arrange a meeting with him at some point… , wouldn’t you agree?”
Watson sat up. He then turned to Holmes. “Not if I cannot be there with you, Mr. Holmes.”
“And why would that be? I believe I have warned you to stay away from all this—”
“Yes, you have, Mr. Holmes,” Watson interrupted vehemently, “but I cannot let you face the man alone. He will be quite persuasive and his arguments solid enough, I can assure you.”
“Ah, very good! A worthy adversary then,” Holmes exclaimed. “I can hardly wait to meet with him face to face.”
“Perhaps, Mr. Holmes, but he has the learned background, which you don’t have, if I may say so, and he will sink you in a minute with scientific facts—”
“Bah,” said Holmes dismissively, “I will be able to foil his ploy… , you’ll see.”
Not deaf to Holmes’s last words, Watson asked, “Does that mean you would accept for me to attend the meeting?” his face brightening a little.
“If such a meeting would restore your enthusiasm, yes I would.” Holmes crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to ponder his decision for a moment before he added, “I would want Sarah to be there as well.”
“What?” Watson blurted.
“You heard me! I want that child to witness the discussion, where ever it will take place.”
“But why? What could we possibly gain by having her there?”
“Not “we”, Watson, but the question should be what could “she” possibly gain by attending such a meeting.” Watson stared. “Yes… , she will gain insight as to our divided intentions and perhaps will come up with an innocent and logical solution to this quandary.”
“What about the stress she will inevitably suffer… ?”
“What stress? The child is avid of learning and thirsty for knowledge. Why, she is the embodiment of our future; she is a force to be reckoned with, Watson.”
No more than three days later, Holmes, Watson and his daughter were on their way to London to meet with Mycroft first and then have a meeting with Dr. Bahareth.
In the meantime, Irene was to make her way to Washington, D.C. Mycroft had sent her a new passport which identified her as Irene Ascot. Irene had always loved the horse races and Ascot was one of her favourite places in the whole of England. Her mission, although a simple one, was one that demanded the tact and savvy of an intelligent woman. Irene was all of those things. She needed to find a place for Sherlock’s time-machine. Too many people knew of the capsule’s location by now. Irene could not rent a facility for it or let anyone see it. So, what she had to do was to free the capsule from its hiding place and transfer it to another site somewhere on the globe some time in the future. Sherlock had left the choice of location and date entirely up to her. At first, Irene was tempted to return to 1890 and see how things stood at her house…, but thought the better of it. That would not be a wise move, she told herself. It was only when she looked at her passport, just before handing it to the custom’s agent at the airport in San Francisco that Irene knew where she was going to land with Sherlock’s machine.
Meanwhile, Professor Nebo was also busying himself with preparation to travel to the future with Irene’s time-machine. Mycroft had left precise instructions with him regarding where and when he was to land that capsule. Basically, Mycroft wanted both machines out of the United States and out of the possible reach of the CIA or FBI. He wanted time to devise a plan which would see both Sherlock and Irene return to New Zealand with the promise of no further bother or interference from interested parties. What he hadn’t divulged to Professor Nebo was that he, Mycroft, intended to destroy Irene’s time-machine in the near future. Whether he was going to accomplish that feat in a timely manner, he didn’t know. But that was his plan.
Soon after entering the disused warehouse, Irene walked around the vast enclosure quietly and panned her torch light from corner to corner, from floor to ceiling before directing her steps to a pile of debris, old cardboard boxes, a couple of opened crates and mounts of wood-shavings. From Mycroft’s description, it was under this heap of discarded material that Irene would find Sherlock’s time-machine. A few steps from the corner, Irene focused the light onto the tracks in front of her feet. These must have been made by the lorry that brought the machine in here, she thought. Raising the beam of light slowly toward the ceiling, she moved some boxes out of the way, climbed on top of one of the crates and stopped. She then jumped off her perch and took her cell phone out of her coat’s pocket.
Mycroft was in the middle of enjoying a scrumptious breakfast with his three guests, when his mobile vibrated in his breast pocket. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said to Sarah first, “but I’ve got to answer this call,” he added, looking at Sherlock and Watson in turn. He got up from his seat and walked toward the lobby of the hotel. “Yes, my dear… . , have you found it?” he said, his speech almost inaudible to the people milling about and around him.
“It’s gone, Mycroft!” Irene shrieked over the line. “I cannot see it anywhere. I’ve moved some of the boxes and things that were blocking the way, but it’s not here… . !”
“Have you looked around the whole warehouse?”
“I’m doing that now. But I am sure it isn’t here. Besides, I’ve seen some tracks that look similar to tire-tracks, I suppose, leading to or from the pile of debris where the machine was left.”
“All right, my dear. No need to be upset—”
“UPSET? No need to be upset? Mycroft, this is Sherlock’s life we’re talking about! You better believe I’m UPSET and you should be too, by the way. Someone knows a lot more than he had us believe, and that, my dear brother-in-law, means war in my book!”
“Will you calm down for one moment?”
“All right – I am as calm as you can expect me to be in such circumstances – what do you want me to do about this?”
“Nothing, Irene, absolutely nothing.”
“You know as well as I do that your suggestion has fallen on deaf ear! I’ll be seeing you… !”
“Irene! Irene!” Mycroft harrumphed as he closed his phone. “The darn woman has got the devil by the tail,” he groaned under his breath as he retraced his steps to the breakfast table.
Chapter Seven
From 1891 to 1999
On this gorgeous spring morning, Professor H.G. Wells was delighting in sowing some seeds into the flower beds alongside the back of his house. He turned around and threw a forlorn glance at his workshop – the old mansion that had once been the home of his time-machines. He shook his head. He was now certain he would never see these machines again. Sherlock Holmes had gone with one of them, probably never to return, and even the newspapers had noted the great detective’s disappearance as inexplicable. As for Miss Adler, his guess was as good as anyone’s. She will not come back, he said to himself quietly.
“Why so glum, Professor?” said the young man, rounding the house and approaching Wells with the debonair of someone who’s care for the world amounted to the sneer in his voice, “This is too glorious a morning to be frowning, wouldn’t you say?”
“And who might you be?” Wells asked, depositing the seed bag at his feet.
“Never mind my name, sir, just know that I am the bearer of good news.”
“Good news? What would you be talking about?” Wells was reaching bewilderment rapidly. “And again, I have to ask, who are you?”
“And again, I tell you my name is of no importance, but what I have brought you is.”
Wells shook his head, picked up the bag of seeds and decided not to waste his time with this charlatan. Probably selling something, he thought. “And what would that be?”
“Ah-ah… , have I peaked your curiosity?”
“No, not really, but since you said you brought me something, it is natural for me to wish to see it.” Wells shrugged.
“Well… , if that’s all you want, let me take you to it then,” David Penny said, taking Wells by the arm and dragging him toward the old mansion.
“Sir!” Wells shouted, visibly obfuscated by David’s insolence, and trying to free his arm from the intruder’s solid grip.
“Don’t say anything… , Professor… , and follow me.”
The professor was no match for David. The latter was much stronger and younger than his captive was.
“Where are we going?” Wells demanded, literally digging his heels in the soft soil.
“To your other house, don’t you see?” David replied, practically lifting the professor off the ground now. “We need to drop off your bag of seeds in there, don’t we?”
Since Wells seemed more and more uncooperative, David stopped and turned to face the professor. “Now, listen to me, you little twerp. I want to show you something that will possibly restore what’s left of your life, but if you continue to be a “drag” – sorry for the pun – I will have no choice but to do you harm, is that clear?”
Wells, in his panic and bafflement, only nodded resignedly.
When the two men entered the house through the front door, Wells’s heart skipped a beat. Right there, before his very eyes, his time-machine stood in place over its pad.
“But how? How is that possible?” he blurted to David’s amused face. “Did you bring it back?”
“Of course I did, my dear man. And it’s all yours for the keeping – that is until it will be used again.”
“Did you see Sherlock Holmes then? Did he visit the future as he said he would? Will he ever come back?”
David waved a dismissive hand in front of him. “Too many questions, Professor, too many questions and none of which will get you an answer.”
“But why? I have the right to know!”
“Ah! Don’t you start that again; you don’t have to know anything, but you have to keep watch on this capsule at all times – do you hear me?” David demanded, grabbing Wells by the lapels of his worn-out coat.
“I’ll do that, of course,” Wells agreed. “But when will you return?”
“Please, Professor! No more questions,” David yelled at his face. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, you know that?” He pushed him away roughly and stomped out of the house without another word.
Still shocked beyond words, but elated to see his time-machine back in his workshop, Wells climbed aboard the capsule and examined the control panel. He quickly inserted his trembling fingers beneath it and soon felt the switch he had been looking for. He pulled it toward him and waited for a fraction of a second for a little trap door to open. Inside the small enclosure there was a miniature recorder. Although rudimentary in its every aspect, this device was now going to reveal the dates at which the machine had landed. He took the recorder out of its hiding place, climbed out of the capsule, closed it and made his way back to his house.
As soon as he was sitting at his desk, he opened the recorder and examined the list of dates encrypted on the cylinder. The first was, of course, November 29, 2010. Such as Miss Adler had predicted, he thought. The second date was a little questionable: August 2, 2010. Strange! But the third date was the one that sent Wells in a whirlwind of dreamlike imaginings: May 8, 2045. What was significant about that date, and what would Mr. Holmes be doing on that day? Wells was nothing short of puzzled. Could it be that this young man – this intruder – stole the machine from Mr. Holmes? But if that were the case, why would he bring it back here? He said he would come back for it . . . If that is the case, Mr. whoever you are, I shall be waiting for you, Wells promised himself before returning to his gardening chores.
When David entered the old residence, he looked around him as if he had been absent from the premises for a long time – and indeed he had. He strode across the foyer and opened a door that led him directly into the study of the man he knew well, but who considered David as the underling that he always showed him to be.
“What are you doing here?” Professor Moriarty bellowed from his seat beside the fireplace. “I haven’t seen you for months and now you come in without knocking even.” He stood up to face David.
The latter’s stance was more imposing, more assertive than Moriarty had ever seen. “I’ve come to give you an opportunity,” David said, “which you might appreciate in due time.”
“What are you saying, boy?” Moriarty approached his uninvited guest menacingly.
David didn’t move and shoved his hands in his trousers’ pockets. “I’m not your ‘boy’, Professor, no. I’m no longer in your employ and I am not going to obey your orders anymore, nor am I going to answer your bidding.”
“I’ll have you thrown out on your arse, you… . You owe me!”
“No!” David rebuked, standing only inches from Moriarty’s face. “You are the one, Professor, who is going to pay for what I had to endure from you over the years.”
“Endure, you say?” Moriarty spat at David’s face. “I’ve always paid you well and offered you shelter and food when you had nothing. And this is how you intend to repay me?”
“Enough!” David shouted, stepping aside. “As I told you, I am here to offer you an opportunity – an opportunity that only comes to one in one’s lifetime. And when you hear it you will not refuse it or deny me the benefit of seeing you travel through time.”
Moriarty could only gawk at the man sitting on his sofa now. He was bright when it came to plan malevolent deeds, even brilliant one would have to say, but when it came to riddled proposition or convoluted speech, he was no match for David. “Could you be a little clearer, perhaps? What are you really suggesting?”
“Why don’t you sit down,” David said, pointing to the chair Moriarty had brutally abandoned when he came in, and himself taking a seat on the sofa. The professor backed into the chair, his eyes not leaving David’s. “Alright. Do you recall this mad professor – a teacher really – by the name of H.G. Wells?”
“You mean the one who constructed the time-machine that no one ever saw?”
“The one and the same, yes.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“Come, come, Professor, open your ears. Didn’t I just mention something about travelling through time?”
Suddenly, this ‘opportunity’ that David was offering seemed to dawn on him. “Are you saying that the time-machine is really here… , here in London?”
“Let’s say that if you find Wells, you’ll find the time-machine.”
“And when I do, what would you suggest I do with it?” a befuddled Moriarty asked.
“Don’t go daft on me, old man!” David retorted. “You have an enemy to chase, don’t you?” The professor nodded. “Well then, you go after him and when you find him you might be able to beat him at his own games of chasing terrorists all over the globe.”
Moriarty was far from grasping the meaning of what David was implying; talking about terrorists… ,
chasing his arch enemy across the globe… ? Had David gone mad? “I don’t see what you’re getting at, David,” Moriarty said sheepishly; admittedly out of his depth.
“Perhaps you should focus on 1999; a very interesting year, if I do say so myself.”
“Have you been there… , I mean have you travelled to that date then?” Moriarty had his gaze riveted on David.
The latter nodded. “And now that you know the machine is back in London, and available, I shall leave you… ,” David said, rising from the sofa.
“But, you can’t leave… ,” Moriarty strode after him. “You have to tell me where and how…”
“I have to tell you nothing, Professor. Remember, you dismissed me last year, and I intend to stay dismissed, my good sir!” With these words, David marched out of the old house.
Moriarty tried to catch up to him, but the young man was much faster, and out of reach in a moment.
Closing the front door and returning to his seat in the study, Moriarty plopped down into it and fixed his gaze to the lifeless hearth – the weather had been so clement of late, he had had no need for a fire. He had to devise a plan – one of his favourite pastimes – find the darn thing, and find Holmes. No one had seen him for months, but maybe – just maybe – in ‘time’ laid the reason for his absence.
Seeing the line drawing a picture of gloom on Mycroft’s face, when the latter re-entered the restaurant, Sherlock shot out of his chair and went to him under Sarah and Watson’s astonished glances.
“What happened?” Sherlock asked in a subdued but concerned voice when he came to Mycroft’s side. “Has she found it? What’s wrong?”
Mycroft shook his head and took his brother’s arm, leading him back to the table. “Not here,” he said. “Let’s go back to my suite,” he added, bending down to Watson’s ear.
Sherlock Holmes in 2012: LORD OF DARKNESS RISING Page 10