Named Sherlock

by Bagatur Zhamkochyan

  - Come on!

  Inspired by the light appeared, we went ahead exactly five meters, then ran into a tightly locked on the other side of the bars. Detective March turned to me:

  - Sherlock, are you sure that this is the right place?

  Instead of answering, I pointed to the wallows near the wall, a little away from the grid, the old castle, which I hit a stone. Lighting lamp, it immediately catches the eye. The detective walked in the lattice and inspected the lock.

  - It is quite new, even in the oil. Constable Kirk, you can?

  - Come on, small, wait, - the policeman put me on the ground, went to the grid, and put his hand through the bars, just pulled the ill-fated castle with such force that he was left in his hand. Bow, plaintively clinking, he flew off somewhere in the darkness.

  - Thank you, Constable. We will continue.

  Quickly reaching the point where a short tunnel collapses into a corridor with niches, a detective with his assistants began to carefully examine all of them, in spite of my words, here I was running and needed a place much further. Slowly, moving from niche to niche, we gradually moved through the tunnel. Time passed very slowly, and the tunnel seemed endless. Another niche is another and more ... gradually beginning to bear vile stench of sewage, the smell was still intensifying, and, after a few more steps, we went out into the hall with an arched ceiling and a leisurely river of swill.

  The detective looked at me questioningly.

  - So, we missed! This is the place I know. - I do recognize this place, and ripped the lock and grille proves me right.

  - It is necessary to go back a bit and look just right, I'll show - where.

  But a more thorough search yielded nothing. Narrow passage, which was in one of them, gone as if it had never been. Over and over again, extending his hand in the darkness, I ran not to fail like the last time, and on a strong stone wall. We seemed to have learned this ill-fated tunnel length and breadth and the detective had already ordered departure, when suddenly, Constable Kirk, who put me against the wall, he went from niche to niche, careful lighting of each lamp, said:

  - Detective, sir, and yet here fresh masonry.

  - What? - We ran to the alcove, which indicated a policeman.

  - Sir, I worked as a bricklayer before the police, I have a trained eye. Here the old stone, and put recently. The solution is fresh. And so it was not visible, simply sprinkle dust.

  - Have you done, Constable, big-eyed! I would had never featured - Detective March joyfully clapped him on the shoulder. - Now we have to think about how to dismantle that wall.

  - We have in the crew, have a crowbar in the repair box, sir.

  Noyce sending orderly running of the crowbar, we are more carefully examined the wall in an alcove. Indeed, under a layer of dust hiding the fresh mortar, there were not any doubt.

  It seemed a lifetime ago, when I got out of breath constable, drawing nearly meter scrap iron. In the hands of a huge Kirk, it seemed almost a twig. In a few strokes obkolov cement, loosening and knocking out the first stone, Constable effortlessly dismantled wall just ten minutes. When he walked away from the niche, we opened a narrow and dark passage.

  First, into the hole began to squeeze detective outstretched hand with a revolver, right behind him - Constable Neuss with a lamp, which he held high above his head to illuminate the road. I was the last one. Constable Kirk, without any problems to enter a narrow corridor only the head and one shoulder, so he stayed outside to watch.

  In silence we passed the narrowest place and went to where the corridor widened. It is from here, the last time I saw the transition to the next room. Now the tunnel was completely dark and quiet. Detective Constable took the lamp and went ahead with a lamp in one hand and a revolver in the other. After about 30 meters, the corridor led to the opening in the wall, in which the detective, making us a sign to remain in place, firmly entered.

  - Neuss, go! Sherlock, remain in place. - What kind of discrimination, I showed them the place, and I was forced to stand, is not fair.

  - Sherlock! - a few minutes later he heard the voice of the detective. - Come on, just gently.

  So that they could be so able to find? Once inside, I almost would not be surprised to see it was the circular room with four outputs, which I had seen earlier in the dream. Quite a high ceiling, the walls are very old - look sank lower - on the altar. Yes, that's the ... what is lying on the floor behind the altar. Or someone else, can not see from here, you need to go.

  On the floor lay a woman. Very, very old woman. Dead. No injuries, damage, no apparent reason was not death. It seemed that she just came here and died.

  - The body has not been fully cooled down, despite the fact that now quite cold. That is to say, death occurred no more than 10-12 hours ago, more precisely while difficult to say - even the detective was saying something, but I have not listened. I could not take my eyes off the old woman. Something I thought it terrible, wrong.

  Maybe your hair? Long, snowy white hair braided in two braids and tied with faded ribbons. Or maybe it was her dress? Faded, pale blue dress, with a number of small pugovok on the bodice. It's not an old woman. Something sticking out of the pocket, white lace. I reach out, and not paying attention to the protests cry detective pull it something pull, straighten the palm. Napkin ... And suddenly, before his eyes gets the picture - nightstand, on which, on a white lacy napkin, stands the figure of a dancing girl. Smile and words of Molly: "... the only thing left from my mother ...".

  - Molly! It's Molly! - I scream, but himself for some reason can not hear. The world does a somersault, and suddenly the floor begins to rapidly approach me. Fading consciousness has caught the word detective: "Damn, Emily would kill me!".

  Interlude 6.

  Studio Canal TVN, weekly talk show "Saturday evening with Warren Alia".

  - Once again, good evening, dear friends! Today in the studio, as always, with you I - Alia Warren. And our evening broadcast again dedicated to the most important event in the entire entertainment industry, event, followed closely watched by billions of eyes around the globe!

  - Of course, I'm talking about the new competition, the new virtual worlds marathon organized, as we all know, the corporations "VirtArt", "Aspai" and "syndicate"! And now, for the right to be called the best, fight thirty players, thirty people are hoping to win the hearts of the audience and become the first in this race!

  - Remember, the competition is the eighth day, players actively render habitable their worlds, develop, and perhaps not even this stage, it will be possible to make a preliminary assessment, identify the leaders. Do this, we will help our expert guest of our past ether, a man who closely monitors the participants almost around the clock - Chris Riddick! Please welcome!

  - Chris, good evening. Glad to see you again in our studio.

  - Good evening, Alia. Good evening, dear viewers, I am also very pleased to be here today with you.

  - Tell us, Chris, how things stand with the ratings? The last time you promised that the first results will be ready in a week.

  - Yes, Alia, there are already some results, although to be honest, only slightly higher than the statistical error, and yet understandable only to specialists. Now it is possible to allocate three leaders, but again, I repeat, until it comes to a separation of only a few percent.

  - Oh, Chris! It's so interesting, tell us the details!

  - At this stage, the leader in the number of views the world of insects, from the "Syndicate" corporation. A player from the weakest units, rising to levels gradually complicating their body and how to interact with the outside world, captures more zones of influence, seeking to dominate, first in his habitat, and then the neighbor.

  - It's great!

  - Second place is a world in which the main character acts out the role of an assassin. He begins to play petty thug, gradually improving their skills, rising higher and higher in the criminal hierarchy, aspiring to become a killer-class. This world was created by a corporation "A
spai".

  - It's just amazing, Chris!

  - And finally, closes the top three world leaders, where the player begins his adventure on the side of the forces of evil. He was overthrown god and his task is to return the lost strength to destroy everything around. Very interesting world, belongs to the development of the corporation "VirtArt".

  - Terrific, Chris. That is, we can now see that none of the corporations, in fact, not a leader?

  - Absolutely, Alia. May still be very much changed. As I have said in the past the air, about a month will already be visible obvious favorites and outsiders.

  - Well, we'll talk more about this after the advertising block. Stay with us!

  Chapter 15.

  White ceiling. I opened my eyes a few seconds, just looking at him, without a single thought in his head. Then the brain sluggish, just the same, with a shriek, and began to work. "I wonder, Miss Emily much shouting at a detective?" - it was the first thing I thought somehow ... Then suddenly occurred to me that I have no idea what day of the week, date, month, even with not so sure. I do not know why now it seemed so important, perhaps, not to think about Molly?

  Molly! I closed my eyes. Before his eyes again got a terrible picture - the old, very old woman, a decrepit old woman with gray braids, pale blue, girlish dress with ruffles. Why I decided that it was she? Yes I do not know! Napkin has been the last straw, but without it, I felt it was Molly, just not immediately able to believe.

  She was so beautiful, so delicate and fragile ... like ... like a candle in the wind?

  Ugh! Why always when I want to talk about the emotions that I feel, climb out the vulgar, jammed dies? Impossible! In fact, the strongest feelings that I felt now was the wine, anger and revenge. Wine before Molly, anger at himself. And a wild desire to take revenge on the murderer. Here on this, perhaps, it is necessary to focus on. The guilt of little help, this is a dead end road, and to find the killer and take revenge - it is now my duty.

  First of all, you need to know all the details. March detective seemed to me an intelligent and attentive to detail, so this has to do not miss a single detail.

  In general, I urgently need to talk to the detective. How could I not just yesterday I lost consciousness! Although it was possible to foresee - barely alive after an illness, a few hours on their feet, at least part of that time, and not on its own, then a strong shock and is ready - an organism rather play it safe and to protect themselves from unnecessary disturbances.

  Bell, prozvenevshy breakfast, recalled that at the shelter, life goes on as usual, and if I want to eat, you should hurry.

  This time I got up quite briskly, it was still a slight feeling of weakness, but overall, I felt good. Once dressed, I was really moved to the exit, the door to the room opened and Miss Emily came in the heat of the face, behind her floated some short gentleman with a goatee and pince-nez. Glancing over my eyes, he put his hands on the round as a ball, belly, covered with a silk waistcoat, and turned to Miss Emily:

  - Something our patient unnecessarily Schuster for the dying.

  The woman blushed

  - Yesterday it was brought to the hands of the unconscious. I would not make a fuss out of nowhere, a doctor, you do know me for a long time.

  - I know Emily, I know. I also know that if I had not stayed too long yesterday to midnight in the club, you would not hesitate to pull the elderly man out of bed, as has happened more than once, it had only to some of your students to sneeze once again.

  - Doctor ...

  - Okay, I'm so, Burcu an old man. Well, young man, let us have a look at - turned to me man.

  Em. What to watch it with me? And he may even see? I read once about this their best medieval medicine. Although ... Game mechanics, I always lose sight of the fact that this world is not real. Under the reproachful gaze of Miss Emily had to go back to bed.

  Dr. long and carefully examined my tongue, tapped his fingers on the ribs, crushed abdomen. Then he took from his bag brass stethoscope and listened to a few minutes, as I'm breathing, do not breathe, inhale and hold your breath. After examining me all the doctor came to the conclusion, it is pleasing to me, but apparently not much calmed down Miss Molly:

  - The boy is healthy. If yesterday he lost consciousness, so it is only because too overworked weakened until the body. He needed just a few days, and he strengthened the power returns to normal.

  - Tell me, Doctor, and I can go out? - I had to get it confirmed it for Miss Emily, because I was afraid that she might try to lock me, and I did not want to run away.

  - Young man, tell me honestly, how my words will change something, if you so strongly set out to go? - man looked sternly at me, but it seemed to me, his eyes were smiling. - You probably have a bunch of urgent matters?

  - Well, in general, yes ...

  - Think you can go out on the condition that in the next few days a little poberezhet. No sodden feet warm and dry clothes. Do you understand?

  I nodded happily! So today I can go out and get to the detective Marchena! Miss Emily, apparently thought so, too, judging from her pursed his lips in disapproval. It is interesting that it connects with the detective? There is clearly some kind of story, and do not ask ...

  - Well, Emily, you can stop worrying and leave the boy alone. - Dr. heavily rose from his chair. - And I'd like to drink tea with the wonderful cinnamon buns that bakes your cook.

  Eagerly jumping on the bed, waiting until they finally come out, I'm already mentally planning today. Now we have to run again in the lessons, I'm healthy, and the reasons for time off I did not. Then lunch and a class with Mr. Shaw. And then you can already try to get to the police station and talk to the detective. I hope that he decides to keep me informed of the investigation, given my role in it. Although it is not a fact, it may just chase after, then tell me he has nothing more ...

  And ... damn! Clock! My hours are still the detective. Well, that's the official reason for the visit.

  For the second time today getting out of bed, I'm dressed for a moment thinking about the need for morning exercise, then, nevertheless, she waved her hand. I'm sick or not? I am entitled to some relief. But tomorrow is exactly the start the morning with a charge. That's fair!

  And before I take a step toward the door as it knocked. What a morning visit!

  - Open!

  The door opened, revealing a round, white-haired face Donnie. Each looked into the room cautiously, but when he saw me, quite confident standing on their own feet, grinned and went already completely. In his hand was a small the tray on which was a plate with a traditional morning porridge and a mug of tea. Of particular interest is aroused Donnie buns, which, apparently, believed me, as a supplementary food.

  It was very out of place, because of the doctor's visit, I skipped breakfast, and now have to go to class. As long as I swallowed the cold porridge, honestly sharing with Donny so coveted them a loaf of bread, a friend told me how I was yesterday brought to the police carriage big fat constable, all scared, and Miss Emily ran in panic, threatening to tear the head some Greg .

  Hmm, poor detective. The main thing is that because of the conflict with Miss Emily, he would not have stopped to chat with me. After breakfast we went to class. On the way, I once again solemnly promised to tell about his adventures Donnie, this time tonight since yesterday failed.

  I must say that I was a little missed classes, though, personally, my feeling is gone a lot less than 4 days. After all, I spent most of that time lain in delirium, then slept, lost consciousness, and then again slept ... but still missed. After the terrible marches through the dungeons and battle with the rats, the study of history and literature seemed to just rest.

  By the way, I noticed that most of the pupils of a shelter was looking at me with the friendliness and interest. Apparently, in order to have the same accepted into their circle, it was necessary to crawl and bloody night is between life and death.

  Classes passed quickly. I barely focused on subjects as all thoughts were busy c
onstructing conjectures and speculations about Molly's death, and little progress is not achieved. Teachers are not pleased, and with the characteristics of the same is not set. But at lunch he was awarded several protective claps on the back and the words: "Hammer!" of children who previously had never looked in my direction. So go and try to understand them ... Oh well.

  Mr. Shaw is clearly given to understand that he was glad to see me, having given the task of vytachivaniyu gears of this size, as if he wanted to eliminate the four-stroke simple.

  - For two days you. Tomorrow training will not be going for the materials, - said, and, as usual, went to the granddaughter, drink tea and buns.

  For what materials, which he had gathered there for the whole day ... Again strangeness. Okay, I have no time for this. The work is not waiting. Until hands are busy, I scrolled and scrolled in a head yesterday's events, trying to remember the details, asking himself questions and answer them.

  When, finally, Mr. Shaw came back, I formulated for a list of the things I especially would like to know the detective:

  - How to make sure that it was Molly, and no one else?

  - Are there any ways to make the old man for one night or a few hours?

  And finally, the most important question - whether to place the traces of another man, not Mr. Appleton?

  I must say that the intensive work of the brain in which the manufacturing whatsoever, positive impact on the result. I am, moreover, that played about two-thirds of the two-day job, so more and got another one skill. Total, these units I was twelve. Not bad, the case goes to the fact that by the time I finally, finally will return your watch, I will be able to open, and may make their own, without the help of Mr. Shaw.

  Saying goodbye to my success is clearly pleased with the old man, I rushed for lunch. Ugly-looking whitish mass, which is distributed freely dumped into the substituted bowls, called "puree of turnips." It looked disgusting, and the taste was pretty sickening. However, they all ate, and no big curve. So I suppressed disgust and scraped to the bottom plate, the more that I need now hard to eat. A piece of salted fish almost rescued a nasty taste turnip, even though he was such a tiny, almost not felt.