Named Sherlock

by Bagatur Zhamkochyan

  Forty minutes later, I sat down and pondered. Books were not. And I could not be confused? Perhaps, it is still an allegory, and it really was about the storm of the imagination? But then the phrase is too unspecific for a real search. Something I'm obviously missing ... But what?

  Suppose that in the puzzle says it about this book. What do I do for you? Hmm ... Maybe I just went the wrong way? If we assume that the solution lies not in the book as a physical object and its contents? I have something, initially expected to find further instructions in it, circled line, or, for example, a note. But perhaps a clue in this case will be the characters or the story itself? Okay, let's try!

  Taking a piece of paper, I started to write from memory on it all the words that I have been associated with this novel, hoping that one of them could be the key. A few minutes later I looked at the results of their work:

  "Pirates;

  The Caribbean;

  New Providence;

  voodoo;

  Fountain of Youth;

  Raising from the dead;

  Blackbeard;

  Evil spirits;

  Baron Samedi. "

  So, what next? I glared at the paper as if expecting him to do some conscious action. No thought has not appeared, the game does not help the association.

  Well, as they say, tomorrow is another day. I left a list alone and returned to his room. On a pedestal by the bed, she stood a glass of warm milk and a saucer with macaroons. Oh, do not get used to a life of luxury, too heavy will withdraw in the real world. Though, here I could not help frowned, there still needs to somehow return.

  After drinking the milk and chew up some cookies, I suddenly felt very sleepy, to dizziness. Well, apparently, now we do without reading - good yesterday, I chose two norms. It was the last conscious thought, a minute later, stripped almost half asleep, I lay in bed sound asleep.

  ***

  Storm laughed and howled angrily. Water, rolling through the toes of his boots, a long time to get inside and vystudila leg pain. Crooked, nothing does not feel his fingers, I somehow clung to rail, in horror watching the leaden sky in which clouds of black, filled with icy water black clouds in an effort seemed to drop me right on the head.

  - Come on, punk! Which froze! - running through past the sailor tapped me on the shoulder.

  Yes, they can run on this wet, slippery deck desperately? I tried to take a step balancing with one hand, but a sharp turn the ship made me cry again cling to the rope swollen by water.

  Strong transverse pitching almost knocked out of me. Without suffering seasickness, I, however, felt severe nausea. Gray waves then drifted a few meters, then approached, it seemed to me, almost to a person, when the ship is heavily banking on this board.

  Loud banging forced to turn around. Slowly, as if not in a hurry, mainmast collapses forward, clutching the foremast rigging and tearing. Released on the one hand and the sail turned helplessly flapping in the wind. Muscled intensified.

  Obeying commands boatswain, sailors quickly cut the ropes, trying to catch and tie up the foresail. I just did not gain strength to move, more feelings of helplessness and fear of impending death is inevitable.

  Suddenly, something light, flashed in the surging waves, like a magnet drew her gaze. White face, long hair fluttering in the water ... woman? Near floated another, and another. Cry: "Man Overboard", almost broke from the lips, froze in the air and never born. Yes, how many of them? Dozens of hands pulled me out of the water, the white face thrown back, mouths open in a silent scream.

  The roar of the storm and the howling winds subside, as if by hand. In the silence, I again approach the water until it froze a couple of meters above the sea surface. The world freezes.

  - Sherlock! Help ... - to stem the tide of a familiar face, pale to transparent skin, thin arms stretch hard.

  But the ship lurches again on another board, and I can not reach it, losing it in dozens of the same wet and pale faces!

  - Molly! Hold on! I will save you! - shocks, seemed almost the best ship lightning muffled cry and almost blinded for a few seconds. When, dumped bright spots and stains I saw again the white light, the sea was empty, and had already begun to calm down, the storm subsided

  - Molly! Where are you, Molly!

  ***

  - Mr brayn! Mr brayn!

  - A?

  - Are you all right, sir? You cried - Jerome, who was standing next to my bed was worried face.

  - It's okay, it's just a bad dream. Thank you woke up.

  When the man left the room, I sat down and ran his hands over his face. Heart still pounding alarmingly. Yes, what is it, why I have such vivid and true dreams? Never before such a was not. Definitely, these visions do not appear by themselves, someone is trying to tell me something to show hint. But what? As the ship and the storm associated with Molly? Perhaps the relationship is not as literal as I think ...

  And yes, there was one thing that struck me - it was really a lot of girls. Not ten, or even twenty. It all happened too fast, and among the raging waves I found it difficult to accurately estimate their number but, it seemed, was their no less than fifty, or maybe even more. How do you know whether it was a result of my constant thoughts about the crime or the real clue? Perhaps it still does.

  Jumping out of bed, I quickly did all the prescribed exercises, dumbbells removed. Going to the window, I looked out at the street. Winter is almost fully come into its own. The street was noticed fallen snow over night, still untouched, and on that looked especially elegant.

  House opposite, standing over a narrow bridge from ours, was similar to gingerbread. The only thing that slightly spoils the picture, half buried in snow footprints leading to the side door, which is usually enjoyed servants. Apparently even the milkman came. As I have already noted, it is usually carried the milk and cream in seven in the morning. This is the same for more than seven? We must hurry, classes in the shelter began at eight-thirty, and yet still need to get together and have breakfast.

  It was almost moving away from the window, I noticed some movement peripheral vision. When he returned, he saw a low fat man with a basket in the hands of the right to a neighbor's porch. Strangely, if the milkman came just now - looking at the clock, I was convinced that the time is just right, five minutes to seven - who then come to him for half an hour? Too early for someone else ... Although I what business? Their concerns fully. Resolutely turned away from the window, I drew the curtains.

  To do today was again planned a lot. Going down to breakfast, I mentally began to run. First class, then have to do a rough layout of my mehanoleta, to see how it will behave in the air, then back to the library after all - in the police archive. Oh, where to take the time to do all this? Or maybe ... Yes, exactly! But we must be sure to talk to Miss Emily.

  Donnie was already waiting for me at the table. He has already moved away from yesterday's smiled at me, sipping thick and sweet cocoa. Looking at him, I immediately recall Jobson, who were going to visit us for dinner, with some, I believe, quite a serious conversation. It will be necessary to intercept and warn them in advance. Especially that Mrs. Jobson, as I understand it, does not know that the biological mother of Donald alive and well, and by law he was not an orphan.

  - Sherlock, you're going to have breakfast? - Donnie question tore me out of reverie.

  - A? Yes, of course - so all you need to collect.

  - What do you think in the morning? All of these killings?

  - Yeah, - not wanting to go into detail, I reached for a fluffy pancakes, began to spread jam on it.

  - And you know I'm here, too, on this last thought before sleep - and then still told each hesitated for a few seconds. - Sherlock, throw this thing. You still will not work.

  - This is why? You think I'm too stupid to find the killer?

  - No you did not understand! That's just this is the whole problem! I think you are too smart, and is likely to find it. That's just what will you do then? What if all that is written in your manusc
ript - is not it? I mean the point where it is written that it can lull god.

  - Well, first of all - do not put down, and not to wake up, and secondly - what do you really believe that? All this is nonsense - I smiled carefully. Perhaps even too hard.

  - Sherlock, you yourself believe it. And scared as I am. Can really not worth it to climb? - seeing what others are saying in all seriousness, I threw the useless fake smile.

  - No, Donny. Believe me, I have to. Not that I have no choice, I just gave the word. And let's leave this conversation.

  - Well, - each went back to sipping your cocoa, but it was clear that this conversation he'll be back.

  The breakfast took place in silence, hanging in the air clearly perceived stress. Donny kept his eyes on me, I'm picking listlessly pancakes, thinking that one, anyway, right. If the alleged killer as has mind control, which may cause a person to strangle himself, how it can be stopped at all? Who prevents him get the police who come to detain him, shoot each other? Yes, even just to go back, forgetting why he did come. The only option, which has come into my mind - the killing on the spot, it is desirable to quickly and quietly, so as not to have time to get under control. Not very nice, but the other way, I have not seen.

  Knocking his heels, to the dining room maid came in her hand she held two cardboard boxes:

  - Mr. Brown, Mr. Watson, I allowed myself to pack you a lunch. I believe you once again linger?

  - Yes, Marjorie, I'm afraid that linger. Donny will be home to the occupation, about three hours, I'm afraid, not before eight.

  - I thought so, sir. I wrapped you two extra sandwich with beef.

  - Thank you, Marjorie, it's very handy.

  The woman smiled, and left the box on the table, went out.

  - You know, Sherlock - again looked up from his plate Donnie - as you probably all remember soon.

  - Why would you have taken? I do not feel any symptoms.

  - Well, you just got used here as fast as confident talking to the servants as if all my life and it worked. I think it's your memory slowly returns.

  - I do not know ... Maybe you're right, - doubtfully handed me. I did not want to argue, and in this sense it was not. So someone, but I did know that my so-called "lost memory" had me come back. And I learned quickly and confidently felt a servant just because once read a whole bunch of books on this period of time, and quite clearly imagined lifestyle of a particular social stratum. But to talk about it I'm Donny, of course, did not.

  After finishing breakfast, we quickly packed up and drove to the shelter. A friend, upon arrival, immediately went to class, I went up and knocked on Mrs. Emily.

  - Yes, come in.

  - Sherlock, good to see you, - she saw me, grinned woman. - Come, sit down - she pointed to a chair.

  - Good morning, Miss Emily.

  - Did you want something?

  - Yes, I have to ask you. Could you temporarily relieved of my morning classes? A week. It is very important.

  - From the morning classes? - woman raised an eyebrow. - Sherlock, you can not visit them, and I have no right to force you, but keep in mind that I have to notify Mr. Jobson. I am sure that he is your guardian, will not like it.

  - No, I do not want to completely stop learning. Just this week I have cases in the studio, what if I'm not part of the work done in the morning, I'll have to stay there for the night!

  - Wait, is that my grandfather so loaded you? I will talk to him.

  - No, Mr. Shaw has absolutely nothing to do with! It is I myself! I took up a job that requires more time than I thought. And I can not give up the word given. You understand?

  - Yes, - he said thoughtfully woman - now seems to understand.

  - Can you help?

  Miss Emily about half a minute stared at me, his fingers twisting in the pen. Then, apparently having come to some decision, threw it on the table.

  - Good. You do not have to attend morning classes exactly one week, but then you own to explore all that took place without you. And report. Agreed?

  - Yes! Thank you, Miss Emily! - I jumped. - I can go?

  - Yes, of course, go ...

  I went out of the room in a good mood. lack of time, the problem was partly solved now remains the case for small - to work, work and work.

  Going down to the studio, I looked at the work front. Perhaps, though, I refuse the idea to carry out flight tests today. The fact that I still could not even guess what the final weight will have to raise my mehanolet, and in this case better not rely on assumptions, but on exact figures. So, first of all, I will need to make details and complete the build engine that will manage the flight, and after knowing the exact volume and weight of this design, build and test the wings. Drawing is ready remained implementation.

  Looking at the complex scheme, again mentally thanked Mr. Shaw, who took the trouble to bring machines here. I really can not imagine how I would have produced more than one hundred gear alone, given that in manual mode, at the very beginning of my studies, I did five pieces in 2 hours. Now, having a machine that knocked out the right amount of absolutely regular and symmetrical teeth on a round ingot of any thickness and diameter, the case did not even accelerated at times, dozens of times.

  Rejecting all extraneous thoughts, I set to work. Completely dedicated to his task, I did not notice the passage of time. But this time I stopped before the door began to thresh Donnie. I corny hungry and decided to eat something, the good work went according to plan, without any unpleasant surprises.

  By answering a knock, I continued to chew. Donald, as usual leisurely walked into the shop.

  - Miss Emily said, that you do not go to school - with a slight hint of accusing he began.

  - Only a week. Otherwise, I do not have time - I nodded toward the table on which the details were laid out fully made, but not yet collected and customized gear.

  - Hmm, I see. Well, you're not going back? Time - two thirty.

  - No I can not. Many cases, and so do not have time.

  - Hey, Sherlock. Are you sure you cope with everything alone? I'm really can help you, even with something - Donny shrugged uncertainly. - Information search, for example.

  I thought for a moment. In principle, the other could be involved, but not now. To drag him to the library, or in the sense of land was not. Perhaps he could help me with a puzzle hours? Yes, you will need to try, but in the evening.

  - Yes, Donny, perhaps I will have one thing in which you can participate. In the evening, when I get back. Good?

  - Of course. Well, then I went. You just do not be late for dinner, and then everything will be back to worry - each waved his hand and went into the street.

  Saying goodbye to Donnie, I returned to my first lunch, but after a couple of minutes to go. Upcoming is the most laborious part, required the utmost care and accuracy - assembly.

  After another half hour, I straightened weary back. The idea is that the work was not finished, but if I wanted to do everything, that planned for today, I should hurry. Therefore, picking up a box with the remaining two sandwiches, I again went to the library.

  Already familiar to me girl librarian greeted me with a smile. After greeting, I went to the shelves with newspaper files. Thus, the last series of murders I found in a sheet set for 1834, so now would have to go back for another ten years ago.

  Finding a file of the given period, I began to leaf through it, with each page leaving deeper and deeper into the past.

  This time I was lucky a little bit faster. Number of 16 September 1819 welcomed me screaming headline: "Docker confessed to six murders in Kanefri Wharf!". Quickly I ran an article eyes. Yeah - slaughtered, girl, sixteen years, all in the port area. The killer himself confessed to the crime, came to the police station with a knife, he cut the girls in the hands of

  Returning a few issues ago, I, as well as yesterday, wrote on a piece of paper all the information about the victims, which can only be removed from the newspaper article. This time I was more fortunate, and excep
t death dates, names and ages of those killed the girls, I found the name of the detective who handled the case. Detective Leksidi, Central Branch of the Eastern Police District. Leksidi, Leksidi ... What a familiar name. Somewhere I heard it, and more recently ... I thought.

  A! Well, yes, of course! It's an old man, head of the archive. Did he have the same investigator who led then? Then it's just unreal luck, I can say one shot kill two birds with one stone.

  Well, while I still have, I think I quite have time before dinner to ride to the archive. Pocketed sheet with records, I quickly left the library.

  Chalk on the street again. Although the calendar winter still has not come, the weather was quite winter. It was clearly a small minus, the snow did not melt, puddles covered with brittle crusts of ice. In the few minutes while waiting at least one free the crew, I was able to thoroughly freeze slightly.

  Yes, still far more comfortable making a person's life of money, I thought, by covering cold feet woolen blanket, which is always lying in such a case on the seat of any cab. But I could go now in frozen through Imperial, and even worse, to go on foot. And if you without shoes? Many children of my age living in Hackney, shoes, and if present, it represented something terribly worn, torn and tie with string. I doubt that in the cold of it can be of any use.

  While the crew slowly rolled out of the center on the east side, I reread my notes. In contrast, those that were made yesterday to today was not the slightest hint of what could integrate these girls. Well, except that they were all killed in the docks area, of course, not far from the water. One of the girls was selling fish, others make paper flowers to the hat, another worked as waitress in a restaurant, two were prostitutes. About the latest victims of occupation in the article was not a word, but her options were few.

  I must admit I was a little disappointed, because hoped to find something to do that will help me out a killer. But, unfortunately, there was nothing. He hoped that Mr. Leksidi I will not fail.

  At the police station I was again greeted familiar to me mustachioed policeman. To my question, he replied that the detective March's not there, but he left the order to take me to the archive on demand. I mentally thanked prudent detective, walking behind plump barbel in the already well-known me a tiny room.