Sherlock Holmes

by Dick Gillman

  Holmes’ face looked like it had been riven from stone and he nodded to encourage the Ambassador to continue.

  "What could be more damaging to the Emperor than if a priceless Chinese work of art was seen to be stolen by criminal elements of the Chinese themselves? Where would the blame lie? With the British, for allowing the theft to happen? With the Emperor, for not suppressing the criminals and for allowing such a treasure to leave China? The damage to both the reputation of the Emperor and to Sino-British relations would be catastrophic! I fear not for my own life but for that of the Emperor...."

  The complexion of the Ambassador had turned quite pale.

  Holmes reached for the Ambassador's hand, saying, "Fear not, we shall do all in our power to prevent this." Holmes called out in Chinese and the door burst open as the two body guards rushed in, each with a deadly looking hatchet at the ready. These they quickly stowed in their silks on seeing that their master was unharmed.

  The Ambassador spoke quickly to them, assuring them that all was well and turned once more to us. "You must do what you can to prevent this, Holmes. A great deal is at stake for both our countries."

  Both men held each other’s gaze and, with a respectful nod from Holmes, we took our leave. Outside the museum we hailed a cab and returned in silence to Baker Street. Once more in our rooms, the air soon attained a blue haze as we both settled into our chairs with a pipe of tobacco.

  Little was said for over half an hour, each of us, I believe, turning over in our minds the words of the Chinese ambassador. I broke the silence by asking Holmes how likely he thought an attempt to steal the bell might be. Holmes looked straight ahead and blew out a thin ribbon of blue smoke.

  "I think, Watson, that the Ambassador has accurate sources within London’s criminal classes and what he says is likely to be true." Holmes turned towards me and, rubbing his hands together, said, "We must prepare ourselves and make arrangements to protect the bell." I blinked, unsure of the implications of this statement!

  Chapter 3 - Frustrated by the Crown

  The next day I awoke to find Holmes already dressed and studying a blueprint, a floor plan of the Victoria and Albert Museum. He had spread the blueprint on our dining table and was busy annotating the plan with a pencil. I wandered over to the table with a mind to discover what was afoot.

  "Are you planning our defences?" I asked.

  Holmes was tapping the pencil on the plans and running his index finger along the various corridors inside the museum. “Indeed, Watson. I am studying the layout of the museum and the ways that intruders might enter the building and reach the bell. The architects, in their wisdom, designed the museum so that it would be well lit by natural light which, in turn, means a plethora of windows.”

  I looked at the plans, observing, “It is not a bank Holmes!”

  Holmes slammed the pencil down on the table, shouting, “Precisely! The openness of the design is an inherent weakness in its security.”

  I could see there was a deal of frustration mounting in Holmes and suggested that it might be time for some tea. I rang the bell and asked Mrs Hudson to bring up a breakfast tray for me and two cups.

  Holmes strode across the room and sat in his favourite armchair by the fireside. He drew his knees to his chest and placed his hands together with the fingers steepled against his lips. After a moment or two he spoke. “I'm sorry, old fellow. I find this so damnably frustrating. If we were to suggest moving the bell to a place of safety each evening, it would reveal our hand and also greatly displease the Chinese.”

  Holmes then sat back in his chair with his eyes closed, his prodigious intellect focussed on the task.

  The tea arrived and whilst I tucked into toast and home-made strawberry preserve, Holmes sipped at his tea. It was clear that he continued to consider several options, saying to himself, “We must make sure that the approach to the bell is made as difficult as possible for any intruders."

  I finished my breakfast and wandered over to the floor plan of museum. During my service in India, I had several times been present when the senior officers of my regiment had planned defensive strategies for our headquarters. "It seems to me, Holmes, that there are but two corridors that any thieves might use to reach the bell. The main entrance is nearby but is too secure to be a point of entry."

  Holmes finished his tea and came to stand by me at the table and I indicated the two corridors that I had identified. Holmes nodded and tapped his forefinger on his pursed lips. "What do you know about Chinese Imperial assassins, Watson?"

  For a moment I was dumbfounded. "Well, probably as much as I know about the man in the moon!"

  At this, Holmes roared with laughter and patted me soundly on the back. "Then let me enlighten you, old fellow.” Holmes reached for his pipe and then began to give me a potted history of the rise of these feared fighters.

  "In Japan, these secretive, highly trained fighters are called Ninjas...although they did not originate there. The name comes from the Chinese middle ages when the forerunners of these assassins were called Yinja, in the Chinese tongue, Kejia. The Chinese peasants referred to them as forest demons, 'Lin Gwai'. They were the epitome of stealth and brought with them death." Holmes’ face looked grim.

  "The thieves we face are as determined as they are deadly. I think we may have to involve brother Mycroft, despite the ambassador's concerns." With that he reached for his notebook and dashed off a cryptic telegram.

  It was about mid-day when we heard the sound of a Hansom draw up at the curb in the street below. Holmes, I saw, was immediately alert. "Ah, I presume this to be Mycroft."

  A few moment later, the door to our rooms opened and in swept Mycroft Holmes. He appeared to be somewhat flustered as he struggled with the fastening for his cape. Eventually, he was free of it and cast it to one side.

  Mycroft, a man of few words when speaking to his brother, came straight to the point. "What is this about Sherlock? Your cryptic telegram did little to inform but greatly alarmed me."

  Holmes invited Mycroft to sit and then proceeded to speedily and succinctly recount our meeting with the Chinese ambassador.

  Mycroft was silent for, perhaps, thirty seconds. He seemed to be turning over the facts and at last he spoke. "Yes… a very delicate situation, Sherlock. One, I think, you must not get yourself involved in."

  Holmes was outraged. "What? You expect me to leave the Chinese ambassador in fear of his life because of my inaction and my indiscretion? No! Mycroft. That will not do! I cannot stand by and let this happen!" Holmes stood towering over Mycroft, his fists clenched and his face scarlet.

  Mycroft looked up at Holmes and quietly said, "I'm afraid you must. You forget that the Victoria and Albert Museum is a government building and, as such, its security is the affair of the Crown."

  Holmes’ fist crashed down onto the dining table. "No! There is not only honour but lives at stake here. I must be part of this!" Holmes started to pace in front of the fireplace. I saw reason in what Mycroft had said but I also understood Holmes’ position.

  I felt the need to intervene, saying, "From what you have said yourself, Holmes, the men who seek to steal the bell are trained killers. What do you propose, Mycroft?”

  Mycroft turned towards me, sensing that I might be something of an ally in this. "It will be difficult, Watson, for I feel I cannot fully involve Her Majesty's government." Glancing at Holmes, I could detect some small sign of relief pass across his face.

  Mycroft rubbed his chin. "To guard the bell I think I may have to call in some markers from Special Branch." Mycroft paused. "Sherlock, this is no longer simply a personal matter. The relationship between two sovereign states may be jeopardised. You must promise me that you will not interfere in protecting the bell."

  Mycroft looked towards Holmes. I could plainly see Holmes’ internal torment. He was clearly torn between his personal commitment to the Ambassador and the protection of the interests of the Crown.

  Holmes engaged Mycroft with a steely loo
k and, with a wagging forefinger, said, "I will agree to this only on one condition. Should the bell be stolen, I will involve myself fully in its recovery with no impediment on your part, Mycroft."

  Mycroft thought for a moment then nodded. "Agreed, but I warn you, Sherlock. If you are not true to your word and you are found in the environs of the museum, I will have you arrested and the implications for you will be grave."

  Holmes considered this for a moment and then nodded. Mycroft said no more, he stood, collected his cape and with a nod to me, he swept from our rooms.

  Chapter 4 - Holmes’ fears are confirmed!

  For the next two days Holmes was like a caged tiger. He constantly paced backwards and forwards in our sitting room and, at every noise in the street below, he bristled. Whenever there was a ring at our door he sprang from his chair, alert and ready to pounce.

  At 9 p.m. on the second day I was exasperated and could take no more. "For goodness sake, Holmes! Let us go out and stretch our legs." Holmes’ eyes burned as he stared at me. He was well aware of the tightly coiled spring within his body.

  With a sigh, he sat for a moment. "Ah, friend Watson. Sometimes I do not know why you burden yourself so with me. Yes, a walk on a spring evening will, I trust, relieve some of the frustration I feel from inaction."

  Gathering up our coats we descended to the street below and began to walk away from our rooms. Hardly had we gone twenty yards when we stopped as we heard the sound of running footsteps behind us. Turning towards the sound, we could make out a figure hurtling down Baker Street, only becoming visible as he passed from one pool of light to the next. He stopped and leant for a moment on the wall outside 221b, panting, before frantically ringing our bell. Holmes ran back towards our door with me close at his heels. We arrived to find that the caller was a government messenger boy. He was clearly out of breath and was clutching an envelope.

  Looking at us he managed to say, between gasps, "This...this is for...Mr Sherlock Holmes...urgent!"

  Holmes snatched the letter from the poor lad’s grasp and moved closer to the gas light. Tearing open the envelope, Holmes quickly scanned the single sheet of paper within before raising his arms and letting out a fearsome animal cry. "Fools! My God, what have they done?" Holmes was beside himself and then, as if someone had pricked a balloon, his hands fell limply to his sides. His head drooped and he looked in utter despair. I was greatly concerned for my friend and took the letter from his limp grasp.

  Holding it up to the flickering light, I read, "The bell has been taken. The security I put in place was grievously inadequate. I am sorry, Sherlock. M."

  The messenger by this time had regained his breath and was standing there, still shaken by Holmes’ outburst. He looked at Holmes and then at me and asked, in a rather fearful voice, "Is there...is there any reply, sir?"

  Holmes turned and, for a moment, he looked as though he might explode again. The messenger boy leapt back but Holmes took a deep breath and, gathering himself together, thrust a sixpence into the lad's hand, saying, "No, there is nothing to be said." With that he turned and opened our front door.

  On reaching our rooms we sat for several minutes. Mrs Hudson had heard the commotion outside and, in true English tradition, had brought us a cup of tea which has, so often, proved to be the catalyst for solving any problem. Holmes was no longer angry but now hugely concerned for the safety of the ambassador and the return of the bell.

  "I fear there is nothing that we can do this evening, Watson. I am sure that Mycroft will have visited the museum and kept the evidence intact. Indeed, he will no doubt have ensured that no word of the theft will escape. Let us retire and make an early start in the morning."

  Although I rose at 8 a.m. it was clear that Holmes had been up for some considerable time. He had already breakfasted and was busily placing various items into the commodious pockets of his coat."Do I have time for a cup of tea Holmes?" I asked.

  Holmes gave me a thin smile and pointed towards the teapot on the table. "I took the liberty of ringing for tea and toast when I heard you shuffling about."

  Knowing that Holmes was keen to be off, I somewhat rushed my meagre breakfast and we were soon in a cab on our way to the Victoria and Albert Museum. The cab deposited us directly outside the museum and we walked up the grand steps to the entrance. As we reached the front door, Holmes touched my sleeve, pointing towards to the poster advertising the opening of the Chinese exhibition. Pasted across the poster was a diagonal banner, declaring, "Postponed due to repairs."

  Holmes looked grim. "That was indeed quick thinking by Mycroft."

  Once inside the museum we were met by a constable who immediately recognised Holmes and saluted. "Good morning, Mr Holmes. This way, sir."

  The constable led us to the same office that had been used by the Chinese ambassador. As we approached the office, we could distinctly hear the voice of Mycroft, shouting in anger. On entering, we found Mycroft 'in conversation' with a clearly rattled police inspector. Mycroft looked up and motioned us to sit. He moderated his tone somewhat but continued to give the Inspector a thorough dressing down. After a minute or so, the Inspector saluted smartly and left with his tail firmly placed between his legs. When Mycroft finally turned and looked at his brother, he did, to his credit, look a little crest fallen.

  Holmes’ face was stony. "Tell me all, Mycroft."

  Mycroft, rather self-consciously, squirmed in his seat. He was clearly most uncomfortable. "It appears that the thieves had assistance from within the museum. I had discreetly contacted Special Branch who had supplied two armed detectives. These, I thought, together with the four regular night watchmen would be sufficient for the task. Clearly, I was wrong."

  Holmes nodded and Mycroft continued. "Apparently, all four of the museum staff regularly drank tea together at 8 p.m. each evening. This was totally against Museum rules which allowed only two of the staff to take refreshments at a time, the other two night watchmen remaining on duty."

  I could see the anger welling up in Holmes as he began to tap his forefinger against his lip. "And what of the Special Branch officers?"

  Mycroft avoided Holmes’ gaze and cleared his throat. "From my enquiries, it appears that they too joined the museum staff for tea."

  Holmes could barely contain himself, saying icily, "Normally, this would be but a small misdemeanour...there must be more."

  Mycroft appeared now to be exceedingly uncomfortable. "As this was a delicate matter, the reason for the extra security was not made clear to either the museum staff or the Special Branch officers. Tea was served to them by a Chinese fellow who had but recently been employed as a temporary cleaner on the evening shift. Apparently, he often made tea for the staff."

  Holmes could no longer hold in his anger. He sprang from his chair, yelling, "This is unbelievable, Mycroft! I suppose this fellow drugged the tea?"

  Mycroft sat with his head somewhat bowed and, in a low, clipped voice said, "So it would seem."

  Holmes began to pace. I was concerned for my friend but he shrugged off my arm as I tried to calm him. "I can hear no more of this save to ask whether the night watchmen are recovered sufficiently to be questioned?"

  Mycroft nodded. "I have assembled them and they are waiting in the staff canteen. The constable outside will show you the way."

  Holmes didn't even look at Mycroft. He simply strode out and was collected by the constable who, by his pale complexion, had heard all!

  We walked briskly to an area tucked away in the recesses of the museum marked, 'Staff Only'. The constable led us to a door bearing the word, 'Canteen'. Holmes thanked him, asking him to wait outside.

  The room was painted that rather unpleasant cream colour with sombre brown highlights, so common in public buildings. As we entered the canteen, we could see six men sitting at a long refectory table. All were clearly suffering from the effects of some kind of intoxication. On seeing us, they tried, as best they could, to sit upright. The senior night watchman stood, a little unstead
ily, I have to say, introducing himself a Stanley Cox. Holmes waved him to sit down and pulled a chair towards the centre of the group.

  "So, Mr Cox. Tell me what happened last night." Holmes’ tone was business-like but held no hint of the venom he had used on Mycroft.

  Mr Cox scratched his head. "Well, it was like this, sir. Me and the lads have got into the habit of gathering together at 8 o'clock for a cup of tea and a natter...only for ten minutes, like. The first night those two plain clothes coppers stayed outside, on duty, but last night, we invited 'em in for a brew....we did keep the door open though!"

  Holmes replied, with more than a little sarcasm, "Perhaps you rely too much on burglars who announce themselves by playing a trumpet"

  Mr Cox looked very sheepish. "No, sir. We knows it was wrong but we thought there was no harm in it, it was barely dark."

  Holmes nodded. "When you came in for tea, the Chinaman brought it to you?"

  "Yes, sir, he's the cleaner."

  Holmes thought for a second. "Was it his job to make the tea?"

  "No, sir. He has only been with us for about a week or so. He was taken on about the same time as the Chinese exhibition was announced. The museum expected to have more visitors and more visitors means more cleaning so they took on some temporary staff."

  Holmes nodded. "Go on."

  "Well, sir. The evening cleaning shift ain't the best of shifts. Nobody wants to work in the evening but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't speak much English but he made it clear that he was happy to make the tea for us and, to be honest, we enjoyed being waited on."