Mycroft Holmes and the Edinburgh Affair

by Janina Woods

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “What about Arthur Chapman? Why’s he on the list? And why is his name underlined three times?”

  “I unveiled his smuggling business out of China two years ago. Made me go all the way to the Far East to catch him in the act of paying off his Chinese partners. He had to pay a heavy, heavy sum to get out of a more severe sentence.”

  “Everyone remembers that he fell from grace. I knew why, but I didn’t know you were the reason.”

  “The reason was his illegal business. I simply brought it to the attention of the right people.”

  “That still doesn’t say why he’s singled out.”

  “Well, when he fell from grace, as you put it so eloquently, his engagement was called off. The problem was that he actually loved the woman a great deal, and he claims she loved him too. It was favourable on all sides. But that didn’t count for much after the scandal, when shortly after she was married off to an officer living in India.”

  “Well, I never...”

  I shrugged. “I think he prefers to talk about other things. And there’s the matter of his involvement in the theft of a few crates of surgical instruments. My brother sees a connection between them and the Mycroft Incident.”

  “Do you think he’d be capable of such displays?” Lou wondered.

  “He certainly has the money to make it a reality. To hire the right people to carry out these foul deeds.”

  “I’m asking because I was actually almost on my way to one of his parties when you called for me. My husband was invited and is bringing me along.”

  I frowned.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mycroft. But since Chapman had that setback, he’s doing everything to get back into the good graces of society. He flaunts his money and influence, organises lavish parties regularly, and even invites many people to his country estates. He still has his group of admirers, and is slowly turning things around. If you like, I can ask Edward if he’ll stay home and you can accompany me instead. I know how you hate to pass up an opportunity.”

  It was too big a coincidence. And that was exactly the reason I had to go. If it was a trap, all the better. I’d rather work my way out of a sticky situation than stumble in the dark.

  “Edward wouldn’t mind?”

  “Oh, you’d do him a huge favour, believe me. He’s sick of Chapman, has been for a long time. I know I am. He’s way too eager to please, almost sickeningly so. But these functions are the best way to keep an eye on him, so we attend almost every single one. It’s the curse of being too willing to do a good job.”

  I chuckled. Edward had become a good acquaintance of mine over the years. He was a mild-mannered, relaxed man, who adored his wife, admired her work, and provided a perfect cover for her to be the best informed agent about the state of the British society.

  “I suppose I could alleviate his burden for one night.”

  Lou slumped into her chair and handed the list of names back to me. “There are many others on here, who are just as likely. Or not likely...”

  “I know what you mean. This could be an entirely wrong direction.”

  “That’s not the only thing. There’s just too many to pursue. You have so many enemies!”

  “You mean I resolved too many problems, surely?” I countered. “Luckily most can be excluded, because they are either in jail or no longer alive. Might as well start with Chapman. He certainly has the resources, and his name has already shown up once. I don’t believe in coincidences. Is he married or engaged?”

  “Not currently... Ah, you think he’s still mourning his lost love? A good place to start, then. And you won’t even have to worry he might recognise you.”

  “He’s seen my face in China.”

  Lou grinned.

  “No worries, Mycroft. Tonight is a masquerade ball.”

  Chapter Nine

  I knew I was being watched. I needed to get the list of names to my brother, so he could investigate, while I pretended to be still figuring all out, so my observers would be in the dark about my progress.

  While this could potentially lead to yet another message - with all the implications that carried - it was one way to mitigate the immediate threat to my life. If the mystery around the messages were something to be solved by me, a significant event would surely take place upon my doing so. And until I knew what exactly that event was, I had to be careful not to let it happen.

  I returned to my townhouse to dress for the evening, as I had promised Lou to meet her at her residence, so we could travel to Chapman’s house together. When I exited the club, I immediately spotted a small boy, watching me from the other side of the street and waved for him to come closer.

  “Bring this to Sherlock,” I whispered and handed him a folded copy of the list of names. “If he’s not at Baker Street, he’ll be at Simpson’s around eight. Don’t hand this over to anyone else, not even your Irregular colleagues.”

  “Yes, Mr. Holmes.” The boy nodded and stashed the piece of paper in a pocket on the inside of his overcoat. “Don’t worry, I know where he’ll be.”

  There was no reason to doubt him. He probably knew my brother’s whereabouts better than I ever could. The boy ran away and waved to another urchin, who had been hiding behind a mountain of piled up, dirty snow. They exchanged a series of hand gestures, looked back at me for a few seconds, then both disappeared. There was much to be said about the Irregulars, but I admit that they could be handy at times. At the very least they were fiercely loyal to my brother, and that placed them above any suspicion. Wiggins, whom I had entrusted with the list, had probably been instructed by Sherlock to keep an eye on me in the city. It was a gentle gesture, done out of concern, which I appreciated, though I didn’t know how much good it would do.

  After they disappeared, I jumped into one of the private cabs of the Diogenes Club and instructed the driver to take me towards my residence in Kensington. The drive was uneventful, and I couldn’t spot anyone suspicious either at my point of departure nor in the surrounding area. I supposed if there had been someone, the Irregulars would’ve informed me accordingly. Still, I disembarked from the cab a few streets away from my house and observed my surroundings closely, before I made my way to the door. I was becoming positively paranoid.

  The feeling persisted in my house, which I searched as thoroughly as time allowed, and made me lock my bedroom door before undressing to change clothes. If the goal of my admirers was to make me anxious, they were doing a very good job of it. Not that I wasn’t always alert when I was on a mission... but this was different.

  This was home.

  The fact that I found my name written in red paint across my front door steps, as I exited my residence, didn’t help at all. I sighed and quickly retreated into the shadow of the doorway. The paint was still fresh and glistened in the light. It was unevenly applied, running down the stairs where too much had accumulated - and it reeked terribly. The whole thing had been done in a hurry. No wonder.

  I kneeled down to examine the ground, where logically the painter must’ve stood. If they had been as careless in applying the paint, maybe they were equally as...

  “Mr. Holmes?”

  In shock, I once again jumped back further into my house, retreating to relative safety, before my head could place the tone of voice. I straightened and reached for one of my umbrellas next to the door. My townhouse wasn’t a grand thing, in its dimensions very similar to Baker Street, and I kept it up myself, which meant I had taken to place many items into a handy location behind the door, as there was no servant to fetch them for me.

  “Mr. Holmes I saw them!”

  The voice was young and excited. I looked around the doorway. A small head peeked over the wall next to the stairs, the rest of the body hidden in the evergreen bushes, which threatened to collapse under the weight of ac
cumulated snow. Another Irregular. And she looked positively frozen. I shuddered just looking at her blue nose.

  “Indeed?” I asked, umbrella now relaxed at my side, but still in hand.

  “Two men came here to write this. I was hidden here, in the bushes, see? So good, you, yourself didn’t even spot me!”

  “Dear Lord, since when have you been there?”

  “I changed with Timmy midday,” the small girl said and when she saw the horror on my face quickly added: “Oh, don’t worry your head. It doesn’t matter where I am. Nobody to miss me, after all. At least here I can earn some money.”

  “Well, then earn it by telling me just what you saw. But first come inside. Be careful not to step on any paint...”

  The girl wiggled her way out of the gnarly branches, a rather large amount of snow crashing down on her scarf-covered head. I wasn’t about to pluck every freezing child off the street, but contrary to the opinion of many, I wasn’t completely heartless either.

  My kitchen wasn’t heated, but it was a lot warmer than the outside. I told the girl to sit on a low chair, while I rummaged through what little provisions I had procured for myself after having returned to the city. A few minutes later, the girl, who had told me her name was Emily, munched happily on a piece of bread.

  “Now, tell me what you saw. And don’t leave anything out.”

  “Alright,” Emily spoke with a full mouth, crumbs all but spilling out, at which I frowned but didn’t reprimand. “A few minutes after you arrived, two men ran up to your door. I thought they would knock, but then one let a heavy bucket fall on the stones. It was so loud I thought maybe you heard it, but I guess you didn’t. One looked up and down the street while the other wrote something... and then they ran off.”

  So they had waited for me. I started to doubt my powers of observation if not only the child had escaped me but also the two... henchmen.

  “What did they look like?”

  Emily had ripped off a piece of the bread and stuffed it in her mouth, so I had to wait a little while for her to stop chewing.

  “Hmm... like the men at the river. But you can’t really tell properly in this weather, can you? With all the heavy clothes...”

  “River? The Thames?”

  “Mhm,” she hummed in between bites. “Like the ones who repair the ships.”

  Dockworkers, possibly. Or...

  “Are you sure?”

  The little girl harrumphed quite expressively and looked at me like I had accused her of murder, or something worse.

  “Of course I’m sure! My dad worked on the ships! I know people like him!”

  “It’s okay, Emily. I didn’t want to upset you, I just need to be sure.”

  “Alright...” she said slowly, still offended, but not enough to storm off and leave the food behind. While I couldn’t be sure her opinion was the objective truth, it was what she believed to be true, and it was always wise to trust a child’s instincts. I certainly wasn’t going to discard the information.

  “Now listen. I’ll pack a bag with something nice to eat for you and your friends, and in turn you’ll make sure to tell my brother about the men and what they painted.”

  “What did they write anyway?”

  I took a good look at the child, who seemed to be about ten years of age, and hadn’t had the chance to learn how to read yet. Somehow, I felt curiously sad for a moment.

  “My name. You can tell Sherlock that too.”

  Emily nodded and smiled at me. I don’t know if this seemed like a game to her, but if I’d been in her shoes, I’d have laughed at a meal and the prospect of extra payment too. Sherlock didn’t lavish money on his Irregulars, but he kept them adequately paid.

  A few minutes later, I had filled a small bag with two day-old loaves of bread, a bit of cheese, some cured meat, several apples and one jar of my favourite cherry jam, which I had acquired immediately after returning to London. Emily assured me she would be more than able to carry the weight and I let her depart through a backdoor, in case anyone still had an eye on my house.

  The child bounced away, but even her carefree nature didn’t lift my spirits.

  When I finally walked through the door of Lou’s residence, admitted by one of her many footmen, as was suitable for a household such as hers, I had turned rather nervous. Even though I assumed to still be somehow safe, I saw malignant shadows everywhere. No one would know just from looking at me, but after mulling over the list of names in my head the whole day, I had so many possible theories to disprove, it was almost impossible to keep track of them all, even for me.

  Sherlock had once told me that half of London wanted to kill me. Now it felt like it was half the country. The message of my name on the doorstep had been clear: Whoever pursued me, wanted me to know that they could act at any time, and I was powerless to stop them.

  I shook my head to clear it of these dark thoughts. Chapman was a good lead and I just had to link him to the incidents somehow, which shouldn’t be a problem for me with the right information. I was still on top of this. There was no need to worry. None at all.

  “There you are. The man of the hour!” Edward beamed as he saw me enter the parlour, where I had been led to wait for Lou, who was still dressing. “I can’t tell you how elated I am because I don’t have to go to another one of Chapman’s dreadful soirées. And a masquerade ball on top of it all? One might think you’ve been forced into it. Why ever would you go by choice?”

  “I was forced, in a manner of speaking. Believe me,” I replied and grinned. “It’s good to see you again after all this time, Lord Turner.”

  “Did the absence degrade me to my title?”

  “Sorry, Edward. It’s been a while.”

  “I dare say. Louisa told me you’ve been abroad. Germany, I believe?”

  I nodded.

  “Quite a long assignment, then?”

  I took the offered seat in an armchair, and thankfully received a crystal glass filled with port, which was handed to me by a butler.

  “Yes, well, you can’t just waltz into certain places without raising suspicion. I had to spend enough time there to blend into the scenery, so to say.”

  “Can you-” Edward was cut off by the door to the parlour, opening on Lou’s arrival.

  She waltzed into the room in a dress made from cornflower blue satin with black lace trims, which was floor length, but didn’t cover her arms. A shawl made from the same material, covered in layers of black lace was wrapped around her to make up for the neglected surface area. As she was walking, she pulled on long, black silk gloves and cocked her head to smile at us.

  “Darling, you look wonderful.” Edward beamed and rose to kiss his wife’s hand.

  “Of course you’d have to say that. You bought me the dress.”

  They exchanged a few more words in private, before turning to me.

  “All ready to face the enemy?” Lou asked as she checked her hair for any stray strands. It was tastefully curled and adorned with black feathers, studded with blue gems matching the dress.

  I pulled a white mask, with golden decorations in the form of musical notes, from my pocket, which I had originally bought in Venice during the carnival, and waved it at her.

  “What do I tell them when they ask for Edward?”

  “Well, I can’t very well take a sick man to a ball, can I? And heavens forbid I should show up alone. Luckily my trusted tailor and good friend Ian Ashdown offered to chaperone me. I hope you brushed up on your fashion knowledge, Mycroft.”

  “I can certainly inform the ladies about the latest fads on the Continent.”

  “Perfect. Now, shall we depart?”

  “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, Louisa...”

  My colleague smiled sweetly and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek.

/>   “Nothing will happen to Mycroft as long as I’m around.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant...”

  We made use of Lou’s private carriage, which we boarded to make our way towards Chapman’s residence. The snowfall had picked up again, and the horses moved only slowly through the adverse conditions.

  The distance wasn’t very great. In fact, you could make the trip in under ten minutes by foot, but that wasn’t an option. Not because of the weather, which played only a small part, but because we couldn’t be seen simply walking to the house. That just wouldn’t do for a lady of Lou’s standing. So our carriage queued up behind many others, waiting to drive up the door to release their passengers.

  It took almost half an hour for us to reach the door, during which I obsessively observed our surroundings. At first, Lou didn’t pay my behaviour any mind, but when I dragged close the curtains on my side, she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

  “Calm down, Mycroft...” She sighed and put her hand on my shoulder. “Who are you expecting to follow us?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

  “I find that highly unlikely.”

  “Please. I wouldn’t be here to entertain Chapman if I had other options.”

  “There are always other options.”

  I sank back into the plush seat and dragged the blanket further up my body. It was bitterly cold inside the cabin, and every minute made me feel more like an ice block myself. What was expected as etiquette in these circles was frankly ridiculous. Only those who clung to outdated tradition would stay outside in this weather, when they could have simply walked to the door and warm up inside. But I had to adhere to the same, unspoken rules, as to not draw any unwanted attention.

  “There was a murder this morning, and the weapon was one of ours. Hawkins’ baton, to be precise. It was likely stolen from him. I know there’s a meaning hidden in those actions somewhere. It’s all too oddly specific to be random.”

  “Hawkins?” Lou exclaimed, a tad too loud for my taste. “What did he say?”