by Janina Woods
Then I pushed away the crumbs of a long-consumed meal in slight disgust, to reach a blue notebook, which had been partially hidden underneath some older newspapers. It contained... absolutely abysmal poetry. By Jove, could that man get any worse? Still, I placed the book back as I found it. The guards would tell on me, but Chapman didn’t need to know exactly what I had seen.
There was nothing interesting yet, so I examined the rest of the desk. Of all the compartments, only one was locked. A tell-tale sign of secrecy. But it was a simple lock, cracked under a minute, with the help of a sharp letter opener, which was conveniently placed among the papers. There was just one simple book in the drawer I had forced open, but it showed signs of heavy use. The cover was all but falling apart, and it was bulging beyond its capacity, as there had been a large number of additional paper stuck between the pages. I picked it up carefully, as to not dislodge anything, and placed it gingerly on top of the assorted letters.
“Alright, fun’s over.”
A female voice spoke out behind my back. It was a measured tone, commanding, but not overly aggressive. I couldn’t see the woman, but the way her voice was projected made me assume she had been hiding between the shelves. There was no way of knowing if she had a weapon, so I straightened and slowly stepped to the right side of the desk, leaving the large book behind. Then I turned, hands slightly raised, so that my enemy would know I had no weapon in my grasp and wouldn’t do anything foolish.
“Who said you could turn?”
“You didn’t state I couldn’t,” I answered and raised my head to appraise just who was standing before me.
The woman herself was half shrouded in shadows, but I could see her outstretched hand with... Oh. She was either brave or very stupid. The way she held the collapsed, feathered fan in one hand as if it were a pistol, made me lean towards brave. Just my luck.
“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t call the guards.”
“They’re tied up in the library.”
“Oh, yes, that’s good. Very good.”
She still held the fan pointed at me. Until I couldn’t be sure that it didn’t hide a concealed weapon, I had little room to move. No, she seemed to like talking, so that would have to do instead.
“I aim to please.” I inclined my head just so. “Now why don’t we put this dreadful matter behind us and return to the party. It was thrown in your honour, after all.”
The blonde woman laughed. She was still clad in the same dress and mask as during her introduction earlier, but had lost the high shoes - her dress now trailing along the floor as she moved. She was well over a head smaller than me, but her eyes were gleaming with a dangerous fire, which I could see even through what little the mask allowed me to gaze upon. Just because she was a small woman didn’t mean I could let my guard down.
“I had hoped you would be so clever and figure dear Arthur out. Can you believe how happy I was when you walked through those doors? I had almost given up hope. But here you are. I had hoped I‘d have this chance to see you while you’re still okay. So I know what to compare it to - after everything is over.”
I was momentarily taken aback, but I believed that the mask, which I was still wearing, was adequately concealing the way my eyes widened in surprise. When I spoke again, my voice was even, even though my emotions weren’t.
“You can always count on me to be clever, Miss...?”
“Good try. Now here’s what’s going to happen. You will leave this room and go back to the entrance, where you can pick up your coat if you so desire, then exit the door and never enter this house again.”
I eyed the woman again. She must’ve known I would try to search the study and snuck into the room while I was occupied on the outside of the building. Or maybe during the commotion in the library? That means she could’ve been here by accident... But, no. Anyone else would’ve normally called for help, had they witnessed the guards being attacked, much less try to confront an intruder on their own. She had clearly been waiting for me. Her tone and choice of words conveyed a familiarity with me that made me feel anxious.
“There’s nothing I’d like more. Except maybe to know why you’re letting me go so easily after trying to steal your partner’s secrets.”
“Partner? Please. You make it sound like this is an equal venture. But you don’t have to understand that. I have looked into your eyes while you are still alive, which is all I wanted. Now you will have to go. Besides... you will find nothing of note here, Mycroft Holmes.”
“You still have me at a disadvantage.”
“In more ways than you can imagine.” She grinned and reached into what seemed to be a pocket on the side of her skirt. From this, she drew a pistol. Small, but deadly, just like her. She readied it and aimed the barrel at my head. That was my cue to leave.
So I stayed and crossed my arms.
“Sending me away so easily? After you told me you’re so happy I’m here?”
I leaned against the side of the desk, half sitting on it, as if we just happened to have a conversation in the study, and there wasn’t a weapon pointed at me. There was no use in panicking. It never helped.
“In fact, why reveal yourself to me at all? If there’s no evidence here, you could’ve let me search the room and then disappear none the wiser, never to come back here. But now I know you, and I know that you know me, and everything has become that much more complicated.”
“No, it’s still very simple. I wanted to see you run away scared, and that’s what I’m going to get. But because you refuse to leave, I might as well speed up the plan and let you know the next step now.”
I frowned. “You want to let me know what?”
The woman never left her place between the shelves, and the pistol kept being pointed at me. The only change was the fan, which she had opened and fanned herself with, the heavy feathers swaying languidly.
“The messages are only the beginning. I will make you pay for what you did to me and my family. I want you to be afraid. I want you to cower in fear and make you regret everything you’ve done. I want to see you crumble, and when there’s nothing left, I will personally end your life. I could end it right now, but where’s the fun in that? I want to see you suffer and I and want you to know that you, yourself, were the reason. Now run!”
“Pay? Pay for what?” I asked, now back on my feet in an uneasy stance.
“Run!” She shouted and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit a bundle of paper next to me. She shot again - at the floor in front of my feet. “Didn’t you hear me? Run away like the scared little coward you are!”
I wanted to do everything but run. I needed answers, and I needed them now. I needed to confront her. End this madness. I opened my mouth to talk back, but then a sharp pain flared up in my upper left arm. She had shot again and didn’t miss. There was no further noise of destruction, so even as I stumbled backwards, I concluded that the bullet must’ve been still inside my flesh. I grabbed the wound with my right hand.
“I said I wanted to see you suffer. There are enough bullets in this gun to incapacitate you and make you hurt in a more bodily way.”
Her whole body shook as she shouted her threats at me. I couldn’t count on her to be able to aim properly anymore. With a heavy heart, I inched backwards, into the direction of the door. Ever backwards, until my back hit the wood and I fumbled to remove the chair from under the door handle with my good arm, hand slippery with blood.
“That’s what I wanted to see,” she purred and raised the gun again. “And it will be so much worse so very soon... just when you realise what has happened to your darling detective brother. Oh, how I wish I could be there...”
The stab of pain in my heart was heavier than the one in my arm. Just as I had turned the door handle, I stopped and looked back at her.
“Yes, yes, yes! Those are the eyes I want to s
ee! Go on, run and find out! Run for your life, Mycroft Holmes!”
I wanted to ask her what she meant, but for once it wasn’t my self-composure that prevented me from doing so, but the way my throat choked up with rising emotions. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing my broken voice, as I was well aware that she could’ve just said these things to provoke me. That she had bluffed.
But what if she hadn’t?
Chapter Ten
In the end, I did exactly as she wanted.
I ran as fast as I could, and I felt every step like a stab with a hot metal poker in my injured arm. Even in my dazed state, I had the mind not to exit through the main entrance. Instead I kicked in the servant‘s door and flew down the narrow staircase. How I managed to keep my balance is a mystery I will never be able to figure out. On the second floor, I ran into a maid carrying a water pitcher, and as I jumped out of her way, I rubbed my injured arm against the wall, smearing the stonework with blood. She cursed and fell, the pitcher right behind her as it crashed on the stairs, the water following me ever downwards, as I continued my way as fast as I could.
Ignoring the confused shouts of a whole battalion of butlers, I barrelled past everyone in the servant’s quarters, then the kitchens, and exited through the back entrance into an alley behind Chapman’s grand manor. The commotion I left behind was sizeable, but I wasn’t pursued far. It was simply too cold outside.
Was my brother still at Simpson’s? I wanted... no, I needed to see him. I needed to know he was all right. Alive.
With my bleeding arm clutched tightly to my body, I never stopped running. The cold streets were deserted, and the shock of the freezing air on my unprotected body made me stay awake, at least. I was aware that I was losing more blood than was healthy, even though I had hastily tied my cravat around my upper arm while running, to prevent just that. With just one hand and my teeth as helpers, the knot wasn’t as tight as I’d liked, but it would have to suffice.
My feet found their way automatically, as my brain went through its decision process basically on its own, which was a blessing, as the rest of my head was all but occupied by fear. I breathed heavily from exertion, and with every shallow breath of icy air that I drew into my lungs, my body felt more sluggish. My vision swam and I had problems keeping my footing on the frozen ground. The backroads, through which my subconscious navigated me, where covered in deep snow, the fight against which only added to my fatigue.
Sherlock. He must’ve been home by now. Surely he would’ve still dined at the restaurant - it being a favourite of his - but by now... Curses! I couldn’t think straight. I had only recently buried the fear I had felt for him in Egypt, but it was still so close to the surface, it had only taken this incident to make it overtake my mind once again. I felt numb, almost paralysed.
The light of a gas lamp welcomed me back on a larger street, where a few carriages rattled across the stones. I fell over a piled up mountain of snow onto the partially cleared sidewalk, rolling down into the street, and prayed that no one had seen me emerge. I would’ve stayed in the shadows, if at all possible, but I needed to reach the house on the other side of the street.
I wished I had my coat with me, not only because of the temperature. My mask lay discarded in some alleyway behind me, but dressed only in my suit, I looked suspicious nonetheless... not even counting my sleeve, which was dripping with blood. No matter how tightly I held the wound, it seemed to be in vain.
With a colourful string of curses, I vaulted myself into the road and crossed it as fast as I could. On the other side lay a large townhouse, with some steps leading up to its front door. I glanced at the window and was elated to see a sliver of light through the cracks of the drawn curtain. Someone was still awake!
By now I was at the end of my strength. The blood loss made me light-headed and the freezing cold had numbed my limbs. Still, I carried myself up the steps, and with one last effort, threw myself at the door.
Of course it was locked, so I leaned against it, slumped on the floor, and as it finally opened, fell into the house head first.
“Mr. Holmes!” the butler exclaimed in shock, after he had jumped back to avoid me. “Good heavens, what happened to you?”
“Can I come in before I answer?” I cracked a tired smile and let my head drop back onto the carpet.
“Oh... oh, of course. Let me just... Oh my...”
The butler reached under my arms to drag me fully into the house, as the strength to stand had left me a while ago. I gritted my teeth, as the motion agitated my wounded arm even further, but beside a few pain groans, I didn’t complain. I was just glad to be behind a closed door, out of the cold. The carpet felt heavenly.
“I... I will fetch someone to help. Please, wait just a moment...”
“Not going anywhere.”
I watched the man run away like a headless chicken. It was not every day he encountered such a situation. Sure, he was employed by Lou, but I gathered that she didn’t come home in a similar state often. At least not in such a dramatic fashion. I turned my eyes to the ceiling and listened to the commotion that spread through the house.
The butler had first called for help from the footman, who now ran towards me from the servant’s hall. His next order of business had been to inform Edward, who had been in the parlour still. The sounds of the door flying open and crashing against the wall were unmistakable. Soon everyone stared me as if I were a particularly interesting plant to study.
“Mycroft! Whatever happened?” Edward shouted and fell to the floor beside me, no regard for his clothes at all. I smiled at him, dizzily. The whole ordeal had left me quite out of it, but this wasn’t a time to relax, no matter how much my consciousness wanted to slip away into the comforting darkness.
“Send for my brother, please. He needs to come here right now!” I urged Edward and grabbed his sleeve with the hand I could still use. “Please, it’s very important!”
I didn’t have - and want - to mention the encounter that had me so shaken. I only needed to know that my brother was still among the living.
“But Mycroft, what happened to you?”
“All in due time. Send for him first.”
Edward nodded and gave the instructions to a footman, who departed immediately. My brother didn’t have a telephone installed in his house, so I gathered the man would run to Baker Street himself. With a sigh of relief, I dropped my hand from Edward’s arm and closed my eyes.
“You can’t fall asleep now, Mycroft. Come on, won’t anybody help me? Or are you going to stand around all night? We need to get him on the table in the parlour, so that a doctor can look him over. By Jove, where is all that blood coming from?”
I felt a lot of strong hands on my body pulling me upwards. Edward, the remaining footman, the butler and even Edward’s valet all grabbed one part of me or another and somehow carried me across the entrance hall into the room where I had said goodbye to him earlier. A maid ran ahead, cleared the decorations from a desk and they placed me on top of it, as gingerly as they could. Already I felt like I was lying on a surgery table.
“Should I call for a doctor? I can try to-”
“Edward,” I cut the man off. My voice was weak, but had the desired effect. “Dr. Watson will be here soon. Until then, might I please have a drink to fortify myself for the ordeal yet to come?”
“Of course, of course...” the man mumbled and waved for his valet to bring two glasses.
I could barely sit up, much less hold the drink in my hand and support myself at the same time, so the valet helped me to raise my head and Edward held the glass to my lips. I felt so helpless, it was almost absurd. But as the burning liquid ran down my throat, I felt it flow through me like a welcome fire.
“You’re not wasting your Strathisla on me, are you?”
Edward broke into laughter despite the situa
tion.
“Waste? Mycroft, how could you think that? You don’t even know what I owe you... This is the least I can do.”
“I think you’ll reconsider when you find your carpets stained with my blood.”
He shook his head and waved my argument away.
“You can make good on that by telling me what the hell happened at that ball... and where’s Louisa?”
I looked around to the servants, who were still present, and Edward understood immediately. He sent them all out of the room, not to enter again until they are called for. He closed the door behind his valet, who was the last to leave, under some protest. Then the man looked at me pleadingly. I couldn’t deny him some part of the truth and explained the matter, but left out the details about Sherlock. He knew about the message on the Thames - all of London seemed to know - so he could understand why I was searching Chapman’s office.
While I talked slowly, he sat in silence for quite a while. It took everything out of me to remain conscious, and even the pain in my arm didn’t help to keep me alert. On the contrary: the more it hurt, the more I just wanted to let go and slip away.
“And Louisa?” he finally asked and downed the last of his whisky.
“Must still be at the ball, I suspect...”
Just then the entrance door opened. Both of us looked towards the noise and Edward jumped up to meet whoever had arrived. As he left the room, I could only pray that it was Sherlock... but there hadn’t been enough time to notify him yet, had there? My doubts were confirmed as the door to the drawing room flew open and Lou ran in to see me.
“It’s the same with you, every time!” she shouted at me. “Why can’t you perform even one simple task without getting yourself injured? Please don’t tell me anyone is dead at the house.”