The Christmas Pudding Lie

by P. B. Phillips

  Sherlock pulls his ragamuffin bag from the rear seat of the mini. As he prepares to exit, he resumes the reigns again,

  “I’ve been considering the best way to see Paris tomorrow. I think that we should take the train over. With a few train connections we can be in Paris in just over two hours. Parking in Paris is not possible any longer. It used to be that one could park on the sidewalk. But now they tow and impound the vehicle. The fees are more than the car is worth.

  I have the train schedule in my rooms. Please come in, we can prepare for Paris over tea and sandwiches. I’m sure Mycroft and Dodd are about the place. We can check to see if they are on board for tomorrow as well. You can leave the car here. I’ll have our porter park it in the tradesman’s lane in the rear. ”

  Anna speaks frankly, “Am I free to go about on my own here?”

  Sherlock grabs Anna’s hand. She looks down at his warm hand noting that it is smaller than hers.

  “Anna, we three would be more at ease if you would allow us to accompany you. We have found that it just makes good sense these days.”

  Anna hesitates. She likes the idea. But she has to ask. “Holmes, I have to ask you again, am I in trouble here? Do I have any reason to worry for my safety over and beyond the normal worry of living in the reign of terror?”

  Sherlock answers, “An ounce of precaution is worth a pound of ease.”

  Anna has to laugh now, “Jesus, Holmes what does that mean?”

  Sherlock laughs with her; “I have no idea. Shall we discuss it over sherry? We are beginning to look like some love struck teenagers who can’t say good bye.”

  Anna gets a bit giddy now hearing this from the wizened half pint Holmes. She answers resolutely, “I’m staying at Grosvenor Square tonight.” She starts up the mini minor.

  Sherlock groans lifting his frail bony self from the petit coup and says, “Plus tard.”

  Back at The Sherlock Holmes Inn at Baker Street, Dodd and Mycroft greet Sherlock, as he walks through the door. Sherlock invites them upstairs for an aperitif.

  Dodd remarks, “It’s a rare occasion that we get to sit in the rooms of the right honorable elder Holmes. I am honored sir. Bene grazi. ”

  Sherlock waves Dodd’s theatrics to the wind. The three gents enjoy a good laugh. Indeed laughing at themselves is one of their favorite pastimes. Sherlock carefully lifts the top of an antique inlaid wood French chiffonier. Hidden in its bowels is a well appointed bar complete with cut crystal glasses. He pours sherry all around. He offers the first glass to Dodd who sits comfortably on a seventeenth century rosewood settee upholstered in a mélange of silk and wool threads the colors of chocolate, blue and rose. His feet rest easily upon a decorative leather ottoman from Persia.

  Dodd accepts with a slight bow of his head and asks, “Did you get Anna settled in? Will she be joining us, I hope?”

  Sherlock answers as he offers his brother the next glass, “She’s opted for the Grosvenor.”

  Dodd gulps the first taste of sweet sherry. He squirms. His lower lip twists to the left as he assesses the situation. It is not at all to his liking. He tries to hide a sense of rejection.

  Mycroft not aware of Dodd’s disquiet asks him, “How do you find Anna after all these years, old man?”

  Dodd answers thoughtfully, “A pleasure …” is all he offers. He puts aside his foreboding for the moment and returns the query, “Croft, what’s your impression?”

  Mycroft thinks for a second and replies, “I, too, enjoy her company. But…”

  He moves to the center of the room. He looks from Dodd to Sherlock and continues, “I have this lingering feeling that she is …”

  He struggles to find the words to explain his reservation. Finally he abandons his political correctness and answers straightaway, “I can’t shake this feeling that she is running psych ops on us. I can’t help but think that she is an operator.”

  Dodd’s head jerks slightly. He looks next to Sherlock who silently gestures to him that the ball is in his court. He sips his sherry this time. He puts his glass down and slaps his thighs. He answers,

  “If she is a player working undercover, what can I say? So be it. All I wish to know is that she is not in harm’s way. I’m hoping that together we can keep her safe.”

  Mycroft interrupts, “How do you think this expose of Lady Banks is going?”

  Dodd throws up his arms in exasperation, “Not well I think.”

  The man goes somberly silent. Mycroft is troubled. He can’t remember when last, if ever, his mate of many years was lost for words. He turns to his big brother for a clue. Sherlock understands that Mycroft doesn’t like working this way. And he fears that Dodd’s pot of second thoughts is about to boil over again. He concludes, however, that things will have to remain unsettled for a while longer that is until they get to Harry. No good could come from folding now. He downplays all cause for concern, “For the moment, I am inclined to take Anna as she is. What say ye all?”

  Mycroft picks up quickly on his brother’s lead. He tries to smooth over any ruffled feathers he may have caused. “Aye for me, I rather like exploring the mystery within her. Maybe I’m a tad bewitched.”

  Dodd grows anxious again, “For heaven’s sake man, what does that mean? Forget it! I know that the answer will be inevitably more obtuse.”

  Sherlock smiles and tries as well to smooth Dodd’s edginess.

  “It’s just the time-space conundrum that trips you up mate. Crossing over the wide expanse of time and space that eclipses you and Anna makes you both cautious.”

  Dodd responds, “Be what it may but I can’t shake her reaction when we arrived at the Jamaican Inn, a ghostly pale shrouded her natural light. I wonder really what happened when she was sent abroad. ”

  Mycroft can’t resist, “She was spooked!”

  Sherlock tries to stifle a small titter. Dodd is forced to see the humor as well. He looks askance at Mycroft as if to say how old are you?

  Sherlock makes another attempt to keep Dodd from folding. “Dodd, old man, the hour is late. You and she have come this far. And you both agreed about twenty-four hours ago, if my watch piece is correct, to play it through.”

  Feeling rather silly Dodd reminds himself why he called on these two in the first place. They have enormous capacity for the unknown.

  With that Dodd gestures, tipping his imaginary hat, and makes his exit. “Thanks mates, with that I am through the door.”

  Mycroft stops him, “What is the plan for tomorrow?”

  Sherlock answers immediately, “We take the train out of Waterloo Station.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Morning in London starts in the middle of the night. Street cleaners are the first to roll out. Lorries, in from the docks to supply the open-air markets, follow next. The hiss of brakes and gears shifting announce the start of another working day. By five, the buses are in full swing. And London is fully awake. Anna looks out on Hyde Park. The fitness fanatics are about, jogging and biking, all in a mad tizzy. Their energy sparks Anna into action. She makes a mental note. When I get my own dog I will take up jogging again. She turns her thoughts to the business of the day. The thought of seeing Paris again after all these years is exhilarating. For her day in Paris, she chooses her designer olive green jeans with black silk shirt. She ties the Tilley hat to the side of her neatly packed knapsack. She takes a last look around the room for loose ends.

  In the lobby, the travel agent greets Anna. It takes all of ten minutes, leaving Anna time to get a cup of coffee. She stops short at the entrance to the Red Room. She spies the handful of tourists eagerly wolfing down their full English breakfast. A hand waves to her. She proceeds hesitantly. She makes out the greeter,

  “Oh I should have known, Holmes, have you been here long?” she asks Sherlock.

  He peers at her over his gold spectacles, “No, I just ordered us a pot of coffee and some warm scones. I remember that you take coffee in the morning, right? We can have a proper meal on the train over.” />
  Anna takes her seat opposite his. The first thing that she observes is how freshly laundered he looks. He sports his continental faire this day. He is wearing a charcoal gray sports jacket with a chic open collar black shirt with gray polka dots shirt. Anna sees that she is out classed.

  “Have you settled up with the hotel?” he asks. He half expects her to say that she will be keeping her room. To his surprise, she answers,

  “Oh yes. I handed over both the keys to the car and room. I am on standby for the return.”

  Sherlock beams taking an ounce of credit for what appears to be a bit of trust on Anna’s part. He is well pleased. Maybe they are winning her over after all. They are interrupted by the waitress with her tray of piping hot coffee served in a silver coffee pot and the heavenly scent of fresh from the oven bake goods.

  Holmes picks up the pot, "Shall I serve?”

  Anna smiles slightly and nods her head softly to agree. She changes the subject to the new adventure awaiting them across the channel.

  Anna looks at the temptations before her. She can’t past on the scones.

  “Are we still on for the train? Who’s coming?”

  Holmes enjoys watching Anna fumble with the crumbs from the scone. He is about to wipe her chin but catches himself.

  “Oh the usual suspects...” Sherlock replies checking his watch for the time.

  Anna follows his lead and carefully checks for crumbs.

  “On y va!” he announces as he readies to depart. He grabs his aged cowhide envoy’s case circa 1940’s. He helps Anna with her chair.

  “I so love spontaneity. It reminds me of younger…” she stops short. She feels self-conscious. Sherlock tucks his arm in hers and whispers, “It’s Bliss.”

  Anna recognizes the shuttle car from the Baker Street hotel. It idles at the curb. Dodd and Mycroft pace the sidewalk. Dodd can’t help but feel a tad lighter when Anna appears. He makes a mental note to chide his cowardly apprehensions. Delighted, he calls out, "On y va!"

  "Allez! Top of the morning to you,” Anna says as she scrambles across the large rear seat.

  Holmes follows suit. Dodd and Mycroft occupy the long seat opposite.

  Comfortably seated, Dodd returns Anna’s Irish greeting, “And the rest of the day to you, Anna.”

  She makes her usual fashion survey. Dodd adds a bit of dash to his dress today. For the continent, he dons a Wild Bill Hitchcock tan suede jacket complete with fringe. A black cowboy shirt with white braid trim complements the Wild West look. A black Stetson hat sits neatly on his distinguished brow. His jeans and green snakeskin boots now fit the bill. A tan leather mailbag completes the theme.

  No sooner do they turn away from the curb, than Holmes pulls out his Michelin guide. Its faded cover testifies to its many channel crossings.

  “What’s on board today, Holmes?” Mycroft teases.

  Sherlock shuffling through the pages of maps, “I think…”

  Dodd preempts Sherlock, “First stop is Bercy! I’m meeting the agent at the flat.”

  Anna is all go. “Where is Bercy? Is that in Paris? I’m not familiar with the area?”

  Dodd interjects, “It’s in the 12Arrondisement. It’s advertised as one of the up and coming neighborhoods in the east. The agent calls it 21 century Paris. Bercy boasts that it is a global village in a few long blocks.”

  Mycroft who is dressed in his usual fare, worn denim jacket, crisp navy shirt and well fitted jeans, directs the driver, “Mr. Brown, is it possible to go over to Marylebone to Euston, and then over to Tottenham Court and onto Charring Cross?”

  Dodd interjects, “Superb, a tour of your old stomping grounds from your university tour days, Anna!”

  Mr. Brown tips his hat and nods a silent yes.

  Anna tries to take in the sights. The congestion of cars, lorries, buses and taxis keeps traffic at a snail’s pace. She strains her neck as they pass in the vicinity of Leicester Square. She remembers fondly that she came here night after night. The special attraction of the Square for Anna was the American burger joint. For Anna, the English Whimpy Burger was just that, wimpy. She can’t find the hamburger oasis this time. What she does see, however, are more Starbuck joints.

  As they travel Charring Cross, she remembers fondly late afternoon breaks prowling through the antiquarian stalls. Lest haunting memories of things past creep in, she returns to the moment. “I read that one needs a reservation for Eurostar. Will we be able to get tickets just so?”

  Mycroft puts her mind at ease, “Yes, normally you do need a reservation. But the hotel buys monthly passes for its guest. We are guests of the hotel today.”

  Anna snuggles deeper into her seat. “I could get use to hotel living. If I ever win the mega lotto I’m going to buy me a hotel.”

  The Baker Street taxi pulls into Waterloo Station. The driver asks if they will want him for their return. Mycroft answers as he gets out, “No we’ll get back on our own. Thank you for delivering us in fine style. See you tonight.”

  The traffic in the subway is oppressive. Anna hesitates, going into the fray. She pulls back bumping into Sherlock who is at her back. He takes her hand and asks,

  “Claustrophobic are we? We can easily go by car. It’s not much longer. There is always the ferry. We can pick up the train at Calais and drive into the city. What’s your pleasure?”

  Dodd and Mycroft return to where Anna and Sherlock are stalled. Dodd asks, “Is there a problem?”

  Mycroft adds, “Shall I hail a taxi? We can easily pick up the car.”

  Anna is stalled by her past. It was rush hour. It was harrowing. As she tried to enter the station, a swarm of agitated commuters moved her back onto the curb. She shrugs her shoulders, straightens her back, takes in a long breath and exhales in short spurts. One more thing before she enters the rabbit hole,

  “What is the plan if we get separated?”

  Sherlock entwines his arm in hers. He moves in close to her ear so as to be heard above the roar of the crowd, “This is still England my dear. You can proceed without fear of separation or abandonment.”

  Mycroft curls in beside her other arm. Dodd takes up the lead. The three musketeers speak as one, “On y va?”

  To Anna’s relief, the crowd, though large, moves in an orderly fashion. At the gate, Mycroft takes the lead. He hands each their ticket with magnetic bar code.

  “This will get us through the automated gate to passport control. Anna, you have your passport?”

  Anna nods yes while scrambling through her backpack.

  Sherlock informs her, “We have plenty of time. They will inspect our bags. So don’t take offense. “

  Anna seized by the tension of the unfolding drama before her can only nod yes.

  Security is tight. Indeed all baggage is ex-rayed and personally checked. Once through security, Mycroft leads the group to the appropriate platform. The line queues with decorum. Mycroft assumes the post of train spotting. He eyes the approaching train,

  “Wait for it to stop completely then walk towards the rear. Board when I give the signal.”

  Anna’s adrenalin surges again. She worries that Mycroft is keeping something from her. Sherlock feels her back stiffen. He whispers into her hair, “Relax! Mycroft is a frustrated train conductor. Dad gave him a jolly train set for his fifth birthday. He’s been hooked ever since. Just humor him.”

  Anna eases up just a bit as Dodd takes up the arm Mycroft abandoned. Anna self-conscious tries to reassert herself.

  “Gentlemen, please. I’m fine really. I just wanted to know what the plan was if we got lost. I guess it’s just something I picked up from traveling with the tour group. Everyday, we had instruction on where to meet in such an event. So you can unhand me now. I can get on the train on my own. Enough of the rooks and granny side show please.”

  Dodd snuggles up closer and says with a smile, “Indulge us. It makes us look grand draped on your arms.”

  Anna blushes through and through. She disengages her arms and remark
s, “I’m geriatric yes but not yet an invalid old bat. I promise that I’ll keep up.”

  Suddenly the platform roars with the wind of a speeding train. Mycroft moves into action as the passengers move in like robots. First he walks to the end of the platform, spying the occupancy of the cars as he proceeds. At the end of the platform, he begins slowly to retrace his steps. As the train signals its imminent departure, he indicates the first class car. The four jump up just seconds before the doors close. Anna wobbles to and fro as the train pulls out. Mycroft selects two facing seats adjoined by a table. The space is utilitarian but allows for polite conversation. The four make themselves comfortable in the middle of the car.

  Sherlock acquaints Anna with the trains’ amenities. “The loo is just at the end of the car. Le Salon, the lounge car is adjacent. They offer a splendid three-course dinner. But if you prefer we can have our meal here. The porter should be around shortly to ask for our order.”

  The talk at the table turns immediately to the latest world crisis, the plight of New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Mycroft notes that headlines around the globe call it the worst disaster to hit American shores. Sherlock makes a sobering observation,

  “As I was saying on our last train trip, this type of devastation will become commonplace due to the rising temperature of the seas.”

  Anna takes his point to heart. “I saw the reports too. You know what is really scary … the Doomsday crackpots, who believe that Katrina and 911 are the wrath of God’s Final Judgment, Armageddon if you will. If only the people knew the whole story behind the ‘do nothing’ response from the little cowboy there would be riots in the street.

  These right wing reactionaries who have hijacked the government are rabid advocates of Doomsday. They have no intention of rectifying the situation. They believe that it is their duty to bring on Armageddon. Thus God did not want New Orleans saved. It’s like their response to the HIV pandemic in Africa. God doesn’t want them to fight HIV.”