“Don’t mention it, Doctor, it was a pleasure..”
Watson replaced the ear-piece slowly on the hook, and looked up at Mrs. Hudson who had been standing in the doorway of her kitchen for the most part of the conversation. Her face betrayed her amazement when she said, “Mr. Holmes is gone for good, isn’t he?”
Watson shook and lowered his head. “Not for good, Mrs. Hudson. For a long time perhaps, but not for good, no.”
“Did I hear correctly that Mr. Mycroft is going to assume rental payments on his brother’s rooms?”
Watson nodded. “I should expect the reason being that Mr. Holmes doesn’t want his brother’s papers or belongings disturbed in any way during his absence-however long that absence may be.” He got up from the chair, walked toward the door and added, “I will have that tea upstairs, Mrs. Hudson, and perhaps try to find some indication as to where Holmes has been assigned.”
“You mean Mr. Holmes is gone on another of the government’s affairs?” the landlady asked, following Watson to the door.
“Yes, that’s precisely what I meant. Mr. Holmes was quite adamant on the point; he wants no one to speak of his brother’s sudden departure.” Turning from the first two steps, Watson looked down at the elderly lady. She appeared dumfounded. “And don’t worry yourself needlessly, my dear lady, I shall be coming by from time to time to have tea with you..”
Mrs. Hudson retrieved a handkerchief from her apron pocket and put it to her mouth-her eyes wet with tears. “Why won’t they leave the poor man alone,” she managed to say.
“I wish I knew, Mrs. Hudson, I wish I knew.”
“Ah, David-finally! Where have you been?” Professor Moriarty bellowed as soon as he set eyes on the young man. “Come on, man..” He grabbed his prey by the front of his shirt and brought his face close to his. “What did she tell you?” Moriarty pushed the blighter roughly away-so roughly that the man landed on the sofa behind him.
“I didn’t see her, sir.., I swear, she wasn’t there.”
“Not there, you say? How could that be?” Moriarty went to tower over the wretched fellow. “And it takes you all this time to report to me?” he hollered, bending down close to David’s face. “Did you go and have a pint on the way back?” He paused, staring into the man’s eyes. “You better tell me what happened and soon, before I send you to hell at this very minute.”
Perspiring profusely now, David sat up. “Well, sir, it’s like I said; I got to the park like I do all the time, and when I was about a couple of paces in, somebody hit me on the head and it was all black after that..” He looked up at his tormentor, fearing what would be coming next. The professor didn’t suffer failure very well.
“And what happened after you were clobbered-besides fainting from the blow like a woman?” Moriarty demanded.
“Well., when I woke up, I gone to the bench and Miss Adler had gone; I mean I don’t know that she’d been there at all.”
Moriarty harrumphed and straightened up. “Get out of here!” He shouted, brandishing his cane in the direction of the door. “And don’t ever come back!”
Not daring to ask for his stipend, the man scurried to the door and in a moment was gone.
Moriarty then went to sit in a large chair by the fireplace, pondering. Irene’s disappearance.. or perhaps she never showed up, he thought. Maybe this call for a meeting was just a diversion to send him on a blurred trail. Or the wench had devised a plan to escape his scrutiny. “But why? Why would she do that?” Moriarty yelled out loud, frustrated. Maybe she decided to go to some place to chase Sherlock somewhere...?”
Getting up he called-hollered-for his footman. When the tall fellow appeared at the door of Moriarty’s study, impeccably dressed as usual, the professor said, “James. I want you to go to Miss Adler’s home and get friendly with who ever among the household help and see if you can ferret out information about Miss Adler’s next trip.”
“Very well, sir,” James replied and then hesitated. “Would you want me to wait until morning, sir? My going there in the middle of the night might arouse suspicion.”
“Yes, yes, of course. But go at first light. It is most important that I know what the woman is planning.”
Irene woke up lying on a chaise-longue in what seemed to be some sort of study. She looked around, but could not recognize any of the objects or pieces of furniture decorating the place. She sat up and suddenly realized that the movement had ignited a tremendous headache in her troubled brain. She pushed her cowl back and lifted her gaze to find Mycroft Holmes handing her a glass of water.
“Drink this, my dear, it will relieve the headache some,”
he said.
Irene, not wanting to show her surprise, took the glass and emptied it in one long swallow. “Why on earth did you abduct me, Mycroft? You could have as easily telephoned me or come calling to my residence if you so longed for my company.”
“Yes, you are absolutely correct, and were it not for your intention to meet with your unsavory partner at that hour of the night, I would have done so.”
“How did you know I was meeting anyone at anytime?” Irene queried, curious to know whether Mycroft had been observing her movements for some time.
“When it comes to you and my brother, I make my business to know everything that could eventually present me with a problem.”
“A problem? And what problem would that be?”
“The fact that my brother has disappeared from his lodging for three days now-that presents a problem for me. And the fact that you have contacted Mr. Wells-that also presents a problem, my dear.”
“Does it now?”
“Absolutely! What’s more, I had no intention of letting you divulge your plans to follow Sherlock anywhere to anyone.”
“But I am not following Sherlock anywhere., I can assure you.”
“You may be very good at some games, Miss Adler, but when it comes to lying-or should I say trying to hide the truth from Sherlock or me-you are not doing a very good job of it.”
“But what makes you so sure that I know where Sherlock is at the moment?”
“Because, my dear, you left a trail of deceitful information in your wake whilst preparing your departure tomorrow in the time machine.”
“How would you know this?” Irene asked, flabbergasted. “Have you spoken to Mr. Wells?”
“No need to bother the man at this point. He is the subject of the latest reports in the news and hounded by journalists-which would present another problem for me if I were to intervene.”
Irene rose to her feet. “Well then, what do you propose I do at this point?”
“I will have my carriage take you home, and then tomorrow morning you will go to your appointment with Mr. Wells, as planned.”
“Is that it?”
“Yes, my dear, that’s it for now. However, should you attempt to contact anyone between now and then; I will make sure that you do not see another day. Oh., one more thing-when you reach your destination..”
Mycroft’s next request was nothing short of amazing.
Irene stared, wordless. When she had recovered from the shock, she nodded and left the house, in company of My-croft’s coachman without another word.
At the appointed time, the next morning, Irene Adler presented herself at Wells’s home. Upon opening the door, Mrs. Cartridge let out a gasp. “My, my, Miss Adler, what could be the purpose of you wearing such an attire?”
“Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. Cartridge,” Irene replied, entering the foyer, “A dress would be much too cumbersome for my scheduled journey.”
“I dare say, Miss Adler., but do come in, my dear. Mr. Wells will be down from his rooms any moment now. I’ll see you into the lounge room where you will be more comfortable..” Mrs. Cartridge closed the door and led Irene where Holmes and Watson had met Wells four long days ago now.
Clad in comfortable riding britches, white shirt and tight vest under a dark cape and cowl, Irene sat in the corner of the sofa. Not two minutes lat
er, Wells appeared in the doorway. He stopped as soon as he saw Irene rise to her feet. The effect was exceptional. The woman is incredibly beautiful, he thought, but said, “Don’t bother getting up, Miss Adler., please.” He went to take a seat by the fireplace. “Have you come to any conclusion as to the date and place where Mr. Holmes has landed?” he asked without further preamble.
Irene took her riding gloves off and deposited them on her lap. “Yes, I believe so, Mr. Wells.”
“Oh good! Would you be able to tell me what you have concluded then?”
“Of course. First, I must tell you that Holmes has always been fascinated by the Americas. He talked often of a city, in his opinion that would one day rule the modern world-to quote him-a place born out of bitter wars between two nations, at the issue of the one nation declaring its independence and growing out of recent civil unrest. Could you guess which city I am describing, Mr. Wells?”
“If you are referring to North America, the one city that has been founded a hundred years’ ago-almost to the date-is Washington in the District of Columbia in what is now known as the United States.”
“Precisely, Mr. Wells. To Sherlock, Washington will be the seat of our future endeavors and more importantly, the seat of world power. He firmly believes that our future, even our destinies, will be forged within the walls of the forthcoming government houses of the United States.”
“For most of us, in Britain, this belief would be erroneous at best and extravagant at worst, wouldn’t you say?”
“Perhaps, Mr. Wells, but let’s not argue the point at this juncture-Sherlock would be the one to defend his position in this regard; not me.”
Wells nodded. “And the date? Have you come to any conclusion on that point?”
“There again, I had to recall our numerous conversations at the time we were embroiled in the affair that took place in Bohemia.” Irene paused, perhaps remembering some of the events of the time. “At one point, Sherlock mentioned that a hundred years from now, the world will have forgotten this episode in history and would have bridged the gap between our medieval traditions and the modern times that lay ahead of all of us.”
“Do you think he is gone to a date a hundred years from now?”
Irene held up a hand, indicating that she was not finished. “Patience, Mr. Wells., let me continue.”
Wells lowered his gaze.
“Let us take a hundred years as the basis for us arriving at a date when Sherlock could have landed, shall we?”
Wells didn’t raise his head when he nodded again.
“Very well. Then let’s assume that he wanted to land in 1990, but what could he possibly find during that year? Nothing extremely interesting, if you extrapolate the events that have possibly occurred in the previous hundred years. Trains are faster, man would have learned to fly, communications would have reached an interesting plateau, and perhaps all wars would have ceased for a time. Yet, there is one item that needs to grow still amid the thousands that are emerging-and that is oil production. We would have seen great advances in the discovery and the exploitation of oil pools, but the demand would have then reached a point where the producing countries need to bridle their reserves before our world runs dry.”
“Are you saying there will be such a great need for petrol across the world?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Wells, absolutely. I believe Sherlock was correct when he advanced that everyone will own and drive a motorcar by the end of the next century.”
“But if you are correct in this assumption, why would you hesitate in going to 1990?”
“I hesitate because, 1990, in my view, is only a turning point, and some twenty more years will be needed to sate the world of its hunger for oil and regulate its proper distribution.”
“Would that be your own opinion, or did you deduce this from your conversations with Mr. Holmes.”
“A little of both, Mr. Wells. Sherlock made mention on a couple of occasions that it takes an average of twenty years for any technological development to reach its peek. And I believe regulating oil distribution a hundred years from now would have become of prime importance. Therefore, if you put these two assumptions together, I would suggest that I should be able to find him in November 2010.”
“November.? Why November, may I ask?”
Irene tittered. “Do you recall Napoleon, Mr. Wells?”
Appearing baffled, Wells said, “Yes, of course, but what has the Little Emperor, has to do with the month of November and our problem?”
“Our British Government returned Napoleon’s remains to France and the vessel, the Belle Poule, arrived in Cherbourg on November 29.” Irene seemed satisfied with this stated explanation.
“I still don’t see.”
“Mr. Wells, please, open your mind. Sherlock is a master, an “Emperor” of his own trade, and what could be more fitting than he being “released” to his newly appointed and resting place than he doing so on the same date?”
An hour later, Irene was comfortably installed in the seat of the second time machine. She was still in awe at the shape of it-a huge glass ball, could best describe the vessel in which she was going to travel.
“Have you any other questions, Miss Adler, before you lower the lever that will seal the capsule?”
“Just one, Mr. Wells; do you know how long it will take me to reach my destination?”
“I could not be sure, but I calculated that it would only take you some minutes.”
“Indeed! Therefore I will not have to worry about being hungry or tired, would I?”
“Not at all, Miss Adler. Anything else?”
“No, my dear Professor, nothing else. I should be back shortly-I hope.”
Wells nodded and stepped back while Irene lowered the upper part of the globe, sealing itself promptly onto its lower counterpart. She waved at him and in a moment was gone to join Holmes in Washington on November 29, 2010.
“Ah, Henry, is it?” James, Moriarty’s footman, said to Irene’s houseman as the latter was depositing a large sea-trunk in the back of the carriage.
“That’d be my name, yes, and who might you be?” Henry asked, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief that he had pulled out of his pocket.
“I am James Gilbert, a friend of the family, you might say.”
“And what brought you to these parts or to Miss Adler’s house-she is not home, don’t you know?”
“Yes, yes, I am aware of her absence, and that’s the reason for my visit-truth be told.”
Henry looked at the fellow curiously-uncomprehending. “Did you say that you came calling because the mistress is away? Why would you do such a thing?”
“No-no, my dear fellow, I came calling as you say, expecting to find Miss Adler home, of course, but since I saw you putting a trunk in the back of her carriage, I readily assumed she was going somewhere . or maybe that she was gone already.”
Now thoroughly confused with this convoluted explanation, Henry shook his head. “I have not the faintest what you’re on about, sir, but all I can tell you is that Miss Adler is gone riding with friends of hers this morning, and then she’ll be leaving this afternoon for Dover.”
“For Dover?” James repeated, opening his eyes wide. “Is she then planning to board passage to somewhere?”
“Yeah, you got it. She’s told me to have this trunk there”—Henry pointed at the item—”sent for consignment in Dover, and waiting for her departure on board the Stephanos tonight-that’s what she said. And that’s where I’m going.” Henry climbed onto the seat in front of the carriage and grabbed the horses’ reins, looking down at Moriarty’s footman. “Anything else you’d like to know before I get on with it?”
“No-no, my dear man.,” and then as an afterthought, “Am I correct to assume that the Stephanos is sailing for Athens?”
“Could you think of another place where a sail would go with a name like “Stephanos”?” Henry chuckled, cracking the whip on the horses’ hinds and leaving James standing on the pave
ment agape.
As soon as James returned to the professor’s house, he went immediately to his master’s study to report the news of Irene’s intended departure that night.
“You say she’s going to Greece? But what on earth would she be wanting there?” Moriarty asked, taken aback.
James shook his head. “Well, sir, after their houseman departed, I made further inquiries with the parlor maid-a girl named Cynthia-and she told me that she has a brother who’s disappeared some months ago and that her mistress had decided to go to Athens to find out what had become of him.”
“Is that so?” Moriarty asked, visibly puzzled. “Why would she do that?”
“I haven’t the faintest, sir.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t,” the professor grumbled. “Do we know when the ship is due to set sail?”
“I will telephone the Dover office and find out if you wish.”
“Yes, you do that., by all means,” Moriarty said, getting up from his favorite chair. “And once you have obtained the information, we will prepare to go to Dover ourselves and apprehend Miss Adler before she has time to set foot on the gangway.” He began pacing the floor, and then turned abruptly to his footman-the latter about to leave the room. “I don’t want her to leave the British Isles, doyou hear me?”
At the booming sound of these words, James left the study, nodding.
Chapter Four
Mycroft
Mycroft meets Irene upon her landing in Washington. In the meantime, Mycroft finds his brother embroiled in US terrorism cases and in strife with the powers-that-be. The U.S. considers him a terrorist and he is not an official consultant to the FBI or CIA. He always uncovers plots and government secrets and he fights terrorism but the government remains blind and deaf to his repeated pleas, until it is too late, thereby eliminating the idea that he is the real Sherlock Holmes from anyone’s mind.
Dr. Nebogipfel was waiting for him. Mycroft had left his house in London in a hurry, the night before Irene’s departure. He had changed into garbs that would have been frowned upon, had he shown himself dressed in such attire at his office. Yet, apparently unconcerned about his looks or demeanor at the moment, he hastened to his garage and boarded his craft. Within moments, he was off-to land an hour and two minutes later in the good doctor’s large shed at the back of his home.
Sherlock Holmes in 2012: TIMELESS DUEL Page 5
