by John Pirillo
Behind him the curtains lit up a bright red.
He didn’t see it.
They brightened further.
That he saw, because it caused weak red shadows to cast across his shoulders onto the furniture blocking the door.
“No,” he uttered, his voice barely able to come forth from his throat which was suddenly dry.
He slowly turned around as the room grew brighter and brighter red.
He didn’t bother getting up after he saw what was coming into the room from beneath the window sill, even with the window shut. He didn’t scream. He didn’t beg for mercy as the red gathered into a force vaguely human shaped.
The only coherent thought he had was Emily. She would have no one to take care of her and the baby now.
Then the red light flung itself at him and he was consumed by it so fiercely and so utterly that he didn’t even scream.
In fact he no longer existed.
He was flung from his world so horribly and violently that he had no more thoughts, fears or doubts. He had nothing more at all.
Then he felt as if a hand were guiding him back from the void he had fallen into. His consciousness began to flare brightly, tendrils of feeling seeping back into his awareness. As they did so his eyes could see once more. He stood in front of a mirror, looking at himself.
But what he saw was not himself at all, but someone entirely different. Something that only the darkest of nightmares could conceive.
He opened his mouth to say his name.
“I am Hyde!”
Chapter Three: 221B Baker Street
Nikola Tesla paced back and forth in the sitting room where Watson and Holmes sat at the table, the Inspector by the window and Constable Evans stood in the hallway.
Mrs. Hudson sat in her usual chair, near the fireplace knitting, but her face unusually solemn. And no wonder since the topic of discussion was more terrible than she wanted to think about. Even her experience with Mister Blaine seemed light compared to what was loose in London once more.
“Hyde!” Tesla spit out as if the very word itself were a thing of horror and despite. His word dripped with anger, hatred and hopelessness. For he and the others had faced this monster numerous times in the past, and barely managed to escape it and contain it. Each time taking a greater effort.
“And you say it didn’t leap from her body as before,” Tesla asked, eyeing Holmes.
“Most certainly did not.”
Watson sighed unhappily. “The poor lass it had taken over was still conscious within and only once the creature had no further hope of corrupting her and exerting its will through her, did it expose itself and then without leaping out.”
Constable Evans shuddered. “She was the loveliest thing I’ve seen in years.”
The Inspector glared at his son. “We do not admire criminals, son.”
Holmes corrected the Inspector. “She had no previous criminal record, did she, Inspector?”
“You should know, you scoured everything we have,” the Inspector shot back, not pleased one bit about Holmes statement.
“I see, and then you think if I had not looked, she would remain a criminal of history?” Holmes inquired politely.
The Inspector jumped up. “I’m going home and to bed. Son?”
“Go ahead without me, father. I want to hear what else is going to be said.”
The Inspector looked like he was about to explode, but held back. He nodded and exited down the stairs. He came back up a moment later and tipped his hat to Mrs. Hudson. “My pardon, Mrs. Hudson, thanks for the lovely scones.”
She smiled. “You’re always welcome.”
He gave her a bright smile, Holmes a scowl and his son another scowl and then departed.
The front door slammed shut below.
Constable Evans laughed. “Don’t mind father, mum’s been ragging on him for days now.”
Watson smiled. “He probably deserves it.”
Constable Evans looked like he might become mad for a moment, and then shrugged. “He’s not always the nicest of people all the time, but he’s my father.”
Watson immediately said, “My most humble apologies, Constable, your father is a good man, just…”
“A bit grumbly?” Mrs. Hudson asked, a twinkle in her eyes.
Watson scowled at her. “Why are you picking on me?”
“If the shoe fits,” she said, and then returned to her knitting.
Constable Evans hid his smile when Watson returned his eyes to look at him. “Well, in any case, at least you can hear us out and report to your father later.”
“I shall,” Constable Evans said with a nod. “And I still feel sad about the loss of that young woman. I like women who are feisty like that.”
Watson shook his head. Ah youth! He thought to himself. Mrs. Hudson looked at him and knew. He shrugged.
Tesla sighed; glad the Inspector had left finally. “When she tried to break into my lab, I knew immediately something was wrong. Because she went straight to the portation device.”
“Portation device?” Watson asked.
“It’s what we used to release Hyde the last time we captured him. It wraps his energies in an electromagnetic envelope so he can’t slip through our prison walls. It’s how Her Majesty Queen Mary of Scots was able to deploy him in the prison ship into outer space last time.”
“Fat lot of good that did evidently,” Watson grunted.
Mrs. Hudson looked up. “John, better three years of peace and mind than none at all.”
“I concur with you entirely, dear Mrs. Hudson.” Tesla rose and went to the window overlooking Baker Street. “And now that he has returned, however that was possible, we must determine how next we shall capture him and keep him imprisoned.”
Constable Evans raised a hand as if he were in a classroom.
“Constable?” Holmes asked.
“If he is in a person now and they have some freewill, couldn’t it also be possible that they could be contained in some way so that his own personality could not overwrite theirs and escape through death?”
“What a splendid idea, Constable!” Holmes exclaimed. “Tesla, the body acts much like an electromagnetic bottle to Hyde while he is in it, am I correct?”
“You are. I don’t understand the thermodynamics of it completely yet, but loosely, I’d say yes.”
Constable Evans brightened. “What if we tricked it somehow? Got it to reveal itself without revealing itself?”
Watson had been about to doze off, but this idea excited him. “If we could constrain it properly in a body, we would have utter and complete control over the miserable beast!”
Tesla nodded. “And that would give me and the others time to come up with a more permanent solution.”
“What did you have in mind?” Holmes asked, a tone of excitement edging his voice.
Chapter Four: Tesla’s Lab
“There has to be some way to capture this creature without harming the original soul inside the body,” Tesla said angrily as Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein stood next to him, examining the instrument he was creating.
He turned slightly so they could see well.
It was shaped like a helmet with two bubbles of copper wire where the ears would be and a sheet of copper across the front where the eyes would be.
“Nick, you have surpassed yourself,” Edison complemented him.
Einstein tamped his pipe with a finger, then relit it, took a puff and said, “Perhaps, but we have one small problem here.”
“Which is why I asked for the two of you to help me,” Tesla said.
“I understand, but you see you have ignored the one problem we may not be able to overcome,” Einstein pointed out.
“Which is,” Tesla asked.
“How do we get this helmet on the creature without it taking us over in the process and discarding the body it already has and thus destroying its owner’s container despite our good intentions?”
“In other words we would be
hastening the death of its current soul prisoner,” Edison considered.
“Yes, and more than likely, also let it loose to roam in its pure form and thus be infinitely more dangerous.”
Tesla gave Einstein a blank look for a moment, then his eyes widened.
“By even the act of touching the creature…” he said.
“We are connecting it to us,” Einstein finished.
“And thus,” Edison went on, “We would only be hastening the death of its current soul prisoner and then our own, for it would surely take over whomever placed the helmet on its head, wishing not only to thwart that person’s intent, but also to punish them and get revenge!”
The three giants of science all stood there silently a long time, pondering the immensity of their task. None could think of a better way. One that would not cost their own life in the process.
“I’ll do it,” Tesla finally said.
“No, I will,” Einstein threw out.
“I will,” Edison said, ignoring their expressions. “I’m the quickest of us and most likely to be able to put the helmet on before I am taken over.”
“Gentlemen,” Holmes said from behind them.
They turned around, startled by his voice. They hadn’t expected Sherlock Holmes to show up in the lab at this hour of the night. But he stood there, bright eyed and as intense as a Tesla light bulb, with Watson on his right, clutching his black medical bag.
“I suggest another solution,” Holmes said. “
They all waited for him to speak and then he did.
Chapter Five: Scotland Yard
Inspector Bloodstone paced his office, fists clutched tightly behind his back, his anger like a storm threatening to wash ashore and wreck entire cities with its wrath.
“I won’t have anything to do with this. It’s ungodly!” He protested, his voice barely able to contain the anger he felt.
He stopped and eyed Holmes, ignoring Watson, who was snoring lightly in a chair next to Holmes, his mouth hanging open, a touch of drool edging out the corner of his mouth.
“Ungodly, perhaps, Inspector, but necessary,” Holmes pointed out, ignoring the scowl that deepened on the Inspector’s face.
Constable Evans entered the office with a fresh pot of coffee and cups, and a plate of fresh hot biscuits.
He set them down on the Inspector’s desk.
Watson snorted several times, and then woke up. He rubbed his eyes. “Mrs. Hudson?”
Constable Evans smiled. “Not fat likely!”
Watson opened his eyes more fully and realized he had been dreaming. “Sorry, Constable, bit of a dream, I’m afraid.”
Watson snapped awake fully as he sniffed the air. “What is that delicious fragrance?”
Constable Evans took a napkin and placed several biscuits on it and handed it over to Watson, who gave him a nod of thanks and began eating one immediately, rolling his eyes with pleasure.
“Give my thanks to the Sergeant, he is a fine baker,” Watson said.
“Will you two please focus on what’s going on!” The Inspector blasted, no longer able to contain his anger. “We have a very, very serious situation on our hands and this is no time to be…”
Constable Evans took a biscuit from the plate that was already buttered with jam on top and handed it to the Inspector, cutting him off.
The Inspector started to holler, and then caught himself. He took the biscuit and a bite. His eyes rolled with pleasure. He eyed his son sternly. “You do not play fairly, son.”
“I’m not playing. Remember what the doctor told you about your temper, father.”
Watson perked up. “Doctor, what doctor? About what? This is the first I’ve heard of this!”
The Inspector sat back down and rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “It’s a long story, John,” he explained in a lapse of sternness.
Both Watson and Constable Evans looked surprised.
Holmes seized the opportunity to interrupt, “In any case we have no choice, Inspector, and if we do nothing there is no telling how many more innocent souls will perish in London. And this is not the same Hyde that escaped us before. It is far more cunning and…”
Even Holmes felt a tinge of distaste coloring his voice when he spoke his next words, “…Intelligent.”
“You make that foul monster sound like it has a soul, which it does not,” the Inspector blurted out. “It is just pure evil with no hope of redemption of consciously ever connecting in a humane way with another living being.”
“I wonder,” Holmes said.
Everyone looked at him in surprise as he touched his chin a moment in thought, remembering something that had touched the back of his mind earlier that day.
Chapter Six: Desperate Measures
The Monk watched as Holmes twirled the staff in his demonstration of martial skills. Holmes stepped over it, under it, twisted it behind his back, much like a baton twirling college girl might.
He then did a very surprising thing, he hurled his staff high into the air, where it spun a moment, as if ready to stay there forever, and then fell back down. Holmes deftly caught it and then slid across the floor twirling it rapidly like a propeller after which he did a back flip and a front flip, still holding the staff perfectly in its spin.
He finally stopped in front of the Monk. The audience of fellow students in the room was so stunned by the display that it was totally silent in the room.
Holmes looked around, surprised everyone was so quiet; usually they were roaring and teasing during these events.
He sighed and looked to the Monk, whose face was very solemn.
“How well did you do, Sherlock?”
Holmes considered the question a moment. “Adequate.”
Now his fellow students all broke into laughter.
Holmes smiled, but said nothing.
The Monk gave him a touch on his right shoulder and then a touch on his staff. “You are connected to your staff like a goat is to its meal, Sherlock.”
The room went wild with teases and laughter as the students heard the joke. Or what they thought was a joke.
But Holmes heard it differently.
***
Later that night Holmes sat on his favorite boulder overlooking the Ganges. In Pahalgam the villagers were lighting lanterns for a small birthday celebration for the local head man. A kindly older fellow with gangly legs and a smile missing several teeth but with a heart full of nothing but good will.
Holmes had helped the man a number of times with clearing his garden. A task that the Monk had given him to take some of the burden off the man, but which Holmes later on kept doing even after he was told he need do it no more, because he genuinely enjoyed the older man.
His name was Rajesh Singh Buddha.
“Thinking of me, Sherlock?” Rajesh asked as he stepped onto the boulder and sat next to Holmes. He turned his large amber eyes on Holmes and gave him a friendly smile.
“Don’t you have a birthday party tonight?” Holmes asked.
“I do, but I wanted to share it with my friends first,” Rajesh replied.
Holmes looked around. “Where are they?”
Rajesh didn’t answer.
Holmes nodded then.
“I see,” he said. Because he did. “You honor me.”
“No, I laugh with you,” Rajesh answered, grinning widely. “Everyone else is always so serious about their lives. Constantly separating themselves from the real world and its beauty with their challenges, rather than seeing that the world supports them through the education that challenges bring them.”
Holmes considered that. “I see.”
Rajesh nodded. “I saw your demonstration earlier today. It was quite good.”
Holmes looked at his older friend. “I don’t know what happened. When I practiced it earlier, it was difficult and I stumbled numerous times.”
Rajesh nodded, “But you did not let your fear get in the way of your accomplishment.”
“I don’t unders
tand,” Holmes replied.
Rajesh nodded. “You fought with the staff to accomplish your goal, and stumbled, but once you let your accomplishment take care of itself, you and the staff could be one, co-operate with each other.”
Holmes looked at Rajesh thoughtfully. “You believe like the Monk that all things are one in reality?”
Rajesh smiled. “Who do you think taught the Monk?”
Rajesh laughed so hard and loud that even the villagers across the Ganges could hear him. Holmes smiled, but he learned a great lesson that night. Two, in fact. One, that challenges were lessons in life to be learned from and two, that the man he considered his teacher was also a student. There was no end to learning. And that was something he found wonderfully certain and expansive to his soul.
Chapter Seven: Hyde and Go Seek
The Night Angel walked her usual route. It was MidBells and that’s when most of the sailors came out to play, sneaking from their merchant ships to get drunk, carouse and play with women like her. She smiled. Tonight she might make more than usual because the good Captain Morgan Trewicket of the Morning Sea, one of the newer merchant ships that had Tesla engines and could cruise across the channel at twice the speed of the other ships, was meeting her at her usual place of designation.
Miller Street.
Leeds was a port city and its population was a late night one and she was one of the many who toured the city during the late hours looking for fun, or money. Some were thieves, some like her and others were hawkers selling their wares…trinkets, drinks, hot food, clothing and jewelry, as well as other eye catching or nose catching items sure to make a quick coin from.
Miller Street paralleled the docks and ran for about a mile in both directions. It was more isolated than the street facing the docks, but also less likely to draw the attention of the Constables who had to make sure people like her were not harmed.
This also meant she lost customers. Some of her clients were of the criminal element and didn’t want to be known or seen.
She felt a tug at her shawl and pulled it more tightly about her shoulders. The wind was blowing strong tonight and was doing its best to make her cold and uncomfortable. It also didn’t help either that she wore a dress where the ankles were exposed or the air could crawl up her legs and discomfort her.
