by Janina Woods
Watson’s eyebrows seemed to disapprove of my acting, but I knew just how far I could push it with Leonard Hawkins, who was all too ready to see in me the noble saviour - the same kind of hero figure I had cut when we had first met on a mission in Edinburgh all those years ago. And I could already see that my gamble was about to pay off.
“I see... the message didn’t say any of this,” Hawkins acquiesced quietly. “But are you really telling me the truth?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” I asked, hurt in my voice. And it was true. No matter how much I despised my colleague sometimes, he was still a fellow agent, whom I’d always assume to have the noblest of intentions and didn’t deserve being lied to. Hawkins smiled cautiously. There was a long moment of silence, that stretched between us like warm taffy and I could actually hear Watson hold his breath.
“I suppose I will have to tell headquarters that I missed you.”
Oh, he would get hell for this. Not as much as myself, when I eventually made it back to the island, but it wouldn’t be pleasant at all. Now, the battle was over, but it wasn’t in my nature to back down and accept the easy win. No, the little voice in my head challenged me to see how far I could take this. A lesser man would be led to ruin by this voice, but I made it work for me instead.
“I will be in your debt, Leonard,” I said with emphasis to seal the deal. “If I can ever do something for you when I return, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“The knowledge of having been of use to you shall suffice, Mycroft,” Hawkins nodded amicably, but it was clear that this would come to haunt me at some point.
The atmosphere was not as antagonistic as in the beginning of our meeting, but the air wasn’t cleared either. There was still an annoying, noticeable tension that wouldn’t be dispelled as easily, simply because Hawkins and I had a history. The only thing that kept us from falling out again was the shared goal of aiding Sherlock. It was still a miracle to me how a person like my brother, who was the very impersonation of self-centred behaviour and tactlessness, managed to rally us like this.
“Leonard I understand that is an irregular situation for you, but - no, let me finish, please. All ships we wanted to hire refused to carry us over the channel tonight, and-”
“Mycroft, we can’t! That would be suicide!” Watson shouted, loudly enough to make other the patrons of the hotel look our way.
I cleared my throat and shot the doctor a warning look. “With any normal ship, yes. I do happen to know, though, that the Service is in possession of a more sturdy specimen that could just make the crossing.”
Hawkins shook his head. “Even if such a ship existed, this blizzard would be the best way to ensure it didn’t.”
“Leonard!” I said, almost pleadingly, putting all my emotion into this one word.
The agent looked at me, then the good doctor... and shook his head. I was just about to open the argument again when he burst out laughing. “You never change, do you, Mycroft? Is your brother worth that much to you?”
I swallowed dryly, not only because the last cognac had disappeared long ago, then exchanged a glance with Watson, who was also looking at me expectantly. There was no use in lying.
“No matter his shortcomings, he is the only family I have left. And I intend to keep it that way,” I uttered gravely.
There was no time to lose, so we departed into the direction of the Service base of operations in Dover immediately, after picking up our luggage. It was conveniently situated in the middle of the harbour and in this way had access to most of the trading docks. It also oversaw the masses of people traveling between the island and the Continent. Concealed in an inconspicuous property, you wouldn’t attach any significance to it, which was very much the point.
Luckily for us, the boat we were headed toward was being kept in a separate building, a sort of private dock, in which the aptly named Interceptor was waiting day and night - always ready to move out at a moment’s notice. The Service used it mainly to do exactly what she was named for: Chase and capture rogue elements on the channel around Dover. With three newly developed and so-called “internal combustion engines,” the Interceptor was not only faster than any other boat around, but also kept up high speed more reliably. This was exactly why she could make the trip across the channel - even in the blizzard.
It was not without guilt that I felt a small amount of glee at the thought of being able to finally make use of the boat. I had only heard about its magnificence from my colleagues and never had the chance to enjoy her special features so far. But for all the positive thoughts I allowed myself to have, nature was determined to find a contrary answer. The wind had picked up and seemed even fiercer than before our brief stay in the hotel lobby. We kept away from the water’s edge, as the gale whipped the waves into menacing shapes, crashing onto land and freezing over anything the water touched.
“Mycroft?” Watson grabbed my shoulder and leaned in to shout in my ear as it was impossible to hold a normal conversation over the storm. “Do you see that?”
My eyes followed his outstretched arm, pointing with one finger into the distance at the end of the pier we had just walked past. I squinted to make out whatever he had spotted, but in the darkness, with water vapour and a flurry of snowflakes filling the air around us, I confessed to not seeing anything.
“Something lit up. Like a fire, but only for a moment,” he explained. “Maybe I imagined it.”
I was about to agree with the doctor when a red-hot glowing light flickered into existence for just a second, spread out like a piece of cloth fluttering in the breeze. Watson gripped my arm and instinctively pulled me a step back.
“What...?”
By now, Hawkins had realised we were no longer directly behind him and turned around to join us with a question on his face. Watson wasn’t about to move, so I took action by shaking my head and pulled him along, pointedly ignoring whatever had presented itself to us in such a dramatic manner. I heard the doctor protest, but that was no reason to stop. The freezing cold of the blizzard was already so deep inside my bones, I feared it would never leave me again should I stay in it any longer.
Hawkins was temporarily bewildered, but followed me as I pulled Watson along. Any comment he gave was lost to the wind, and I heard nothing but the roar of turbulent air and the crash of the waves on hard stone. Then it happened again - and from the reaction of my companions I could conclude it wasn’t just my own mind, that seemed to be playing tricks. Between us, and the building we were attempting to reach, the light appeared again, flickering like a flame, floating disembodied in the air.
“Are you seeing this?” Hawkins shouted and walked towards the phenomenon, unaware of its implications. As it flared up, a sharp pain shot all the way from my fingers to my shoulder, and it took all I had in me not to convulse on the spot. Instead I grabbed the now useless limb with my healthy hand and clutched it to my body. Unable to utter a sound as I gritted my teeth, there was no way for me to hold back the red-haired agent, who walked on, transfixed by the light.
Then, suddenly, Watson sprinted ahead. He must’ve seen my reaction and concluded that only he could stop Hawkins in his tracks. I saw him reach the man and pull him back by a sharp yank of his coat.
It wasn’t a moment too soon.
The red fire disappeared, but almost like emerging from it, a figure, enveloped in a wide sheet of fabric, jumped at the pair in front of me. The cloth moved violently in the gale and obscured the actual silhouette, but I could see glinting steel raised high with overwhelming clarity. The pain in my hand was forgotten as I propelled myself forward, crossing the distance against the winds in seconds. I threw myself at the apparition - but where I expected to hit a solid body, there was only flimsy fabric in my path, through which I passed without resistance and subsequently got acquainted with the hard pavement in a rather sudden fashion.
My vision went black for a second as the shock of the impact rippled through my entire body, but once again I was saved by the substantial amount of padded clothing on my frame, which cushioned the blow. For a while I could only hear, but not see the commotion around me, while I fought against gravity and the churning air masses. Firstly, and most importantly, there was the tell-tale sound of metal as it hit stone, shortly after my fall. At least my actions seemed to have dislodged what I thought to be the weapon of our attacker. Then, barely audible grunts of exertion drifted over, and I fiercely hoped that the occasional sounds of pain didn’t stem from my colleagues.
“Mycroft?” Hawkins shouted, just as I had managed to push myself upwards.
“I’m alright!” I replied as loudly as I could.
I turned towards the action behind me, which I had seemed to have missed most of. Still shrouded by what I now properly recognised as a cloak of black and white patterned cloth, there was a man on the ground beneath Watson, who put all his weight into keeping him exactly there. I could only see the back of our assailant’s head, which was cleanly shaven and the bruised skin of his hand, which Hawkins kept pressed to the floor with his boot.
My first reaction was to pick up the knife, which lay discarded at my feet, to prevent the man from taking control of it again. It was a short dagger with a thick blade, which ended in a round, lavishly decorated handle. Even in the darkness of the night it glinted golden, invitingly and ominously.
“He seems to be unconscious,” Hawkins shouted. “We should take him with us to the dock.”
I nodded my agreement. It would be much easier to detain and control the attacker out of this dreadful weather. My heart was still beating fast and the sudden spike of adrenaline left me a little dizzy, but I kneeled down next to the exotic figure and helped Watson turn him over. The cloth around his body was blown up by the storm and revealed that the man was not only tanned, but entirely naked underneath it. But his body was limp in our grasp and it was safe to say that the punch he had received on his nose, had not only broken it but also rendered him unconscious. His face was bloodied and bruised, but what struck me most, was that he was completely hairless. Not even a faint arch of an eyebrow or the stubble of a beard could be seen.
I left Watson to sort out the man’s limbs and wrap the cloth around his body so we could carry him, and I could examine the dagger. It was a simple thing, but it felt heavy and strangely consequential in my hand. Not only because both the metal and my skin grew ever warmer the longer they touched. I was drawn in by the feeling, as the weight felt more comfortable in my grasp and the connection seemed to make my hand tingle - for once pleasantly - and removed all the pain I had felt before.
A scream ripped me from the almost meditative state I had slipped into within such a short amount of time. I whirled around to see Watson and Hawkins on the floor - and the unknown man, hurtling himself toward me. His arms stuck out from the cloth like thin branches with gnarled fingers. Everything seemed to slow down as he managed to grab the dagger with one hand and tear it from my grasp. It didn’t seem to bother him that he clutched the blade tightly in his hand and thus spilled his blood on the frozen ground.
A curse, loud and fierce, in a language I had never heard before, emerged from his lips, deeper and more forceful than I’d ever thought this emaciated body capable of producing. Once again I felt pain well up in my hand. There was no way to deny the unholy connection anymore.
Despite everything, I braced myself for an attack - which never came.
I saw the cloth fly away from us like a ghost dancing in the storm. With surprising speed the man ran towards the churning ocean and jumped into the freezing waves without any hesitation. As he disappeared, the burning sensation on my skin left me... but that wasn’t the only thing which had deserted us. The wind died down in an instant, as if someone had flipped a switch. Where there had been roaring, icy gales, there was now only light snowfall in a gentle breeze, and a silence, which was almost deafening in its suddenness. The sea moved back into its usual bed and the only evidence of the earlier storm were the puddles of seawater strewn about the pavement.
Watson was sitting on the floor, eyes wide and stared at the place where the man... no, the spectre had jumped into the depths. Hawkins had tumbled to the ground in the commotion and lay on his back, snowflakes falling ever so gently on his face. Just like me, they were both stunned into silence by the events, which had taken place in such a short amount of time, but had shaken us all to the core.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Hawkins was the first to regain his composure and righted himself up to a sitting position.
I shook off the remaining fuzziness in my head and walked over to him, then offered the man a hand, which he took gratefully. He groaned slightly as I pulled him upright, but there was nothing in his movements which would have suggested a serious injury.
“Frankly, I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sherlock has been abducted and we’re on our way to reverse the situation. Someone knew exactly where we would be, which leads me to believe that the communication we received has been... monitored. That’s all I know.”
“Who was that man?” Watson asked, and it struck me that I could hear him talk clearly, despite the distance between us, which grew as the doctor approached the edge of the walkway to look for our assailant in the waves.
The storm was well and truly gone.
“I have never seen the like,” I answered.
“Are you sure you want to tackle this alone?” Hawkins sounded concerned.
“Have you forgotten why you were sent to intercept me? I’m well aware that I am leaving for the Continent without sanctioned support,” I cocked an eyebrow. “It has to be this way if I’m to act fast. This... happening is no reason to abandon my brother.”
No, if anything, it only spurred me on.
“Well, you’ll have me,” Watson said as he joined us and placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling collegially. “As for the... person who attacked us, I can’t see him anywhere.”
“There’s no way he survived the plunge into the freezing water.”
A twinge in my hand made me look around in a brief moment of agitation, but then I turned my eyes back to the skin of my palm. Where I had held the dagger, the grooves of the metal had burned into my skin, leaving red, angry marks. They didn’t hurt - miraculously - but tingled as if an army of ants were crawling across my skin.
“Are those... signs? Writing?” Watson grabbed my limb and pulled it closer. “It’s too dark to see, but...”
“Quick, let’s enter the dock,” Hawkins said nervously. “I’d prefer to get away from the sea, and we have a light inside.”
There was no other sensible course of action, so I followed the two men along the waterline. Without the wind to work against us, we reached the wooden building within minutes. My fellow agent grabbed a lantern from a hook next to the door with a well-practiced gesture and set the wick on fire. The smell of burning oil was a welcome and homely one.
“Now, let me see that hand,” Watson gestured for me to step closer and hold out my palm, which I did without complaints.
But as I put my skin into the light, there wasn’t a single mark to be seen. My hand was as unblemished as it had been before the attack, showing only some old scars, which had long since healed. I flexed my fingers, but couldn’t feel any discomfort. In that moment I shared an uneasy glance with Watson, which didn’t escape Hawkins’ scrutiny.
“Now you have to tell me what the devil’s going on here!”
“A series of pranks and coincidences,” I answered gravely. “Little actions to throw us off our rescue mission.”
“You call a lunatic attacking you with a knife a prank?” Hawkins exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Mycroft, but I don’t buy it.”
“You don’t have to buy it. Just get us across the channel.”
“Mycroft...,” Watson started, trying to sound amicably.
“No! There is now nothing on my hand, and the man is gone. We need to go.”
“You can’t deny...”
“I’m not denying anything, doctor. Every happening makes me grow more fearful for my brother’s life. But it doesn’t change the need for us to proceed as quickly as possible. Please.”
“Just tell me I’m not delivering you to your death.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
Hawkins laughed. “That you have, my friend. That you have.”
You’re Not Comparing Me to a Dog, Are You?
After the storm had died down, the Interceptor made the crossing of the channel within only half an hour. Hawkins returned to the island on the same night, but not without thoroughly lecturing me on... well, apparently anything that came to his mind. I let him talk his heart out, as he was indeed doing us the biggest of favours. That, and because of the fact that he tended to babble when nervous, and nothing about the situation we were in was in any way reliably reassuring.
Watson warmed up to the man, and they shared stories about the work we had carried out together with Sherlock, to pass the time. Stories that he hadn’t been able to tell anyone before because of their sensitive nature. But I kept quiet through it all and cautiously monitored the sky. No one had said anything about the way the storm had just... vanished, as soon as the man disappeared between the waves, but I knew the other two must have realised it too. Maybe it was one of these things that was simply impossible, and didn’t actually happen until someone acknowledged it and another confirmed the facts. I wouldn’t be either of those people.
A train journey through Europe was our next step. We crossed most of France and some of Switzerland before we entered Italy. When you think of the southern country, most of us have this picture of a perfect summer day in a quaint, little cafe in mind, maybe even at the seaside. While I had visited Italy many times during my life, the excursions had always been work-related. That didn’t mean I couldn’t combine hunting down the odd enemy of the British Empire with a few pleasurable days in the countryside. It’s my firm belief that anyone should be granted a bit of respite after wrangling with an actual lion.
