by Janina Woods
He took it with a smile, expressing gratitude. The metal was dented, but the mechanism to open the lid was still working. The hands of the watch had indeed stopped, but the picture behind the glass was still intact. It showed a drawing of his late wife Mary, fashioned by none other than Sherlock Holmes himself, who had been forced to draw her after Watson discovered his surprising skill with the pencil.
I Don’t Hate Him. He’s Dim and Annoys Me
Victoria had indeed arranged our transportation in less than a few hours after the discussion. Our plan was now to travel to the city of Catania by train and then catch a ship on its way to Egypt. If we didn’t miss the departure, it would take us to the African continent with some days to spare. If we did miss it... well, that just wasn’t an option.
I slept through most of the first leg of our travel, which was a clear sign of my body in more need of rest than I was giving it. I knew that if I were to disregard my health further, it would come to haunt me later. My injuries were nothing compared to Watson’s, even though I had to sleep on my stomach to allow them to heal. The gash on the doctor’s leg flared up briefly and brought only pain and worry. He would carry a scar, there was no doubt. But the doctor played it off - he was host to so many scars already, it would be stranger to see a part of his body unharmed.
While we were on the train, we had entertainment in the form of Victoria’s desire to tell stories from my brother’s university days. They included the real sequence of events of ‘The Gloria Scott’. Watson had a good laugh on Sherlock’s account, and I couldn’t blame him, even though I felt old beyond my years hearing my youth recounted this way.
Despite everything that had been said between us, Victoria never stopped her subtle advances. I reciprocated none of her gestures. There was something about the way she tried to keep me close, while I knew she was only with us to rescue Sherlock, which made me feel unsettled, and I tried my best to keep a more professional distance between us. At least Watson made no attempt to inquire further.
Finally - after two full days - we arrived. The air in Catania felt almost like spring, with temperatures just above freezing and no snow to clutter the landscape. Still, we were almost too late. After the train drove into the station right by the harbour, I let Victoria usher us through the crowded space, right to the seafront. We boarded the huge, elaborately decorated cruise ship Aurora, which departed as soon as we had set foot on its deck.
It was on board the Aurora we were looking towards five days of forced vacation, unable to do anything but wait for the ship to arrive in Alexandria. True to the rules of our training, we tried our best to lie low and recuperate as well as we could. But even though I rationally knew all of this to be true, I had a strange, nervous energy about me, which stemmed mostly from my bad conscience. The plight of my brother was always in the back of mind and accused me of relaxing while he could be in mortal danger. It certainly didn’t ease the wait, even though Victoria had actually managed to acquire two of the most luxurious cabins aboard. It was a nice change-up from the train benches and it could only do us good.
So it came to be that Ian Ashdown and his wife, as well as their associate Richard Brewer became the most interesting people on board the Aurora. News travels fast, no matter where you are, and the community on board a ship is tiny at best. Staying hidden inside our cabins helped our recuperation immensely, but it only wrapped us in a shroud of mystery. As a result, it was impossible to keep a low profile, and we agreed to mingle with the other passengers for the last days of the journey. Rumours were getting out of hand as it was, and our very ordinary presence would hopefully help to dispel some of the more outlandish ones.
On the third day I found myself at luncheon with Victoria and Watson in one of the ship’s big ballrooms, amidst the murmuring crowd. It was weird being under scrutiny like this, when I was used to acting from the shadows. Sure, a job sometimes required me to be visible, but there is only so much one can do while being the centre of attention.
The ballroom was a grand thing, used for luncheons, dinners and after-dinner entertainment. As the biggest room on the ship, it was the only one which could hold all the first- and second-class passengers for these occasions, which totaled about 100 people. I estimated roughly 250 passengers to be on board - without the crew, with which the count should have reached 300 in total. The third class dined on a lower deck, distributed between smaller rooms. I was sure that if I were to have a look at the passenger manifest, my estimations would hold up.
Our chosen table was situated close to a wide door, opened on this sunny day to let the guests enjoy the calm, blue sea and fresh, salty air to complement their food. It did wonders for my appetite, and even Watson seemed rejuvenated after the fight with his stomach for the first two days of our voyage. For such a small vessel, it was very opulently decorated, but you could see the years of service at sea clearly in the washed out colours and worn down wood, bleached by sun and rain. Far from dilapidated, it gave everything a charmingly rustic atmosphere, which I actually enjoyed a great deal.
We fell into an easy chat about the dreadful weather we had left behind in London, happenings in the city and listened to Victoria describing the wonders of Paris, including tips on where to get the best fish should Watson ever visit. We talked about anything and everything except Egypt, Italy and Sherlock Holmes. People, who had been eavesdropping, lost interest when I delivered the final blow and started to recount my mother’s best cake recipes. Much to everyone’s dismay, we turned out to be perfectly ordinary people.
But some persistent individuals didn’t seem to be deterred by our attempts and shadowed us all through the luncheon. Luckily, most of our injuries were easily hidden beneath clothing - not the agent’s uniforms, some more personal, inconspicuous items - but the bandages on my right hand were not so easily shielded from the inquisitive view. Even though I had been using it to eat and perform other tasks as if it wasn’t injured, it didn’t help to completely sell the illusion.
After luncheon, Watson excused himself, which was no surprise. He had been a bundle of barely contained energy all day and itched to explore the ship. It surprised me to see such an initiative in him, but I supposed he didn’t take well to having been locked in his cabin for a few days.
“Now that we don’t have to look after him anymore, how about we enjoy ourselves a little?” Victoria broke the silence that had ensued after the doctor left us to order a drink at the bar.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about,” I said while swirling the remnants of my acceptable coffee in the small cup.
“Of course you don’t. I was thinking we could take a look around the ship together. I’m just as anxious as our friend to see the vessel in detail.”
I nodded, as I was feeling ill at ease myself. Improvising one’s way out of a tough situation was one thing. Doing so without knowledge of all the options was foolish at best and prone to fail at the most inopportune moment. While I wasn’t expecting anyone to get to us here, we weren’t safe from everything. So far I had gotten a child killed and the doctor blown up during our short trip, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of something else going very wrong, very soon.
Watson had received his drink and raised the glass in our direction before exiting the room. I noticed several heads following him, mostly female. Objectively viewed, he did have his own, peculiar charm... I suppose.
“You think we should follow him?” Victoria mused, observing the way my eyes trailed the good doctor as he exited the room.
“He should be able to behave himself for a while. I don’t have the highest expectations, but that, at least, should be manageable - even by him.”
My colleague leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and made a show of using her decorated hand fan coquettishly. “You don’t think very highly of the poor man. Your animosity is thinly disguised, dear.”
“I don’t hate him
. He’s dim and annoys me. It’s as simple as that.”
“Your brother holds him in high regard, though,” she continued. “I can see why, too. The way he’s hurrying after him all the way to Egypt is commendable.”
“Didn’t you jump right at the chance to...”
“Shut up!”
I chuckled softly at her played indignation. But I knew that I was also guilty as charged. There we were, three people stumbling about the world after Sherlock Holmes. Victoria didn’t even have to point it out, we knew it to be true for all of us.
A small silence settled over the table as the room cleared out around us. It was the familiar quiet we had always been so good at sharing. From the corner of my eye I watched Victoria busy herself with the table decoration, pushing a piece of tinsel around with her finger. She was clearly waiting for me to make a move, so I did.
“Care to join me for a little walk, my dear? The weather is ever so nice today.”
She smiled a genuine smile and took my offered hand, then linked her arm with mine to form the picture of a perfectly happy, married couple. I allowed the fondness that wallowed up inside me to take over for a moment, if only because it helped to sell the illusion.
We walked out into the sunshine, which was blinding after the twilight of the room. The sea sparkled calmly in the rays of the midday sun and the horizon was shrouded in a low hanging mist. Our surroundings seemed so peaceful, I was almost fooled into the illusion that we were actually on a pleasure cruise. We slowly walked down the side of the ship and neither of us broke the reverent silence.
Along the way we passed a number of deck chairs, lined up neatly, following the gentle curve of the railing. Most of them were occupied by passengers taking an afternoon nap after luncheon. Other people were absorbed either in quiet conversation or by the fantastic view. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, but took in all the details of the ship regardless. Some would call it an occupational hazard, but I knew better.
I couldn’t turn off my brain if I wanted to.
So I counted the number of lifeboats while we passed them and plotted the quickest way to reach them from a number of places on the Aurora. I examined the deterioration of the paint on the ship’s walls, noted that it had last been painted over five years prior, but the railing only a few months ago. The sun-bleached boards we walked on had probably never been exchanged, but were well maintained. I absentmindedly counted the passengers we passed to make sure they added up with my estimations.
“It seems like the weather will hold,” I said as we reached the front, now standing directly in the rushing air, agitated by the ship cutting through it. I saw Victoria pull her scarf closer around her shoulders. The wind wasn’t as cold as on the Continent, but it brought a certain, uncomfortable chill.
“This seems like a dream.”
“More like a nightmare,” I countered gravely.
“Oh, Mycroft. Try to relax!”
“How can I? This has been one long string of failures.”
I didn’t turn to watch my companion’s face, but I could hear the smile in her answer. “Not all of it was so bad, now was it?”
“I got a child shot and let the killer escape. The only clues we can investigate have probably been planted so we’d find them, and we don’t have any option than to comply and follow them. When I finally return to London, the people at headquarters will suspend me for insubordination... or worse. Have I missed anything?”
“You forget the look on their faces when they find out I flagged down a whole cruise ship in the name of the Service - entirely for personal reasons,” Victoria laughed.
“You didn’t...”
“Come on! How else were we going to reach Egypt in time?”
A shadow passed over me and for a second all strength deserted my body.
“I am so sorry,” was the only thing I could say, softly, barely audible over the wind. “I didn’t mean for you to get into trouble, too. This could cost you your position in Rome.”
A couple of people walked by and greeted us in a wary, but friendly manner. We watched them descend the stairs to the lower deck, where there was an open space in which a group had already gathered for games. Their conversations and laughter drifted over to us invitingly.
“I love my work, but...”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying.”
“Mycroft, just listen. I love my work, but I love Sherlock even more. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”
I eyed the gentle waves intently. “What you see in my idiot baby brother is still beyond me.”
“Everyone’s an idiot compared to you, darling.”
I had to shake my head. “Lately I’ve been feeling like a fool.”
“And everyone has these days.”
I shook my head. “That’s just it. Everyone else has them. I don’t.”
“If it helps in any way, I think you’re doing the best you can in these circumstances.”
“It helps a little,” I admitted.
“Should we join them down there?” Victoria pointed to the lower deck, where some other passengers had started another round of shuffleboard. I watched the teams push around the small wooden disks for a few seconds before I shook my head.
“I’m not really the game type of person.”
“Well I am, and you won’t leave your poor wife to fend for herself between those strange people, will you?”
Only seconds later, I found myself pulled along into the middle of the fray.
The day passed uneventfully. All too soon the shadows grew longer and night fell quickly. Victoria was occupied playing the darling of the masses and I kept an eye on the crowd, but saw nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. With the sun gone, the surrounding sea had grown dark, almost to a midnight black. Rationally, the water wasn’t any different, but everything considered, it was a rather frightful sight. The moon had not yet risen and the winds were growing colder by the minute. Electric lights had been switched on some time ago and illuminated the deck, which made it feel like a warm island within the darkness. The games had been cleared away and tables arranged, so that the passengers might enjoy the night in the open with drinks and music.
We had been invited to join a group of gentlemen at their table, who were on their way to Alexandria to support the British troops. All decorated war veterans, they were amicable enough, but couldn’t stop boasting with their war tales. If anything, it made me grow more fond of Watson, who never bragged about his deeds.
What an odd feeling.
Myself, I couldn’t stand these men. Ian Ashdown, on the other hand, was fascinated.
“I was stationed in India,” one of them with a rather prominent white mustache, little eyes and a strong jaw, said in a gravelly voice. He was clad in his uniform like all of them were - the only difference being his rather corpulent form. I could’ve deduced more from the vast selection of medals tacked to his chest, but I refrained. He probably didn’t earn them in battle, anyway.
“You lucky bastard. I had to stay behind in London,” another nodded empathetically, his stiff beard touching the cloth on his breast every time he lowered it. “My health wouldn’t allow me to travel.”
“So what about you, Mr. Ashdown?” The first one asked and took a gulp of brandy, so large the glass was emptied, even though the waiter had just filled it. “Did you ever serve in the military?”
“Oh, please, look at me... I could never fight out there. I’m just a tailor!” I took a sip of brandy myself and smiled dumbly, while actually, I had saved all of their asses, while risking my life repeatedly.
The fat man laughed and his three friends joined in. “Ah, please do not think me mocking you,” he assured me in hasty tones. “I sometimes forget myself when I have too much to drink... my wife tells me every s
o often. What brings you out here, then?”
“Oh, just some business in Egypt,” I shrugged. “Nothing important.”
The four veterans exchanged pointed looks. I knew what they were about even before the tall one with the ridiculous haircut opened his thin mouth, which was situated underneath a hawk-like nose, only separated by a rather poor excuse of a mustache. “So if it’s nothing important why did you divert the Aurora all the way to Catania?”
“And how did you do that, anyway?” the fat one added.
“I say nothing important, but that’s really only because I’m not at liberty to discuss details,” I said with just enough authority in my voice. Victoria and I exchanged look, as if we had a shared secret. Well, that wasn’t all that far from the truth.
“Well, not anyone can order a course change just like that,” hawk-nose mused, to which the fourth man, who had never opened his mouth, just nodded in agreement.
“What does your husband do, exactly, Mrs. Ashdown, when he’s not tailoring?” The long-bearded veteran addressed Victoria directly because he probably thought it would be an easier way to get to the truth.
My companion let out an amused laugh. “Oh, dear gentlemen, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything. We’re under orders from the highest ranks.”
“Victoria!” I said loudly, exasperated. “Please!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. This is all too exciting for me.”
The men watched our exchange, which went perfectly, even though we had never practiced it. The mention of highest ranks should give them enough vague information to satisfy their curiosity.
“Please don’t tell my associate we talked about this,” I concluded the talk and waved for the waiter to refill my brandy glass. “He wouldn’t approve. I’ve said too much already.”
“Of course,” the fat one assured me, after hesitating for just a fraction.
There it was. The cautious respect for the unknown man who could potentially hold a higher rank than you. A total turnaround from the way they had looked down on me for not being as heavily decorated. They realised I had no need to boast to defend my rightful status, because I was still on active duty, whereas they clung to their positions in name only.
