Sherlock Holmes Nightmare

by John Pirillo

  Definitely not a sign of good will.

  Something was rotten in Denmark as William Shakespeare, his good friend, was prone to say and he intended to find out what that was. Victor hadn’t spoken of any such thing, but now he was beginning to think his friend was in grave danger. But what kind, he couldn’t discern quite yet.

  Victor shut the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

  Holmes already had a picture in his mind of that door being opened again.

  As they passed the second door, Holmes noted fleeting shadows moving below its bottom.

  He arched an eyebrow in consideration, but said nothing. He just followed Victor back the way they had come, ignoring the stares that were being focused on Victor’s fellow workers as they were passed.

  Regent Park Zoo

  Overhead one of the tri-balloon blimps coasted noisily, its huge steam driven propellers driving the massive tourist vehicle through the semi-clouded skies. It was so big it could have been a small hill. It made a loud throom-throoming sound because of the huge propellers that churned the air above them.

  “One of the older ones,” Watson noted, when Mrs. Hudson cocked an eyebrow. “Always the noisy ones. I’ll be glad when we convert all public vehicles to electric.”

  “Our world is getting smaller all the time.”

  “Yes, my dear, it is. But something’s never change.”

  She leaned into him and snuggled her head against his shoulder.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I just pray that will always be you and...”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say; don’t think it. We are not going that route, John. We steer a loftier course than the narrow path of jealousy and abandonment.”

  “Well, not to change the topic, but to change the topic, “Thomas told me the other day that they expect to convert the whole kingdom away from steam within the next twenty years.”

  “Why twenty and not tomorrow?”

  “The coal industry. They have quite a bit of power in the House of Lords.”

  “Why would they want people to keep dying from the lung disease created by coal and oil?”

  “Humans are funny that way; they think that death knocks on everyone’s door but their own.”

  She laughed.

  He gave her an extra squeeze, sighed, and then said, “If it was up to the coal industry, we would have died of lung disease a score years ago from all t heir dratted exhaust fumes. Terrible on the lungs.”

  Mrs. Hudson nodded. “I have a close friend whose father died from the black lung.”

  Watson sighed again. “One of the more common illnesses I treat these days when I have time. Thank God, Good Queen Mary of Scots has mandated our conversion to clean fuels or I’d be spending more and more time in the hospital and burying my patients.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “When do you have time to practice? You and Holmes are always off somewhere these days...”

  Watson reacted so swiftly, from his war training in the Chinas when the slightest of motions or movements could mean sudden death. He flung himself and Mrs. Hudson hard to the right, throwing them both down on the sidewalk.

  A couple ahead of them cried out in pain as a huge tiger landed on their backs and began tearing at them.

  Watson hurriedly took his weapon out. He didn’t usually carry it; but after that horrid image of him in the paper, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  He fired again and again.

  The screams of terror vanished.

  Now, there were only cries of pain.

  The man of the couple rolled over. His face was slashed to ribbons just like the image of Watson in the London Times.

  Behind Watson and Mrs. Hudson the Stranger stood next to a vendor selling toasted peanuts. He laid down a pound note and walked away, a smile on his face.

  “Mmmm,” he noted, eyeing the peanut in his hand. “I’ll have to come here more often; these are excellent.”

  221B Baker Street

  “And this tiger just came out of nowhere and attacked us.”

  Holmes gave Watson and Mrs. Hudson a closer look. “You seem untouched.”

  “God’s grace and quick reflexes.”

  “John left me bruised.”

  Watson glanced at her. “I am deeply sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I was just stating fact. If you hadn’t left a bruise on me, I would more than likely have been torn apart like that poor couple was.”

  Watson leaned over and then caressed her cheek with a kiss, then a pat on her hand. “I am glad you weren’t, even if it sad for the loss they experienced.”

  Holmes sighed. “Nothing is certain in life.”

  Watson didn’t lift a glass, but replied. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Mrs. Hudson wiped at a tear in her eyes. “They were so young and handsome.”

  Watson pulled her next to him and kissed her again on the cheek. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

  Mrs. Hudson swiped at more tears. She then laughed. “I’m being a crybaby, aren’t I?”

  Holmes put his own hand over hers and patted it gently. “No harm in feeling for the loss of others. We can’t always save the world; but we can save parts of it. So we have to be grateful for that which we can serve; and that which we could not, bless it and pray for its sanctity and safety.”

  Mrs. Hudson nodded. “Holmes, sometimes I am stunned by how different you are from when you first came to us and now how much different you are than...”

  Watson stiffened.

  “Sorry, John.”

  He relaxed. “No harm done.”

  But Holmes knew his friend better than his friend would admit sometimes. It had been harm done, but not intentionally. Watson and he were still quite sensitive to the loss of their original partners. The intensity of memories may weaken over time, but never the love you felt.

  That was man’s curse and blessing. To have to endure pain, but also to be able to rise above it and clamor triumphantly towards the heavens, an angel in the making.

  “I hope your day went better than ours,” Watson finally said after a long pause in the conversation.

  Holmes smiled. “Invariably, just as contorted as your own.”

  “Inevitably?”

  “All rivers flow to the sea.”

  Watson gave Holmes a questioning look at his cryptic statement.

  Holmes looked Watson in the eyes. “Let’s just say that I found more than I was looking for and leave it at that for the moment.”

  Mrs. Hudson rose, patted Watson on his right arm and left for the stairs. “Got a batch of scones I don’t want to burn.”

  She left.

  Holmes leaned forward. “What didn’t you tell me, Watson?”

  Watson looked shocked for a moment, and then smiled. “Your ability to read between the lines never fails to astound me, Holmes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I think it was planned.”

  “The attack of the tiger? The animal which struck the couple?”

  “Yes. I know it sounds impossible. But the way that tiger went for their faces...it’s just not like them to do that. And this one was an older one. No one knows how it even got out of its home. It had never shown any violent tendencies before. Young children could climb on its back and it would purr.”

  Holmes chuckled. “Hard to imagine that.”

  “It was one of the reasons I sought the zoo, to remind myself that there were still parts of this world that intended us no harm.”

  “And you shot it dead.”

  “Sadly so.”

  “You had no other choice.”

  “No...I did not. This doesn’t make me regret the choice any the less. You know that I abhor violence as much as you yourself.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you think it was an arrow fired at you, but struck someone else just as dead?”

  “Because it didn’t make any sense. If it was attacking me, then why d
id it go for them as if they were the same as I?”

  “What made you think that?”

  “The beast didn’t even look at them. Its eyes were looking upwards the whole time.”

  Holmes considered that.

  “And you noticed something else, you said?”

  “Actually, I didn’t, but in fact I did. A man. An odd looking sort. He didn’t think I noticed, but a tall, very gaunt man was following us.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. He bought a caramel apple right after I bought two for myself and Mrs. Hudson.”

  “And?”

  “Then he bought a second. Each one he scarred with a long fingernail, as if it were a blade tearing into a face.”

  “That’s very odd and peculiar indeed, Watson.”

  “I thought so.”

  Then when we headed for the home of the tiger, we passed a vendor selling peanuts.”

  “And?”

  “He stopped to purchase peanuts next to the tiger’s home. He no longer had the apples. But the strangest thing was...”

  “Yes?”

  “I saw the tiger eating the two apples the man had scarred.”

  “Strange.”

  “Yes. Tigers don’t eat caramel apples.”

  “Tell me everything. From the beginning again.”

  Regent’s Park

  “I refuse to leave when the both of us are still shaking like leaves in a torrential storm.”

  Mrs. Hudson clung to him, glancing to the left and right and behind them constantly.

  “I’m sorry to have put you through this.”

  “You had no idea, John.”

  “I should have.”

  “Why?”

  He paused a moment, allowing her to put her arms around him and he about her. “It’s terrible.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I hate to add to your present burden.”

  “If we ever become man and wife, you shall constantly be adding to my burden.”

  “You have such a way with words, such that I’m never sure if you’re teasing me or scolding me or doing both at the same time.”

  “Well, dear, a woman has little power in this world besides being clever.”

  He laughed, tilted her chin up to deliver a light kiss on her lips.

  “John, someone might be watching.”

  “Damn them then. Damn them all!”

  He kissed her again.

  And they were being watched.

  Closely.

  The London Times

  “You tried to trick the man,” Holmes stated.

  “You know me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Holmes turned about. “John, listen to me. I know you’re brave already; you don’t need to prove anything to me.”

  “I know that. But the man endangered not just my life, but that of my loves as well. And he hurt others...twice.”

  “You didn’t tell me about the second time.

  Watson eyed the workers entering the building on the side. “Let’s talk on the way in.”

  “Very well, but you must say nothing to anyone.”

  “Count on it.”

  They marched for the back entrance, where the night workers were entering and the day shift were leaving.

  Behind them the Stranger stood casually beside one of the new Tes lamp posts. Broader than the gas types at the base, they resembled tree trunks, a design by purpose. Good Queen Mary of Scots wanted London to become the prize of the continent. Of the world. And common street lights were just not allowed anymore.

  He shifted slightly from his position behind the lamp post to watch as Holmes and Watson entered the building, then he left his hiding place to follow.

  As he did, he popped peanuts into his mouth and discarded behind him a trail of peanut shells.

  221 B Baker Street

  Holmes templed his hands before him and set his chin upon them to watch Watson’s expression. “That’s it?”

  “Oh no, it got much worse.”

  Holmes chuckled. “I’d hardly call loving the woman of your life anything in the direction of bad or worse.”

  “No, no, no. Not that. What happened next?”

  Watson got up. “Wait here.”

  He went into his room, gathered up the prize he wished to reveal to Holmes, and then dropped it onto the table. “My coat!”

  “Dear God, Watson!”

  The coat was shredded. Huge tears were across its shoulders and back.

  “Cost me quite a pretty quid too, mind you.”

  Holmes smiled. “Ever the practical one.”

  “Well, it’s not like we’re rich, is it?”

  “Considering how many papers your articles sell for the London Times, I’d suspect you’d be well past rich by now.”

  “You’ll know when that happens.”

  “Why?”

  “We shall stop having adventures together.”

  Holmes broke into laughter.

  Watson wasn’t laughing.

  Then his solemn face broke into laugh lines. “Kidding.”

  Holmes shook his head. “Well, it is likely one day we will stop having adventures. When you have children...”

  “...And you!”

  Holmes shook his head. “The skies look clear ahead for you, John, but for me, they seem cloudy and dark.”

  Watson shook his head. He put a hand on Holmes arm. “You just haven’t met the right woman yet. I’d hardly call a Duchess and an exotic queen proper material for a good marriage. Not to mention that Japanese princess who was enamored with you.”

  “Oh, she’s lovely. We still correspond.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Holmes smiled. “A proper man doesn’t brag about his relationships.”

  “Well, I’m glad at least one of us is proper then. Because most of the time I feel anything but that.”

  Holmes laughed. Rose. Went to the coat rack to grab his cape and cap. “Coming, Watson.”

  “Coming? We haven’t had scones yet.”

  Mrs. Hudson came into the room with a large cloth that was steaming. “I’ve put four in here. Be careful you don’t burn your hands, they’re still quite warm.”

  Watson looked at Holmes. “Quite clever of you, old chap.”

  “No, I just knew your mind would be on scones the whole time we were beneath the London Times and your attention will be sorely needed elsewhere if we are to survive our new...adventure.”

  Watson gave Mrs. Hudson a kiss after he put on his own coat and cap. “Thank you, love.”

  “Be safe.”

  She turned to Holmes. “The game may be afoot, Sherlock, but just remember I expect my player to return home to get more fat from his scones.”

  “I’m not fat!”

  Holmes laughed. “Ah, Watson, you’re such a joy to my ears and soul.”

  Mrs. Hudson smiled. “And don’t either of you forget that! Now be safe, John.”

  “As safe as a pussy cat with a dog chasing it.”

  Watson pulled her close and gave her a light kiss on the lips. She clung to him a long moment, then let go. “That was better than a scone.”

  “Then give me back the scones and I’ll give you another.”

  Watson chuckled and let her go.

  She gave him a huge smile. “Thought so. Scones will be our bridesmaid and probably your wife as well when we get married.”

  Watson laughed. “I think that could be quite a workable arrangement, don’t you?”

  “Just be safe, that’ll suit me just fine.”

  He lost his smile. “I will. I always have a good reason to be so, don’t I now?”

  She leaned against him a moment, then shoved him lightly away.

  “Hurry or Sherlock will think you’ve abandoned him!”

  Watson turned around.

  Holmes was already gone.

  The Secret Room

  “This is the door to the archives, Watson.”

  “Good.” Watson reached for the do
orknob.

  “We won’t be going there.”

  Holmes went to the middle door instead and carefully opened it. It was pitch black. A stark contrast to the semi-lit hallway they stood in.

  He peered inside a moment, and then nodded to Watson to precede him.

  Watson entered.

  Holmes started to follow, and then stopped. He didn’t turn around. He just stood there.

  “Coming, Holmes?”

  Holmes smiled. “At once.”

  Holmes entered and shut the door behind him.

  “Whatever you do, Watson, do not be alarmed.”

  “Alarmed? Why should I be alarmed?”

  “To the right at once,” Holmes whispered.

  Watson did so.

  Not a moment too soon.

  The door opened.

  Holmes reached out and grabbed a man by his arm and pulled him roughly inside.

  “Light, Watson!”

  Watson turned his Tes torch on the man.

  “Manley!” Holmes exclaimed.

  “Mister Holmes, I’m glad I caught you in time...”

  Manley jerked hard to the sound of ripping and tearing. He collapsed into Holmes arms, blood spurting from his mouth as he did so.

  Watson threw the door open wider and rushed outside.

  “John, come back!”

  The Chase is on

  Watson saw the Stranger running the opposite way they had entered. He aimed his weapon. “Halt or I will fire!”

  The Stranger kept running.

  Watson fired above the man’s head.

  He kept running.

  Watson chased after him.

  Holmes heard the sounds outside, but didn’t follow Watson. He laid Manley gently down.

  The man’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Holmes laid him down.

  A strong hand grabbed Holmes by his arm. “He’s not what he seems. He’s...”

  Blood gushed from his nostrils and mouth.

  “Who?”

  “The man with the dark tattoo...”

  “Where?”