Chapter Text
I watched from inside as Holmes examined outside, walking in a most odd manner to ensure he didn’t interfere with any of the footprints.
”These are Bates’ footprints, and these are the footprints of someone else”
My mind sparked at that and quickly followed the path he had taken and looked at what he was observing.
Yes, they were certainly different from Bates’.
”Someone has recently crossed this lawn. The marks are just visible”, Holmes added before running off across the wide expanse of lawn to track them.
I impatiently tapped my foot on the ground, waiting for him to come back.
He came to a stop half-way up a hill before he finally called back to us.
”He entered and exited through those windows! We’re on the right search!”
I watched him run back, hair being blown about by the wind with a smile; Mrs. Barclay was in good hands.
It was rather cold though and I was glad when we were back in inside, Holmes smoothing down his hair.
“Watson, look at this”, he said while lowering so he could the see the floor.
Watson and I followed his example, and I immediately saw what he had noticed; muddy paw-prints.
But the only way they could belong to a dog was if it was an extremely tiny one. Maybe a cat?
”Holmes, what type of animal made those, a cat?”, I asked him, unable to hide my confusion.
”Our intruder had a rather unusual companion”
“What about a dog?”, Watson suggested.
”Whoever heard of a dog running up a curtain, and they are not the paw marks of a cat, nor of a monkey, nor of any creature we are familiar with”, was Holmes’ answer.
He then went on to clarify more, which I was happy for because I had no idea what creature it could be.
”I would think from hindfoot to forefoot”, he made use of his tape measure, “at least fifteen inches. Add to that the length of neck and head, you have a creature of no less than two feet, more if there‘s a tail’
“And the length of its stride is odd, it indicates a creature with a long back and short legs”
”Like a stout or a weasel?”, Watson asked.
Holmes nodded, “We also know that it is carnivorous”
”How can you know that?”, I asked him withe a frown.
Holmes ran his hand up the curtain and then pulled away a piece of fabric next to it, revealing about birdcage that was occupied by yellow canary.
”Well you see what made it run up the curtain”
”Then what…creature is this?”, I thought aloud.
”That is what we will discover in due time, but first we must make a visit to Aldershot”
Ms. Morrison came rapidly down the hall ,her heels echoing on the wood floor.
“I can’t, I cannot betray a friend. Please don’t ask me to”
I was about to speak to her, convince her to talk with us, when Holmes tipped his hat to her and walked off without a word.
I was about to roll my eyes at him but I realized what he was doing and walked off after him.
I resisted the urge to look back at Ms. Morrison, knowing that if I did Holmes’ ploy wouldn’t work.
I heard Watson awkwardly begin to follow us.
We were at the door when Holmes stopped, turning to face Ms. Morrison, who was trying to busy herself with folding a dress.
”Uh, Ms. Morrison. When Mrs. Barclay left her house to come here two nights ago, she was happy and contented. When she returned two hours later, she was a changed woman. Now the police suspect her of murder. You owe it to your friend to clear her name, you must tell me what happened last night that so changed her.”
Holmes had a magnetic power of persuasion and I saw a change come over Ms. Morrison.
”Very well. I shall break my promise of silence if what I can say can really help her”
A light flickered in Holmes’ eyes, a spark.
”So there was something’
”It was most bizarre. I should explain that we come across all sorts of conditions of men here. Yet the other night I saw the most extraordinary creature I have ever seen. Not only had he a crooked back but he was lame and walked with his knees bent. His face was darkly tan, crinkled and puckered like a withered apple. I thought to myself that truly there are some of us on this Earth who are burdened with more than their fair share of misfortune.”
I thought about what life must be like for such a man, with just one word coming to my mind; miserable.
”This vision was made more unusual by the oriental garb the man was wearing. I pointed this person out to Nancy as someone especially deserving of help.”
”Nancy had indeed been in good spirits that evening and I saw her go towards the man and ask him if he needed assistance. It was now that a change came over Nancy. She had begun a conversation with the man when suddenly all the color drained from her face. She looked as though she had seen a ghost”
Could this man have been the elusive David, the third person that had broken into the house? It seemed a very plausible explanation.
”The man too seemed be strangely affected by the sight of her, and I saw him gesticulating wildly. Well Nancy and the man went to a quiet corner of the hall and they talked together for a few moments or so before I heard an angry shout from the man and saw him storm out, waving his fists in the air”
”And the identity of this man?”, Holmes inquired.
I saw a smile break out onto Ms. Morrison’s face.
“I thought you might ask me that. Well after this terrible happening, Nancy left. I naturally made a few inquiries among some the regulars. Such a, an unusual looking creature has of course attracted attention. It appears he is an old soldier recently back from India, and no one knows anything else about his background, except that he makes a living by entertaining the troops, conjuring tricks, that kind of thing”
I was annoyed by the smile on her face and how she seemed proud of the information she had gained. She had promised her friend she wouldn’t tell, which nearly caused her to hamper our investigation. Yet at the same time she was willing to pry into the matter on her own.
Still, for the purposes of our investigation it was good that she had been nosy.
“And did you tell the police about him?”, Holmes said quietly, tersely.
Her face dropped and she stood up, “Of course not! A promise is a promise”
Holmes didn’t even stay for all of it, walking out in what I assumed was anger, frustration at the least.
I didn’t like her decision but I had encountered far worse people and she didn’t deserve to be treated so rudely.
“Yes of course”, Watson said genially, though he didn’t agree with her decision either.
“Thank you Ms. Morrison”, I addressed her as cordially as I could before leaving.
Our next stop was a dingy pub in the East End, one that looked vaguely familiar. Oh well, once you’ve been in a few you've been in all of them.
I wasn’t happy to be here, but I didn’t feel as uncomfortable and out of place as someone would think.
I had seen it all so many times; flushed faces, the smell of wooden tables moist with gin and beer, the tobacco smoke, the women with low-cut bodices, the men who were laying their hands on them with a cheeky smile, like they thought the women didn’t know they were there. Even the song, My Darling Clementine, was one I had heard sung by cockneys too many times to count.
Unfortunately we had to stay and watch the man’s conjuring tricks, which while not terrible were mostly nothing more than average and not very entertaining.
Well, I suppose for drunk people they were mind boggling.
But I knew it would be worth it in the end, as Holmes had been weaving us down to the very front.
And it was as I soon saw a weasel like creature in a cage, undoubtedly the one that had journeyed up the curtain.
“That is our intruder’s four-footed companion”
”It’s a mongoose”, Watson said in surprise.
I was as well; I had never even heard of such a thing.
“I think we’ve found our man”, Holmes said resolutely.
And yet we didn’t intercept him right away, waiting for a more ample opportunity, which meant enduring more bad singing.
Watson had had a little to drink, but I refused. Ever since Peter I had no desire to touch the foul smelling stuff.
But then the moment came as he walked right below Watson and I. Holmes moved like a panther and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to even consider moving.
”Mr. Henry Wood I believe, late of India. May I have a word’
”What about?”
His voice was hard and gravelly, one worn down by years.
“A little matter of Colonel James Barclays’ death”
He tapped Watson, who took the mans arm and had him follow Holmes.
I trailed behind him, but never too far behind; I never trusted anyone in a pub, no matter who they were.
My chest tightened, but not with anxiety; I was excited, excited to hear this man’s account and finally know what really happened to the Colonel.