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The cold, hard winter of London had gotten to Herlock. Yujin had noticed, of course, the days where he would vanish from existence, only to come back days later reeking of opioids. It was a smell Yujin knew all-too well. For his partner's own safety, he had intervened. Although, it was the next part that would prove difficult.
Herlock had an iron constitution, but come spring, it showed symptoms of falling apart. The constant hard work, combined with the effects of the opioids, was taking its toll on him. The first few days he spent trying not to relapse. Yujin assumed that, once those few days were up, the worst would be behind them. However, it appeared that Herlock had developed more of a dependency than he wanted to admit.
The state of his health was not a matter which he took the faintest interest in. Herlock would've gladly worked himself to the bone if given the chance. It was only on the threat of being permanently disqualified from his work that he relented. He was instructed, on doctor's orders, to lay down all of his cases and surrender himself to complete rest, lest he suffer a complete breakdown.
Thus, in the early spring, the two of them decided that a complete change of scenery and air might do Herlock some good. Yujin had only seen a small fraction of England, and a holiday was long overdue. South Cornwall would offer a dramatic change of scenery, with its luscious beaches and surge-swept reefs. It was there, on Poldhu Bay, that the two rented a small cottage.
It was enough to appease even the great detective himself. The cottage stood high upon a grassy headland, offering a view of Mount's Bay. Behind the innocent beauty of the bay was a sinister death-trap for sailing vessels; numerous fishermen had met their end between the cliffs. Only when the northerly breeze relented were the storm-tossed craft offered rest and protection. The wise mariner knew when to avoid tackling that evil place.
On the land side, the surroundings were as sombre as the sea. Lonely moors left traces of monuments of stone, left behind by previous inhabitants. The glamour and mystery of the place, with its sinister atmosphere, could not have appealed to Herlock more. The two would spend much of their time on long walks upon the moor.
One day, their simple life and peaceful routine was violently interrupted. The series of events that followed would soon be known as 'The Cornish Horror', although they knew it by another name. Even outside of London, death and despair had followed them.
The day before, in the nearby hamlet of Tredannick Wollas, Herlock and Yujin had made the acquaintance of the vicar of the parish, Mr Roundhay. He had an interest in the local lore, and invited the two for tea at the vicarage. During this time, they had also come to know the vicar's lodger, Mr Mortimer Tregennis. The two had little in common, and Mortimer mostly sat back and listened to Mr Roundhay and Herlock's eccentric conversations about the area's history.
Yujin didn't expect to see them again so soon. Whilst he found the local history interesting, it was awfully overwhelming. Herlock had taken to his pipe after breakfast whilst Yujin prepared their lunch for their daily excursion upon the moors.
"How is your health, Sholmes?" Yujin asked his patient as he finished packing their lunch.
"You must ask me that question five times a day," Herlock complained, taking a break from his pipe. "I tell you time and time again, Mikotoba, I am-"
The door burst open violently, and Mr Roundhay, followed by Mortimer Tregennis, entered their quiet sitting-room. Yujin shot a glare in their direction - the two hadn't bothered to knock.
"Mr Sholmes," said the vicar in an agitated voice, "A truly tragic affair has occurred during the night that is most unheard-of. In all of England, you are the one man we need. I apologise for the intrusion, but it is urgent."
Herlock took his pipe from his lips and waved his hand towards the sofa opposite him. The two guests sat down, both showing signs of nervousness. Mortimer seemed to contain it more than Mr Roundhay, but the darkness in their eyes showed that they shared a common emotion.
Mortimer turned to the vicar. "Shall I speak, or you?"
"As it appears that you have made the discovery, Mr Tregennis," said Sholmes, "Whatever it may be, the vicar would only be retelling what he has heard - a second-hand account. Perhaps you had better do the speaking, for the sake of clarity."
Yujin abandoned their afternoon's preparations and stood behind Herlock. He noted the surprised looks in both of their guest's faces. Seeing others' reactions to Herlock's simple deductions was always amusing.
"Perhaps I had best say a few words first," Mr Roundhay suggested, "Then, you can judge if you will listen to the details from Mr Tregennis, or if we should hasten to the scene of this mysterious affair. Our friend here spent the last evening in the company of his two brothers, Owen and George, and of his sister Brenda, in their house of Tredannick Wartha."
"I believe it is near the old stone cross upon the moor, correct?" Herlock leaned forwards in his chair, curiously listening to Mr Roundhay's story.
"Correct, Mr Sholmes," he nodded. "He left them shortly after ten o'clock, playing cards round the dining-room table. They were in excellent health and spirits. This morning, being an early riser, he walked in that direction before breakfast. He was overtaken by the carriage of one Dr Richards, who explained that he had been asked to go to Tredannick Wartha as a matter of great urgency. Naturally, Mr Tregennis went with him."
"What did he find?" Yujin asked the vicar.
"An extraordinary state of things - his siblings were seated round the table exactly as he had left them," he continued, glancing towards the man seated next to him. "The cards were still spread out in front of them, and the candles were burned down to their sockets. Brenda, his sister, lay back stone-dead in her chair. The two brothers appeared to have their senses stricken clean out of them - laughing, singing... They had lost whatever sanity they once had, seemingly overnight."
"I think that much should be obvious," Herlock took a breath from his pipe before continuing. "Their poor sister was dead, and their reactions were far from normal. Pray, continue."
Mr Roundhay found himself hesitant. It was only at Herlock's assured nod that he continued. "That's not even the worst of it. All three of them retained upon their faces an expression of utmost horror; a convulsion of terror which was dreadful to look upon. There's simply no explanation for it, Mr Sholmes. What sort of horror could've frightened a woman to death and knocked the senses out of the two men?"
"Was there anyone in the house overnight?" Yujin asked him, eager to gather as much information as possible. In his medical career, he had heard nothing like it. Admittedly, he felt a bit out of his depth.
"The old cook and housekeeper, Mrs Porter, slept deeply throughout the night. She claims to have heard no sound. Nothing had been stolen or was disarranged. There is the situation in a nutshell - if you can assist in clearing this matter up, then you have done a great service."
One glance at Herlock told Yujin that their peaceful holiday had come to an end. His gaze was intense; Herlock sat in silence whilst he contemplated what he had been told. After a moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair and put down his pipe.
"I will look into the matter," said he, "This appears to be a case of a very exceptional nature. Have you been there yourself, Mr Roundhay?"
"No, Mr Sholmes," the vicar replied, "Mr Tregennis informed me of his account when he returned to the vicarage, and I at once hurried over with him to consult you. The house in question is about a mile inland."
"Then we shall walk over together. But, before we start," Herlock turned to Mortimer with a quizzical gaze. "I must ask you a few questions, Mr Tregennis."
Mortimer jumped upon being referred to. His anxious gaze fixed upon Herlock, his pale lips quivering. "Ask what you'd like," he said eagerly, "It is an awful tragedy, but I will inform you of the truth."
"Perhaps you could tell us more about last night?" Yujin suggested. They had only heard the second-hand account from Mr Roundhay so far; it would be better to gather information from the source.
"As Mr Roundhay has said, I spent my evening there," Mortimer began, "George, my brother, proposed a game of whist. We sat down around nine o'clock. It was quarter past ten when I left; they were as merry as could be."
Herlock raised his hand to interrupt him. "Who let you out?"
"Mrs Porter had gone to bed, so I let myself out," he replied, "I shut the hall door behind me. The window was closed, but the blind had not been drawn. It was exactly the same as the scene we found this morning. There was no reason to think that a stranger had entered the house. Yet, there they sat, driven clean mad with terror, and Brenda lying dead of fright. I shall never forget the sight of that room for as long as I live."
"Most remarkable," Herlock muttered, "I take it that you have no theories that account for all of the facts?"
"Such a thing is devilish, Mr Sholmes - a matter such as this can only be the work of the devil!" Mortimer cried, his eyes wide with horror. "It is not of this world. Something came into that room and dashed the light from their minds. What human creation could do that?"
"I fear," said Herlock with a smirk, "That if the matter is beyond humanity, then it is certainly beyond me. I am merely a mortal, after all. Yet, we must exhaust all natural explanations before we fall back on such a theory as this. Mr Tregennis, I take it that you were somewhat divided from your family, as they lived together and you lived with Mr Roundhay?"
"Correct, Mr Sholmes, but the matter is past us now," Mortimer told him, "We were a family of tin-miners at Redruth, but we sold out our venture to a company. We retired with enough to last the rest of our lives. Admittedly, there was a time when the way the money was divided caused conflict between us. However, it has all been forgiven and forgotten, and we were the best of friends."
"Did anything stand out to you that evening, Mr Tregennis?" Yujin studied the man before him carefully - despite having seen the scene himself, Mr Roundhay seemed more nervous than he did. "Please, think carefully, for any clue that may help us assist you."
"Nothing comes to mind."
At this, Herlock raised an eyebrow. "What about your siblings? Were they nervous? Anxious?"
"They were never better, sir."
"You have nothing to add then, which could assist me?" Herlock lifted his pipe up to his lips again - a sign that he was becoming impatient.
Mortimer thought for a moment before a sense of realisation appeared on his face. "There is one thing that comes to mind," he said, "As we sat at the table, my back was to the window. George, my partner at cards, was facing it. I saw him take a look over my shoulder - something appeared to have caught his eye. I turned and looked also. Through the window, I could just make out the bushes on the lawn, and I could've sworn that I saw something moving among them. If it was a man or an animal, I do not know. George agreed with me that there was something out there, for it had caught his eye."
Yujin crossed his arms in thought. "Did you not investigate?"
"No; the matter was seen as unimportant. I left them without any idea of what might occur."
"If you lived away from them, then how did you come to hear the news so early this morning?" Herlock raised a furrowed brow.
"I am an early riser, and generally take a walk before breakfast. This morning, I had hardly started when the Doctor's carriage overtook me. He told me that Mrs Porter had sent an urgent message," Mortimer leaned back in his seat as he recounted the tale. "I joined him and we drove on. When we arrived at that dreadful room, we found that the candles and fire had burned out hours before, and they had been sitting there in the dark until dawn had broken. Apparently, Brenda had been dead for at least six hours. There were no signs of violence. The sight of the horrific scene, along with George and Owen's insane gibbering, must've gotten to the Doctor. He went as white as a sheet and fell into a chair in a sort of faint."
"Remarkable!" Herlock sprang from his chair and grabbed his coat. "I think, Mikotoba, that we had better go down to Tredannick Wartha without further delay. I have seldom seen a case with a more fascinating problem."
Unfortunately for Yujin, Herlock seemed desperate to investigate. He was hardly going to raise any objections at this moment in time - not with Mr Tregennis present. Besides, there was always a chance that they could solve this case in a matter of minutes.
He had a feeling that this would take a little longer than that, though.
—-
The walk to Tredannick Wartha was mostly unremarkable, except for one minor incident. It left a sinister impression on Yujin's mind. The approach to the house required a long walk down a narrow, winding country lane. Whilst making their way down this path, Yujin heard the rattle of a carriage.
They stood aside to let the carriage pass. As it drove by, Yujin caught a glimpse of a horrific sight. Through the window of the carriage, a horrifically contoured, grinning face glared out at him. The staring eyes and gnashing teeth flashed past like a dreadful vision; even if it was for a moment, Yujin would remember that face for a long time to come.
"My brothers!" Mortimer exclaimed, his face turning pale. "They are taking them to Helston - no doubt to figure out what to do with them."
Yujin looked with horror after the carriage as it continued on its way. He'd never seen anything like it before. It was only as Herlock nudged him that he continued, trying to rid his mind of what he had just seen. He turned his attention to the ill-omened house before them.
"I do hope that Dr Sterndale is informed of these events before he leaves for Africa," Mr Roundhay muttered, "It will be months until he finds out, otherwise."
Before Yujin could inquire further into the matter, they had arrived at the house. The garden was filled with spring flowers, a stark contrast to the devilish horrors that had occurred inside. It was more a villa rather than a cottage; their own holiday home paled in comparison.
Herlock closed his eyes and walked absentmindedly into the porch. He held his pipe to his lips and turned towards Yujin. As he turned, he kicked his foot out, knocking over a plant pot.
"Sholmes!" Yujin cried as the contents spilled all over the porch. He lifted his own shoe to find it covered in dirt - it had left a footprint behind, too. As he looked to his left, he noted that Mortimer's shoes were also covered in dirt.
"I do apologise," Herlock picked up the broken pieces of the plant pot and placed them aside. "Really, I must look where I'm going. Mikotoba constantly frets about my own clumsiness; I will have to cover the cost of this poor plant pot."
"I'm sure we can spare it," Mortimer muttered, "Shall we go inside? I need to wipe my soles clean of this dirt."
Inside, they were met by the elderly housekeeper, Mrs Porter. She invited them inside and made a note to clear up the mess Herlock had made later. She smiled at them, although Yujin could tell that the smile was forced.
"I wanted to clarify a few details with you, Mrs Porter," Herlock put away his pipe, now that they were inside. "Did you see or hear anything in the night?"
"No, sir," she replied, "I slept throughout the night - I didn't hear a sound."
"I see. Can you tell me more about your employers?" He asked her, "What were they like in the days leading up to the incident?"
"They were in excellent spirits. I had never known them to be so cheerful - really, it's such a tragedy, Mr Sholmes..." Mrs Porter looked down at the ground with a sigh.
"Perhaps you could tell us about when you came upon that horrific scene?" Yujin placed a hand on his chin. "Was there anything of note?"
"Oh, I almost fainted with horror!" Mrs Porter exclaimed, "It was a dreadful sight. When I recovered, I threw open the window; it was awfully stuffy. I then ran down the lane and sent for the Doctor."
"We witnessed the two brothers being taken away by carriage." said Herlock, "What has become of the sister, Brenda?"
"The lady is on her bed upstairs," Mrs Porter gestured to the stairs behind her. "I believe Mr Tregennis is handling the funeral arrangements. Why, you should've seen the struggle it took to get the two men into the asylum carriage. I've hardly seen anything like it!"
"Thank you for your time," Yujin bowed politely towards her. "I hope that you are not going to stay in this house for too long. Do you have any family in Cornwall?"
"Believe me, I refuse to stay in this dreadful house for a moment longer," she explained, "This afternoon, I am to head to St Ives to be with my family. I wish you luck on your investigation, Mr Sholmes. If there's anyone that can figure out what ghastly thing did this, then it is you."
Herlock grinned and tipped his hat at her. "I will assist in any way that I can. Mikotoba, I believe we should take a moment to examine Miss Tregennis. Care to accompany me? Your medical knowledge may be required. Mr Roundhay, Mr Tregennis, please, wait here. I shall return in a moment to examine the scene," he said.
The two of them ascended the stairs to view the body. Miss Tregennis was tucked away in her room, having been placed on the bed. The first thing that jumped out to Yujin was her face; it was contorted with horror, her last emotion still lingering after death.
"I see no external injuries," Yujin muttered, taking a glance at the body. "Although, you would've noticed that instantly. Perhaps the cause of death is more internal?"
"The Doctor would've mentioned if he had found any injuries," Herlock noted, examining Miss Tregennis' face carefully. "I have never seen anything like it, Mikotoba. There must be more to this - I will withhold the formation of any theories until I have seen all of the evidence."
With that, they left Miss Tregennis and headed back downstairs. The scene of the incident was in the sitting-room; Mr Roundhay and Mortimer were already waiting for them there. The chairs had been moved back against the walls, but everything else was the same as it had been the night before.
Charred ashes from the overnight fire lay on the grate. The table was filled with scattered cards and burned-out candles. Yujin took one look at his partner and witnessed the familiar dance he took to at crime scenes.
Admittedly, it wasn't exactly a dance, but the way Herlock paced about with light, swift steps across the room made it seem like one. He was akin to a swan, gracefully prancing about the room. With Yujin's help, he placed the chairs in their original positions, sitting in each one for a brief period of time.
Mr Roundhay stared at the detective's odd performance. "Is he always like this?"
Yujin's face broke out into a smile. "Yes. Yes, he is."
Herlock examined the floor, the windows, the fireplace, the ceiling; but Yujin could tell that something was wrong. Not once did Yujin see the light in his eyes and the tightening of his lips. These were the usual signs that he had seen a gleam of light in the utter darkness.
"Why a fire?" Herlock spoke up after a few silent minutes of investigating. "Had they always had a fire going on a spring evening?"
"The night was cold and damp," Mortimer explained, "After my arrival, we lit the fire."
Herlock nodded and took one last look at the sitting-room. "I believe that concludes my investigation of the scene. I have examined everything of note."
"What are you going to do now, Mr Sholmes?" Mortimer asked him.
Herlock chuckled and laid a hand on Yujin's shoulder. "I think, Mikotoba, that I shall resume my treatment of a relaxing atmosphere, followed by a course of tobacco-poisoning."
"You really shouldn't smoke so much, Sholmes," Yujin muttered, sneaking a glare towards his partner.
"Yes, you have so often condemned it, haven't you?" Herlock flashed a grin before turning back to Mr Roundhay and Mortimer. "With your permission, gentlemen, we will now return to our cottage. Nothing new will come to our notice if we remain here. I will turn the facts over in my mind, Mr Tregennis, and send word if anything occurs to me. In the meantime, I wish you both a good day."
—-
The walk back to their cottage was mostly silent, apart from Yujin's occasional attempts to initiate a conversation. He knew what was happening; Herlock was turning the facts over in his mind. When they returned to their cottage, he took his place upon his chair, lightning his pipe.
In this state, he would often neglect his own needs. Yujin carried a cup of tea over to him, along with a sandwich he had prepared for their lunch earlier, before they were rudely interrupted. "At least remember to eat, Sholmes," Yujin grumbled, "Remember, we are here for your health, case or not."
Herlock didn't reply verbally, but he took the sandwich and started to wolf it down. He glared daggers into the wall in front of him in a complete and absorbed silence. With one messy mouthful, he suddenly sprang up out of his chair. "It won't do, Mikotoba!"
Yujin had just sat down. He had a feeling he was going to have to get back up. "Whatever do you mean, Sholmes?"
"Fishing, Mikotoba, fishing!" Herlock said with a laugh. "Let us walk along the cliffs together and find a good spot for fishing. Bring the lunch you prepared with us! We are far more likely to be able to catch fish than find clues for this problem."
"I... I just sat down-"
"Then you would rather make my brain work without sufficient material?" Herlock grabbed Yujin's arm and forced him out of his seat. "The sea, air, sunshine, and patience. That is all we can do for now. I believe a change of scenery may assist us. Come, when we find a nice spot, I shall summarise the facts of this case."
Of course, it was up to Yujin to gather the necessary equipment. He noticed Herlock taking a book with him, but he failed to see what it was. It was true that Herlock could do with getting out of the cottage; the key to his recovery was keeping him busy. When he was idle, he would turn to opioids to keep his mind from growing bored.
They had found a nice spot along the cliffs, close to a popular fishing area. Before they could fish, they needed to eat. But, before they could do either, Herlock launched into a feverish summary of the case. Yujin barely had the chance to set down the picnic blanket.
"Let us get a firm grip of the very little that we do know, Mikotoba, so that when fresh facts arise, we can easily fit them into their places," Herlock began, taking a seat next to Yujin. The cool breeze ruffled the locks of his hair. "We can both agree to keep any diabolical or devilish theories out of our minds, yes?"
"Certainly," Yujin replied as he grabbed a sandwich. "There is a human explanation out there - we just have to find it."
"Three persons have been grievously stricken by some human creation," Herlock grabbed a slice of sponge cake the two had made the previous evening from the picnic basket. "Now, when did this occur? We must establish a time frame. Assuming his narrative is true, it was after Mr Mortimer Tregennis had left the room. This is a very important point, Mikotoba. I propose that the incident occurred immediately after he left the room."
"I see your point," Yujin nodded along, taking a bite of his sandwich. "It was already past the usual hour for bed, yet none of them had begun to make a move."
"An excellent observation!" Herlock winked at him playfully. "I shall also point out the cards on the table - whist is a four player game, Mikotoba. The cards were still set out as if they were playing, despite only three of them remaining. Evidently, the incident occurred immediately after Mr Mortimer Tregennis' departure, and not later than eleven o'clock last night."
"Our next step, then, should be to check his movements," Yujin suggested, "Oh, and, Sholmes - take a drink in between mouthfuls of cake, will you?"
Reluctantly, Herlock took a sip of his drink in between mouthfuls of sponge cake. "I had hoped to dazzle you with my genius, Mikotoba, for my way of obtaining that information seemed to be above suspicion. Knowing some of my methods, as you do, of course, you were conscious of the clumsy plant pot spillage that occurred. From it, I was able to obtain a clearer impression of his foot - along with yours, although I already have a fair share of them."
Yujin glanced towards his own shoes. "Sorry - you've been collecting my-"
"Once I had obtained a sample print," Herlock raised his voice over Yujin's words. "It was not difficult to track where he went. Last night was wet, so it was easy to pick out his footprints from the track. I noted that he went in the general direction of the vicarage."
"Then he disappeared from the scene," Yujin mumbled, making a mental note to pick up the part about Herlock collecting his footprints later. "Mrs Porter had no means to harm them - there is no motive. Surely, she would've used an easier method..."
"I believe we are safe if we eliminate her from our list of suspects, yes," Herlock agreed, "So, what of this mysterious creature that apparently drove those who saw it out of their senses? I am, of course, referring to what Mortimer Tregennis told us about what his brother, George, saw. There is a three-foot flower plot along the window, and anyone that would've been seen on that dark, cloudy night would've had to have breached this border. Yet, there was no indication of a footprint."
"Neither have we found a motive for any outsider to interrupt them," Yujin slapped Herlock's hand away from taking another slice of cake - his own slice. "Really, Sholmes! One slice is enough! There's another sandwich made for you if you are still hungry!"
"Fine," Herlock grumbled, taking a sandwich instead. "Do you perceive our difficulties? If only I had more data, then I could prove that this case is easier than it may seem! As a result, I suggest we put the case aside for now."
"Then, we can finally begin fishing?"
Instead of grabbing his fishing pole, Herlock ruffled around in their picnic basket and pulled out a small book. The letters were neither English nor Japanese. Evidently, Herlock had taken to teaching himself another language in his free time.
"Hebrew, Mikotoba. This book I found is written in Hebrew," he said, showing Yujin the pages inside. "I found this curious book in our cottage. It looks old, doesn't it?"
Yujin leaned on Herlock's shoulder to get a better look. "The pages look old and worn, yes - how far have you managed to get?"
"Not... very far," Herlock replied, a pout on his lips. "I have spotted the consonants, but no matter how much I research, I can find no vowels. Not a single one! How am I supposed to form words without any vowels? Instead, all I seem to find is this 'v' sound - you observe this line, here, what appears to be a cane with a little hook."
"Perhaps you should call upon an expert," he suggested. The idea of fishing seemed far away, now that Herlock was distracted by something else. Still, he didn't mind. He could listen to his partner forever.
"Where am I to find an expert in the outskirts of Cornwall?" Herlock sighed and glared down at the book on his lap. "No - I will figure this out, Mikotoba, and you are going to help me."
It seemed like they weren't going to begin fishing anytime soon.
—-
After two hours of deliberating, the two returned to their cottage with a lack of fish. The afternoon sun was shining brightly down upon them, a sharp contrast to the events that had occurred the previous evening. It wasn't until they had returned that they remembered the sinister mystery awaiting for a solution.
At their cottage, they had a visitor. A man with fierce eyes and a messy beard stood waiting at their door. Yujin had caught sight of him before, once or twice upon the lonely moors. Earlier, Herlock had told him that the man was famed explorer Dr Leon Sterndale, back from his adventures in Africa.
Dr Sterndale refused to sit down, noting that he would not be staying for long. "I wondered if I could hear your thoughts regarding the Tregennis case, Mr Sholmes," he said eagerly, "The country police are utterly useless. Perhaps, with your wider experience and expertise, you have managed to solve this peculiar case?"
This surprised Yujin; usually, the man kept to himself. "Curious, are you?"
"During my many residencies here, I have come to know the Tregennis' very well," he explained, "My mother is Cornish, so I grew up here - you could call them childhood friends of mine. Their strange fate has naturally been a great shock to me. I had gotten as far as Plymouth upon my way to Africa, but the news reached me this morning, so I came straight back again to help with the inquiry."
Herlock raised his eyebrows. "Did you miss your boat, then?"
"I'm afraid so - but there will be another. I will simply take the next one."
"Friendship indeed!" Herlock exclaimed, taking a glance towards Yujin. "Childhood friends, you say? I see... was your baggage aboard the ship?"
"Some of it, yes," Dr Sterndale replied, "The main part is at the hotel, though."
"Surely this event could not have found its way into the Plymouth morning papers?" Yujin pointed out.
"No, sir. I had a telegram informing me of the events. It arrived at the hotel I was staying at."
Herlock narrowed his eyes. "Might I ask from whom?"
Dr Sterndale lowered his head, casting a shadow over his face. "You are very inquisitive, Mr Sholmes."
"It is my business to be so," Herlock replied.
With a sigh, Dr Sterndale relented, regaining his composure. "I have no objection to telling you. It was Mr Roundhay who sent me the telegram which recalled me."
"Thank you," Herlock flashed a sly grin at him. "To answer your original question - I have not cleared my mind entirely on the subject of this case, but I have every hope of reaching a conclusion. It would be premature to say more."
Dr Sterndale hesitated before replying. "Perhaps you could tell me if your suspicions point in any particular direction?"
Herlock shook his head. "I'm afraid I can hardly answer that. I prefer to gather all of the facts before forming any theories."
"Then I have wasted my time," he grumbled, "I need not prolong my visit."
Yujin stared, wide-eyed, at the rudeness of their visitor as he was shoved out of the way. No sooner than he had left had Herlock began to grab his coat. Yujin already had an idea of what he was going to do.
"You can't seriously be thinking of following him?" Yujin said as he watched the detective gather his things.
"I can do nothing else, Mikotoba," Herlock reminded him, "Besides, I must confirm a theory or two. Wait here; you may receive a telegram or two. I will return in the evening at the very latest."
That was that. Herlock strode out of the cottage, leaving Yujin all alone. This wasn't the first time that Herlock had gone off on a solo investigation. If anything, he was used to it by now. However, there was a nagging thought in his mind that wouldn't go away.
Their entire reason for coming here was so that Herlock could have a fresh environment, and to keep an eye on his health. If he was away from London and kept occupied, there was less of a chance that he would slip back into his old habits. Yujin could keep an eye on his partner - his patient - and he would soon recover from his momentary slip.
He should trust Herlock. He knew that. Where was he going to find opioids in the middle of Cornwall? Worse still - what if he had taken some with him? What if that was the reason why he was doing so well? What if he wasn't recovering at all?
These poisonous thoughts refused to leave Yujin's mind. He found himself in front of Herlock's room. The door was shut, but left unlocked. He couldn't; he couldn't just search through his friend's luggage on the pretence of finding needles or otherwise. Herlock would instantly know if something had been shifted.
He couldn't leave it to chance. If Herlock did bring a stash with him, then he had to remove it. With that in mind, Yujin opened the door to Herlock's room and began to search through his things. He found books, case notes, even rudimentary inventions that were half-completed.
Yujin had turned the entire room upside-down before he came to a realisation; there was nothing to be found here. His friend really was staying away from his old habits. A terrible guilt consumed him as he looked upon the mess he had made.
Worst of all, he had betrayed the trust of his closest companion.
As he tidied away his mess, he made a silent promise to never do so again.
—-
Sure enough, it was the evening when Herlock returned. His haggard face showed that he had made little progress with the investigation. "Did a telegram arrive?" He asked Yujin.
Yujin nodded and handed him the telegram sitting on the table. "It came a short while ago. I have our food cooking, before you ask. I assume you worked up quite the appetite, no?"
Herlock grabbed the telegram and skimmed the words. He let out a huff and threw it into the fireplace. "From the Plymouth hotel, Mikotoba. I learned the name of it from Mr Roundhay, and I sent a wire to check if Dr Sterndale's account was true."
"From your reaction, I gather that his account was true," Yujin deduced.
"Indeed - he has also allowed some of his luggage to go on to Africa, whilst he returned to be present at the investigation," Herlock flopped down onto his chair and glared at his exhausted feet. "What do you make of that, Mikotoba?"
Yujin sat opposite him and poured him a cup of tea. "That he is deeply interested in the case, of course."
"There is a thread here which we have not yet grasped. Cheer up, Mikotoba! I am certain that we have yet to gather all of the clues. When it does, we may- when did you go through my room?"
Yujin hastily put the teapot down. When he glanced up, he saw Herlock staring straight through him. "Wh-What did you say?"
Herlock sat up straight, his gaze serious. "My door was left slightly ajar. At first, I thought you had simply tidied up a little, since you had clearly entered it. But, no - there is a guilty look on your face, Mikotoba. You have appeared nervous ever since I arrived, yet the explanation I offered didn't help to ease your worries at all."
There was nothing Yujin could think of to say. The silence was like torture to him. What could he say?
"I ask that you trust me," Herlock leaned over and placed a hand on Yujin's. "When we decided to come here, I promised that I would try to get better, didn't I? Even if I am your patient, you have to trust me, Yujin..."
"I... I do trust you," Yujin muttered, staring down at Herlock's hand. "I do trust you, Herlock. It was just... a momentary slip. I care about you more than you will ever know."
Herlock winked at him - although Yujin couldn't tell if it was a playful wink, or something else entirely. "I believe I do know how much you care about me. You're mad to do so, in fact. Let us drop the matter for now - I can see that you regretted it from the moment I walked in." He paused. "Do you smell burning?"
"The hot pot!" Yujin leapt out of his seat and ran over to the oven. "Sholmes, quick, open the windows! We'll have another disaster on our hands in a minute - and I'm not just talking about our dinner!"
Herlock burst into a fit of laughter as he opened the windows in their cottage. He never knew Yujin to forget about his cooking; he must've been more worked up about it than he had thought. Either that, or he was incredibly distracted by his attempts to comfort him.
Perhaps next time he should stick to verbal affections.
—-
The next morning, Yujin noted that, by the time that he emerged from his room, Herlock was already dressed and ready. It was a rarity; usually Yujin would have to go and wake him up. His partner was busy reading a medical journal - one of Yujin's.
"Fascinating, Mikotoba!" Herlock cried, "This Phineas Gage - I assume you have heard of him?"
"How could I not have?" Yujin replied, "The man is a medical marvel. I confess, when I first heard about it, I was pouring over every news article I could find. Although, I quickly switched to medical journals when I found that they tended to exaggerate his personality changes."
"My only regret is that I could not examine the man myself," he pondered, taking a breath from his pipe. "One day, we should visit where his skull and the iron bar that impaled him are kept. You shall have to tell me more about this curious fellow in the meantime."
Before they could discuss the man any further, Yujin heard the familiar rattle of hooves from outside. He rushed towards the window and saw a dog-cart galloping down the road towards their cottage. The cart pulled up, and Mr Roundhay jumped out.
They rushed outside to meet the man, finding him in a state of distress. Mr Roundhay needed a moment to catch his breath before he could speak.
"We are devil-ridden, Mr Sholmes!" He gasped. "Satan himself is loose in my parish! Mr Mortimer Tregennis has died during the night, with exactly the same symptoms as the rest of his family!"
Herlock put away his pipe in alarm. "Can you fit us both in your dog-cart?"
Mr Roundhay nodded in affirmation.
"I suggest we postpone our breakfast, Mikotoba," Herlock quickly shut the cottage door behind them. "Mr Roundhay, we are entirely at your disposal. Hurry - before the scene becomes disturbed!"
The lodger in question occupied two rooms at the vicarage - a large sitting-room, and his bedroom above. They both looked out upon the lawn. It was a misty March morning, and they had arrived before the Doctor or the police. They headed upstairs, towards the sitting-room.
The atmosphere of the room was a horrible and depressing stuffiness. The window had been opened by a servant once they had discovered the body. Next to the body sat a lamp, still flaring and smoking on the centre table.
The body of Mortimer Tregennis had the same twisted distortion of terror which had marked the features of his dead sister. His limbs were convulsed and his fingers were contorted, his last few moments being paralysed with fear. He was dressed, but had done so in a hurry.
In an instant, Herlock was tense and alert, his eyes shining, his limbs quivering with eager activity. He began to search the room, his movements akin to a fox. Yujin watched in amazement as he danced around the room, taking note of any small details that caught his eye. He was out on the lawn, in the bedroom, which ended in him throwing open the window.
"Of course!" Herlock jumped for joy and rushed back outside, ignoring the stares from everyone else in the room. "This is truly fascinating, Mikotoba!"
Yujin turned to the servant that found the victim and forced a smile. "I have noticed that the bed has been slept in," he said, whilst his partner was busy with the lawn outside. "Might I ask for your account regarding the discovery?"
"As you wish, sir," the servant nodded. "When I first discovered Mr Tregennis, the room was incredibly stuffy. I had originally fainted when I came across the scene, so I threw open a window as soon as I recovered."
Herlock rushed back inside and took to examining the lamp on the centre table. He took careful measurements of it, peering at it closely with his magnifying glass. To Yujin, it looked to be an ordinary lamp. There were some remnants of ashes on the surface of the lamp, which Herlock scraped half of them off and into an envelope.
At this moment, the police arrived. Herlock gestured for everyone to follow him out onto the lawn. "I am glad to say that my investigation has not been entirely barren," he remarked, "The police shall have to conduct their own investigations - Mr Roundhay, might I suggest you direct their attention to the bedroom window and the sitting-room lamp?"
Mr Roundhay appeared confused. "Whatever for, Mr Sholmes?"
"Alone, they mean little. Together, they are conclusive," Herlock said with a smirk. "If the police desire further information, kindly direct them to our cottage. Mikotoba, we'd best be on our way - I rather fancy one of your infamous Japanese breakfasts."
----
The police neglected to contact them for the rest of the day - Yujin assumed that they were either too busy, or they had their own line of investigation. Herlock spent his time smoking, seemingly in deep thought, or going for long country walks, alone. It did worry Yujin; usually, they'd walk upon the moors together. However, his partner insisted that he trust him.
Upon returning from one of these walks, he had purchased a lamp, one similar to the one he examined at the crime scene of Mortimer Tregennis. Herlock proudly presented the lamp to Yujin and placed it on the table.
"An exact duplicate, Mikotoba," he had said, "I took the measurements and managed to locate where this particular lamp was sold. Observe the oil I have here - exactly the same as the one used in the vicarage."
Yujin stared at the lamp - he had no idea where his partner was going with this. "Another one of your experiments, Sholmes? Try not to burn down the cottage, will you?'
Herlock noted the time on the clock and lit the lamp. "Relax, Mikotoba, relax! I am merely timing how long it takes for it to be exhausted. I will simply sit here and wait. It is an important experiment, I tell you."
With a sigh, Yujin sat down next to him. "Then, since you clearly have time on your hands, I believe there is something we should discuss. I am gravely worried about you, Sholmes."
He continued to glare at the clock. "You are always worried about me."
"You are my patient, and my dear partner," Yujin replied, "I understand that sometimes, your investigations require you to be alone. However, the quantity of your solo investigations concern me."
"If it's about the opioids-"
"Of course it's about the opioids!" Yujin exclaimed, slamming a hand on the table. "More than that, even - I know you said to trust you, and I have. In return, you must also trust me. I am your partner, no?"
Herlock sighed, but refused to look away from the clock. "I am simply doing what I can to solve this mystery, or to clear my head. If you do not believe me, then check my arms - there are no puncture wounds in sight. Of course, you would've picked up on that immediately. I cannot hide these things from you, Mikotoba."
"All I ask is that you take me with you from now on," he said, "This is supposed to be our holiday, remember? Our time together, away from everyone else."
"If that will quell your fears, then I suppose I have no choice," Herlock smiled to himself, taking a glance towards Yujin. "You are truly meddlesome, Mikotoba. Why do you care so much for someone such as myself?"
Yujin placed a hand on his. "Because you are my partner, Sholmes. I care about you more than you will ever know."
Herlock's heart skipped a beat.
----
The next day, the police still hadn't contacted them. Herlock was once again planning an experiment - one of a more unpleasant nature. It would make the previous day's experiment seem mundane in comparison. Yujin wouldn't forget it in a hurry.
Herlock danced around the room as he began to set it up. "You will recall, Mikotoba," he remarked, "That one common factor in each incident was the effect of the atmosphere of the room upon those who had first entered it. In the first incident, the Doctor and Mrs Porter had fainted upon discovering the scene. Do you recall?"
Admittedly, Yujin had forgotten about that entirely. "Of course," he lied.
"At least one of us has a good memory," Herlock rolled his eyes, having seen through Yujin's lie. "In the second incident, you cannot have forgotten the horrible stuffiness of the room when we arrived, despite the servant throwing open the window."
"The servant fainted, too, upon discovering the scene," Yujin recalled, "I suppose you remembered that fact as well?"
Herlock nodded in affirmation. "In each case, there was a poisonous atmosphere. There was also the presence of something burning - a fire in the first case, and a lamp in the second. The fire was needed, but as my previous experiment shows, the lamp was lit well after dawn."
"Then there must be some connection between them all," Yujin deduced, "The burning, stuffy atmosphere, and the unfortunate state the victims found themselves in. That is what you are implying, yes?"
"Precisely - a working hypothesis, Mikotoba!" Herlock patted his partner's shoulder in delight. "We will assume that something was burned in each case which produced an atmosphere, which used those strange toxic effects. In the first incident, this substance was placed in the fire. The window was shut, but the fire would naturally, to some extent, carry fumes up the chimney."
Yujin placed a hand on his chin in thought. "I recall that Brenda Tregennis was found closest to the fire. As she was the closest to the fumes, she would've suffered the full effects. The brothers, having inhaled less of the toxic fumes, would have showed the first effects of the substance - madness."
"Precisely! As expected of my partner. Remind me to treat you to a meal later," Herlock flashed a smile before continuing. "In the second case, there was nowhere for the fumes to escape. Hence, the death. These facts lead to the theory of a poison which worked by combustion. This train of thinking led me to search Mortimer Tregennis' room for some remains of this substance."
"The ashes on the lamp!" Yujin exclaimed, "I witnessed you gather a brownish powder from the lamp - although, you only took half."
"I left some evidence for the police - it is not for me to stand in their way," he explained, "You may notice that I purchased a similar lamp. My experiment is as follows: I shall light our lamp and place this substance on it. As a precaution, I ask that you open all of the windows. I would rather avoid the premature death of the legendary pair, as you have called us in your notes."
Yujin nodded and opened all of the windows in the room, the cool spring breeze drifting into the room. "Are you sure about this, Sholmes? This isn't some drug that produces hallucinogenic effects, is it?"
Herlock shot him a glare as he lit the lamp. "This is purely for the sake of solving this case, Mikotoba. Trust my deduction - for I am sure that this is the poison in question. Seat yourself near that open window, unless you are a sensible man, and would rather have nothing to do with the matter."
"I will see it out," Yujin said, sitting down on the armchair pointed out by Herlock. "Besides, I confess that the matter has left me somewhat curious."
"To think, I thought I knew you, Mikotoba. I will take the chair opposite, so that we may observe each other and end the experiment should the symptoms seem alarming," Herlock gathered the powder from the envelope and sprinkled it onto the lamp. "Now, let us sit down and await any developments."
Herlock had barely sat down by the time the effects began. Yujin smelt a thick, musky odour which was utterly nauseating. His imagination quickly spiralled out of control. A thick, black cloud swirled before his eyes - he was unable to tell if this cloud was figment of his imagination or not. To his mind, it seemed utterly real, and utterly terrifying.
The cloud continued to swirl. It parted for a second, giving way to someone he knew dearly; Ayame, his wife. She stepped closer to him. She was covered in blood. The blood dripped down from her clothes and onto the floor. Yujin looked down at his own hands, a freezing horror paralysing him. They were covered in blood. Just like that day. Just like the day she had died.
His heart was hammering away in his chest. He tried to call out Ayame's name, but no sound came out. When he looked back up again, away from his bloodied hands, he saw a little girl in a kimono. He let out a gasp.
"Little Susato - your daughter." A voice - his voice - echoed in his ears. The poison had taken away his own voice, and given it to his nightmares. All he could do was sit and stare as he desperately tried to form the picture of Susato, the little girl in front of him.
Her figure was faded, fuzzy. The clearest thing about her was her kimono. Worst of all, there was a black scribble in front of her face. Even her hairstyle was a mystery to him. If it wasn't for the voice, he would've never have guessed that this little girl in front of him was his own daughter.
"What - you don't remember what she looks like?" The voice sneered at him, "What kind of a father doesn't know his own daughter's face? Can you not even imagine it?"
Yujin's hands gripped the armrests, unable to respond. It was true; he couldn't remember what Susato looked like. He had never heard her voice. He knew nothing about her. Even his own nightmare couldn't picture her for him. His tongue felt like leather. Why was he still in England, away from his own daughter?
At that moment, he remembered. He broke through that cloud of despair and glimpsed at the reason in front of him. Herlock's face was white, rigid, and drawn with horror - the same look as those that were dead. It was that vision which gave Yujin both sanity and strength.
In an instant, he stumbled out of his chair and threw his arms around Herlock. Together, they lurched for the door, throwing themselves onto the grass outside. They were lying side by side as they desperately took in huge gulps of poison-free air. The glorious sunshine burst its way through the hellish cloud of terror, restoring peace to them both.
"M-My word, Mikotoba!" Herlock said at last with an unsteady voice, "I... I believe I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment to tackle myself, let alone with my partner. I truly apologise - it was never my intention to harm you."
"I know," Yujin let out a smile, now that the terror was over. "Understand, Sholmes, that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you. I could never allow you to embark on such an experiment alone. I dread to think what would've happened if..."
"It would have been rather unnecessary to drive the both of us mad, my dear Mikotoba!" Herlock burst out into a fit of laughter. "Although, a candid observer would certainly declare us both mad for embarking on such a wild experiment. I confess, I never would've imagined the effect to be so sudden and so severe."
"I... I didn't think it would turn my own fears against me," Yujin confessed, "I... I saw... I believe you can already guess what I saw, Sholmes. Might I ask what you-"
"The lamp!" Herlock cried, jumping to his feet. "We shall never rid ourselves of that disgusting aroma if it remains! Wait there!"
Before Yujin could voice any objections, Herlock took a deep breath and ran back inside the cottage. He reappeared a moment later, the burning lamp held at full arm's length. He threw it as far as he could, the lamp landing in a bank of brambles.
"I believe we should give the room time to clear." Yujin noted as he stood up, brushing stray bits of grass off of himself.
Herlock nodded and reached for his pipe - only to frown when he realised that he had left it inside. "Agreed - I take it that you now know with absolute certainty as to how these tragedies were produced?"
"Without a doubt."
"The cause, however, remains as obscure as before," Herlock gestured to a nearby alcove in the cottage's garden. "We shall have to discuss it here, in the sunshine, considering the state of our cottage."
Yujin followed him into the alcove and cleared his throat. "Apologies - the villainous stuff still seems to linger in my throat. As you were saying, Sholmes?"
"We must admit that, despite Mortimer Tregennis being the victim in the second tragedy, he was the criminal in the first," Herlock deduced with a grin. "Recall how there was a story of a family quarrel, which was apparently dealt with. I confess that we have no idea how bitter a quarrel it was, or how hollow the reconciliation. When I think of Mortimer Tregennis, I do not picture a particularly forgiving man."
"He was still living apart from his siblings," Yujin pointed out, "Although, what about his claim that he saw someone outside?"
"A lie to mislead us away from the real cause of the tragedy," he replied, "I noted that the dirt outside the window had not been disturbed, despite the rain. Finally, if he did not throw this substance into the fire immediately upon leaving, then who did? It would've had to have happened straight after his departure. If anyone else entered the room, the family would've risen from the table. Besides - I highly doubt visitors arrive after ten o'clock at night in peaceful Cornwall. All the evidence points to Mortimer Tregennis as the culprit."
"Then why did he become the victim of the second case?" Yujin placed a hand to his chin. "Was it a suicide?"
"Not an impossible suggestion, I will admit," Herlock admitted, "A man that killed his own family might as well be driven by remorse to commit such an act. There are, however, some reasons that the suggest otherwise. There is one man in England that knows about it, and I have made the necessary arrangements to-"
Yujin heard the click of the garden gate, and turned to see Dr Leon Sterndale approaching them. He turned towards his partner in shock. "A visitor?"
"He is a little early," his partner muttered, "No matter. My apologies, Dr Sterndale, but we have been conducting a chemical experiment that has left our little cottage unavailable for visitors."
Dr Sterndale was noticeably surprised at the location of the meeting - a rustic alcove in the open air. "You sent for me about an hour ago, Mr Sholmes," said he, "I have come, though I do not know why I should obey such summons."
"Perhaps I should make that clear," Herlock went to flip his hat before realising that he had left it inside. "You will have to excuse this somewhat informal meeting, but I appreciate your presence. The matters which we have to discuss will affect you personally, so I thought it best that you should be here."
Dr Sterndale lit a cigar and gazed sternly at Herlock. "I am at a loss, sir. Whatever could it be that involves me so personally?"
Herlock flashed a smile. "Why, the killing of Mortimer Tregennis, of course."
In an instant, a flash of anger consumed Dr Sterndale. He sprang towards Herlock with clenched hands. Before he could get any closer, Yujin stood protectively in front of his partner.
"Stand down, sir," Yujin shot a fierce glare towards the man. "I will not let you harm my partner. Let us have a civilised conversation, no?"
Dr Sterndale stopped; the threat was enough. With a violent effort, he resumed his previous calm nature. "I have no desire to harm either of you. I have lived away from humans for so long, away from the law, that I have learned to become law myself."
"Nor have we any desire to harm you, Dr Sterndale," Herlock replied, "Whilst my partner can be awfully protective, the clearest proof of that is, knowing what I know, I have sent for you and not for the police."
Their visitor staggered for a moment in shock. "What do you mean?" He asked, at last. "If this is a bluff, Mr Sholmes, then you have chosen a bad man for your experiment. No more beating about the bush - what do you mean?"
"I hope that you shall remain frank with me," said Herlock, "My next step will depend entirely upon the nature of your own defence."
"My defence?" Dr Sterndale repeated, "My defence against what?"
Yujin stepped aside, having finally caught on. "As my partner said - against the charge of killing Mortimer Tregennis."
"As proof that I am not bluffing when I say this fact, I will tell you some of the facts upon which my conclusions are based," Herlock announced, "When you returned from Plymouth, despite allowing much of your property to go on to Africa, it first informed me that I had to factor you in the reconstruction of this drama-"
"I came back-"
"I have heard of your reasons and regard them as unconvincing and inadequate," Herlock said with a smirk. "You came here to ask about my suspicions. I refused to answer you. You then went to the vicarage, waited outside it for some time, and finally returnsed to your cottage."
Once again, Dr Sterndale was in shock. "How do you know that?"
Herlock's smirk grew wider. "I followed you."
"But I saw no one!"
"Yes, that is what one should expect to see when I follow you," he chuckled. "You spent a restless night at your cottage and formed a certain plan. Upon daybreak, you filled your pocket with some reddish gravel that was heaped beside your cottage's gate."
Yujin remembered how Herlock was oddly awake that morning; he must've been following Dr Sterndale in the early hours of the morning. That was in his nature - it would also explain why he was so tired that day.
"You walked towards the vicarage, wearing the same shoes you are wearing currently," Herlock continued, "You stopped underneath the window of Mortimer Tregennis - it was daylight, but the household had yet to stir. You took some of the gravel from your pocket and threw it up at the window to get his attention."
Dr Sterndale dropped his cigar. "The devil! The devil you are, Mr Sholmes!"
Herlock smiled at the compliment. "After the second or third throw, the lodger came to the window. You beckoned him to come down, and he dressed hurriedly and descended to his sitting-room. You entered through the window. There was a short interview, where you paced the room, before you left the way you had entered. You stood on the lawn outside smoking a cigar, watching the events before you. After the death of the lodger, you withdrew. Now, Dr Sterndale, how to you justify your actions, and what was your motive? If you decide to evade me, I give my assurance that the matter will be referred to the police."
At first, Dr Sterndale said nothing. He simply listened and buried his face in his hands. Then, he plucked a photograph from his pocket and threw it onto the rustic table in front of them. "That is why I have done it," he said.
Yujin peered closer at the photograph and gasped. "Why, that's Brenda Tregennis!" He cried.
"Yes, Brenda Tregennis," Dr Sterndale repeated, "For years, I have loved her, and she has loved me. The land here has brought me close to the one thing on earth that was dear to me. Yet, I could not marry her. I have a wife, but she has since left me. Despite this being years ago, desertion is not yet grounds for a divorce in English law. Due to these deplorable laws, I have waited. For years, Brenda waited. And this... this, is what we have waited for."
A terrible sob erupted from his throat. With an effort, he collected himself and carried on. "Mr Roundhay knew. He kept our secret, which is why he sent me the telegram telling me of the horrific events. What was my baggage or Africa to me when I had learned the fate of my darling?"
"The poison," said Herlock, "Might you offer some explanation?"
Dr Sterndale produced a paper packet and set it onto the table, pushing it towards Yujin. On the outside was written 'Radix pedis diaboli' with a red poison label beneath it. "I understand you are a Doctor, sir. Have you ever heard of a poison such as this?"
"Devil's... foot root?" Yujin said, studying the words carefully. "I confess, I have never heard of it."
"Of course you wouldn't have," he remarked, "I believe that, save for one sample in a laboratory, there is no other specimen in Europe. It has not yet found its way into any piece of literature. The root is shaped like a foot, half human, half goat-like; hence the fanciful name. It is used as a poison in certain districts of West Africa, and is kept a secret among them. I obtained this specimen under very extraordinary circumstances."
Herlock opened the paper and peered inside. A heap of reddish-brown powder lay inside. "I see - you took it with you back to England. Pray, continue."
"For the sake of my relationship with Brenda, I was friendly towards her brothers," Dr Sterndale explained, "There was a family quarrel about money which estranged Mortimer, but it was supposed to be sorted. I met up with him, as with the others, afterwards. I noted him to be a sly, scheming man, but I had no cause for any suspicion. Until..."
Yujin raised an eyebrow. "Until...?"
"One day, a few weeks ago, he came down to my cottage and I showed him some of my artefacts from Africa. Among other things, I exhibited this powder, and I told him of its strange properties. It stimulates the emotion of fear, resulting in either death or madness. I told him how powerless European science would be to detect it. How he took it I cannot say - perhaps it was whilst I was opening cabinets. I remember how he piled me with questions regarding the amount and time needed for the effect - how could I have known his true reasons for being so curious?"
"You must've thought nothing of it until that telegram reached you," Herlock deduced.
"Correct. I assume the villain had thought that I would be at sea before the news could reach me, and that I would be lost for years in Africa," he said, "But I returned at once. When I heard the details, I knew my poison had been used. I came to see you on the chance that there was some other explanation; but there was none. I was convinced that Mortimer Tregennis was the murderer. Perhaps, for the sake of money - if all of his siblings were either dead or insane, he would be declared the sole inheritor of their property."
Yujin lowered his head. "To think that he did such a thing to his own siblings... he is a crueler man than I had ever expected."
"I had his crime, but I thought, what was to be his punishment?" Dr Sterndale lit another cigar. "If I appealed to the law, what proof did I have? How could I convince a jury to believe such a story? The poison is unheard of here. Either way, I could not afford to fail - I refused to leave it up to chance. My soul cried out for revenge."
"You have said that you have lived in a place without law," Herlock recalled, "That you have learned to become law itself. I take it that you did so in this case, yes?"
"I determined that he should share the fate that he had inflicted upon his siblings. Either that, or justice would be done upon my own hand. In all of England, there can no man that places less value upon his own life than I do at the present moment; my reason for living is long gone," Dr Sterndale took a long smoke before continuing. "As you have said, I used the gravel to disturb him and climbed in through the window at his invitation. I laid his offence down before him, and said that I was there both as judge and executioner. Upon the sight of my revolver, he became paralysed. I lit the lamp and placed the powder before escaping myself. I had warned him that, if he tried to leave the room, I would shoot him dead."
"So, that is why he stayed sat in his chair whilst the poison inflicted its curse upon him," Yujin muttered, sneaking a glance towards Herlock. His partner was listening to every word.
"In five minutes he died," he continued, "My darling would have suffered the same, if not more than him. That is my story, Mr Sholmes. I understand that what I did was wrong - however, I could not let that man get away and be rewarded for his crimes. Perhaps, if you loved a woman, you would have done the same. You can take whatever steps you'd like. As I have already said, there is no man living who can fear death less than I do."
Herlock sat in silence for a moment. "What did you intend to do?" He asked him.
"I had intended to exile myself in Central Africa," Dr Sterndale explained, "My work there remains half finished. I can only pray that I do some good in the remainder of my life."
"Then I will let you do the other half," said Herlock, "I, at least, am not prepared to prevent you. You are right when you say that the case would've never made it through court, and you would not have sent your luggage if you weren't intending on going."
Dr Sterndale stood up and bowed gravely at the two. "I won't ask for your forgiveness; I simply promise that I will give myself a suitable punishment for my crimes. Thank you for listening to my tale, Mr Sholmes."
As the explorer left, Herlock lit his pipe. "Some fumes which are less poisonous would be a welcome change," he commented, "You must agree, Mikotoba, that this is not a case where we should interfere. Clearly, the police have been unable to find the true answer themselves. They have not asked for my assistance, either. Perhaps they have written it off as the devil's doing."
"I confess, it would be rather difficult to bring up in court," Yujin replied, "I assume you found the gravel during your investigation?"
"Naturally. It was the starting point of my research. It was unlike anything in the vicarage garden," he said, "Only when my attention was drawn to Dr Sterndale did I spot the gravel at his cottage. The lamp shining in broad daylight and the remains of the powder only aided my theory."
Yujin sat back with a sigh. "He must've really loved her to do something like that. Well - was he correct? About you doing the same, Sholmes, if you were in his position?"
"Dr Sterndale was wrong about the part about me loving a woman," Herlock muttered as he lowered his pipe. "I... I confess that I would've done something like that if one man was harmed." He turned to his partner. "I am, of course, referring to you, Mikotoba."
"Sholmes!" Yujin let out a gasp. "You know I never would-"
"I never told you about what I saw when that devilish poison took ahold of me," Herlock avoided Yujin's gaze, unable to look him in the eye. "I... I saw you. I saw you, Yujin. I had gotten you killed - murdered, shot to pieces - all because I dragged you into some investigation of mine. I have known no fear like it. The idea of any harm coming to you hurts me more than I can say. I promise you that, should anything happen to you, I will-"
"I couldn't ask you to do that!" Yujin exclaimed, taking ahold of his partner's chin. He turned Herlock's face back towards him. "Look at me; I don't wish for you to be consumed by vengeance, revenge. I'm not getting hurt anytime soon."
Herlock let out a chuckle. "You have even awfully caring lately, Mikotoba. If not for you, my... addictions surely would've spiralled further. This holiday has surely saved me. I thank you for putting up with me - I am trying, I promise you."
"I know you are," Yujin replied, a smile on his face. "I'll stick by you, no matter what, Herlock. I am your partner, after all."
"Yes... you are," Herlock wrapped an arm around Yujin and pulled him close. "Now, I say we continue our holiday. Would you care for a discussion on Cornwall's native fish? The John Dory may interest you, Mikotoba. We never got a chance to fish, did we?"
Now that the case was over, they could focus on their holiday again - on helping Herlock recover from his addictions. Yujin's face lit up in delight. "I would love nothing more, Sholmes."