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Big Ben sounded in the distance as I turned the next corner, its resounding tones marking yet another hour I had spent aimlessly wandering the streets. If I heard the notes correctly, tomorrow had become today.
Not that I would stop walking. Or could, really, with the slow, steady pace the only thing keeping my stomach calm. Why I needed to walk to avoid closing myself in the washroom probably had more to do with this week’s stress than last week’s illness, but at least my current pace would not aggravate my leg as well. A strange shadow warranted a second glance as I turned a corner.
Nothing, but I still crossed the street. Better safe than mugged at midnight. Such an incident would call attention to my current routine, and with Holmes in Brighton for a few days and Mrs. Hudson downstairs, no one had questioned—or noticed—my wandering walks. I had no wish for Holmes to resume following me when he returned. He had tailed me quite enough last week.
Though I doubted he knew that I had spotted him, I recalled with a shot of amusement. He had used various disguises to track me through the crowds on my admittedly slow afternoon of errands. Mostly an excuse to get out of the house, I had seen no reason to hurry, but Holmes had apparently taken my near-crawling pace as a concession to lingering symptoms. He had walked more than I had that day.
And quite a bit more than I had tonight. Regent’s loomed from the London darkness as I changed my path to avoid the park. Such a large, open space required me to watch my surroundings more than I did on the streets. I wanted to walk and think, not guard myself from mischief in the shadows.
Or mischief behind me. Leather scuffed against the ground, but an attempt to cede the walkway only provided another scuff, this one closer. I spun, hand positioned to raise my cane into a weapon. Was someone about to—
No. Holmes stood behind me, somehow. The hand outstretched as if to tap my arm fell back to his side, and another step matched my resumed pace.
“Did you not hear me?”
“Not if you spoke,” I answered shortly. “Heard your shoe before I turned.”
Silence answered me. The next shadowed alcove disappeared into the night before he spoke again.
“Why are you walking circles at midnight?”
Amusement joined irritation to escape in a huff. Of course he had followed me long enough to learn my loop. I had wondered what that shadow was earlier.
“Because my middle dislikes holding still. How long have you been in town?”
“I reached the flat as you walked by.” His tone suggested he had arrived on the last train, though I did not make him specify. Reaching the flat as I passed meant he had probably presumed me on an errand, only to follow when he saw me again a few minutes later. He let the silence stretch for only a few seconds. “Do you intend to go home?”
Only when I could not walk anymore. I did not say as much, however, as my stomach rolled again. Long seconds focused on not revisiting supper.
“Eventually,” I answered when the sensation passed. “Do you—”
The question abruptly cut off between a larger, harder roil that gave me no choice. Long fingers gripped the back of my jacket as I braced myself against the park fence, and he turned me toward home as soon as I finished heaving.
So much for avoiding last week’s hovering.