Team Seven of Heroes II Chapter 7&8

7.

The delivery wagon arrived at the Gate No.5 which took its stop before the guard house. The driver of the wagon pulled the reins on the single cow that was pulling the weight. The driver was an elderly man with the white beard and the deep sunken eyes on the thin body frame. He was dressed in the long white tunic and his head was covered with the cloth wrapping. 

“Santhy, you are late today.” The young guard at the post greeted the elderly man. “You will never know the fun we had early in the morning.” 

The elderly man did not acknowledge the guard and waited for the gate to be open. He did not even look at the guard there. The young guard saw the elderly man showed no interest at what he was going to say then proceeded to raise the latch on the gate. The elderly man flicked the reins to get the wagon moving. The slow moving wagon with the covered load went by the gates. 

“That was easy.” Mycroft muttered out in his discomfort condition beneath the cabbage and other vegetation. It was Hicks idea for him to get in. They had argued the rationale of seeing the Raj and Mycroft got his sneak-in plan. The other two have decided to stay out and be prepared to assist if the going went back. 

The wagon went all the way up to the back door before it stopped. The elderly man did not turn behind but he did voice out. 

“Be quick. The door is here.” Mycroft heard the man and crawled out. He also pulled out the long bag that was brought by him. He opened the door and stepped in. It opened to a store area with the household utensils were kept. Mycroft closed the door and latched it. 

He was in and now the meet with the Raj.

At that moment, the doctor was hung by his wrists with the shackles there and his toes was a feet above the flooring. He was then at what one of the ten rooms with no defined purposes then. The room was in the basement and it stank like the cesspool. He was stripped to his pants and was accompanied by two guards. They have not started on him but the weight of his body was bearing on the doctor’s wrists. He could feel his arms getting numbed then. He had hung there for over an hour after they brought him there but not before giving him the painful massage on the firmed parts of his body. 

“My balls hurt, bastards.” Watson cursed at the two guards who stood there looking at him as if he was a prized catch. 

He was actually and they are waiting for Raj to decide on the next action. Or torture. 

It was then another figure stepped in. 

The two guards salute the new arrival. 

“Tell me, my good doctor. What went through your mind to do a return here?” The officer was a short bulky figure with a shaved head dressed in the blue and red uniform of the Raj Personal Guard. The shoulder pips displayed his seniority rank and he knew the doctor. 

“I thought you would have died by now.” Watson replied and was given a back hand slap across this face cheeks. 

“That was refreshing.” Watson spat out the blood from his mouth. “Do you think I could have my hands free now?” 

“I am impressed that even at near death, you still harbour a humorous nature.” The Raj Officer commented. He was to continue on when another figure step in. It was the elderly man from the wagon. 

“Oh! I am sorry. Wrong room.” The elderly man apologies for his wrong entry. He was then holding the box containing the fresh perishables. “I will leave now.”

“Leave us now!” The officer shouted at the elderly man. The later gave out a weak smile and then turned to the two guards standing near him. It was all so sudden when the darts from the side of the box facing them shot at the guards. The darts were coated with curare mixture. The poison on contact acts like a muscle relaxant that caused death by paralysis of the respiratory system resulting in asphyxiation. They collapsed on their knees and next was the officer. 

“Doctor Watson, I presume.” The elderly man then lowered the box which revealed the dart gun built into the side of the box. 

“I will be darned if it’s not you, Holmes.” Watson slacked on the shackles knowing then he was going to be saved. 

“Yes, it’s me. Mycroft sent for my assistance.” The elderly man then removed the head bindings and pulled off the fake beard. “You do have a tendency to get into difficult spots.” 

“Poison darts? You are improving your skills. Surely the scene with Bartholomew Sholto gave you an insight.” Watson smiled while his old friend unclicked the shackles. 

“Not really. It was in the arsenal of the SOE and I thought it would be fanciful to be the shooter.” Sherlock replied and then lowered the doctor. “Poison darts are common with the assassins here. By using them, I could cover our trail. I will leave a sign for them to see the trail. ” 

Watson was past listening and reached for the officer. He took the shirt off to put it on. He was handed his bag by Sherlock. 

“I found it in one of the rooms. You ought to take care of yourself better. Take this drink. It will help you feel better.” 

The duo picked their way out and then when the doctor was hidden in the wagon, Sherlock took them to safety. He had to dispatch the sentries by the gates with the same dart guns. 

“Oh! I forgot to mention Mycroft is in the palace. I hope he stand a better chance there without me.” Sherlock gave out a snigger but the doctor was no amused. He would have assisted but the doctor was soon asleep from the drink Sherlock gave. 

Meanwhile then Mycroft stumbled onto the torture room and saw the dead guards. He figured it out that the doctor had escaped. He then saw the sign left behind by the doctor’s rescuer. He knew what Holmes had done.

“Darned you, brother!.” Mycroft cursed out and then pulled out the contents from the bag he was carrying. 

The rifle held in his hand was a John T Thomson design with a variation. It fires five hundred rounds per minute on a hundred rounds drum magazine. The man had named it the Annihilator and Mycroft was going to field test it. He also had several grenades named the No.1 then. It contained explosive material with an iron fragmentation band with an impact fuse. It weight over two pounds each and it came with the long handle. He also carried a few bundles of dynamites sticks for fonder memories of his holiday at Spain. He started placing the bundles of dynamite bundles with the long ignition lines in the basement and then proceeded out to the open yard. He was back in the garden and was curious then why he did not encountered any guards or servants. He took a look at his pocket watch and noted he was to be leaving. He took the run towards the dirigible station. 

The explosion came and brought down a section of the mansion before the fire spread. Mycroft kept his pace and wondered why there was no one in pursuit. 

It was baffling then. 

8.

Across the estate at the barracks, the Raj stood there looking at the burning mansion. He wanted to call his servants to save the structure but his guest had forbidden him.

“The palace must not be saved. It must burn to the ground to serve as a call to the natives. They will rally to you for your battle against the Imperial Colonists.”

The Raj stood there looking alongside with his family and personal guards but no one dared to defy the guest. The later was a tall figure dressed in the long colourful gown with the dragon motifs descending from the clouds. The motifs were stitched on with the fine threads that glimmered. The head piece on the tall figure was a dark velvet round hat with a large pearl on the top. The phoenix feather protruded from the back of the hat to the rear. 

“I …” The Raj Head of Guards protested but he was silenced when his voice was shattered by the long think blade that struck him there. The blade was pulled back by the Raj who sheathed the thin blade back to the sceptre that he carried with him. 

“We will follow your request.” The Raj told the thin figure. He then stepped away and was annoyed at the bare offerings there. It was not his choice of a resting place but the guest had awakened him soon after the intruder was caught. 

“We will leave the Palace now.” That was all he was told and soon he found himself there at the barracks. He had asked of the intruder although he had guessed the identity. 

“Raj, I am fully aware of your agitation.” The thin figure spoke without looking away from the fire. “Doctor Watson will lead us to the Princess. My Master had given specific instruction on that…”

The thin figure stopped speaking and then spoke once more. 

“It seems that the old Raj still have loyal servants.” The thin figure was faced by five armed guards with one of them holding the Raj with a sword at the throat. “Or maybe they are acting on your order. I won’t hesitate to kill them regardless.” 

The thin figure turned around on the toes of her right leg with the left leg raised upright to the neck level before it swung out and the body bent at the waist. It looked like a dancing move showing the stalk of the flower before the flower bloomed. When the body frame was pulled down the left leg swung out in arc to land the kick on the guard then. The left kick curled back on the knee bent and then it lashed out at the guard standing next to the first one. The left leg did a series of three succession kicks onto the guard before it was lowered down to the flooring. Once the left foot hit the floor, the leg slide along the flooring to lower the body frame towards the flooring and then the body propelled into a mid-air twist to land the right leg in an over the body kick into the third guard. Once the kick was delivered, the thin figure went into a half crouch and both fists launched out overhead towards the last guard in the belly. 

All it took was a series of flash moves within a minute. 

“Raj, tell the last one to drop the dagger or die.” The thin figure then straightened up and walked away to the doorway. The sound of the dagger dropped to the flooring was evident and then the last assailant was removed. At the doorway the thin figure stopped and then voiced to the Raj.

“Do repeat that again and I may not be merciful then. I am still my father’s daughter although I have not all his characters. “

“Yes, Princess Fa.” The Raj bowed towards her. 

The Princess was named Fa Lo Suee, and unlike her father she was an adept mistress of three deadly martial arts and expert with the revolver she carries under the gown. She was nicknamed ‘Dead-eye”.

Unfortunately both the Holmes do not shared the same sight for each other. 

“I don’t care who you are but out here you are an operative of SOE and that comes under my command. And my…” Mycroft dressed in the dressing gown had just emerged from the bathroom. 

“You are in command, Mycroft but I am my own man. I came here because of Watson.” Sherlock puffed on his pipe laying tobacco smoke into the hotel room where they met the former. Mycroft was upset at being setup and made look like a fool. More to it, the local food was too rich for his digestion and the bathroom was his throne room then. 

“I think you need some….” Doctor Watson ever the healer looked to the man who was then rushing back to the bathroom. “I was going to suggest that he consumed some black tea.” 

“Bloody good it would do to him.” Sherlock puffed on his pipe. “I wondered about you, Watson. Soon after we got our rear almost pounded you ran into another one. Have I not given you enough adventure to write on?”

Watson shifted on the lounge chair where he was seated. His body muscles were aching all over and the only relief he had then was the sleep sedative given by Holmes. He was sure there were elements of morphine inside that drink. 

“Holmes” Watson was calling Sherlock by his family name. “I had to come here. When I last left, the Raj have warned me to stay away. He disliked me for …seducing his sister but he knew if I come back, the cousin will kill me. The cousin is the new Raj and he killed the previous one. I was there and saw the murder but I was forced to leave. They held my son hostage and will be killed if I don’t leave.”

“So you ran and were hunted. So you went back to rescue her alone. Are you balmy?” Sherlock asked back in anger. “You may be a killer but you are out of your league.” 

“I had to but she was not there.” Watson sighed. “She had escaped with my son earlier.”

“Good then. Now can we go back to old London and solved some more complicated cases.” Sherlock replied before he lowered the pipe. “Bloody good tobacco they have here. I must take some back with me.” 

“I won’t leave without my ….lover and child.” Watson declared then. “I know where they may be.”

Sherlock was to reply when Mycroft re-emerged with a paler expression. He dropped the newspaper he was reading. 

“You can’t leave now. I mean not as simple as boarding a train. Your face is on the front page.” Mycroft motioned to the newspaper. Sherlock frown his expression.

“I am not holding that infectious prints. Who knows what you may have carried in your …bowels?” Sherlock made his medical supported statement. “You are to be …restricted to that room.” 

“I will if they were to give me more papers to …Never mind that. I am going back in.” Mycroft turned back to the only room where he could roost in comfort. He did grab the newspaper although it may not hold any Page Three contents. 

“And leave some of those Yorkshire pies you brought over.” 

At that moment, Lord and Lady Greystoke have discovered their arrival on the steamer ship was eventful. They were met by the Queen’s men and scooted off to a waiting four wheeler vehicle. Once inside the covered vehicle Lady Greystoke addressed the officer seated across them. 

“Major Bromhead, may I see your credentials again?” The lady stared at the figure seated there dressed in the brown khaki uniform of shirt and knee length pants with the knee high white socks and dark shoes. He had on the belt with the holster on the left side of the hip. On his head was the Pith Hat or better known as Empire Helmet which was a sun hat covered by the Pith Material. 

“Yes, my lady.” The officer pulled out the Luger form the holster. “I am Hauptmann Schneider Manser of the Eastern African Corps based in Tanganyika. We hold no emissary here but our business are done at the Schmidt and Joseph Posts. I was told to meet the two of you and have you brought to our safe house. You are on the list of wanted by the local government.”

“Of German Colonial Office in Tanganyika.” The officer smiled at Lady Greystoke. “Tarzan is a murderer in my state.” 

Lord Greystoke tensed up on his frame but the lady held him back.

“Lord Greystoke may have killed your …people when they crossed over to kill the apes or the lions. I believed you may have it termed it as safari kills.” Jane dressed in the khaki jacket and matching pants with the white blouse and tucked in knee high boots levelled up with the Hauptmann. The German officer had not averted his sight on her pronounced cleavage displayed on the blouse where the buttons were not clasped. “He has cleared his action with the Oberst Von Gross. He was given the pardon for the killing then.” 

“Oberst Von Gross is not my superior officer although we served the same Emperor. Mine is from a different empire. My Emperor is Fu Manchu. You may not have heard of him but he has of yours. He knows that you are here to save a Doctor Watson and that is regretfully against not his wish. He wishes the doctor dead but before that, he wants to have the doctor performed task.” 

“You can be assured that my task is to keep you safe at our house until the good doctor had performed his task. May I remind you that resistance is futile for you.” 

“Long Live the Emperor.”

Team Seven of Heroes II Chapter 5 &6

5.

The ledge looked steep and it was coated partially with the fallen snow that covered the stone cliff. The man in the thick coatings tucked his gloved hands deep into the jacket pockets. He shuffled his boots that reached below his knees. It was new when he took the trek up the mountain. It was made from the skin of the ‘Thar’ goat that was native creature to the Himalaya Range. He reached for the bag he had on his back and took out the item he had there. 

It was the two metal mesh staff given to him by Lord Greystoke. He attached it together and then leveled it at the cliff face. The man pressed the lever that snapped off the grapnel with the retractable four pronged hooks. The hooks went up high and found its mark on the outcrop. He pulled to test the hold and found it taut. He pulled it once more time before he looked up at the outcrop. It was high and without giving much thought then when the grapnel line pulled up. He was whisked up twenty feet before he found himself against the cliff wall. His legs kicked out at the snow covered before he yanked up. 

“Wowee!” The man called out on each pull. 

Soon he found himself on the outcrop. He pulled himself up and then retracted the grapnel. He stood up and then stepped forth on the outcrop. It was then he saw the flat wall next to the outcrop. The wall held some writing etched on it. It was in the ancient words that most could not read. He had studied those words for years. 

Shangri-La.

He reached for the words on the wall. The feel on his fingers despite the thick gloves was cold to the touch. He trailed the words there and then he stepped back. He reached for the bag on his back but his instinct told him to duck. He barely missed the white haired paw that hit the words on the wall. He ducked over and took off on his crouched legs. He turned to look and saw the assailant. 

It was huge and covered in the white fur but it was no abominable. It was a man in covered in the white fur coat which extended to the upper limbs with the creature paws and claws. It was the claws which hit the words on the wall. The fur lined assailant went for another kill but then the other figure was ready. He leveled the baton and thrust it into the assailant chest and then he aimed for the left armpit to break the bone there. 

“Aarghh…” The fur lined figure went down clutching the dislocated left arm but he was soon sent over the outcrop with a kick in the face. The man who kicked stepped back and watched the cliffs for more assailants. He saw them swinging down like apes on the vines but that was a steep cliff. There were three of them and they were descending with speed using their hand claws as hooks on the ledges. 

It was like his dream. 

It was getting real. 

It was then he woke up. He was still on the bedding in the monastery. He sat up and saw the friar facing him.

“Same dream, Van Helsing?” The friar asked of him. “It’s a not any dream I presume.” 

“I disliked the abominable ever since they killed my family.” Van Helsing rubbed his metallic right arm. It was one made of silver plates and inside it the arm was a mechanical one with the components jointed to the nerve points at the shoulder. The silver plate covered from the fingers to the right shoulder blade ending at the neck.

“Van Helsing, you lost your ….family to the vampires. Your inner self will not accept that and manifest the abominable as your killers.” 

“So was the fabled city of Shangri-la. You wanted to go there to rest your soul.” The friar continued on. “Well, your dream had come true. The friend of yours in Baker Street sent you the invite. You will leave today.”

Van Helsing stood up from the bedding and then looked at the sparse offering of his chamber. He was looking for his other favoured item. He found it under the bedding. 

Excalibur.

The double barrelled shotgun and the bandolier with the silver bullets. 

“Come back, son. We still need you.” The friar told Van Helsing. “The choice will be yours.” 

If it ever was, then the jump off the cliff by the white man was not a mad feat but that with a tinge of craziness. The man dressed in the cut off pants gave out a roar that marks his fame name among the living creatures of the dark inner jungle. The man leaped off the cliff and he did not dive but with his legs and arms flair out as if he was preparing himself for a landing. He did with the landing on the canopies of leaves and then onto the branches which act like a cushion to his fall. Once he felt the hardness of the branches, his body went into a turn that allowed him to vie past it and then his hands found the needed holds on the heavy branches for him to break his fall into a series of tumbles. By then he was in control of his descent and with each hold he took control of his fall. He soon found the heavy branch to grab on and swung from it to the tree trunk. By then he was no more falling but leaping from branches like the younger days. He grabbed the vines or the tree hugging plants with its long roots to swing from the tree trunk to the branches and then be released for a flight of space into the next bunch of branches. He was in his own jungle. 

He was the King of the Apes. 

He was Tarzan. 

His last drop was to the ground and off he ran on his four limbs propelling him across the low bushes and tree roots. His body crouched downwards allowed him to move with speed on the ground challenging the speed of the panther in pursuit at the rear. He ran on for some distance before he slowed to let the panther leaped past him. It was a move he learned as a youth and that was his opportune moment to grab the panther by the tail. He pulled hard on the tail and tossed the creature to the side. The speed of the chase and the sudden pull on the tail shook the panther of its kill moves to that of defensive move but Tarzan was ready then with the pounce on the dark creature back while his hands went from the tail towards the back of the neck. His hands went around the neck and pulled the head back by the jaw. At that time, his legs were locked against the animal spine and with the pull of the head, he broke the animal spine. Without stopping Tarzan went for the next move to turn the dark creature onto its back and his fingers formed into a set of fist which he pounded the animal’s chest and shattered the ribs into the heart. 

The panther lies dead and the man known as Tarzan roared out his victory of the bull ape. 

“The ape killer is dead.” Tarzan muttered to himself. He had killed the dark panther who hunted two of the young apes. And nearly killed his son. 

With his kill, Tarzan took to his trail back to his lair. He may be a savage in the kill, but he retained his other man nature with his personal time on his family. He built a home for them in the jungle on the Jackalberry old tree at the height of over sixty feet above the ground with its wide canopy of leaves. The home build on it was a tree house with side space for his family. It was not his only homes there but it was his favourite. The fruits of the tree which could be eaten raw or made into a refreshing potent brew. 

“John, why must you hunt the old ways?” Lady Greystoke or Jane to her personal friends was anxious on her lover and father to her child. “I could have taken it done with the rifle.” 

Tarzan or in his other name John Clayton smiled while his lover placed the soothing balms on the cuts and scratches on his body. He recalled during the younger days, it was his mother who did it with her soft gentle paws for he was a tiny figure compared to her bulkier frame. 

“I have to do it the old way for I am their King. They will not respect me if I were use the ….guns.” John replied. He then tensed up and his nose twitched to the new scent he picked up. 

“There is…”

“A letter? Yes, it arrived. It was hand delivered by the guards. It was from Mycroft. He needs us.” Jane told him. “I have sent him to the Queen to take care of him. He will be fine with the Waziri’ clan.”

“Jack will be fine there.” Jane told herself. 

John nodded in understanding. Jane was bored there and needed some adventure in her life. Ever since she came back to the darker continent with him, she had wanted to go back to the life of adventure. The last one with Sherlock and Mycroft gave her new purpose. 

6.

Mycroft squint his eyes when he looked up at the sun. It was another hot day there but he had his fair share of the dark pit where they tossed him in for over a week. He was sure Bromhead and Hicks had done their best to get him out but his wardens were not keen to release him then. In fact he was housed with the locals. His first encounter was a riot. 

“Hi boys, I guessed there may be a mistake when they brought me here.” Mycroft stared at the dozen over locals who were facing him. They were all in a huge cell measuring over fifty feet and thirty feet but the windows were few and high above their heads thus rendering the place dark and musky with the sweat and dirt. Mycroft was stripped to his pants and without any shoes. 

“We can be friends.” Mycroft offered a smile. “Best I could do now for they too all my coins.” 

“White bastard, we are no friends of yours and we don’t want your coins. I also disliked your coins for it’s coated with greed and forbidden smells.” The one on the left appeared to be the leader voiced out. He was dark even to the loin cloth he wore to cover his midriff. “Ahmed here had found that none of your kind as friendly unless you are sending us to fight to the death.” 

“Well Ahmed, I am sure today we can work that out to new level. I know the Governor and we are friends. I am sure when he comes here, he will released me and perhaps even my friends. For that I can be your friend.” Mycroft was also then figuring out what were his odds. He reckoned Ahmed won’t fight but there were three in the row itching then to do so. 

“I doubt Ahmed needs any friends.” The voice was to the right of Mycroft and hidden in the darkness there. Mycroft looked over and tried to make out the figure but the other stepped out. 

“The name is Krishna. I can be your friend.” The figure was huge dark skinned man with a girth that was flopping over his midriff. He held in his hands a set of rib bones like a fish hook. “Ahmed, you backed off.” 

“The day I backed off to your kind will be the day I spread my buttocks to you.” Ahmed turned to the dark skinned man. “This is not your friend. Why do you protect him?” 

“He is with the Governor and I am the Governor here. So you got an issue with that, you can take it up your arse.” Krishna challenged the other. 

“His arse can be yours but we are taking his life. I hate the White ones.” Ahmed signalled his fighters. The trio stepped out but Krishna intervened. Mycroft was to meddle in but it turned out Krishna have his own support of another five men who charged at the other group. 

“Darn!” Mycroft stepped aside while watching two group of men fight over what he may termed as his ‘arse’. The fight was gruesome with the fists and kicks alongside with the deadly rib bones and blood were flowing then. Just when he thought he saw Ahmed side winning, another group of six rushed in to take up the standing survivors. They were in hiding at the darker corners and were winning the fight. 

“You are one lucky bloke.” Mycroft turned to look at the figure who stepped out. He was a white man with the distinct Irish accent and walked with a limp. He was dressed in the white shirt and dark loose pants. 

“I am told by Hicks to take care of you should you appear. I am his mate, Angus Bartley but my friends call me Bart.” The Irish guy introduced himself. “Hicks sent words soon after the sepoys grabbed you.” 

“Sepoys?” 

“Those are the local natives employed by the Empire to be soldiers. They are decent blokes but some of the officers are nasty bastards. Bloody useless buggers.” 

Soon Mycroft found his appointed friend was a resident of the place on a voluntary basis. The cell was his domain of power with his six fighters. Bartley have his own domain carved there with food and shelter. 

“My tasks are paid by those outside. I am the King here and with my own guards.” 

Bartley was also on life long sentence there which in a manner saved him. His last task out there annoyed a number of officers and his life was not worth a penny if he was caught out there. In the manmade prison, he managed well with his protection scheme. The money from there was channelled to his poor wife in Dover for comfort. 

“It pays to be here as the King. I am obliged to no one but myself. My mates are paid well too.” 

Mycroft heaved a sigh of relief and waited his release which was then overdue.

“I am sorry, old chap. London does not have the direct influence here.” Bromhead explained. “You ain’t any Royal brat so that leaves us little options but we finally did it. You are free now. Perhaps you need another bath.”

Soon after, Mycroft refreshed had his tea in the hotel room under the waving fan pulled by the coal fired engine outside the room. He looked at the slow moving fan blades and sighed. 

“It ain’t that bad if you are stripped down to your pants.” Hicks winked at Mycroft. “We are not cell mates.” 

“Thank you for your consideration but I think I will keep on my shirt and….pants.” Mycroft recoiled on the short stay at the cell with the snoring inmates and roaches that crept past his face at night. “Any update on Watson for me?”

“We heard nothing much except he has gone into hiding. He was reported to have visited a local leader but there was nothing confirmed.” Bromhead replied to his question. “However, your telegraph had been sent, and bloody good it does you for no one replied.” 

Mycroft ignored them and thought of his next action. 

“We shall visit the new Raj. I need to see him to get more clarification on the murder.” Mycroft then stepped over to the writing desk to pen the request. He then passed the note to Bromhead. “Give this to the Governor that I would like to meet the Raj.”

Both Bromhead and Hicks laughed then. It was Bromhead who reminded Mycroft of the reality.

“Dear chap, you are not in London anymore and we ain’t the masters here. We are just tenants in a faraway land.” Bromhead smiled. “So if you want to see the Raj, get in line behind the boot lickers that held higher ranking than you.”

 

“There may be another way.” Hicks voiced out. “We could sneak in.” 

Sneaking in was what the good doctor was doing that evening. Watson knew the palace well where he had sneaked on those late nights. The palace was on a sprawling estate ground of over ten acres with three sets of structures. The main structure was the two levels palace which was a H shaped mansion with twenty one rooms, thirty three bathrooms, five living areas, three libraries and kitchens with another ten more rooms not defined their use but there was purpose to every room there. The Raj family consisted of immediate members which were eight and extended family of over twenty others with an entourage of forty servants not including the twelve stable hands. The servants stayed in an adjacent building alongside with the stable hands and the hundred guards there. 

The next biggest structure was the second columns of personal guards which numbered two hundred personnel including six officers. That structure was on the west side of the estate with a huge stable for over fifty horses. The last structure was the dirigible station with the twin crafts named Silver and Gold. The estate was patrolled by the eight teams of four men each on a half hour interval. 

It was near impossible to sneak although it had five main gates which provided access to the estate. For Watsi access, he did not sneaked in by the land but flew in on huge kite. He learned that from the assassin guild. 

Watson unbuckled his strap before he stepped out of the kite harness. It was a huge contraption designed by the assassins which took the design from the Far East. He had landed near the main structure on the east side. He was covered in the dark soot like the kite. He folded the twenty five feet in length and thirty feet in beam. He then crouched down and ran towards the structure. He had felt his luck was holding out when there were no alerts raised on his advancement. He stopped at the low hedge that was the border for the flower beds and the garden furniture set with seating for five. He had sat there with the Princess on those afternoon teas when he took breaks from attending the Raj then. The later was suffering from pneumonia but the local healers were treating him for other unspecified infections. When Watson took on the lead role in the healing, he did his usual diagnosis and then took provided the medicine required. The cure process took time and it was how he got to know the Princess. 

And things progressed from there.

Watson smiled to himself then. 

It was great while it lasted. 

So did the situation then. The mansion was silent except for the night creatures that scurried across the flower beds which were illuminated by the porch lights. He looked at the windows and saw the dimmed lights there which explained the occupants were sleeping then. The mansion was not patrolled at that moment and Watson took the run towards the tall glass doorway. He was going to make it when the lights turned on. 

“Stop or we will shoot.” The search lights on the roof were turned on and lighted him up. 

He was trapped.

Team Seven of Heroes Chapter 4

4. 

Inspector Morse leaned on the brick wall by the corner with his eyes fixed on the building across the street. He have with him four constable armed with the baton and knuckle duster. The later was approved for use by the Inspector given the task they were to face. The Inspector was armed with a Webley which was more of personal hand me down piece from his father, a Colonel in the old army who served then in the darker continent.

“Inspector, do you think….” 

“Don’t think so much, Lewis old chap. We will wait ….”True to those words, Inspector Morse saw the signal that appeared on the upper level window. The hand waving the red kerchief was the agreed signal. 

“Move in now!” Inspector Morse called out. His men in their blue uniforms raised the batons and charged across the street with another two more group form the sides. All in then were twelve constable and three officers including the Inspector. 

Inside the three level building, there were shuts of warnings and soon chaos prevailed there when the occupants were alerted to the raid by the authorities. The occupants there numbered to over ten guards and some others in the back rooms. The guards were the one who rushed to grab the weapon there lined by the wall. The choice of weapons was limited to the machetes, axes and the huge fish hooks mounted on the long pole. 

“Secure the doors!” One of the occupants took command of the guards but he was too late to the task. The double door panels were kicked in before it could be latched. The blue uniformed boys had the entry then and they went to action. The guards went into action to protect their establishment and soon the batons were deflecting the deadly weapons. The Inspector had his pistol then waving at the armed guards but they still came onto him. He was tempted to shoot but he held back. He used his pistol like a club and swung at the one approaching him. He was backed up by the boys in blue. 

Unknown to the ones downstairs, on the upper level the scene was chaotic with the guests and the staff there dispensing the barrels of contraband into the river behind. It would have been done if not for the intervention of one man. 

“I am telling you that ain’t the best approach to those precious opium.” The man who intervened stood there with his legs braced for an attack of sorts. He was dressed in the Chinese design tunic and loose pants like a coolie complete with the pig tailed swab of hair. He held in his hand a staff the length of his arm. 

“I done my deduction that the door will be trampled down in another five minutes and we can all sit down patiently for it.” The assembled men there dressed with half of them dressed up similarly to the defiant figure and the other half were all gentlemen with their hats held close to their chest. It would have worked but the appearance of the lady disrupted the discussion.

“Kill the bloke!” It was not the preferred words of a lady dressed in the Chinese long gown with the high slit on the left side that reached to near the hip bone. The lady’s gown held the sewn design of the dragon descending from the clouds and it held a fierce look. The lady held a mean streak on her and she was the mistress there. 

The ones with the Chinese dressing were real stocks of the Far East. The Chinese stoolies held their position for they were not sure of the next move. They were laborer and carrying twice their load was their strength but the brawn does not include fighting. 

“Move or you will be pay for it.” The lady screeched out. It was then two of the Chinese stoolies charged at the defiant man. The later held the staff with both his hands and then at the last moment, he thrust it at the stoolie on the left. The staff struck at the throat and then he did a close swing to hit the other stoolie at the side of the head. The two stoolies went down.

“Must I do the task myself? The lady launched into the attack. She jumped up high and then gave a side right kick at the defiant man. The kick was blocked by the staff held high but the lady lashed out with the left kick with the knee aimed at the right shoulder. The knee made contact and threw the defiant man to the rear. She landed on her feet and spanned another right kick at the man. The kick would had hit the man in the head had he not raised his arms to block it. The man rolled to the side with the kick and then straighten up to face the lady.. 

“Old man Fu have my respect. Tell me which of his concubines was of your mother.”

The lady hissed a reply which could be not said out then and now. The defiant man held the staff like before. 

“I guess you ain’t the same as the others. I …” 

“You do not mention my …sisters to me.” The lady rushed in with her hands leveled out for a series of hand chops but the staff held by the man was deflecting those blows until an opening was seen and taken with the staff hit on the belly of the lady. The lady keeled over in pain but the man was without scruples for the other sex. He had his right leg up and into her face. The lady fell backwards into the stoolies standing behind her. 

“I am good at Bartitsu…. And some street fighting too.” It was then the door got broken through. The boys in blue stormed in and renewed the fight. 

The defiant man looked at the mass tangle of bodies and could not sight the one he wanted to see. He was to rush in to the attack when shot rang out. It was the Inspector who had fired the shot into the ceiling. 

“Stop the fight! Anyone move, and I will shoot.” Inspector Morse threatened with the pistol. He then looked at the defiant man.

“Sherlock Holmes I presume.” Inspector Morse stared at the man still wearing his pig tailed hair. Sherlock removed the hair piece and smiled. 

“Elementary, my dear…. Inspector. I do believe you took more than a minute to come in. I did loosen the hinges but I guessed you have erred.”

“Shag you….. The Inspector muttered to himself. 

An hour later, Sherlock was in the hansom driven through the streets back to his comfortable abode. He had his trusted driver on the task. Jerome have been giving him rides for some time then but the seating inside was far too spacious for him alone. He began to miss the good doctor. It was not easy to forget some one that was with you for some years then. He was not only a companion but a healer to his addiction. 

“I can’t help it.” Sherlock mumbled to himself. He knew he was giving himself an excuse. He was a brave man, always have been. Since young, he was always fighting to be brave. He had Mycroft to compete with but soon after he found more challenges in the others he met. He challenged his friends, his mentors, and then he sought the dangerous ones. He felt that the last were more challenging for they were the unknown to him. He started off with the common criminals and then the masterminds. He finally found his peer with Moriarty. 

“Another Doctor to the list.” Sherlock muttered to himself once more. 

Sherlock had a respect for doctors; they create miracle almost every day. They saved lives which at times seems lost. He had liked Watson who first came to on the spare lodgings at his place. He had an opening when the last one moved out after three years. He was Mycroft Holmes; three years was a long time to stay with any brother. 

Watson was like a brother to him. 

That was how he considered the man who smoke and eat on the same table with him for years then. Sherlock heard the hansom stopped. He looked out and saw it was not his home but the Office of Inter-Services Research Bureau or for us in the inner circle it’s called Special Operations Executives

“Darned!” Sherlock knocked on the ceiling of the hansom.

“Sir, it ain’t my fault. They got me cornered and then led here with the pistol at my ribs.” 

Trust the SOE to play it fair like gentlemen. That was on Sherlock’s lips. He reached for the handle but it was opened from outside. The figure stepped in was dressed in the fine cut suit from the best tailors and he brought in a bottle of liquor and some limes.

“Martini, I presume.” Sherlock commented. “Three measures of…”

“Gordon, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shaken and then add the slice of lime. It’s one of my best drinks too.” The head of SOE passed the pre-mixed bottle of liquor.

“Drink it down, Holmes. Then read this. It’s from Watson.”

Team Seven of Heroes II Chapter 2&3

2

Mycroft soon found the dirigible descending to the new port at Bombay. The new development was moving to the East then just when then the coal fired trains traveled across the continent. It brought in developments that soon springboard the section of the world into a different era there. The coal trains evolved to the steam pullers and then the four wheelers replaced the pulled carts. The new findings in steam engine and then the prototypes of electricity was well received by the colonist who felt it made them different from the natives.The development was hindered by the high range of the Himalayans, It represented a barrier and presented the sea the only fastest access until dirigibles made it presence known. In the short period of one year’s period, the journey was cut short by the dirigibles. It soon brought about by the sprouting of dirigible ports. 

“Welcome to India, Mr. Holmes.” The officer greeted him there at the dirigible port named Elizabeth. The officer was dressed in a military uniform and was escorted by one non-commissioned officer. “My name is Lieutenant Bromhead Chard Bromhead of Surrey.”

Chad Bromhead was a tall man with the upright shoulders that reflected his military training. Besides his uniform, he had one his Webley pistol on the reversed holster on the center side of his belt and the officer sword hung lower at the left. 

“I am assigned by London to assist you. This is Private Hicks who is familiar with the workings of the nature which you are to encounter.” The private was similarly dressed but he carried a rifle; a Western Winchester 73 rifle and a double gauged sawn off shotgun that was holstered at his back. The man was bald at the head but he sport a thick moustache over his upper lip and the thick side burns that sprouted from next to his ears. He was also one head taller than the officer. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am keen to get myself into a hotel which was the term here for the boarding houses. I duly needed a bath badly.” Mycroft popped in his boarding ticket into the wooden contraption which punched a series of holes into it. He held with reluctance his personal travel document in his hand. 

“Don’t worry, old chap. Those go to the next counter.” There was a human clerk there with his round rimmed glasses and his right hand held the rubber stamp. 

“We have advanced here but there is something we still do the old way.” 

Bromhead took Mycroft documents to have the clerk processed it. It was all done for within the hour and then he was immersed in the cooling water in the bath. His check in at the hotel was the old method and soon he was immersed in his bath after two days of travelling. His mind went back to the years he was called by the man who will later shaped his life as an officer of the Government. 

“Mycroft Holmes, you are a fine gentleman and a finer officer if you are to join them.” Mycroft stood there at the balcony on the prestigious building at Sandhurst. He was to graduate in another week then but the offer to work in a clandestine position appealed to him. He agreed and that officer name was Colonel Durnford. The Colonel was later to be known at the battle of Zulu. His assignments were mostly in the main continent and old England but India was his first so far away.

“Ah…” Mycroft leaned back on the bath tub side resting his head there on the wet towel. His arms and legs were hanging on the sides with the smaller tub offered to him. He heard the door opened but he kept his eyes closed. He heard the soft steps approaching the tub but he did not moved. He heard the door to his room opened and then the footsteps. 

“Please leave the towels by the chair.” Mycroft layback on the tub and sighed. He heard the steps getting closer and then he felt the thin wire going around his neck. He reached up for the wire but his legs were held down. He opened his eyes and saw the assailants. There were three of them and he was running out of breath. He did the only thing he knew which was to reach into the tub, and drew the dagger he had left there in the scabbard. He pulled it out and then plunged the dagger into the assailant in the left arm. That eased the pressure on the wire and he was able to pull in a breath. With his lungs filled up, Mycroft used his strength to tense his legs and then the kick to release his legs. He then turned his body to topple the tub, and then rolled over. His assailants went retreated while Mycroft pushed himself up after dropping the dagger of his. He then faced his assailants in his half crouched position. There was the one he injured on the left arm and the other was rubbing the right elbow. They were dressed in the plain flared pants and were shirtless. Their head gears were the loose cloths swatted on the head. The wire was on the wet floor but the hands were holding then daggers. Unlike the manufactured dagger from the workshops their daggers were crude with the blade slotted into the wooden handle. It carried no marks but the blades were serrated at the edge. 

“I won’t come in just with the daggers when I am facing a mad man like myself.” Mycroft replied. “At the back of you are my bags and in it are to revolvers. English made with the pride of workmanship.” 

The two assailants stood apart and held their hands out with the daggers pointed. 

“I guessed you are not keen.” Mycroft leaned down to pick the towel he had used earlier. It was wet form the spilled water from the tub. “I said old chaps have you seen the way we swat flies.”

“Irritating pests…” Mycroft swung the towel in a series of twists he held both ends. He then looked at the two assailants. 

“Bloody well if you want to hear the rest of it.”

With the twist of his right hand, he lashed out with the towel at the assailant standing at the right. The wet towel had added weight to its materials making it a hard cudgel with a flexible handle. The end of the towel snapped at the assailant in the face and then it was retracted with the swift turn of the hand. The assailant fell back holding the right eye where the towel hit him. He had let loose the crude dagger he was holding. The other assailant saw his companion fell, and rushed forth himself at Mycroft. That time the Englishman demonstrated his pugilistic moves. 

Mycroft dropped the towel and have his right hand punched out leveled at the assailant in the inside of the elbow to crack the joint there. He followed through with his left fist into the side of the neck. He then turned his body to deliver his right fist into the face of the assailant. That killed the assailant when the bone in the nose cracked into the brain. 

Mycroft turned to the injured assailant who was still nursing his right eye. He grabbed the later by the neck with both hands and pressed down hard until the other stopped struggling. He then pulled the body up and tossed it across the room. 

“Damn! I hate to be interrupted in my bath.” It was then his room door was broken down and both his assigned help was there. “You missed the show. I did not like the actors so I made them quit.” 

Hicks crouched down to examine the remaining body. He saw the marks on the inside of the wrist and then looked at his officer in charge.

“They are mercenaries from Mysore.” Hicks showed the mark there. It was a circle with the scimitar in the center. “Their clans are known as the Sword in the Moon. They are usually hired by the rich for such tasks.” 

“Well, they are not up to the task.” Mycroft replied before he looked to Bromhead. “What is the update from the local authorities?”

“Bad, old chap. Doctor Watson had been listed as wanted man here for the murder of the Raj.” 

3. 

Watson sat there cross legged while he held the cup containing the black tea in his right hand. His left hand was on the slung bag that he laid next to him. His eyes were on the man opposite him seated like himself but that figure was a native and bare-chested with the simple cloth that he wore across his waist. The man expression was hidden behind his thick beard and long braided hair that reached his chest. He was not holding any cup for he had no arms for it. 

“White healer, you have come a long way.” The bearded man voiced out towards Watson. The later did not reply then for his sight were then on the two dark skinned natives who were bare-chested but they were armed with the bandolier sluing across the chest with the rifle held across the chest. There was another armed native by the doorway which Watson had stepped in then. 

“Sandhu, I came back in peace to seek my ….friend.” Watson took a sip of the tea which he was getting once more familiarize with then. “I received news that the Raj died soon after I…” 

“A foul act by the new Raj that had done to tarnish your name. He fear you when you returned so he hasten the killing when all he needed was to wait. The old Raj was already dying.” Sandhu told Watson. “The unfortunate part of that was we were part of it. I have my men kill the Raj.” 

“So it was true then, Sandhu. You betrayed the old Raj for the new. You killed your one good friend.” Watson lowered the cup and then laid his right hand on his lap. He felt the familiar steel surface on his fingers. He had them modified from the surgical blades with the hilt made from wood wrapped in coarse cloth to have a better grip. It lightened the load and balanced the trajectory when thrown. He held a dozen of it at various part of the body with more in his bag. 

“I did for I have no more need of good friends. I am to die and preferred to send them ahead.” The guards behind Sandhu raised their rifles to level at Watson but he was then rolling to the side. It was a move he had learned during his earlier days. His master then told him ‘the body could roll if it’s curled up like the hedgehog. He did his roll towards the doorway when the guards fired. Their aims were off but it hit the third guard in the lower body who had rushed forth. Watson then unfolded his legs while he tossed the blades in his hands at the earlier two guards who fired their rifle. He had retrieved the blades from his side pThe blades flew across the room and then it cut into the guards with the blade in the throat. The third guard who had then fallen to the ground tried to get up but his recovery was too log for Watson had turn to toss the third blade into the left eye and into the brain. 

“So you are still good at those blades.” Sandhu smiled behind his beard. “I am pleased that you may be the one to kill me.”

“I won’t kill you ….yet but I needed some answers.” Watson glared at the man he knew as the Guild Master. He was also well informed on the happenings at the city. 

“You are the best, White Healer. I cannot kill you today but even with my death, yours will be soon followed.” 

“Tell me then before yours. Where is she?”

“She is not here with me or the Raj. She had escaped his imprisonment and is in hiding. We thought when you returned, she may be found but it was not the case. She had evaded even you.” 

Watson then stood up to walk out but the elderly man stopped him. 

“White Healer, beware the mercenaries form Mysore. They hunts you for the gold that will weighed heavy in their hands.” Sandhu cautioned him. “Even your friend from London cannot not help you.” 

At that moment, Mycroft was seated at the terrace with Bromhead and Hicks discussing their options. The seating was on the wicker chair with the round wooden table stacked with tea cups and scones served on the plates. 

“I would had thought that we were back in London but the scenery needed some sprucing though.” Mycroft smiled when he looked at the coal fired four wheelers that rolled past the cow driven carts. It was a blend of the new and old with surreal view. He looked up and saw the mini dirigibles floating past the rooftops and there was the rare bi-wings flying contraption which was then in its prototypes then. He then saw the column of local guards in their uniforms marching down the street. Their uniform was khaki shaded with the knee length pants and sandals on their feet. They were carrying batons and the officer with the thick moustache was in the lead carrying a Webley pistol and he was white. 

“I guess something never changed. The security here is similar.” Mycroft commented on the guards. 

“You are mistaken, Sir. Look what’s coming behind them.” Hicks replied and Mycroft leaned over to look. The people on the street were clearing to the sight and then came then the monstrous looking contraption.

“They called it the Chariot” Hicks told him. The Chariot was actually a huge vehicle with eight wheels housed over with a rectangle iron case with slits for the driver and the sides with over four port windows like that on the ship. That was not the formidable part but the tops side was an open platform with eight more gunners and a light artillery gun. The vehicle was driven by the coal driven engine with the triple chimney at the rear. 

“It must be hot in there.” Mycroft commented. Hicks nodded and then told him that the platform was lined with air slots and there was a motorized fan blowing air in. 

“The escape hatch is in the platform itself. There are no side doors.” Hick motioned to the gunners. “Those are the shooters taking turns to go in.” 

“Tell me more on Watson.” Mycroft changed the subject. 

“There is nothing more to add. He was tagged with the murder of the Raj.” Hicks continued on. The other named Bromhead ignored the statement while toying with his Webley.

“When did this happen? Watson had just arrived.” Mycroft defended the doctor. “He couldn’t have waltz into the palace and killed the …”

“There are some things you do not know of the doctor. He has a reputation as a killer here. They called him the White Healer. Death is a healing consideration. Doctor Watson was seen at the palace that night the Raj died.” 

“That’s elementary deduction but not conclusive.” Mycroft added in. “I don’t believe in guild until proven. Tell me more on the Raj.”

“That is one person I hardly knew. I am service man with the King and for me one Raj is the same with the dozen I met on parade. However I knew Doctor Watson more.” It was Hicks who answered and he continued on with his view on the doctor. 

“I knew him then when I was with the Highlanders. The doctor was a guest of the Colonel. He met the Raj of the district then which coincidence is the one that Doctor Watson claimed to murder. He also met the Princess then,; sweet young gal without a care in life. He stayed with the Raj then for he was healing the Raj of some ailment. It was how he became close to the Princess.”

“For someone who does not know any Raj well, you did with this one.” Mycroft added on. “You are a bloody snot there but please continue with your fairy tale.” 

“True I hardly pay attention to the Raj for I have no keen interest in them. I was raised in the public house where our daily meals came after a hard work.” Hicks hissed out his displeasure on the disparity of life offerings. “Anyway I was the head guard there; part of my assignment from the Colonel to manage the local chaps in the drill and soldering. Alas my duties include checking on the Princess nightly.” Hicks smiled. “The good doctor was also healing the Princess then. He must have done a good job for the servants were changing the bed sheets daily.” 

Mycroft huff a protest and then he heard the sounding of boots in the hotel. He was to complaint when the moustache officer in the khaki uniform arrived with the Webley leveled at Mycroft. 

“Sir! Mr Mycroft, you are to follow me to the Palace.” The moustache officer was not that convincing but the monstrous vehicle with the Lewis machine gun aimed at the trio was more than convincing. 

“I hoped they served eggs there. Mine have not arrived for the kitchen. Do a good chap to tell the Mum.” Mycroft passed over the piece of paper he wrote. “And don’t pay the tips.” 

Soon after Mycroft was led away, Bromhead headed to the Telegraph Post. His message was simple,

“Aunt Fleming. Mycroft got his shear locks shaved. He is in need of help.”

Team Seven of Heroes II Chapter 1

Jimmy Loong

March 20th 2017

Rewrite

June 1^st 2017

Book 1

1.

Mycroft eased his buttocks to the side but the discomfort of the seat was still there. He had asked for several seat changes but the staff had finally told him that there was limited space in the carriage on the dirigible that was taking him at ten thousand feet to a world he had hardly knew. He took up the folder that was on his lap. It was written on the top with bold letters ‘Top Secret’ and below it ‘Doctor James Watson MD’.

“An old friend and now I am to be his finder. “Mycroft muttered. “Doctor Watson, I presume. Heck! I wondered how I got myself into this.”

It all started a week ago in London when Mycroft was seated at his desk with the wooden block crafted his rank ‘M” on it. He was proud to be the leader of the section of double prefix and only the Queen knows how many there were of M before he became the latest one. He had taken over since the last M disappeared as stated in the official records but he knew where she was then. It was not a great adventure to have known that his sister was M and in collaboration with the Moriarty but he had deduced that it was false. He had buried his sister years ago with Sherlock at his side. The indomitable brother of his was never one to be wrong and more so when it was their long lost sister. He had confronted Sherlock after their thrilling escape on the possibility that M was who she may be.

“Sherlock, she may be…” Mycroft had pleaded to his brother but the later tapped the walking cane on the lips.

“She is dead and will remain as so. If she is who she was, I am not also raising the dead to look for the truth. Our sister had been gone for so long from our breathing life that I have failed to …consider her as any beyond that point.”

“But Sherlock, what if you were wrong?” Mycroft ever insistent but the younger Holmes had shaken his head.

“My ability to resolved intriguing cases had been almost impeccable in the results. I have ….” Sherlock had then paused in his words. He had some cases which eluded his elementary deductions. He once said that he was beaten four times; three times by men and once by a woman. (The Five Orange Pips Case).

“In the Bohemian case, you failed.” Mycroft words drew a glare from Sherlock. “I meant you failed to recover the photograph. Watson once told me that you have confided in him that you may be getting over confident in your…powers?” (Case of the Yellow Face).

“Yes, I did tell Watson during the Musgrave Ritual case that not all my cases were successes. Telling of which where has Watson been since the last adventure of near death. I thought he went back to his practise and wife which was obviously in practical with him but he was not. That was not the case when reported to me by the Baker Streets Boys. The doctor is missing his dosage of loving. Such boredom activity to pleasure one another.” Sherlock sighed. “I find my violin more pleasurable.”

“Well, you won’t know of that after all next to the monks, you are probably the next one in line for the celibate selection.” Mycroft mocked his brother. “Not that I mind of your choice. So where is Doctor Watson?”

With that last recall on the whereabouts of Doctor Watson was why Mycroft found himself on the dirigible. It brought him back to that day in the office where his eyes rested on the stack of folders for his scrutiny. He was to go to Albania but the position of M was vacant. The Minister had rescind the order and made him the next M in the ranking. Mycroft accepted it and soon found the position of M was to know who and who’s in the view of the Government with every evil intention to topple them. They may be some crime lords like Moriarty or the influential cult leader to the cunning diplomat in the embassies. Or the madam in the whore house collecting the spurts of nation secrets.

“M, I am ever glad to see you are still here?” Sir Fleming stepped into the office without much of a tap at the door.

“Your door was open?” Sir Fleming then promoted to the new rank indicated to the door. “I merely assumed you are free to see me.”

“Yes, I am. Please take a seat, Sir Fleming.” Mycroft indicated to the available seat.

“Thank you and I shan’t be long. I have a need to discuss with you on a case involving Doctor James Watson, who is one of your double prefix officers.”

“A convenience of ranks then but the dear doctor was never keen on them. He is…” Sir Fleming interrupted on Mycroft.

“Doctor Watson soon after the …. incident took off on the train to the East. He was last seen in Bombay and then our officers lost him among the crowd. The healer was obviously good at the game. I take it you know not what had happened to him.”

It was then Mycroft took to his attention to shift his weight on his buttocks which he was then feeling the urge to use the restroom but if Fleming takes in interest on a doctor named Watson, it might be more urgent than a full bladder.

“Do you know that Doctor Watson was once a medical officer that treated the Raj of Mysore.” The mention of Mysore twitched the side of Mycroft’s left upper lip. It was what one may call a nerve attack. “The Raj of Mysore is a good friend of the King and …you ought to be figure out the rest.”

“His Majesty is concerned on the Raj.” Mycoft felt the need to show that he was knowledgeable but in his mind then was trying place Mysore on the Indian Continent map.

“Why can’t it be Kent or Manchester?” Mycroft muttered to himself. He may be a globetrotter with his tasks but if he recalled all the places he had been, he would have been a School Master instead.

“The Raj of Mysore was involved in some conflict with other ….local chiefs and more to it. Watson was once engaged to one of his daughter….” Fleming looked at the officer of his section. “Don’t you ever read the reports that reached your desk?”

Mycroft shifted his seated position when he felt the bigger issue was not his bladder but his bowels. He decided to wait it out for the news of Doctor Watson was more shifting in priority. It did not take long for Mycroft to be told of the report on why Doctor Watson was asked.

“The Raj of Mysore was shot at by someone resembling Watson a week ago and a manhunt is one.” That line came with a crunch that echoed the cracking of hazelnut shell with a mallet.

“The King wants to know why and how and …..find the doctor, Mycroft. Now whom shall we send to look for him? I was made to know just now that all your official prefixes are on some mission including that young Scot with an affinity for stirred martini.” Sir Fleming had his right thumb raised at his lower jaws. “Besides you, there are none others with the experiences and expertise to….”

“I will go. It’s good for me to also visit my …officers in the other offices.” And it was how Mycroft ended up days of train travelling and then then the dirigible flight across the mighty Himalayans towards the colony of King George VII.

Unknown to Mycroft then, miles away at the shanty town outside of Bombay, a man dressed in the long wrap around cotton cloth with the loose pants inside for he was not one of the origin limped on his walk past the makeshift homes. He had his head covered with the turban and the set of round rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He was using the walking stick of his to balance his walk with the wooden sandals on his feet clacking on the ground. He carried a bag slung across his chest and a clay goblet in his left hand.

The limping man ignored the stares at him for he knew that despite his clothed appearance, the shade of his exposed arms though darkened by the sunlight could not hide his ancestral looks. He was soon stopped by a trio of natives dressed in the ‘lungi’; traditional wrap around the waist with the hems at knee length and tucked in the front at the waist. It looked a like a thick loose pants but it held its purpose for the natives. They were naked at their chest but the short handle scythe in their hands was not only for farming.

“तुम कौन हो?” The leader of the trio asked in the native Hindi language. 

“There is no friend of yours here.” The leader replied back in Hindi. “Your kind belonged to the city and not here in our town.” 

“I am sure Sandhu the Trader will not tolerate such manners for his guests.” Watson replied. “Tell him the White Healer is here. Be off immediately before he gets angry.”

“The White Healer is dead. He has not been seen for some time now.” Time was not an essence to the natives there for they lived on until death comes. Watson stood there while his hands reached inside his tunic and withdrew the twin blades with his fingers. He flicked them in his hands with the movement of his wrists and the blades stuck at the leader’s feet. 

“I am the White Healer, and do not attempt to make me reach for my blades again.” Watson spoke up. “Tell Sandhu I come for the return of my favor.”

“