6.
The arrow came through the
window pane with such force that it only created a hole on it. The arrow with
the metal head did not drop momentum and struck into the violin base. The arrow
was stopped there by the added metal plate inside the instrument, which
disrupted the cords when played by the not-so-talented Holmes, but who cares?
It served its purpose then.
Sherlock rolled off the seat
he was on with the violin held still in his hand. He had improvised the violin
when his life was threatened by the possibility of a bullet into his head, and
the instrument was normally placed near his head for safety. He crouched and
then moved to the wall by the window before another arrow struck at the seat.
The second arrow broke the windowpane then.
Sherlock looked at the
mirror he placed across the chamber angled towards the rooftop opposite. He
scanned the skyline there among the jutting chimneys. He could not see his
attacker, but that was not the concern later. A figure was seen at the
windowsill and was climbing in. In the dim-lighted condition, Sherlock could
make out the figure was dressed in dark clothes and held a short dagger in
addition to the quiver of arrows and bow slung at the back.
Sherlock reached for the
lamp stand and toppled it onto the attacker. The other struck with the dagger
into the falling object, and it was then Sherlock got up to land his strike. He
reached for one of the few walking canes that he placed strategically around
the parlor.
It was one of his tools
learned from the art of Bartitsu, the gentleman’s fighting art.
“Fair bit they will do you
if you ever use them, Holmes? They are too heavy at the top.” Watson had
compared the walking cane for his limp to Holmes'. “What did you do to them?
Add on lead or iron to hit the head?”
The heavier top of the
cast-iron head worked just as well as a cudgel with a smaller dimension.
Sherlock held the end of the stick and swung hard at the attacker. The heavy
cane head impacted the attacker’s chest, causing the other to stagger
backwards. It was all Sherlock needed then: to press on with the body slam to
topple the other off the window sill onto the street below.
To Sherlock’s surprise, the
attacker lands on his feet with a turn of the body. The attacker had on then
the bow with the arrow aimed at Sherlock, who was leaning on the windowsill.
The latter stepped back when the arrow was released and stuck at the ceiling.
Sherlock leaned to look and
saw the attacker was running into the nearby alley. He then heard the noise of
fighting downstairs. He grabbed the dropped walking cane and rushed downstairs.
He found Mrs. Hudson’s chamber door was open and rushed in.
“Fancy me. I have two men
barging in tonight here.” It was Mrs. Hudson in her nightdress holding the
cricket bat. There was the other attacker on the floor next to her bed,
unconscious by the sight of the way the body was lying.
“He may have thought of my
fanny for grabs, but given the cold night, I preferred my bat here anytime.”
Mrs. Hudson climbed off the bedding and then leaned over to pick up the dagger
on the flooring. “And bringing that shortened blade is mighty unpleasant to be
inserted."
“Is he dead? Or just
flaccid?” Mrs. Hudson asked Sherlock who was examining the prone figure.
“I think … flaccid for now.
You have dealt him a hard blow.” Sherlock looked to Mrs. Hudson. “Fancy you
having a bat on your bed.”
“I can’t say I need it most
times, but it does come in useful at times.” Mrs. Hudson reached for the
bathrobe sash and offered it to Sherlock.
“Care to do the bondage on
whoever that is? "I am going to the privy to pee."
Sherlock tied the attacker
with the sash and then checked the house’s doorways. That attacker came in by
the kitchen; the door was forced open and went for Mrs. Hudson’s chamber.
“I had thought it was
Mycroft sneaking in," Mrs. Hudson sighed. “And I got my frillies on
underneath the nightgown.
"Sherlock ignored the
lady whom he knew was pinging Mycroft for some time with little or no results.
Such was on the mind of Mycroft that evening. It was ‘lust feelings suppressed.
“There were three assailants
then. Or four if you added in the fourth as the one that shot the arrow from
across the street.
Mycroft stood there waiting
for the carriage to take him back to his dwelling nearby. He had retired to his
favorite place, the club at First Corner, after the meeting with Sherlock and
Doctor Mitsui Ogata. He had assigned additional guards to the other ministers
before he arrived at the club. As a single man, and with his mind weighed down
by the threats on the isle, he found his evenings well spent at the club with
the wine and chatter among the peers. He had supper with the French and German
counterparts, with their jibes about invading each other’s borders.
“Forget England. They need
to swim over before they can fight any of us.” The Frenchman was in the mood to
savage Mycroft.
“I was told that you met
with the oriental diplomat today? Was it interesting?” Hans Steiner was well
informed, as were all of them in the trade, with the wagering tongues of the
staff in all the offices. “I heard that it had something to do with Japan?”
“Japen? I have not heard of
that name since Commodore Perry stopped for tea there.” The Frenchman was good
at the deceptive denials, although he knew more than the Germans.
“Yes, I met the diplomat.”
That was a blunt lie, as all three knew that Doctor Mitsui Ogata was not any
diplomat but the diplomat from the palace.
“So, are they invading China
again?” The German gleefully asked. “We could assist.”
“I doubt so. However,
they—" Mycroft saw the aide from his office arrive. “Pardon me, gentlemen.
I need to throw up. Too much to drink.”
Mycroft stood up and excused
himself. He motioned to the aide to meet him in the private chamber, which was
the rest chamber.
“Sir,” the aide handed over
the report to Mycroft. “And we lost the Doctor on the streets.”
It was the killings he was
concerned about.
First was Daniel Jones, a
renowned author and mineralogist, and not excluding Ian Masterson, who was
returning on a sudden recall. He was assigned to the Far East two years ago,
and before that he was at the Congo.
There was the geologist,
Edward Thorne, and the other professor of minerals from the Thames University.
Both were attached to the Congo exploration. Minister Leeson is the exchequer
but was once the attaché attached to the African delegation on economic affairs
at the Congo.
All unrelated, but there was
a link, and it all led to the Congo land on the African continent.
A few others unreported were
the deaths of several experts linked to the exchequer minister. They were aides
and staff of the office.
“Sir, Ms. Kewala was found.
She had visited the Greystokes by herself this afternoon.” The aide handed the
report.
“The Greystokes?” Mycroft
muttered.
“Yes, Sir. We have posted
additional guards at the nearby village. The Greystokes will not entertain any
of ours at their estate.”
“I doubt Lord Greystoke
needs any of our guards. He probably has lions and elephants there to serve as
his own, and I doubt the lions will not prefer any fish and fries of ours.”
Mycroft dismissed the staff.
Nevertheless, the lady will
be safe there.
The message was to tell
Mycroft that nobody can stop them. He heard the knock on his door, and there
and then came in his guest.
“Ito Matsuke, thank you for
joining me here.”
“We shall talk outside. I am
not used to your club members. They may think I am a lackey here.” The Asian
man smiled.
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