15.
“My gosh, the doctor was in the fire
explosion at the hotel chamber.” Mycroft gasped out then while seated at
Sherlock’s unit. They were served tea, despite the lunch hour chiming then.
Watson had picked up the noon papers and saw the headline. He handed it to
Sherlock, but Mycroft grabbed it then.
“A sorry way to die there.” Mycroft took a
sip of the tea. Mrs. Hudson saw the three of them marching up the stairs and
turned to boil the pot.
“I thought we were to be arrested for
suspicion of murder.” Watson sat down and nursed his cup of tea.
“Melodramatic by the Yard there. That got
the military to rise up to do their bidding.” Mycroft cut in. “I will say
by tea time, they will send an apology note to me for that … arrest notice.”
Sherlock did not partake in the discussion
while reading the article on the fire.
“I have seen men, including friends, who
died in the war, not necessarily shot but also set on fire.” Watson looked at
Mycroft. “Innocents too, for being friendly towards us.”
“Killing is ever imaginative in the
works.” Sherlock lowered the newspaper. “It is rare for anyone to be bombed,
though. Fire had killed many, but those were unintentional or arson by nature
if that was intentional.”
“I wondered what explosive was used
there.” Sherlock took on his thinking expression.
“Gas could be one. London homes have gas
lighting, and its adoption in cooking and heating, however, has consequences if
mishandled.” Mycroft explained and then changed the topic. “Do you think Mrs.
Hudson could serve us lunch?”
“I am sure she would… bangers and
scrambled eggs, if my smell does not evade my deductions.” Watson looked at
Sherlock, who was in deep thoughts. He knew that man would skip his meals when
he was in that mood. And if he was back on his opioids, then lack of appetite
was a symptom.
“By the way, Watson. Have any of your
wives complained about the corsets?” Mycroft's tendency to swing topics of
discussion tends to blindside Watson most times.
“I… I do not discuss that… with my wives…
or lovers. They tend to … come prepared for me anyway.”
“Oh! No encumbrances there. I get it. I
wished one day someone would acknowledge the need for it, or at least design
something less complicated to detach. Like a single latch on it. Like the door
lock.” Mycroft smiled. “We have buttons on our pants to ease our discomfort,
you know.”
“I never thought of that, Mycroft. You are
becoming excellent in your thinking. Something the Holmes have, perhaps.”
Watson was sneering at the buildup of the Holmeses.
“Doctor Watson, you are……" Mycroft
was cut off.
“Watson, we need to get to the hotel now.”
Sherlock stood up. “We need to know who died and how the explosion happened
there."
“What? Now?” Mycroft looked at his
brother. “I was waiting for my bangers and…"
“Game afloat, Watson.” Sherlock grabbed
his coat and was leaving then. They boarded a carriage at the doorway and were
seen off by the housekeeper opposite. She took her apron and took to the street
outside. She reached the left corner and spoke to the newspaper lad there.
The latter mounted the
penny-farthings, or "ordinaries," and took off down the street
following the carriage. The lady walked back to her house and met Mrs. Hudson
at the doorway.
“Care to join me for lunch, Alice? The men
took off as I was finishing the spread.”
“Sure, Martha. I have not started on mine
yet.” The lady smiled. “I have been busy doing…"“Housework is never easy.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled. “I have mine too. And two men who never appreciate it. All
they were concerned with was our corset bindings.”
“Is it? Jimmy never did. He was a lock… a
stringer of the strings there.” Alice smiled. “Lunch now?"
Sherlock got permission to view the
chamber at the hotel. It was blackened by the fire, and the body was still
there.
“The Foreign Office does not want the body
moved until we have a conclusion.” Mycroft explained.
“I doubt it will move anywhere.” Watson
crouched down to examine the body. “The flesh is… literally burned off by the
fire. I could make out the mandible is dislocated…probably from a powerful
blow.”
“A fight, Doctor?” Mycroft asked. “Why was
the coroner not stating that in the report?”
“The coroner is not here. Your office
asked that no one move the body.” Doctor John Watson used his pencil to move
the burnt tissue. “I can see the thorax had trauma wounds. The sternum shown
fractures are attributed to some powerful blows. Seen that from a horseman who
crashed into the trees.”
“Gyaku Zaki," or front punch with the
left leg to add the power to the punch: Sherlock was standing nearby looking at
the window. Mycroft was stunned that his brother learned that move.
“Baritsu is a form of fighting, not as
popular as boxing, but there are small clubs for it. I am an exponent of it,
and among the techniques we learned are Japanese arts, which include karate.”
Sherlock did not look up but continue his examination of the window.
“Someone scaled down from this chamber.”
Sherlock leaned out to look towards the upper levels. “We are on the third
level, and there are five levels to this building. “Grappling hook marks on
windows are often caused by firemen, such as bars and hooks, to gain entry. But
there was no such procedure here. The manager told me that the firemen came in
from the corridor.”
“Therefore, it may be seen that the marks
here, left behind, were of an emergency descent.” Sherlock looked down. “The
hook is still here.”
“Yet no one looked up?” Watson asked.
“Down?”
“At that hour, it was raining. London does
hold its share of rains, and most people will be looking down instead of
up," Sherlock continued his observation. “I doubt the preparator went down
to the ground. The figure scaled down to the chamber below, perhaps.”
“Then we must check there.” Mycroft was
rushing off to the stairs.
“That must be the housekeeping room. I
studied the designs of the hotels in London as part of my research.” Sherlock
spoke to Watson. “Whoever it was had absconded by now.”
“How many housekeepers are there in this
hotel?” Watson asked. “Twenty-six perhaps.”
“Twenty-six are the number of bones in the
foot. These bones are organized into three main regions: seven tarsal bones,
including the heel and ankle; five metatarsal bones; and fourteen phalanges in
the toes.” Sherlock looked at Watson. “Why do you ask?”
“This body has fractures at the tarsal, to
be exact, at the ankle.” Watson motioned to the right heel. “It was twisted and
the fractures were created.”
“Either he fractured it here during a
fight, or ……" Sherlock frowned, his expression.
“Most probably. The fractures looked
recent.” Watson leaned to examine it more.
“The Achilles lock, or
ashi-hishigi in Japanese Judo, is an effective submission used to control
and tap an opponent.” Sherlock stepped over. “I once learned that technique
from another master: a Brazilian move called the 'botinha' in Portuguese.”
“Are we not considering the injuries from
the Japanese moves?” Watson looked at the other.
“It can be obvious for the body may be
Japanese, and so was the attacker," Sherlock added. “The victim wore an
amulet, partially destroyed, that resembled an omamori. I met a military
attaché from the Japanese consulate here in London who once shared with me the
one he wore. He was named Kataka Sukimora. He has a ……"
“Does he have a broken fracture on his
left forearm?” Sherlock asked. Watson examined the area referred to by
Sherlock.
“Looks like one here, or a recent break,
and partially healed. I can feel the bump there.” Watson reached down to feel
the forearm. “I will know more if an autopsy was performed.”
“This could be Kataka. We spar then, and
in my zealous move, I hit his left forearm with the bokken.” Sherlock stood up.
“Why was he here in the chamber?”
“Doctor Mitsui Ogata is an emissary and
they may have a meeting then.” Watson replied.
“And where is Doctor Mitsui Ogata’s body?”
Sherlock asked for the emissary.
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