Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 18

 

18.

 

In the wild, the chimpanzees are known to catch on to the scent of the predators from afar, and they will warn the others by their callings. It is an instinct built by the primates. Another preference of the chimpanzees is the high elevation to see the predator before it gets nearby.

Lord Greystoke saw the migration of the birds at the forest. It was an unusual event for the Waziri warriors even in their hunt to blend in with the animals there and create less commotion.

“Thirun, take the warriors to the house. I will scout ahead.” Lord Greystokes had stripped to his loincloth over his pelvis and had on the dagger made by him from the bone of the lion. Thirun signalled to the warriors and then grabbed his shield and spear. Lord Greystokes was seen then running towards the forest treelines.

The Lord knew that the trees there had no vines to swing with but improvised with these thick ropes that he strung on the thick branches. He grabbed one of them and propelled himself forward. His momentum allowed him to reach the upper branch, and from there, he then took his run across the branches, familiarizing himself from his daily runs there. He improvised the trails with ropes that are strung across from tree to tree or a fallen log to act as a bridge to cross. He does miss the dark continent jungle, but the forest was equally as challenging.

Lord Greystokes made the run across one hectare in the short burst and then climbed to the top to check his prey, which he saw then at the distance: a group of three dressed in the dark green garbs and wielding the bow with the arrows. He took no delay and intercepted the trio at the clearing.

“Yield now, intruders!" Lord Greystokes called out. The trio stopped in their tracks and then notched the arrow onto the bow.

“I am Lord Greystoke, and on this ground, I am the king. Yield now, and leave.” Lord Greystokes looked at them. He had not seen such warriors, but their body stance displayed their training.

“We come for the lady.” The leader of the trio spoke up. “Give her and we leave.”

It was then Thirun arrived with eight warriors.

“You are outnumbered.” Lord Greystokes cautioned them.

“Outnumbered but not outfoxed." The leader said. Lord Greystokes heard the caution and knew the trap was set for his house. He turned to look at the house. He heard gunshots, and it was then he ran. Thirun knew the concern, but he was to subdue the intruders there.

“Fool!” The trio released their arrows at the Waziri leaders. Thirun had his shield up to block the arrows while his warriors had thrown their arrows at the intruders. One of the intruders went down with the spear piercing his groin, but the other two had drawn their swords, the ninjatō (忍者刀), often referred to as a ninjaken or shinobi gatana. It is characterized by a short, straight katana blade, distinguishing it from the curved samurai katana and a square guard (tsuba), typically designed for concealment, utility, and close-quarters combat. 

The one on the left charged at the Waziri’s warriors with the sword held at the mid-level on the left side to perform a right swing at the warriors. Orunga, the warrior, stepped up to meet the intruder and used his shield on his left arm to deflect the sword while his right hand, holding a foot-long rungu, swung from the side and impacted the intruder on the left shoulder. The intruder fell to the right, and Orunga followed up with the blow with the rungu at the right knee. That blow impaired the intruder from escaping.

The other intruder retreated while the Waziri warriors gathered around the fallen one.

Meanwhile at the house, Kimbel had gathered the warriors at the house facing the five intruders dressed in green garb.

“No one gets past us," Kimbel cautioned the intruder. He then saw the intruders had produced guns to level at the warriors: Colt revolvers. Their shields may not stop all the projectiles, but they will stand to defend their bwana’s lady.

"A true warrior is invincible because he or she contests with nothing. Defeat means to defeat the mind of contention." Kimbel reminded the warriors of Mugumbi’s words, who was their departed leader.

Two shots rang out, and Kimbel was shot in the left side of the chest and right shin. He went down on his knees with the shield holding him up. It was then more shots rang out, not from the intruders but from the house.

“Never bring a revolver to the play when you have a rifle.” The five shots rang out in succession, and the intruders were brought down face up to the rear. Kimbel turned and saw the ladies of the house had formed a firing line at the left. They lowered the rifles and then attended to the lady.

“Have not felt that kick for a long time.” Lady Greystokes gave her rifle to the other ladies. “Thank you for the double shot too, Imani.”

“I like the long barrel.” Imani, the lady of the house, smiled. She was a fine marksman with the Sharps rifle.

Lady Greystokes was helped to the nearby seat. She saw the lover of hers running like an antelope across the field.

“Tend to Kimbel. Bring the healer.” Lady Greystokes told the ladies. “I will be fine.”

“Jane, are you okay?” Lord Greystokes reached her.

“We should go back to Africa. It is safer there.” Lady Greystokes smiled.

It did not take long for the Waziri’s warriors to get the surviving intruder to speak the truth. Lieutenant Gavin McLeod had joined in when he was told of the gunshots. The healer was called in and treated Kimbel.

“He said the sensei sent them. They were to find Ms. Kewala and bring her back.”

“Who is the……. Sensei?” Lord Greystokes asked.

“Their bwana, the master. He……" Thirun explained.

“Name?” Lord Greystokes asked.

“Ogata.”

“I need to tell Mycroft.” Lieutenant McLeod said and then asked. “Where is Mindy?”

“Ms. Kewala is safe. She is away.” Lord Greystoke looked at the Lieutenant. “Are you close to her?”

“We ……. I have been assigned to her ever since she landed in London. I am her personal aide.” Lieutenant Gavin McLeod then turned to leave. “Sir, may I know where she is?”

Back in the proper London city, to be exact, at Baker Street, Watson had just washed his hands again after his tasks at the mortuary. He stepped up to the late lunch spread at the table, where Sherlock was seated.

“Bacons and eggs? I am sure Mrs. Hudson does not serve that for lunch even though we are late at it.” Watson sat down.

“I asked for it, Watson. After our fascinating conversation about bacon tests, I had a sudden craving for it.” Sherlock used his fork to punch holes at the bacon. “Bacon is primarily made from pork belly or back cuts, cured with a mixture of salt, sugar, and nitrites, and often smoked for flavour. It consists of roughly fifty-six percent fat, which renders during cooking, along with lean muscle meat, creating a crispy texture. It is a processed, salty meat preserved for longevity.”

“And it originated from China. I was told that from my butcher whose father and his father before then told him from his grandfather then……" Watson looked at the serving.

“Elementary, my dear Watson. The news of such is derived from their past generations, but who cares? We are to eat bacon now.” Sherlock’s eyes perked up. “Mycroft is here.”

“Hello, everyone. I am back. Is that bacon? The greasy strips? I loved them.” Mycroft took himself a seat and the plate. “Not eating, Watson?”

“Not anymore. I will have a sandwich instead.” Watson stood up.

“And you will make Earl of Sandwich proud of you.” Mycroft grabbed a slice of the bacon and stuffed it into his mouth. “Do tell Mrs. Hudson, I would like one sandwich too. Cheerio, lad. We are to have the whole afternoon to ourselves.”

“Spare me the details.” Watson turned to leave and then stopped. “Will the sandwiches come with the playing cards? The Earl then had his while playing cards.”

“Poker? It is a new game I heard played on the steamships on the Mississippi.” Mycroft smiled. “Beats the game while (prelude to bridge) anytime.”

Watson was past listening and went to look for Mrs. Hudson.

 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 17

 

17. 

 

“Ah, you're drunk!

You're drunk, you silly old fool.

Still, you cannot see.

That's a lovely scarf that my mother sent to me.

Well, it's been many a day I've travelled—a hundred miles or more.

But a saddle on a sow, sure, I never saw before."

Adapted from Seven Drunken Nights – The Dubliners, 1770s.

“Aye, I am that fool. Aging may do that to one.” Professor Moriarty sat behind his desk, holding the glass of Irish whiskey, a spirit distilled in Ireland from a mash of cereal grains, usually barley, corn, wheat, rye, and/or oats; contains no additives except for water and caramel color; and is stored in wooden casks.

“I am not Irish, though my name is.” The professor was drunk, having spent hours at the unresolved equations and one too many bottles of whiskey. He was upset and withdrawn. He sang that song to remind him of his father, who came home one night to find another man with his mother.

“A Dhia, cé hiad na daoine atá ar mo leaba? (By golly, why are you on my bedding?) " The old man had asked while in his drunken stupor. It did not take long for the other to leave in haste, and the couple was in a heated argument.

“Tá mé chun an fear sin a mharú" (I am going to kill that man). The father is in his rage shouted.

“A Edward Galley, ná déan tada de sin, agus fág do chlann gan athair. Edward Galley, do nothing of that, and leave your children without a father. "The wife told the drunken fool.

“An mise a n-athair? Ní dóigh liom é sin tar éis an lae inniu. (Am I their father? I do not think so after today.)”

Two days later they found Nathaniel Moriarty dead in the pigsty at the next village. And the ramrod in the throat.

Such a sad way for that Paddie to die with the ramrod in his throat. I reckon I much prefer mine to be the Guinness bottle down mine … full content, please. The solemn saying at the pubs, and Edward Galley went missing and never was seen.

As for James Moriarty, as he was named James Galley Moriarty then, he was sent to a boarding school in Paris, France. It was unplanned for the middle-class family, but an unforeseen inheritance from a distant aunt gave the mother the means to send the boy away.

“You go on to become an ‘uasal’ (gentleman in Irish Gaelic). Déan go maith agus mair go maith (Do well and live well.)” The lad was told before he boarded the train to the coast.

James Galley Moriarty then had his name changed to James Moriarty, and he was senior in age there, pulling the difference of age of five from the other students. He focused on the studies and found his affinity for the complex mathematical equations.

Life was not easy there for James; he was picked on for his age, and the boys ganged up on him. He was older but not stronger, but he had a friend there named Sebastian Moran. The latter was his protector, and soon he was not harassed any more. The two boys became good friends, and later Sebastian went to Sandhurst to be a soldier, and James went to Glasgow for more education. He was considering majoring in medicine but stayed on as a student of mathematics.

It was then he heard of the passing of his mother, but his family trust was enough for him to continue. He pursued his desire to know his mother’s side and found them.

“The Moriarty is a landowner in your old country. They leased the land to the locals, who will pay them rental.”

In the 1800s, Irish land rental was characterized by a landlord-tenant system, where a small number of (often absentee) landlords owned most land, leasing it to tenants on short terms or "at will." Rents were high and frequently increased, leading to insecurity and poverty, particularly pre-famine, and were often managed by middlemen. 

“Your mother was a wild lass who eloped with your father and was disowned by the family. However, her trust fund was maintained by her aunt, who, however, paid for your education.” The solicitor who was hired by James told him.

“Even upon your mother’s death, they will not accept her back. You are Irish and not blue blood like them.”

That last remark was etched onto James’s mind, but he returned to pursue his studies. He got himself a position as an assistant lecturer there and was fair to living on his own. It was to be a good life until he met Tommy Meager, a fellow young Irish lad who was his student then. Tommy was a member of Young Ireland, which was aggressive toward the English ruling over. Ireland was also still reeling from the impact of the Great Famine.

The British government's reaction had been too little and too late to prevent the Irish people from suffering great hardship. This delayed reaction was criticized by Irish officials, to little avail.

Tommy died later that year in a battle with the authorities.

James Moriarty was then enraged with the handling of the ruling. He felt injustice was done and got himself into the meetings with the rebels. He was still a mathematician and weighed the variables to produce the equation, and none of it then was conclusive, except to fail to manage the variables. He then retired to the background and did his own scheme of things.

James Moriarty knew that he was not a strong leader physically, but his intellectual skills were exceptional. He worked with some of the rebels, applying his variables to get them to work for his end. He found the relationship among the members was leaning towards rivalry. It was the winner-takes-all. He worked on that and became the kingmaker of the rebels. He manipulated their mindsets, applying variables that would lead them to his equation. His influence grew, and eventually, he was the leader among them, but unseen or unrevealed.

It was then he wrote the binomial theorem; the purpose of the binomial theorem is to be able to take a binomial, which means a parenthesis with two terms on the inside, and raise it to a power.

And applied it.

James Moriarty moved to London to expand his works. He felt that the epicentre of power was there. He worked his way through the echelon of powers, from the lowly clerk to the executives, by coercion or monetary gains, and soon established a network of operatives.

With the wider circle of operatives, there were other opponents who took offense to him. James Moriarty, or later named Doctor Moriarty, was then targeted, and attempts were made on him discreetly, and cases were closed without investigation. The latter was on his request, as he was not keen to be known. Despite his life being threatened and the need for an unseen profile, Doctor Moriarty did not leave any variables out in his vengeance equation.

It was then he had the protection of one named Sebastian Moran, a colonel by rank, retired on his own accord, according to the records. Sebastian emerged as the man who took care of Doctor Moriarty’s well-being, and his efficiency was undeniably excellent. 

“Sebastian Moran, you are the exemplary variable I will apply to my safety equation. I shall offer you the rank of Chief of Staff.” Doctor Moriarty praised the other. “Be at my side, and we will do wonders.”

His love for his land and country was always there in his heart and mind. He works his influence on the politicians and sponsors for the land.

“The older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune." Professor Moriarty raised his glass to the banner strung across the fireplace. He saw the arrival of Sebastian Moran, a rarity to his study, for they agreed on discretion in their alliance.

“I got news the doctor Mitsui Ogata may not be dead. Coroner’s office. There was another person in the chamber.” Sebastian stood at the far corner, dimly lighted and his back to the wall. “More to that, the Oni Society is on alert. They had discovered the whereabouts of Mindy Kewala. She was seen at Greystoke's estate.”

“Interesting.” Professor Moriarty looked to the wad of notes on his desk. “I am intrigued by the Oni Society. They had not been here too long ago, like the Chinese triads, but they had been growing.”

“We are growing in China, along with the others.” Colonel Sebastian Moran was not an avid historian; except for a stint in India as an officer, he cared little for other nations.

“True, but without guarding our own backyard, others are here. England, for one, is becoming a cosmopolitan, particularly London, profoundly cosmopolitan, diverse space, challenging the traditional image of a purely homogeneous Victorian society. England had attracted individuals from Europe, the Indian subcontinent, Africa, and East Asia, creating a bustling mix of cultures in urban centres," Professor Moriarty said.

“We dredged them here through the canals, and now they flood our streets. Oh my, dreadful in my view.”

“The Oni Society?” Sebastian asked.

“It is obvious. They are here to expand their influence. Their government wants to modernize their treasury; hence, they are here to learn from us. They could be in Germany for industrialization needs.” Professor Moriarty looked at the banner strung across the fireplace. “They are learning from us while we degenerate into oblivion. They learned that mining is a form of richness, and what better place to get it than from the unexplored lands?"

“We did it too. We forcibly open its markets, exploit its economic resources, and correct a trade imbalance favouring China. We used opium smuggling to reverse a massive silver deficit, resulting in the Opium Wars.” Professor Moriarty drew the variables together.

“As Ireland was done then, we worked our farms for them.”

“I placed in a set of variables, which may add deviations to the equation. I had not killed the three operatives. Not stating my claim to the reign. I opened a new set of variables when I found out that they may not be operating under the Oni Society’s instructions. That brought in the doctor to my backyard. The question was who acted on those three operatives to do the tasks. I am sure the doctor will be investigating that now.”

“And soon to be, Holmes.”

“There were attempts on Holmes and Watson on that day.” Colonel Sebastian Moran reported in.

"On whose orders? The Oni Society or someone else? And why?” Professor Moriarty laid his hands on the wad of notes. “Unfactored in variables perhaps? I cannot wait. Get the operatives to find out more. Who planted the bomb at the hotel? And where…… Just get solutions."

Tweet .......Odyssey ...

 

Preys and Predators VIII

Odysseus the new Odyssey

An adaption of Odysseus / The Tempest

A mix-match of tale into one long tale

Period time place: Steampunk/ Mystical / Fable

 

First part of the journey

14^th June 2026

Jimmy Loong

“Why cover the same ground again? ... It goes against my grain to repeat a tale told once, and told so clearly.”
― Homer, The Odyssey

An odyssey is a long, adventurous journey or a series of experiences that profoundly change a person. The term comes from the ancient Greek epic poem The Odyssey by Homer, which recounts the perilous 10-year voyage of the hero Odysseus returning home from the Trojan War.

“I am not retelling the tale, but adapting it to a new journey.” Jimmy Loong 27^th July 2026

“Done Part 1, and it’s only at 50K words, and the journey was only three, to the full journey of twelve by Odysseus in the Odyssey.” Jimmy Loomng 30^th July 2026.

“Today is Aug 20^th, and I am at Chapter 40 (67K words) and it has been a journey of sorts. Odysseus journey held 12 challenges (more like Hercules 12 tasks), and I am now at the 5^th challenge. It can be considered not my usual pace but I had other works which took priority but I am back.” Jimmy Loong 20^th August 2026.

I am at 71K words now..... 

Just to let you know what I have been doing........

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 16

 16. 

 

Nayland had the cold pack on the jaw. He was seated on the armchair in the chamber of one named Mycroft Holmes.

“The local constabulary found you on the sidewalk and alerted the police van.” Mycroft spoke from behind the desk. “The local precinct was to toss you into the cells when one of our boys recognized you and had you transported here.”

“In a police van?” The van and then horse-drawn vehicles were used by the Metropolitan Police to transport prisoners from local police stations to courts or prisons.

“Well, it was free.” Mycroft replied. “Did you not get any wagons in China for that?”

“In China, it will be a wooden cart, and cuffed to the side of it and humiliated in a parade on the streets.”

"Brutal…" Mycroft let off a chuckle.

“It was, but it worked well.” Nayland rubbed the cold pack on the jaw. “Did they find the body there?”

“The hotel? I think so, but right now Sherlock is there to investigate. Bloody good task you did with yourself?”

“I was told to observe him. I did, and he was probably enjoying his whiskey in the hotel while I was soaking wet in the rain and getting socked by…" Nayland bit his lips then.

“By whom, Nayland? I read your reports. You could fight off four men armed with deadly weapons. So, who socked you that bad?”

Fu Manchu…. His henchmen did it. It was a bloody lucky punch, and I fell.” Nayland spat out the indignation he had undergone.

“Fu… your father-in-law did that. Why golly, I would be too. You are sleeping with his daughter and not taking the vow. I would have done the same.” Mycroft looked up with a smile. “Fatherhood lends you that strength.”

“Screw you, Mycroft. You've done your list of ladies, and have you taken any matri-oh-molly commitments yet?” 

“I have no Molly yet. Maybe a Nelly once or twice. And above it all, I have not a father of the ladies who could summon the evil to best me in a fistfight. Or shoot me with a shotgun yet.” Mycroft smiled. “You are……"

“I am spiritual but have no commitment to any denomination.” Nayland sneered at Mycroft. “I believe in a higher call.”

“Laissez faire.” Mycroft smiled. “Me too. Well, back to us. Oldman Fu is not a threat here. He was at Dover and boarded a ship to Liverpool. However, the Oni Society is the one threat we have to handle. Sherlock is at the hotel, and we will know more soon. In the meantime, you are to return home and rest …. Presumably without getting clobbered again.”

“I need to find Old Man Fu.” Nayland struggled to get up. “I need to find Charlie.”

“Last reported, Charlie Song was in EastEnders, but he asked for permission to return home to Hertfordshire.” Mycroft told Nayland.

At that moment, Charlie Song sat in the armchair of his home, with his wife and mother by his side. He was facing a man with bad intents.

“Mr. Soong, I can assure you that the East Enders have little or nothing on the Oni Society.” The man seated across from him held a cleaver in his right hand. “We are an honorable organization, and our trade is the goods we shipped in. You could say we've gone legit in our trade.”

“Cheng, you are in my home. That are rules of engagement.” Charlie Song glared at the man. “I can find you.”

“You could, but you are mistaken. I am told to protect you from the Oni Society. The emperor left strict orders to protect you and your sons. He does not want Nayland’s friends to get hurt.” Cheng leaned back on the seat. “It is a tall order given our rivalry, but I must obey. All that is needed was that you stay away from the Oni Society.”

“Why?” Charlie Song asked.

“This is not our war. This is between them, and we will just get in the way. Meddlesome without a reason ails our strength.” Cheng stood up. “Tell your leaders that you are to take a holiday to America. It is lovely there at this time of the year, courtesy of the emperor. He values you well.”

Professor Moriarty was not at his best that day. He had concluded a lecture and found it more agitating than educational, for the questions raised by him were given baffled expressions by the attendees. He dismissed them all early and walked back to his study chamber. He could make out the twin guards assigned by Colonel Sebastian Moran for his safety and the groundkeeper who was standing guard at the carnation flower bed by the building. He knew that the Colonel had his safety as a concern, but he was contemplating why the Oni Society was activated then.

The Oni Society had been in London some years; the Japanese Embassy to Europe arrived in 1862, and the first batch of students studied at University College London, arriving in 1863. Mitsui & Co. soon established its London office, and no fewer than two hundred Japanese residents registered in Britain. The professor knew all of this from his network of informers and had been monitoring certain persons of interest since then.

The killing incident, murder as stated by the authorities, is a norm for them to classify any gruesome death as such, but to the professor, a kill is still a kill, depending on the expediency of the act. Three persons were killed by means that suggested a foreigner’s act; the head was removed with a sharp sword and unsanctioned by his network, and worse to his affirmation, two of them were his informants, which costs him to replace.

The professor also knew that Sherlock Holmes was alerted to him by the prime minister's office. That baffled him, as at that stage, he was not keen on the case, but he did take vengeance killing, mindful use of the meaning on the loss of any operative. The method of killing was beheading and demeaning to his network. He had the killers found; it was not an easy trail, but he snared them and had them killed, with the body disposed of at the pig farm.

Doctor Mitsui Ogata was not aware of the missing operatives and, from his words, seems to think they are missing. His proclamation of their demise triggered a reaction from the doctor, and then the doctor got himself into an explosive act.

“So many variables……” Professor Moriarty had his head down while he walked. “But Holmes…"

Holmes was another variable. He had known Holmes, but there was no call to include Holmes. Why was Holmes called in? The professor knew that Holmes was hardly involved in international cases unless invited. His expression was drawn to the copy of the note he got from his informer.

The professor had prior knowledge that Doctor Mitsui Ogata was to meet Minister Leeson, and the agenda was the study of the central banking needs. Mycroft was there as an international liaison as expected, but the topic was diverted to the Oni Society.

Nothing was said by whom, and when was the topic changed? It did not do much good when the minister was killed hours later.

That leaves only two others to look at: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Mitsui Ogata. He had met the doctor and learned nothing at all.

“Tell me, Holmes. What do you know?” The professor muttered to himself when he reached for the door to his study.

Meanwhile, at the mortuary, Doctor John Watson stepped away from the table and then removed his glove.

“It was not until this century that the performance of autopsies was the norm for any criminal victim. It was a part of the regulated practices of established medical examiners and coroners, with the origin pioneered by Karl Rokitansky of Vienna and later refined by Rudolf Ludwig Karl Virchow, who used microscopy to examine each organ carefully.”

“I am well informed on that, Watson. Elementary lessons to me. In my early days of my studies in biology, I was already applying causes of abrasions and wounds for my victim physiology studies.” Sherlock Holmes stared at the burnt body, which was dissected in parts. “I also did chemical…"

“I know. You told me you flogged a dead pig to see the scars.” Doctor John Watson was then writing his report. “I was out of bacon for a few weeks.”

“There was a fight there. And Kataka Sukimora was injured. The fatal blow was on the forehead. A blow that only certain masters are capable of."

“And added to your conclusion, I deduced that the wound you mentioned at the forearm was a fracture, not recent though. The fire did not scorch that part of the body, for it was underneath the chest and was shielded by the main fire.” Doctor John Watson looked at Sherlock.

“Elementary, my dear Sherlock.”

“And I examined the omamori found at the scene. It is identical to the one worn by Sukimora.” Sherlock held up the partially burnt amulet. “It must have slipped off, and then the fire burned the string, and it fell in between the armpits there.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson.” Sherlock looked away. “But where is Ogata?”

“Presumably dead, but they never do so, do they, Holmes?” Watson looked at Sherlock. “Are we in a hurry to get them dead?”

Nayland had then rushed to the port but was late to see the streamer leaving the quay. The steamer was on the journey to New York. And Charlie Song was on it.

“Sir, are you Nayland Smith?” A scruffy lad approached Nayland. “I got a note here for you. He said you will pay me a shilling for it.”

Nayland paid and took the note and read it.

“Nayland, my good friend. I am going to New York to meet family members there. I am offered a position with the New York Police Department as an inspector. I will be there for a while. My regards to you and your lover. Life is too short to not take it seriously. Take care. My sons await me there.”

Nayland knew the message given to him. He knew Charlie had a job opening in New York and was to leave for there soon after he cleared the case here in London. When he read the reference to his lover, he knew that Charlie was referring to the old man, Fu Manchu. Life was short, a warning to him that he could be in danger.

“Go with peace, Charlie. Take care of your sons.” Charlie’s main concern was his family, and he needed to be with them. There was a breaking point for anyone, and that was Charlie’s.

“Fu Manchu, I will get you.” Nayland was upset.

 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 15

 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.

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 14

 14. 

 

Meanwhile, back in the city, another commotion was taking place.

“Colonel Sebastian Moran, I want this investigated.” Professor Moriarty was fuming with rage. “I do not like unknown variables in the equation.”

The Navier-Stokes equations, which describe the motion of fluid substances used in physics, the mathematical "existence and smoothness" problem …… proving that solutions always exist in three dimensions without breaking down…. Has yet to be resolved and shall remain so.”

“This event of recent… or recent events…. It is a confounded nuisance to me. I cannot fathom what is happening. Like the equation, there may be more than two dimensions to the event.” Professor Moriarty was raging mad then. “Do something before I get… annoyed.”

“Professor, I can assure you the army of ours is hard at work here.” Colonel Sebastian Moran looked at the man he regarded as his superior officer. The retired military officer was dressed in the dark three-piece suit and sported a bowler hat and was leaning on the walking cane. He sported a thin moustache on his upper lip.

“Relate to me the events … not just that explosion event, please.” Professor Moriarty looked at the man whom he considered his successor.

“Doctor Mitsui Ogata was seen entering his hotel soon after the meeting. The valet confirmed that he was in his hotel chamber. It was near midnight, an explosion was heard, and then fire broke out in that chamber. They tried to put out the fire, but it was so intense that they had to wait for the Metropolitan Fire Brigade. The fire was put out at four am, and an hour after that, they discovered the charred body, believed to be the doctor.”

“Explosion, and fire, and a charred body? Any others owned the attack? The local East Enders?”

“None, Professor. Not yet anyway. We had the place watched from the outside and the inside. The doctor did not order any supper that evening.” Colonel Sebastian Moran stood there.

“Your instruction was explicit; we observed and adhered to it.” Colonel Sebastian Moran was a man who heeds his orders.

“Holmes?”

“They left their unit in the morning with Mycroft Holmes headed to the south of the city.” Colonel Sebastian Moran reported.

“The lady observed them leaving at mid-morning; I doubt there was any mention of the fire in the papers.”

The lady in the service of the professor was the housekeeper opposite the house owned by Mrs. Hudson.

“The telegram sent last evening?” Professor Moriarty reached for the message. “By the doctor.”

“Here, Professor.” Colonel Sebastian Moran handed the paper over.

“Crane here. Falcon nearby. Planning.” Professor Moriarty read the message. “I wondered… I should expect this. The Oni Society will act on this message. And assuming Doctor Mitsui Ogata died in the fire, there will be repercussions in the city. The three disciples of his were killed by someone, which we are unsure of, and the mining reports, which could be the tip of the iceberg here.”

“Unfactored in variables makes the problem an open equation.” Professor Moriarty does not like surprises in the city of his. “Investigate on and watch Holmes. I am sure he will be returning to the city soon.”

At the Greystokes estate, Lord Greystokes watched the group take to the edge of the forest at the estate. Thirun was thorough in sending scouts out around the estate. The number of Waziri warriors was about thirty in number, with another twenty in supporting roles. It is a small village, with the males’ forming sixty percent of the group. The ladies are not without fighting skills; the Waziri ladies are trained to hunt and kill from an early age like the males. The village was constructed by the forest to allow them a way of life like their homeland.

“Big Bwana, the scouts saw the intruders at the boundary, but they are not inside the estate.” Thirun stood next to the Lord Greystokes.

“Soldiers?” Lord Greystokes asked.

“Yes, and some that look like poachers, but they are watching the estate, more at the roads, and one was spotted in the forest. That was taken care of by Imoak, who played the dik-dik (a small antelope found in the dark continent) on the intruder and got the intruder caught in the trap set. That intruder will not be running on the left foot for some time.”

“The intruder left?” Lord Greystokes asked.

“Yes, he was seen limping off.”

“How did he look?"

“Small figure and dressed in black, carrying a short sword.”

Lord Greystokes did not say anything but watched the group of Waziri leaving through the forest paths. The two ladies were dressed in simple frocks, and their hair was braided; they each held a basket on the top of the head. The men were dressed similarly, but they held the spear in their right hand, and the rungu, an African warfare club, hung from the waist belt.

The Rungu is in length with a long narrow shaft for a handle and heavy knob or ball at the end in the manner of other indigenous cudgels such as the Irish shillelagh.

“Kimbel is a great warrior, Bwana. He will protect the lady.” Thirun saw the concern on the lord then.

“I also have placed four of our warriors at the house, two of the ladies assisting the lady at the house, and two groups of three warriors patrol the boundary. No one will get in unannounced.”

“I trust you, Thirun. Stay strong, my brother.” Lord Greystokes walked back to the house.

Meanwhile, Nayland Smith was standing outside the hotel. The rain had just stopped, but the people were still running for cover. It was not the Astor House at Shanghai, but he was staying there with Fa Loh Shue for a week. She paid the bill then. He felt angry that someone had bombed the hotel chamber. It was also that Doctor Mitsui Ogata was attacked under his watch. He had sent Charlie Song to check on the East Enders for any clues.

“Spare a thought for your soul, son.” The old man with the bent back in the frock and the covered hood stood next to Nayland.

“Please ignore my ignorance, Father. I am spiritual but not of any denomination.” Nayland kept his view on the hotel.

“I am glad, son in law. My daughter held the same belief after she met you. Perhaps love has a way of turning their faith.” Nayland heard the man and looked over.

“Fu…" Nayland was startled.

“Father will suffice.” The old man smiled from beneath the hood. “Please do not react. My men are… murderous when it comes to my safety.”

Nayland saw the three figures standing nearby, burly-looking and holding wicked intentions; God will deny them sanctuary should they act.

“You cannot get away……” Nayland looked at the older man.

“Run away? I am not. I am on a holiday to look for you.” The older man said. “Well, I lied. I was looking for my daughter, but she is away. She used to stay here. She may know I am coming and left.”

“Lo Shue is away. She……" Nayland looked over the old man’s shoulder for any help he could call on.

“Apart means the hope of mine to hold my grandchildren is still not there.” The older man sighed. “However, do try harder. And I am here to tell you that the Oni Society is more than you think.”

“Are you involved in the…" Nayland was to ask.

“Am I in China now? I am an old man here. For Chinatown, I will say Limehouse holds potential, but I will stake my bet on Pitt Street at Liverpool. It is booming.” The older man smiled. “And just for your curiosity, the Japanese may not be dead. He may rise from the ashes like the phoenix.”

“I must…" Nayland hesitated to act then.

“Do not be, my son. I am to go now, and I'll be seeing you. I may go back to China, where my old bones belong.” The older man turned to walk away, and before Nayland could act, he was knocked down by a passing burly man who shouldered him to the sidewalk. Another crouched down and threw the punch to his face. Nayland was knocked out by then and the coat thrown over his face. A cart offering fish and chips rolled up to the fallen man and set up business, thus covering Nayland from the passing traffic.

“Fish and chips here. Get a portion for seven pence. My father is not well today, so spare the younger me a thought.” The lad holding the stall there called in a scouser accent.

 

 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 13

 13.

 

“The professor remains hubristic to his role.” Sherlock, seated in the carriage, fingered his deerstalker hat while his pipe was stashed away in the side pocket of his coat. He was facing Doctor John Watson, and Mycroft was seated there. They were on the way to Lord Greystoke's estate.

“An observation of yours?” Doctor John Watson looked at the man; she had shared some adventures. “You were never……"

“Owning up to the foe I admired. Professor Moriarty is an absolute genius. He commanded a huge empire of villains and scoundrels, including nobles and perhaps royalty.” Sherlock saw the expression on Mycroft, but he continued.

“No one is above the reaches of the Professor, Mycroft. He will stake one’s weakness and capitalize on your weakness.”

“Like in Irene Adler perhaps?” Watson was there to snare the detective into admission.

“Ms. Adler was a worthy adversary, and she acted fast to evade me apprehending her.” Sherlock looked at the companion of his. “I am sure there were other adversaries I failed to apprehend.”

“Baron Gruner, and of course Neville St. Clair, and the KKK group who escaped the gallows.” Watson availed himself of the list.

"Gruner, an illustrious client but also a killer and womanizer, and he deserved his punishment, disfigured, but he is free out there," Sherlock said. “I disliked him.

“Not St. Claire. You let him go when you heard his tale.” Watson reminded Sherlock. He was looking out from the left window.

“Empathy is not a trait of mine, but I will bow to that in this case.” Sherlock looked out of the carriage window on the right.

“Being romantic is not yourself.” Watson took the blade to the main artery there.

“If you are referring to …. Irene Adler, I believed immolation would be the cut I took. I hold no affection towards her except for her intelligence, which outwitted me then. A mere snag in the workings of my mind, but I am prepared for that.”

“Yes, she is out of your reach, and I doubt she will come to your nesting.” Watson smiled.

“Yes, I can concur with that, but may I ask why the narratives are to me on these cases? I am …"

“Do not look at me. I was asleep.” Mycroft looked at the other with the face of the innocence that may baffle the judge or St. Peter at the gates.

“As we have time on our journey, and more to that, these few characters evaded your deductions, and now you have muttered 'Professor Moriarty' to the conversation. I am curious about the reference, like an aneurysm in the brain; a violation of the brain schematics.” Watson looked at the other.

“Aneurysm? What is that?” Mycroft asked

“Brain aneurysms are caused by thinning artery walls. Aneurysms often form at forks or branches in arteries because those areas of the vessels are weaker. Although aneurysms can happen anywhere in the brain, they are most common in arteries at the base of the brain.’ Watson explained in medical terms. “It does require surgical intervention.”

“Oh…… I thought it was a reference to anal and resuming orgasm.” Mycroft smiled.

“I would prefer to reference that to our case, as the Oni Society may be the aneurysm to the echelon of power, and we need to remove it ……. surgically.” Sherlock interjected.

“Ouch! That hurts more than being sodomized.” Mycroft's expression was seditious in expression.

"Lobotomize, you meant.” Watson mimicked the insertion of the long needle up the nose. “Either entry is equally painful.”

“Tell me more the next …." Mycroft was cut off then by Sherlock.

“Surely, you are not bent.”

“No ……. No…… I am intact there. I am a ladies' man, and I do earn their trust. Or rather mine to them.”

“Gentlemen, we are being shadowed.” Watson looked out the window again. “I counted two riders on a parallel course to ours.”

“Another on the other side. I cannot make out the dressing," Sherlock said. “I will say that is a Washiki Bajutsu method rooted in samurai martial arts, focusing on body mechanics, balance, and control of the horse rather than just speed. I have been reading many articles on the warrior class of Japan for the last week.”

“Yes, I supposed. Our riding techniques from the army were a formal, uniform riding style, primarily utilizing a long-rein seat with legs straight or slightly bent to maintain stability for sword combat, particularly among light cavalry and dragoons. Riding with tactics adapted to include reconnaissance and skirmishing alongside traditional shock charges," Watson added. “I do not suppose the errant riders on the roads differ much.”

“I have my Webley to protect us.” Mycroft drew on the revolver from his coat.

“A worthy companion if we ever needed it.” Sherlock looked to the rider.

“I have mine. The RIC, courtesy of a retired officer.” The Webley Royal Irish Constabulary revolver was one of the earliest British breech-loading revolvers. Solid frame revolver, with a round barrel screwed into the frame, and a one-piece wooden grip held by two vertical screws, and holding six bullets.

“It is good for one hundred yards but deadly at twenty-five yards.”

“We may not use it. If I am not mistaken, we are near the military outpost for the area.” Sherlock looked out. “I will estimate that we are about five miles out, and there is a cavalry outpost there, and another three miles to the Greystokes' estate.”

“Mycroft, was the minister under military protection at the country home?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, a detachment of the calvary was posted. I was told they took off with the lady to the Greystokes estate, led by a Lieutenant Gavin McLeod, Household Cavalry."

“Most indeed.” Sherlock sat back. “I will say any attempts on us will be ……"

The driver of the carriage was seen fallen to the left side with an arrow protruding from the chest.

“I say now," Sherlock called out. The twin horses without the driver were galloping fast and, by instinct, remained on the track.

“I say, old chap. Do you know how to stop a runaway carriage?” Mycroft looked at Watson.

“Just as good as I can perform a brain cut on you, which I had yet to perform.” Watson looked outside. “We are coming to a stop.”

The carriage came to a halt, and Sherlock was the first to emerge.

“Konichiwa.” Sherlock looked at the masked three riders. He pulled out a paper from his coat pocket and read the words there. “Nanika otetsudai dekiru koto wa arimasu ka? (How may I assist you?) ”.

“Stay away, Mr. Holmes. We will not want you to be involved in the personal battle of ours.” The leader of the trio said. “The Oni Society take care of their own.”

“I say…" Mycroft had alighted from the carriage and reached for his revolver. The arrow flew past the right side of his face and stuck the carriage side.

“You are warned.” The riders then took off from the carriage.

“Was that…?" Mycroft suffered an indignity to his valor.

“Stutter that, Mycroft. You would be dead if they wanted to kill you.” Watson appeared next to Mycroft. “Sherlock, I will say they are efficient.”

“I can concur. They had trailed us from the unit. And their accent is … East Enders.” Sherlock looked at the arrow. “Similar to but not entirely the same design. I think we are dealing with the Oni Society here.”

“Pardon me.” Mycroft looked at the arrow.

“I was shot at in the chamber, and that arrow had a ring of red on the shaft. This one had none. I read the Oni Society does not mark their arrows.”

“Who shot us then? Or you?” Mycroft asked.

“I do not know. I am to study it.” Sherlock pulled the arrow out from the carriage.

“Anyone called for the cavalry?" Watson motioned to the arriving cavalry troopers approaching them.

“Lieutenant McLeod. Whom may I know of you gentlemen?”

“Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and Doctor John Watson," Sherlock announced.

“Well, sirs. Thank you.” Lieutenant McLeod looked at Sherlock. “All of you are to return to London.”

“Preposterous! I am Mycroft Holmes, an executive officer of the Foreign Office. I demand to know by whom were those orders sent.” Mycroft approached the lieutenant.

“Sir, I got the telegram this morning from the Foreign Office.” Lieutenant McLeod handed the message over. “I was told to meet you on this road. And have you returned to the city?"

Mycroft read the message and then handed it over to Sherlock.

“It is from the office. We are recalled to the city.” Mycroft turned to look at Sherlock. “We are …… What is this? An arrest order for us?”

“Never mind that. May we have one of your men to drive the carriage? And please bring the dead driver too.”

……