4
Watson leaned on the leather seat on the train coach. He preferred the
train to the uncomfortable carriage ride, although the latter will be more
private. He did not book the whole cabin, but the late trip was more for the
solitary passenger.
That was not the case that night.
Watson looked up from the evening papers to see the other passenger who
had joined him at the cabin. It was a lady who was dressed in the dark suit
with the skirt reaching below her knees, and her legs were covered with the
dark leggings and flat shoes. She had won a heart with the dark veil that hid
her upper face. He moved his body to look outside the window. It was a gesture
of displaying his need to be private. The ride was to take two hours, and a
late hour with hypnotic movement on the tracks will make any passenger doze
off.
Watson was not in his prime, but his instinct kicked in.
The dagger was aimed at the throat, but Watson had moved his bowler from
the forehead to intercept it. The hard material of the bowler held by both his
hands stuck the dagger within inches of the flesh. He moved his left shoulder
to move the dagger in the bowler hat to the side. He then used his body
strength to move the thrust there, and with his right shoulder, he used his
body to push the attacker off.
The next blow came at Watson on the left side of the head. It was a hard
chop with the right hand of the attacker, striking the head. His survival
instinct kicked in, and his left knee came up to hit the attacker. That blow
knocked the attacker back, and Watson moved his body to clear the seat. He fell
on his knees and crouched to see the attacker was standing in front. The
attacker was the lady, and she was poised to attack with her fighting stance.
She went with her front kick at Watson.
Watson rolled to the left and grabbed the leg to topple the attacker. He
pushed her towards the window and slammed her hard on it. The windowpane did
not break, but there were signs of cracks. It was then Watson got up to his
feet and faced the attacker. She had recovered and turned to face Watson. It
was then he saw the face of the lady with the veil off.
The lady was Oriental, and there was a wound on her left cheek.
“I can assure you, Madam. We can talk if I have hurt you in any way.”
Watson voiced out.
The lady pulled out a set of daggers from the pocket of the dress she
had on.
“Seriously?” Watson had seen his share of assassins, and ladies were no
exception. It was soon to be described as the tanto; the katana blade was
double-edged with short length. It was designed as a stabbing weapon, but the
edge can be used for slashing. The one carried by the lady was a smaller tanto
called the kaiken. The dagger was used in self-defense where the long katana
blade was inconvenient.
“Lady, I don’t know what your intention is, but I am not keen to be
killed today.” Watson had since removed the dagger from his hat and looked at
the lady. The lady pushed on the attack, and Watson was ready for it. She
lunged with the right-handed dagger, and Watson had anticipated the move. He
stepped aside, and his right hand went down in the hard chop. The blow knocked
the dagger off, but the lady had her left dagger aimed at Watson. The
double-sharp-edged katana blade cut into Watson’s right shoulder. It was a nick
on the suit, for the train had turned the corner and imbalanced the attacker.
Watson snapped out with his right elbow into the attacker’s chest;
courtesy was not in the move. His knee impacted the lady’s chest and threw her
back. He followed on with the fist into the throat of the attacker. He held
back his punch on contact. It would have killed her, and his diversion of the
fist went for the jaw. The attacker fell backward, dropping the dagger, but she
also lashed out with a low kick at Watson's left knee. It bucked him off balance.
Watson went down on the kick, but the lady had recovered earlier and
rushed at him. He saw her coming, and she landed on his back and went for him
with punches into his waist from the rear. He intensely pushed her up over his
back and slammed her once more on the window. That push was more forceful and
shattered the window glass.
Watson pushed himself forward into a crouched position and then turned
to look at the lady. She had landed awkwardly on the windowsill, and the shards
of the window glass pierced her chest. She pushed herself to get up and then
faced Watson, who had stood up then. She was bleeding at the upper chest and
the throat, but her killer instinct was still there. She lurched at Watson
weakly but fell short to land on the flooring.
Watson carried the lady to the seat and tried to treat the wounds then,
but it was too late.
“I am telling you, Sergeant. I tried to help her, but the wounds were
deep, and it was late night.” Watson sat at the desk at the local station at
his train stop. He had tried to get the train stopped, but they had reached the
last stop. The local constabulary was called to the scene, and the doctor had
to endure the hours of questioning.
“Call Scotland Yard and ask for Sherlock Holmes, please. He may unravel
this for me.” It was a simple request, but the other was busy that night too.
Soon after the tray of tea was cleared by the housekeeper, alongside
that was Mycroft.
“Shelly, look, I was on the grump today. I was dragged out of my comfort
zone to ……"
“Comfort zone, Mycroft. Surely, your morning tea with the lady that had
ravished you the evening before was ……"
“Hold that tone, Shelly. She could hear us.” Mycroft proceeded to the
door to check if the housekeeper was listening in. “I can assure you that my
sojourn of pleasure was……. May I say, over by morning? I was to … be rested,
and then the message came for me to meet the minister and the foreign
dignitary.”
“It is your task, Mycroft.” Shelly took hold of his violin again. Watson
once said that Sherlock's use of the violin reflects his intimacy with the
instrument, which could be described as a sensual experience that mirrors human
intimacy through touch and sound. “Do not play that infernal toll on me
now.” Mycroft glared at Sherlock. “I am here for two reasons. One was my lack
of empathy to forgive you as my brother who appeared in the meeting unannounced
to me. I am the head of the section, or at the least the senior operative, and
there you were, seated there expressionless, and not even a greeting from you.”
“I was invited by the prime minister. Or rather the office of the PM. And
the other issue?” Sherlock placed the violin between his knees. “And I was
curious as treasury was not my expertise.”
“Two, after you left, the minister took off to his office and was then
murdered by a …. An antique weapon… God, who shoots an arrow nowadays?"
Mycroft sank his head onto his lap.
“Hunters do. In fact, many others still do, for guns are noisy and
sometimes rare to get hold of." Sherlock made the point of deduction.
“I presumed like your violin. And extension of your……" Mycroft
motioned to the toll between the knees of his brother.
“An unfounded assumption. You must have had a bad night with whoever
that was with you.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft. “Performance at times is…. Can
be distracted by many factors like……"
“Oh, spare me your deductions, Shelly. As it stands, I hold more
deductions than you. Yours could be overflowing through your nose, as we
speak.”
“A wrongful deduction. My nasal passages are fine. Even the pollen
brought over by Watson from the countryside did not inflict any allergies on
me.” Sherlock instantly brushed his nose.
“Okay …… I am here to say I am sorry, and your assistance is needed. Soon
after you left alongside the Minister, Doctor Mitsui Ogata felt that your …….
Elementary skills will be of use.”
“And why are we waiting for?” Sherlock got up from his seat. “I will get
ready.”
“And Mycroft, be a nicer chap. Offer Lestrade the use of the
privy.”
No comments:
Post a Comment