*Author's Note: This is the sequel to "The Hidden Adventures: Ana's Story" and while not neccesary, you probably want to read that first!
I am by no means a late riser, but this was quite out of the ordinary. My wife had shaken me awake and with a hurried explanation that Ana was here to see me, bade me dress.
I stumbled down into the parlor where Ana was sitting, her head in her hands, shaking as though crying.
"Ana!" I cried, "What's the matter? Where's Holmes?"
"That's just it!" Ana raised her head. She was not crying, after all, but pale and agitated. Her hair had been pinned up hurriedly, and her dress was wrinkled and unclean. She was wearing one brown boot, one black, and neither were laced, and her hands were bare.
"He didn't come home last night. He was working on some case, so I wasn't too worried. He'd been out all night before. But, but, oh Watson!" Ana was overtaken by a violent shivering fit, and it was only by pouring her a glass of water that I was able to calm her.
Her hands were still shaking as she handed me the morning paper." This isn't in the stands yet," she said, "But one of the irregulars saw it as it was being delivered. Wiggins brought it by this morning and I came right to you!"
The paper had been folder over so that one of the front-page articles caught my attention immediately.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES ARRESTED FOR BANK OF ENGLAND MURDER - Suspect managed to evade police, mystery!"
I gasped and turned to Ana. She twisted her hands together and said, "Read... read!"
I turned my attention back to the paper.
"Last night Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of 221B Baker Street, was apprehended by an unknown civilian. It appears that Mr. Holmes broke into the Bank of England and rifled a safe, emptying it. When stopped by a night guardsman, Holmes stabbed the guard to death and left him lying just outside the safe. A witness on the street raised the alarm and apprehended Holmes single-handed, beating him to semi-consciousness with a walking stick and binding his hands. When the police arrived, Holmes was escorted into a carriage. Yet when the carriage arrived at the jail, it was empty of both guards and Holmes! This mystery has left Scotland Yard in the dark. "We're doing everything we can," said Inspector Lestrade, of the Yard. "I can't believe it was Holmes, though..." he was heard to say under his breath. "
I stopped reading. I had seen enough. I turned in shock to Ana.
"It wasn't him," she snarled. "I know it wasn't! We have to find him!"
"B-but he could be anywhere!" I stammered. "He could be hiding, for all we know, scared of the police!"
"He's not hiding! He's been kidnapped, I know!" Ana stood and slammed a fist into her palm.
"Ana, really dear, you must calm down!"
"No! I won't!" she yelled. "I'm leaving to find him NOW, and you can come with me or not. I'm leaving."
Ana turned and wrenched the door open. I ran after her, and shut the door behind me. I was surprised to see Inspector Lestrade standing there, with cab and two policemen.
"I'm afraid I'll have to take Miss Holmes in for questioning," he said.
I began a stuttering protest, but Ana interrupted. "No, Watson, it's all right." With all the dignity she could muster in her stained and wrinkled dress, she climbed inside the cab. Lestrade followed her, tipped his hat to me, and closed the door.
I watched in astonishment as the cab rolled away, still clutching the horrifying newspaper.
I am by no means a late riser, but this was quite out of the ordinary. My wife had shaken me awake and with a hurried explanation that Ana was here to see me, bade me dress.
I stumbled down into the parlor where Ana was sitting, her head in her hands, shaking as though crying.
"Ana!" I cried, "What's the matter? Where's Holmes?"
"That's just it!" Ana raised her head. She was not crying, after all, but pale and agitated. Her hair had been pinned up hurriedly, and her dress was wrinkled and unclean. She was wearing one brown boot, one black, and neither were laced, and her hands were bare.
"He didn't come home last night. He was working on some case, so I wasn't too worried. He'd been out all night before. But, but, oh Watson!" Ana was overtaken by a violent shivering fit, and it was only by pouring her a glass of water that I was able to calm her.
Her hands were still shaking as she handed me the morning paper." This isn't in the stands yet," she said, "But one of the irregulars saw it as it was being delivered. Wiggins brought it by this morning and I came right to you!"
The paper had been folder over so that one of the front-page articles caught my attention immediately.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES ARRESTED FOR BANK OF ENGLAND MURDER - Suspect managed to evade police, mystery!"
I gasped and turned to Ana. She twisted her hands together and said, "Read... read!"
I turned my attention back to the paper.
"Last night Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of 221B Baker Street, was apprehended by an unknown civilian. It appears that Mr. Holmes broke into the Bank of England and rifled a safe, emptying it. When stopped by a night guardsman, Holmes stabbed the guard to death and left him lying just outside the safe. A witness on the street raised the alarm and apprehended Holmes single-handed, beating him to semi-consciousness with a walking stick and binding his hands. When the police arrived, Holmes was escorted into a carriage. Yet when the carriage arrived at the jail, it was empty of both guards and Holmes! This mystery has left Scotland Yard in the dark. "We're doing everything we can," said Inspector Lestrade, of the Yard. "I can't believe it was Holmes, though..." he was heard to say under his breath. "
I stopped reading. I had seen enough. I turned in shock to Ana.
"It wasn't him," she snarled. "I know it wasn't! We have to find him!"
"B-but he could be anywhere!" I stammered. "He could be hiding, for all we know, scared of the police!"
"He's not hiding! He's been kidnapped, I know!" Ana stood and slammed a fist into her palm.
"Ana, really dear, you must calm down!"
"No! I won't!" she yelled. "I'm leaving to find him NOW, and you can come with me or not. I'm leaving."
Ana turned and wrenched the door open. I ran after her, and shut the door behind me. I was surprised to see Inspector Lestrade standing there, with cab and two policemen.
"I'm afraid I'll have to take Miss Holmes in for questioning," he said.
I began a stuttering protest, but Ana interrupted. "No, Watson, it's all right." With all the dignity she could muster in her stained and wrinkled dress, she climbed inside the cab. Lestrade followed her, tipped his hat to me, and closed the door.
I watched in astonishment as the cab rolled away, still clutching the horrifying newspaper.