A\N: Waring: This ended up, like, 6 pages. LARGE CHAPTER. /A\N
Chapter 2: The Game is Afoot!
It was a few hours before Ms. Waverly came back to the room. Both Roylott and Bessie were asleep; Bessie still clung to Roylott for her life and Roylott's arm was draped lazily around her shoulder. His head drooped down to his chest and a small smile graced his features.
Ms. Waverly had to leave the room for a minute to control her giggles,
After a moment, Ms. Waverly had enough control on her laughter to go back in and gently shake Roylott awake. He stirred and gave the elder housekeeper a sleepy glare.
"What is it?" He said, half yawning in the process. He didn't move to get up, neither did he move his arm; he did not want to wake Bessie. Goodness knows she needed the sleep.
"It's Dr. Watson and a Sherlock Holmes, sir. They want to speak with both of you about… Julia's death. They say it's imperative that both of you come." Ms. Waverly made to wake Bessie but was stopped by Roylott's hand.
"Go tell them we'll be along." He snarled softly through gritted teeth. Ms. Waverly gave him a short nod and left as fast as she could.
"Bessie." Roylott shook the limp girl slightly, his voice holding the softness that he only used when talking to his stepdaughters. Bessie muttered something and buried her head further into her make-shift pillow, i.e. Roylott's shirt.
"Bessie." He was harsher, that time, and a little more frustrated with the girl. He shook her shoulder again, harder. In response, Bessie muttered something louder and promptly fell back to sleep. Roylott was furious.
"Bessie, wake UP!" He snarled, rolling her off the couch and onto the floor. She looked up at him from the floor with a sour face. Her arms were stretched above her head and her knees were bent up and together, making her dress fall back to her waist; enough to see she wasn't wearing any bloomers and that her panties showed. Roylott stared at her form on the floor for a second, his snarl fading into a softer frown, and then into and almost embarrassed expression. Bessie sat up on her hands with a half-hearted scowl.
"What? Did you want something or are you just going to stare for a while longer?" Bessie grinned. Roylott started to turn a bright red and suddenly looked away.
"W-We have guests to tend to." He managed finally, flustered beyond belief. Bessie cocked her head to the side, an almost animalistic smile on her face.
Like heck if she'd let him live through this unscathed.
"Guests can wait. You still have a good minute of ogling me before I get angry, you know." Bessie absently twirled a finger around a loose strand of her blonde hair, still smiling. Roylott turned to snap something at her, but his retort got stuck in his throat once he glimpsed the bloomer-less girl on the floor.
"Bessie…" Roylott glanced away for a second, scratching at his nose in thought. "W-Why aren't you wearing any bloomers…?" He glanced back at her and the grin on her face almost made him wish he never said that.
"I have my reasons. Like the fact that I don't own any." Bessie shrugged. "Besides, poofy dresses make it hard to work. And panties make you turn twice as red." Roylott half-growled, face red as a beat. He took a step toward the girl and picked her up by the back of her dress, planting the teen on her feet and then giving her a rough shove toward the door.
"Out! To the sitting room, Bessie. I have… something to take care of." He started with a snarl, but his voice wavered and almost betrayed him. He slammed the door before Bessie could say anything. She huffed and crossed her arms, peeved.
"Well, that was fun while it lasted."
MEANWHILE
"So, it's true then. Dr. Grimsby Roylott is far from dead. Drat. I actually thought we had ended that." Dr. John Watson sulked, absently sipping at the tea Ms. Waverly brought him and his fellow. Sherlock Holmes nodded silently from his seat on the other side of the hearth.
"Yes. I should have known that a man as smart as Dr. Roylott would have procured some form for 'anti-venom', for emergencies, of course. It's hard to understand, though, how he procured said medicine and why it worked so well. All other the other tests I've heard of or even tried myself have failed quite miserably. And yet, his worked well enough for him to get away with nothing in the field of side affects. It's just…" Holmes scowled softly and ran a finger lightly around the rim of his cup.
"Something troubling you, Holmes?" Watson asked, worried for the mental sanity the man had left.
"It's… nothing. I'm just being rather envious of the man. He has done what many people have sought to do and all he does with it is save himself and kill others. It's sickening, to a point."
"Holmes…" Watson wanted to get off that subject for the moment. "Did you ever think that Bessie would be smart enough to locate and use it?"
"Yes, that gives me another reason to fret. What if we completely underestimated her? She could have thought of something to get Roylott off the gallows and make us look like fools in the process. Watson, what if she actually tricks the court of law into believing in Roylott's innocence!?" Holmes almost dropped his cup in his panicked realization.
"Oh dash it, Holmes!" Watson stood and set his cup upon the mantle. "She's only 15 years of age! Yes, she may have saved the life of a madman, and I wouldn't put it past her to try and think of something, but Holmes, think logically! She's still only a child! She can't be that smart!"
"You're right, my dear friend. I have no reason to fret! She's only 15!" He let out a nervous chuckled, like he didn't even believe himself when he said that. But he did have some condolence from those words; a 15 year old child could not out-smart the greatest mind in London, right? "What was I thinking? A 15 year old girl, ha! Such a thought. It must be this tea or something. Yes, that's it. That old broad spiked my tea." He muttered softly to himself.
Suddenly, Bessie burst into the room, red faced and rather annoyed looking. Roylott followed after, also quiet red faced and disheveled. He was apparently in mid-rant.
"You are just a half-witted child, Bessie! You won't win an argument against anyone, let alone the 'greatest detectives in London'!" He shouted, forcing both Holmes and Watson to cover their ears.
"I can too win! I won't outsmart him, for sure, but I can outwit him! I'm smarter than I appear!" Bessie shouted back. A few seconds passed, Bessie panting and Roylott thinking of a comeback.
"Excuse me, do you mind turning your volume down a tad? Any more of this and my eardrums may begin to bleed." Watson commented, before Roylott could answer to Bessie's comment. "There is no need for yelling. Can't you just talk it over?"
"Talk it over?" Roylott half snarled, letting out a bark of a laugh. "We tried that. But she insists on taking my life into her own dim-witted hands!"
"I saved your bloody life once, and I can save it again. Why don't you trust me?" Bessie huffed, nearly to tears. "I'm not dim-witted, either. I've survived with you for 15 years, and to do that you'd either have to be smart and careful or a madman yourself."
"You shut up, you stupid brat! I don't have time for this!" Roylott snarled, lost in a sudden fit of rage. The 'stupid brat' comment seemed to hit a nerve in Bessie, and one tear made it's way past her ever resolute defenses and ran down her face. She couldn't come up with a sufficient retort, however, and instead sat down in one of the hearth chairs, trying desperately to control her own sobbing.
"Oh, now look what you've done. You've made the girl cry." Watson snapped, walking over to Bessie and placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. Roylott was about to snarl something nasty at Watson when he just as suddenly snapped back out of his fit of rage. Taking note of Bessie, his face turned to one of utter horror and almost hurt. He took a step closer, planning on comforting the sobbing girl, but Holmes stopped him.
"I'd rather you sit over there, sir, until the discussion is over. You've caused enough trouble as it is." Holmes was curt with his words, and almost angry. He wasn't going to stand for any more fighting. Roylott did as he was told, though reluctantly.
"What do you want?" Roylott snarled softly. He never took orders for anyone, save a few people close to him, and this fellow called 'Sherlock Holmes' was getting on his nerves.
"You murdered your stepdaughter, Julia, and that gypsy female Morgana. We can prove it." Holmes stated, giving Roylott a glare. Bessie's head shot up and she stared at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, her expression changed from one of shock to one of anger.
"He did not! Julia's death was an accident and anyone could have murdered that Morgana person. Gypsies murder there own kind, half the time. You can't place the blame solely on Roylott, passage way or not! What proof do you have that Roylott did it?" She stood, hand clenched. Roylott sighed and looked away; his life was in her hands now and he couldn't do anything about it but wait for the death sentence. He wanted this over with, and soon; if he was to die he had things to do, people to rip off, and a girl's future to ensure. Plus he had to take care of Helen's financial future regarding his late wife's will.
"The bed was nailed to the floor so it could be close to the open vent that led from Julia's old room to Dr. Roylott's. The killer could enter from Dr. Roylott's room and slither down the false bell cord. Roylott was the mastermind behind the killer. It might slither down the bell cord every night for a week, and the victim would escape. But sooner or later it would strike. The medical examiner would not look for tiny bites left by poison fangs. The particular poison is not easily detected. The whistle Julia spoke of was Roylott's way of having the killer return to its nest. I believe that would be the metal safe in Roylott's room. The milk was probably used as a reward. It was a snake, a swamp adder, one of the deadliest reptiles in India. The Speckled Band Julia referred to was the speckled skin of the snake." Holmes stated all this with his usual air of supremacy, all the while pacing back and forth and casting a smirk or two Roylott's way. He was certain that nothing could explain away everything he had against the man.
"You have quite a lot of 'what ifs' and 'could haves' in that, Mr. Holmes. Does this mean you guessed through most of your deduction?" Bessie countered. It was a second before Holmes could think of a response. No one had ever questioned his lack of solid evidence.
"Educated guesses miss. Based on the solid evidence I found I made educated guesses. I have never been wrong before, mind you." Holmes almost snapped at Bessie, which only made her smirk.
"And is it true you purchased an illegal animal which you then sold to Dr. Roylott?" Bessie asked, almost malicious in the way she was grinning. She had him standing on a rug in the corner and she knew how to yank said rug out form under his feet, with a little help.
"Y-Yes, I did, but it was only to gain Roylott's trust. Do you have any more questions, Miss? I have told you everything I would tell the court, if it came to that, and I expect you to do the same." Holmes was startled by the irrelevance of Bessie's question.
"Alright then, Mr. Holmes. I will." Bessie cleared her throat once and heaved a sigh. This was going to take a bit.
"I do not deny that Dr. Roylott owned a snake from India. But what does it matter? He also owned a cheetah, a baboon, a pair of pygmy hogs, and more recently, an orangutan. Such exotic animals are common on the grounds of Stoke Moran. The circumstances of the bed being nailed to the floor and the false bell cord are simple: The rooms next door were being worked on, and if they banged too hard on the walls the bed would have started to move of it own accord and the bell cord would ring of its own free will. This would be irritating to the person sleeping in the room, so the builders nailed the bed to the floor and replaced the bell cord. It was all temporary, I assure you, and it was done for the comfort of Julia, and then afterwards, Miss Helen." Bessie drew in a long breathe, winded for so much talking without a break. Roylott stared; he was beginning to believe that dim-wit could pull it off. Take away all the solid evidence Holmes had and the guesses are all that's left.
"The death of Roylott's stepdaughter, whom he loved dearly, was an accident. He kept the snake locked in his safe so his step daughters would not be frightened. He had owned the cheetah for a long time so the girls were accustomed to it, but a snake was a different matter. Just knowing it was there made me shake, even though my chambers are a few floors down and well away from the snake. Somehow, the snake figured a way out of the safe and slithered into the room next door. Roylott noticed this and had whistled for the snake to return. Surprising though it was, the snake came to the call and Roylott offered it his nightly milk for doing so. He was relieved the next morning when everything seemed normal, and after that was not terribly worried if he awoke and the snake was gone. Then, one night, the snake bit Julia when she was sleeping. It must have been out of self defense, for a girl Julia's size was too large to make a meal out of and Roylott kept the snake well fed. And the night you saw the snake, it would not return to Roylott's whistle and he made to fetch it himself." Bessie stopped, satisfied with her explanation.
"But when he emerged into the sitting room, he was holding the snake out toward Helen." Holmes said, though his usual sense of confidence was not behind it.
"He was trying to tell her that he had been bitten. I saw him in the hall as well, and he shook the snake at me once before limping into this room. He was trying to let someone know that he had been bitten and they needed to fetch the anti-venom he had procured so he could have some chance of life left. He wouldn't test an experimental substance on his stepdaughter, though I know he wanted to." Bessie seemed to enjoy watching Holmes' face go from irritated red to horrified pale during her speech. Roylott seemed amused as well; Bessie had more that a chance, she was well on her way to being the only one in London to out-smart Sherlock Holmes. Ok, not out-smart, but at least out-clever him.
"Look, Holmes. You're smart enough to know that Roylott would do something like this I he tried hard enough. I don't expect you to believe any of this. But my explanation is real sounding enough to make the judge think twice. I explained away all of your 'solid evidence' which make this into a game of 'he said, she said'. And who do you think they would believe? An innocent 15 year old girl who 'never told a lie in her life', or a London detective, who bought an illegal animal and sold it to the 'murderer'?" Bessie smirked at the pale of Holmes face. Watson knew what the poor man was thinking; he had just been duped by a 15 year old girl.
"So, we can't take it into court, since you'll win and I'll look like an idiot. This means we can't charge Roylott with either of the murders. He's a free man." Holmes had regained his composure and looked incredible hurt by this fact. Roylott was so happy he was grinning for ear to ear, and Bessie was just glad she hadn't slipped up in any way. After a few moments of silence, Holmes sighed and his face brightened.
"You are a smart young girl, Bessie. Do you think you would do me the honor of joining myself and Watson on our next case? We would pay you handsomely. £500 upfront, just for coming along, and then another £500 after the case is completed, minus any damage fees and whatnot." Holmes seemed eager to have her come along.
"I don't know, Mr. Holmes. I have a madman to take care of, and I can't leave Ms. Waverly here by herself." Bessie was reluctant, to say the least. "Tough having that kind of money handy would certainly help…"
"I'll double the offer if you decided to show up. Come to 221 B Baker Street if you want." Holmes's smile faded from his face slightly. "Come along, Watson. We have no time to waste." Holmes headed out the door quickly, followed by Watson.
"I call the police off now, Miss. Sorry for the trouble and all." Watson gave her a curt nod and left. The silence was thick but joyful after they left. Suddenly, Roylott stood up and walked over to Bessie.
"I owe you for that, Miss Bessie." He teased her with that title, though he'd never use it in anything serious. "Once again you saved my life. And now…" Roylott stopped, startled by a strange pain in his chest. It throbbed down his arm and up towards his chin, and then made his chest feel like it was on fire.
"Bessie, go prepare my room for me, will you?" Roylott asked quickly, talking through a wince. Bessie nodded and ran to fix Roylott's room for him. Roylott himself turn toward the nearest bathroom and ran towards it, making the pain in his chest swell to unbearable heights. He grabbed an unmarked bottle from the medicine cabinet and fell to his knees, short of breath and was sweating profusely. He dry-swallowed one of the mystery pills and fell to the floor, panting. His chest pain subsided slowly and soon his breathing returned to normal. He felt numb in the arms and neck and wasn't sure if he was going to be able to right himself.
"Roylott?!" The horror in Bessie's voice made Roylott strain to look up at her from his position on the floor. She was on her knees by him in a matter of moments. "What happened?!"
"It was… side effects of the… anti-venom." Roylott managed through the pain in his jaw. "Just a… heart-attack. I'll be fine… if you'd help me… to my room." He spoke softly, which worried Bessie. The Doctor was always rather loud when he spoke, it was his nature to be. Bessie helped Roylott to his feet and let him lean on her as they walked to his room. Once inside, Roylott removed his bloody shirt and flung it across the room, and then laid down on the bed. He was asleep within minutes. Bessie watched him sleep for a moment longer, before heading to her own chambers.
She removed her dress and apron, changing her under garments from her normal white undershirt and panties to her work cloths: the top of an old dress without the sleeves and the skirt of said dress that was made into a pair of tight fitting, barely ankle length pants. She slipped her dress back over that and tied a light blue sash to hold the middle in place. She donned a small cloak and headed for the door. She stuck a note to Roylott's door before she left.
"Dear Dr. Roylott,
I have decided to take Mr. Holmes up on his offer. I won't stay long, so please do not worry about me. I'm going to give you my earning, to help with repairs on Stoke Moran. I don't need the money.
Love, Bessie.
PS: Hope you feel better soon!"
The doorbell rang at 221 B Baker Street, and Ms. Hudson answered it promptly.
Holmes heard the bell from his room and looked up from his paper expectantly. Watson sighed at his friend eager expression.
"Holmes, she won't come. She cares too deeply for the Doctor." Watson spoke curtly to his friend, but Holmes only turned to smile at the other man.
"That's the exact reason I expect her to come. That kind of money would be essential to Stoke Moran now that Helen's to be married and Julia's gone." Holmes countered lightly, making Watson think things over. He didn't have time, however, for Ms. Hudson opened the door and let the short stranger in black into the room. Bessie lowered her hood and shook her hair free, making Holmes grin ever more at the fact that he wa right.
"I'm here to take the offer. You said you'd double it, correct?"