221B BAKER STREET – 24 HOURS EARLIER
Doctor John Watson, formally of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers made his way up the stairs of the residence he had once shared with his friend, Sherlock Holmes.
He hadn't heard from the detective for over a week and that had him worried. If Sherlock were to become bored there was a danger that he would succumb to the temptation offered by whatever drug of choice was at his disposal.
Granted the last time he had done so had been for a case, though those closest to him had been sceptical that it had been the only reason he had chosen to do so. A smile played upon the doctor's lips as he recalled what had happened when Sherlock's drug use was confirmed by a positive result from a urine test performed by St Bart's pathologist, Molly Hooper.
John's smile widened as he remembered Molly's reaction that had taken everyone by surprise, especially Sherlock. Normally so quiet and shy, she had slapped the unrepentant detective not once, but three times.
The professional in John sincerely hoped that it would not be necessary again, but his evil twin was more than happy to be witness to a repeat performance.
"Ah John, excellent timing." Sherlock said, clearly pleased to see his friend. He was sitting in his usual chair, while seated on the sofa was a man who looked very uncomfortable.
Sherlock turned to his client. "This is my friend and colleague Doctor John Watson. I'm sure you're aware of his rather imaginative blog detailing our little adventures."
"Hello," John said as he walked over to shake the man's hand.
"This is Jabez Wilson," Sherlock stated by way of introduction. "He works for Mycroft."
"You have my sympathies," John responded as he took his seat.
Sherlock continued. "My brother may claim to be merely a minor government official, but Mr Wilson here actually is one."
Jabez Wilson if possible looked even more uncomfortable, but he kept his tongue, clearly used to the ways of the Holmes brothers.
When no further explanation was forthcoming John took the opportunity to observe their new client.
Jabez Wilson was in his mid to late twenties. He was a small man, around five foot four inches, and although not obese, it was clear that if he didn't do something to improve his health soon that was the direction he was headed. As it was he had clearly found climbing the stairs to Sherlock's flat quite an effort, if the colour of his cheeks were anything to go by. His most striking feature that was impossible to miss was his mass of fiery red hair.
Sherlock saw everything that John did, but he had also noted that Jabez wanted to be seen as someone who was important and going places, hence his decision to take an administrative position in the British Government. But Sherlock also saw that he lacked the drive and initiative to advance himself into the areas that would make him the man he aspired to be. He was also of a nervous disposition, especially when Mycroft's name was mentioned.
It was this that intrigued Sherlock the most. It was clear that something had happened recently, some rash decision or an error in judgement that has forced Jabez Wilson to engage the services of his employer's younger brother.
Time to find out what was going on.
"Now Mr Wilson," Sherlock began. "What brings you here today?"
Jabez took a deep breath and began. "As you know I work…"
Sherlock raised a hand to interrupt him, sighing impatiently. "Don't waste my time and yours by giving me details that I can easily discover simply by asking my brother."
Jabez's florid cheeks went from pink to ashen grey in an instant.
"Tell me the details," Sherlock continued calmly, "about what happened. What has you worried you'll lose your job?"
Jabez started again. "Two weeks ago I was doing some errands for Mr Holmes when I bumped into Vincent Spaulding, a clerk who has recently started working for the department. We got into conversation…" he paused, looking more than a little sheepish.
Sherlock raised an enquiring eyebrow, but said nothing.
The government employee finally rattled off as quickly as possible. "We let off some steam concerning out respective over demanding bosses."
Upon receiving no rebuke for his disrespectful comments concerning the detective's brother, Jabez felt confident enough to continue.
"Our conversation then took a different turn."
"I wish to God that I had red hair like yours," Vincent says out of the blue.
"Why's that?" I ask.
"Why?" says he. "Because then I could become a member of The Red Headed League."
"The what?" says I.
He looked at me in amazement. "How is it possible that you don't know of it? With hair like yours I'm certain you would be the envy of the League."
I was of course by now most intrigued. "Tell me about it," says I. And so he did.
"Please enlighten us," Sherlock requested.
"According to Vincent Spaulding, The Red Headed League was founded by Ezekiah Hopkins one hundred years ago. Ezekiah was a government clerk and wished to set up a place for minor government employees. It was a place where they could let off steam about their employers without fear of it getting back to them. And as he was red-headed and had quite a temper that was forever getting him into trouble because he would not hold his tongue, he decided that members of the group should have red hair only."
"Interesting," Sherlock noted. "So what happens at the league for red headed gentlemen?"
"It was apparently based on The Diogenes Club, the main difference of course is that silence is frowned upon."
"So basically it's a place where disgruntled government employees with red hair go to bitch and moan about their bosses," John clarified.
Jabez nodded.
"I need one of those."
"That's why you have Mary," Sherlock retorted.
The friend's banter ended when they noted how downcast their client had suddenly become.
"Something changed," Sherlock stated.
Again Jabez nodded. "It was a great place to relax and unwind. I fully admit to my everlasting shame that I mocked my employer mercilessly, saying ridiculous things like how he wasn't as clever as he made himself appear, that he was in fact extremely insecure and would do anything to get people to like him."
"So, basically describing yourself," Sherlock noted a dangerous edge in his tone.
It didn't go unnoticed.
"Yes," Jabez replied quietly.
"As my brother is also red-headed, I assume they were interested in recruiting him as a member."
Jabez swallowed nervously. "Not only that, but they became very insistent about seeing some documents in his possession."
Sherlock leaned forward, looking intently into his client's eyes.
"They wanted to see compromising documents, concerning the British Government backing certain organizations that have turned out to have affiliations with certain terrorist groups…"
Sherlock leaned back and smiled. "Clever," he murmured.
And then.
"Tell me more about Victor Spaulding."
Confused by the change in direction, Jabez queried. "What?"
"Describe Victor Spaulding to me."
"Short, thick-set, but agile."
"And his features?"
"Clean-shaven. He's older than I am, but appears younger. And he has a nasty scar on his forehead."
"Any piercings?"
Jabez thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, in both ears," he replied.
Sherlock leapt to his feet, assisted Jabez up off the sofa and ushered him to the door. "Go home Mr Wilson. I assure you I will have the situation sorted within 24 hours."
Jabez Wilson looked immensely relieved. "Thank you Mr Holmes, I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"Don't thank me yet," Sherlock began.
Jabez was already making his way down the stairs and didn't hear Sherlock continue. "You don't know what I have in mind."
"So you really think you can get this wrapped up that quickly?" John asked.
"I know I can," Sherlock responded confidently. "I need to go to Bart's to see Molly about something. If you and Mary could meet me back here this time tomorrow I should have everything organised."
Once John had left Sherlock got out his mobile and began typing.
What game are you playing now? – SH
A moment later he received a reply.
Who says I'm playing?
"Damn!" he fumed.
Pocketing his mobile he reached for his Belstaff and headed outside to hail a taxi.