A/N: I've really wanted to get this story off the ground, but school and sports seem to be conspiring against me. Ah, but here is the weekend (I've got Friday off!).
Also- a kind reviewer pointed out to me that Holmes guessed in the first chapter. That's not quite right, eh? Well, it's fixed now. Sorry for that canonical inaccuracy.
Watson
Mary was asleep when I returned home, and I was not far from myself. I slept like a stone throughout the night and awoke much refreshed. My medicinal duties proved to be perfectly normal, and a bit boring despite the surprisingly steady trickle of patients. I found my profession to be tediously dull when Holmes had a case. I waited impatiently for him to call again with news.
His knock finally came later that night, just as Mary and I were finishing our dinner. He entered awkwardly and politely refused my wife's offer of dinner. Amazing how that masterful manner could be so reduced when Mary was present. He blew a sigh of relief when she left, smiling at me on the way out.
I turned to Holmes, eager for an update on his findings.
"What news of the case?" I asked.
He ignored my question and examined a painting hanging on his right. Just as quick as it had vanished with Mary's presence, the masterful manner had returned with Mary's absence. "Are you up to a little excursion, my dear fellow?" Holmes asked.
"Of course. When should I be ready?"
Holmes twitched a smile. "Good man. I think it will do best if we leave as soon as possible."
I retrieved my overcoat and hat from the stand, and on Holmes' request, my revolver from the drawer, and we made towards the door. Mary intercepted us on our way out.
Holmes had apparently regained his confidence, and loudly addressed her.
"You will not mind if I borrow your husband for yet another night, Mrs. Watson?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Holmes," she smiled, her eyes twinkling.
Mary pecked me on the cheek, at which point Holmes decided to be intensely interested in the wallpaper across the hall, and we left.
Holmes was possessed with the fervent energy that always arose when he was in the midst of a case. He began to explain, leaving the questions unbidden on my lips.
"Not long ago, Watson, I believe you said you did not mind breaking the law if it was in good cause. Do you still hold fast to that belief?"
"If you think the cause is just I should be glad to help"
"It is a just cause indeed. It may well prevent the indirect murder of several Londoners. I might add that it is also not such a deplorable crime that we will be committing. We are only taking a peek at the inner workings of the Miramaw Spice Company. We shall probably not have to steal anything, so your conscience can rest easy, Watson. I think it will be a rather quiet visit."
"What are you hoping to find?"
"Evidence. We need proof that Dewar has been poisoning the spices to properly accuse him. I doubt we shall meet much opposition in our endeavor. Guards are an unlikely precaution, and it is a rare fellow who will hang about a spice factory in the middle of the night."
It did not seem like I would have reason to use my revolver tonight, but nevertheless I kept my coat pocket unbuttoned.
We had taken a hansom to the docks, near the place where we had been last night. Holmes insisted on walking from here to the factory in case we should be spotted.
I saw no one along the way, and the factory looked equally deserted when we reached it. Holmes made short work of the lock, or what was left of the lock after the rust had eaten into it. We entered stealthily, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. I could see no one here, as Holmes had said, but I scanned the room warily all the same.
There was much for us to hide behind should the occasion arise. The room was large, with a high ceiling not unlike a warehouse. Pipes running all around the room connected huge tanks of presumably, spices. Above us, I could see a lattice of metal walkways and ladders. I noted that they were in deplorably bad repair- they were as rusty as the lock and looked unsteady.
Holmes examined the tanks minutely while I kept a look out. He climbed up one of the metal ladders to get a better view of the tank, and I followed. Holmes scrambled over the top and stood upon the walkway. I was about to do the same when a shot rang out from somewhere below us, and a bullet ricocheted off the ladder rung, not six inches from my hand.
I wasted no time in hauling myself up on the walkway, and it was lucky I did, for another shot hit the ladder the moment I had. Holmes had my arm in an instant and dragged me across the walkway, which protested loudly at all the strain being put on it.
"Nothing hit you, Watson?" He asked, his hands grasping my shoulders.
I shook my head, and he let out a breath. Our relief was abruptly cut short, however, when another bullet blasted straight through a weak spot in the metal, leaving a gaping hole in the walkway.
We scrambled away from the gunshot, and I quickly pulled the revolver from my pocket. I poked my head over the walkway, hoping to get a glimpse of our attacker, only to have another bullet strike the railing next to me. I could not get a shot off without being peppered with bullets. I looked towards Holmes, who motioned for me to follow him. He crouched and ran along the walkway, stopping some ways ahead.
I finally had a chance to view the shooter- a large, clean-shaven man. Much more about his appearance I could not see, except that he was wearing a dark coat and hat.
I rolled over to face Holmes and make sure he had not been hit with an awry shot. He lay flat against the walkway, but bared no marks of harm. Perhaps if I tried a shot from the other side, I could catch the villian off guard-
My thoughts were cut off suddenly as another bullet struck the walkway. The joint screeched and groaned, and my eyes locked with Holmes' for an instant before the metal gave way. I latched onto the railing, but the strip tipped backwards and hung vertically. I could see Holmes on the other side, doing the same thing. The whole section seemed to be hanging by fiercely wobbling screw. Our attacker ran towards the hanging strip of metal to get a better view. He could easily pick us off the railings when he got there.
My stomach seemed to leap into my throat as the walkway gave another horrible screech. The screw popped loose, and all too quickly we were falling through open space.
A/N: 'Tis short- but I wanted to get this up. Now go on, try out that shiny new review button at the bottom of the page- I know you want to.
