The Adventure of the Curse of Two
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes; that honour is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's estate--well, some of it's pretty free-domain, but whatever. XD
KS: Welcome to the fourth chapter of The Adventure of the Curse of Two. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far enough to continue reading! I would have had this posted yesterday, but as many of you probably know, yesterday (2-5-08) tornadoes ripped through the Southeastern U.S., causing major devastation. I live very close to a place that sustained quite a lot of damage, so I was up and nervous, watching and waiting, most of yesterday. If you're a praying person, pray for the families who lost their homes and loved ones.
"This goes deep, indeed, Watson." He looked at it for a second more, and replaced it in the bed, putting it back in with the point downwards. He then took the bedclothes and remade the bed, making them exactly as they had been.
He stepped toward the door and motioned me to follow. We stepped out, and Stanley Hopkins was still out there, along with the Chatterton brothers.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of it?" Hopkins asked.
"Did you see the footprints on the floor?" my friend asked in response.
"I did, Mr. Holmes, but they're rather vague. I should think they're from the same pair of boots that caused the footprints outside at the kennel."
"Quite so," said Holmes. "Well, Mr. Chatterton, I think I've seen enough. It is a dark, difficult problem, and I shall have to think about it. For now, I think it would be best if my friend Watson and I found a hotel to retire to to-night."
"Oh, no, Mr. Holmes," said Charles, "You and the doctor may stay here if you like."
"No, I believe it would be best if I were absent from the scene of action for a few hours." My friend replied casually.
"Well, we hope you get to the bottom of this soon," young William said. "I'm beginning to fear for my skin more than what's natural, and not knowing what the cause of all of this is certainly does not help."
The two brothers led us and the Scotland Yard inspector back to the front door of the house. Along the way we passed a side door.
"Where does that door lead?" My friend asked.
"That is the side entrance to the servants' chambers. It goes outside." William replied.
As we passed it, my friend looked at it with great concentration, and I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind.
We had made our way to a hotel not too far away from the Chatterton's home and acquired a small, two-bedded room. Holmes quickly stripped down to his shirt and trousers, changed into his blue dressing-gown, and sat down upon his bed, cross-legged like a Turk. He looked thoughtful as he took up his black clay pipe.
"We are up against a very clever, very evil mind, Watson." He said as he filled his pipe with his strong black shag tobacco.
"I cannot see, however, how young Hopkins failed to recognise all of the extremely obvious and important clues."
"I know I'm rather dense," said I, "but I cannot see how you even knew to look for that thorn, let alone what you mean by other clues."
Holmes sat silently for a moment, smoking his pipe with a very intense look of concentration upon his face.
"It is simple enough—only a case for instruction, not one to challenge the mind. But I must exhaust other possibilities, and be careful about my plans. There have been many similar cases—indeed, too many to count. But this one is quite bold, and rather clever. I think that I must rely upon that boldness to draw my net about the criminal."
"You know who it is, then?"
"I believe so, but I can't be certain yet. That is why you must come with me to-night, for the next murder."
"My dear Holmes!" I ejaculated. "The next one is to-night? Shouldn't you have warned the household?"
"Oh, it may not even be to-night. But it will be soon. I think that I can catch them before the next tragedy. We must catch the fiend in the act to know. I would suggest that you get a few hours' sleep, for it may be a long night ahead of us."
I took his advice and tried to rest, but it was indeed difficult, for the thought of the task that lay before me repeated itself in my head. To-night, according to my friend, the two Chattertons and their few remaining servants would again be in great danger. What was the cause of that danger was more than I could tell. I know that I had seen everything he had seen—save for the small red book of interviews Hopkins had shown him.
As I fell asleep, I remember seeing my friend's concentrated face, with his dark brows drawn low and his keen eyes unfocused and staring into the corner.
With the thoughts and concerns for the night on my mind I did not sleep heavily, and a few hours had passed before I knew it.
Holmes gently shook me awake, and I saw that our rooms were rather smokier than I remembered them when I had fallen asleep.
As I got up, he bustled out of his dressing-gown and into a dark grey suit. He grabbed a heavy stick, and I saw him put his cloth pouch of safe-cracking tools and jemmies into his coat pocket. He then looked out the window, and at his watch.
"Come, Watson." He said. "And pray bring your revolver."
KS: Thanks for reading, don't forget to review! I'm sorry if it was short, but I did this mostly during class, and I like to cut off a chapter with a cliff hanger sort of ending. :D
I have a few ideas for S.H. fanfictions, so when this done, there should be more.
(I have one quite silly idea listed in my "Story ideas" section of my profile…I may not do that one. XD )