Disclaimer: I am not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Nor am I Dr. Watson. Deal.
A/N: Thanks for reviewing!
The Game is a Footprint!
"Holmes, thank goodness you've come!" I nearly laughed in relief. "I don't know how long I've been down here-"
"15 minutes precisely, Watson. If I am correct I have just met your time limit." Holmes stepped back from the grave and began to survey the ground. "It seems that you have not been alone. A young lady, of course, what else would get your attention? And then it would seem about four or five young men sometime after her leaving." The detective looked back down at me. "You have been busy tonight."
"And I will gladly tell you all if you help me out of this infernal hole!" Before raising my arms expectantly, I folded up the paper that had been used as wrapping for the Kipling book and stuffed it in my pocket. Although it was nothing but litter, it seemed in poor form to leave debris in an open grave.
Above me, Holmes had the audacity to light a cigarette and settle into one of his Buddha-like poses beside the grave. I sighed. The need of the dramatist had overcome the duties of the friend, and now I was subject to the consequences of my earlier actions. I could make out the details of Holmes' face by the faint red glow that grew with his breathing. It was enough for me to see the slightest of smiles on his face.
"Now that I have you as a captive audience, I'm certain you would love to hear the various processes with which I was able to find you."
"Holmes, I'm sorry, but this is no time for a long discourse. There is trouble at work here! A mystery to be solved!"
"First, I was out the door as soon as your fifteen minute head start was up. I could have waited longer, but the hotter the trail the faster the chase. If you thought entering the museum would somehow distract me you were mistaken. Indeed, I bypassed the entrance entirely as I knew you had doubled back. The same for Leicester Square. I was surprised when I saw how far you had managed to go, and I will admit that I was almost foiled when your trail seemed to stop completely at the wall. I hardly believed that you, my dear Watson, would actually climb over the wall and risk trespassing for the sake of your little game. And yet, as soon as I scaled the wall, your trail was as plain as day. It was almost like you gave up, leading me quite plainly to your hiding hole."
"I am not in here voluntarily. Now, please, lend me a hand."
"First, why is it that neither the lady nor the boys assisted you before?"
"The 'lady' is the one who landed me in here and the 'boys' are the ones who robbed me at gunpoint."
The cigarette fell in surprise. Holmes lanky fingers had grabbed hold of my shoulders and managed to haul me up quite quickly, despite the awkwardness of his grip. His fingers brushed over my person, checking to make sure that I was indeed whole and unhurt.
"Watson, why did you not say so before? Clearly I have misjudged the seriousness of the situation. A hundred apologies. Now, what precisely happened during your quarter hour in the grave?"
I quickly told Holmes how I had come across the lady and how, mistakenly, she had given me the mysterious book and left me trapped. I then explained that the group of men had come along and demanded the volume from me. The rest of the narrative Holmes knew from there.
"You inspected the book?"
"Yes."
"And you saw no signs of tampering? No hidden documents, no circled words?"
"Not a one. Before I had the chance to light another match the brutes had taken it from me. I cannot promise that there was nothing there."
"Then we shall have to recover it. I fear, however, that we may have to travel backwards and first find the lady who gave you such a fateful text. If nothing else she does owe you an apology."
We managed to follow the paths taken by both the woman and the group fairly easily until we reached the cemetery entrance. At that point, the two paths had diverged, with the lady heading one way and, as we soon discovered, the gang had taken some form of cart away from the scene. This left us with the option of finding the young woman, as even Sherlock Holmes couldn't ensure that we would follow the correct wheel marks.
Even in the darkness Holmes skills proved incredible, finding the path taken by the mysterious lady with ease. He occasionally stopped by storeowners, using mundane chatter to determine whether the lady was local or foreign and soon we found ourselves outside of a small housing unit in which the lady was said to live. Before I could object, Holmes dragged me inside, where I came face to face with the lady who had so deviously tricked me.
"It's you!" the lady cried, cringing away as though I were some sort of monster. "Get out of my home!"
"It seems, miss, that there has been a severe misunderstanding earlier this day. Might I introduce you to my good friend, Dr. John Watson?"
"Ha, and I am Miss Jane Austen, then? I know your type," the lady said bitterly, eyeing me sharply. "Just because you're older than those other troublemakers doesn't change your nature."
"Might I suggest you put on your glasses before making such a harsh judgement?" Holmes interjected. The woman seemed surprised.
"How did you know I wear corrective lenses?"
"For I am Sherlock Holmes! Now, if you'll please, sit." As he has so often done, Holmes had quickly taken control of the situation and twisted it into his favor. "We came in the hopes of learning the secret of your novel."
"I-"
"And your name, Miss-?"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Yes, my name is Molly Rhodes, and I work as a secretary at the local bookshop. It is simple work, and I often get the first chance at new arrivals. Such was the case with Mr. Kipling's latest. I can hardly even call it mine," Ms. Rhodes said. "It had only arrived earlier today, although some of the larger outlets had received it some weeks ago."
"Then the book is not rare?"
"Not in the slightest."
"And it was not the only one received?"
"It was a small shipment, but I picked this one up at random. Yet no sooner had I left the shop than a young thug tried to take it off me. Thankfully a constable was near and kept the brute away. But since that failed attempt my entire day has been full of similar occurrences."
"These have since stopped since you passed the volume along, correct?"
"Yes. Oh!" Ms. Rhodes threw her hands to her face and looked suddenly appalled. "Dr. Watson, I am terribly sorry! As Mr. Holmes has noted, I was not wearing my glasses and honestly mistook you for one of those young brutes before. They had managed to corner me in that cemetery, and in those terrifying moments I forgot that there were still decent men around."
"Yes, being threatened can change one's mindset," Holmes said dryly. "Watson has often been mistaken for young rogues-"
"It is no problem at all. I was soon freed, as it was," I said hastily, seeing the genuine emotion on the poor lady's face.
"Did you find what made that particular volume so special? Have you it now?"
"Unfortunately, the same gang that made a habit of chasing you managed to secure it." Holmes stood up quickly, and headed for the door. I muttered some thanks as I hurried after him. Although Holmes manners might fall lax during an investigation, I was certain to make up for it. Ms. Rhodes, for her part, kept offering her apologies as we rushed out the door.
A/N: I hope you're all happy. This fic was only meant to be 3 chapters!
