Author's note : still no Internet while writing this one, but I found more preliminary notes. I hope this is not dumb and does not contain too many mistakes. Enjoy !
THE ADVENTURE OF THE COLD LAKE
°oOo°
Manda Leech's legen-diary
Well, here I am, writing my very own legen-diary. I don't know what I could tell in it, but, well, I can still rant about Holmes' mood switches, the Doc's bad character (yes, he DOES have bad character, even though he never shows it in his own writings), and Hudson's weirdness.
I'm not lying, she's a weirdo! Seriously, I don't understand why she keeps caring for them like that instead of hiring a maid. She doesn't sound like greedy, so it's not because of money. Maybe she's just the mother hen and needs to care for someone.
Oh, and Norah Creina. That tempest of a woman. The less she is in the house, the better. She is kinda the girlfriend of the Doc, though I'm not sure how serious they are in their relationship.
She is nice. Not very lady-like, not delicate, but feminine for sure, affectionate and everything. A nice lover, but very possessive. In front of her, I am officially a niece of Hudson with no other living relatives, working as a part-time maidservant to earn her right of staying in the house. Which is pretty much what I am, save that I am not related to Hudson.
That might be why she doesnt hire a maid. I am the maid.
…There is not a lot more that I can write. I am trapped here, I cannot do a thing, even though I don't remember a date from History lessons. Gosh, only thing I am interested by is Sherlock Holmes, and I am not going to spoil myself the fun of watching him solve things in front of me!
Well, "in front of me" is just a figure of speech.
He's not like I imagined him to be. Nothing is like I imagined it to be.
I'm glad there are pokémons here. They are fun. Maybe I'll send Silver to steal one of the Doc's shoes.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
Some of the adventures I shared with Sherlock Holmes started in a strange way. When I heard the doorbell ring, and saw in the same time Silver run away from under my bed, I knew it would be one of those days. For indeed, when I looked for my right shoe, I could not find it anywhere, which meant that my dog had run away with it. Silver would have never played such a prank on me before the arrival of Miss Leech. Good mood in the house is one thing. Missing shoes is another.
I hurriedly searched for a complete pair in order to be presentable for the client whose steps I was hearing in the stairs, together with the stomps of my poké-dog.
My friend Sherlock Holmes was in our sitting-room, reading a telegram whose messenger was awaiting an answer to.
"Ah, here you are, Watson! And with two shoes! Well, there is a lonely one that was running around in the mouth of your dog, and you will find it at our neighbour's. But for now, there is an interesting telegram that I just received, which is awaiting my answer. I would make a very good use of your medical knowledge, if you would agree to accompanying me."
"Of course I would, my friend! I would not miss it for a world."
I was not yet sure if I would be interesting by the case, and moreover, I was not feeling good about cancelling a dinner with Norah, but I could read on the face of my friend that he would do his best to have me by his side, no matter what. Even if that meant causing an argument between Norah and me.
"What is it about?" I asked Holmes while he was filling in the answer form. "Blackmailing, missing person, a peculiar mystery?"
"A peculiar and quite gruesome mystery" Holmes told me. "You see, this telegram comes from Inspector Brocklesby from the police of Surrey. There was a terrible accident; children were playing near a pond, one drowned, and another one reported that it was murder. Yet, no trace of anyone was found near the pond in the fresh snow. The local police is at their wit's end, therefore, they are calling for me. I am very much interested by a child murderer that leaves no footprints of any kind."
"What about my medical knowledge?" I wondered.
"I do not trust another person than you to perform a medical analysis over the circumstances of death."
I have to admit that he always knew how to play with my pride to make me follow him whenever he pleased me to be. To be frank, I also need to say that the mystery of a murderer leaving no footprints whatsoever was exciting my curiosity to the highest point.
"Allow me the time to gather my travelling items…" I started saying.
"A toothbrush will do, my dear friend! I do not want to loose a single second, now that it is decided. Mrs. Hudson!"
Our landlady arrived shortly.
"Mrs. Hudson, catch us a cab, we are leaving for the train station."
Holmes was in a hurry, of course, and hurriedly I had to pack my things for an unknown length of time. I called out for Silver, and my missing shoe, but the second one I could not recover. When I came down to our sitting room, Holmes was impatiently pacing, followed by Thunder the meerkat-pokémon.
"You took your time" snapped Holmes. ëHurry up, if we want to catch the next train from Waterloo to Reading, we will have to be quick."
The cab took us to Waterloo train station, and the train, to Staines-upon-Thames in about one hour, where Inspector Brocklesby met us.
He was an average-sized man, with the very large shoulders and olive complexion of the active policeman. His greying brown hair and whiskers spoke of his age and experience, as did his bright green eyes. He had a nicely cut greek profile, assorted to his straight temperament.
"Mr. Holmes I presume?" he said, outstretching a hand.
"Himself" answered Holmes, "and this is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."
We shook hands and exchanged a few formal words of greetings.
"It was very nice of you to answer so fast" thanked the inspector. "I did not expect an answer."
"Why writing in the first place, if not to get an answer?" asked Holmes.
The inspector had a short laugh.
"Well said" he admitted. "Well said."
He walked us to a vehicle where we took place.
"I had the constables search the place thoroughly, but they found nothing, he explained while we were driving. But I thought you might want to meet the witnesses too."
"Indeed" approved Holmes. "Meeting the witnesses first is a good idea. After all, if the constables have already trampled-I mean, thoroughly searched-the area, there is no rush for me to go there, is it?"
I did not know if I should laugh at the comical expression of frustration imprinted on my friend's face, or feel sorry for the debunked officers.
"Who are the witnesses?" enquired Holmes, diverting the conversation away from sensitive grounds.
"Well, first of all, there is Carrol Cole. He is the eight-years-old child who witnessed the elusive murderer. It is very complicated to interrogate him, due to his young age."
"I understand" said Holmes. "Any other?"
"I thought that it might be best for you to see Mrs. Lynn Thumpston. She is the teacher who was looking after the children when the drowning occurred. She was the first adult to arrive on the scene of crime, and to hear the reports of Carrol Cole. What she remembers of his testimony might be more accurate than what the child may tell you, now that he had been interrogated repetitively and had time to make up fantasies around the tragedy."
"What kind of fantasies are you talking about?" asked Holmes.
"Oh, you know the imagination of children: anything turns into a monster in their head."
"Hum-hum" said Holmes, rubbing his prominent chin, lost in deep thought. "Well, I will need to examine the body, too, if there is no objection."
"Of course not. But I must warn you: it is not an easy sight."
"Why?"
"The victim is a child. Examining a corpse is never easy, but it is even tougher when it is a child."
"Of course" approved Holmes. "Of course."
The rest of the drive was silent.
We arrived shortly at Staines Preparatory School for children aged from three to eleven.
The place was a high-class school where the wealthiest of the area would send their offsprings. The main hall was very large, with a red brick façade and grey-blue tiles on the roof. Other buildings were situated within the limits of the school, a specialised gymnastic hall including a climbing wall, dormitories for the pupils and teachers, and a huge exercising field.
Imspector Brocklesby rang at the main door and asked for Mrs. Lynn Thympston. The guardian of the school led us inside, through corridors smelling of fresh paint and cleaning agents, to the office of the woman who was the first witness. Already Holmes was preparing his notebook and pen, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.
Mrs. Lynn Thympston was fourty-something-aged woman with straight, greying brown hair knotted in a bun behind her head. She had large, dark, doe eyes, and just like a doe, she was tall and thin. Her olive skin did not show a single wrinkle yet. She was a mature beauty with a cute upturned nose and a large, smiling, well-shaped mouth.
Following the fashion worn by the independent women, she was not wearing a skirt, but a pair of large, dark green, blooming pants with a simple blouse, and rich blue shoes ornamented with dark grey lace. Behind her, hanging from the peg, was a feathered hat, a thick coat and a long, stripped scarf.
"Oh, it is you again, Inspector!" she greeted him. "And who are these gentlemen?"
"This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, a detective, and Doctor Watson."
He forced smile disappeared from her face. She gestured us to enter her office, where we took place on padded chairs, our pokémons laying at our feet.
"I suppose you are going to take me to the station for another interrogation" she said once we were seated.
"No, not this time" answered Brocklesby. "I rather came to introduce you to Mr. Holmes, who is going to take part into the investigation. He is going to ask you a few complementary questions, if you would be so kind as to answer them."
She nodded slightly.
"For a start" said Sherlock Holmes, "I would like you to recount all that you remember from the tragedy. I know it is tough and unpleasant, I know you have already told it many times to the police, but I need you to do your best and say it again if you please. Maybe you will remember some detail new."
She nodded, visibly unsettled at the idea of having to recall the gruesome memories.
"Well" she said, twisting her hands in her lap, visibly trying her best to focus. "I took my class of 8-year-old boys to the lake that day. I know the air is still cool despite the spring season, but a little bit of exercise never hurt. They were not supposed to bathe, I had been clear about that. We were out only for a walk.
"We went to the Savill Garden, which is a nice place for children to exercise any time of the year. There are ponds near it, and I had the idea that the children might like to see the garden and pond both. Everything went right. The kids were not unpleasant with the people we met that day, they did not quarrel with each-other. I really thought the day was going to be perfect.
"Oh, of course a few of them were being sulky. A few children are always sulky when we go out to exercise. I paid no attention to that, and neither shall you."
Holmes cleared his throat. I could see he was about to say something regarding not to jump to conclusion, or about every detail counting, but he bit his tongue out of courtesy.
"Did you notice anybody following you and the children while you were in the garden?"
She shook her head.
"I had too much of a task with keeping an eye on the boys to do that. Anyway, who does that? Who looks for people who could be following oneself while enjoying the nice clear winter sky?"
She sneered; Holes gestured her to go on with her story with one hand, while with the other, he was notifying Inspector Brocklesby not to interfere.
"After the Savill Garden, we went to the Obelisk Pond. They needed to be left running around, therefore I allowed them to do so. If I had imagined what danger was lurking around, I would have had them come back to the school right away."
"There was no way you could have known" Holmes told her with a kind voice. "Just tell us what happened then, at the Pond. Did you see or hear anything?"
"The Smith twins started arguing, and Carroll Cole and Theo Dingle wanted to see the shallow place where frogs can be found in warmer times, and sometimes in winter also, sleeping under the ice. I did not think it could be dangerous, to allow them to look for frozen frogs, therefore I told them they could go. I turned my back to them, to attend to the twins. The other boys gathered around too. Boys always gather around a fight, even if they are forbidden to do so."
"Therefore, you did not witness yourself what happened to the ones who went frog-hunting, did you?"
She shook her head.
"They are the kind of children that can be trusted not to do anything silly. I mean, usually."
Holmes tilted his head on the side.
"Usually? What do you mean by that?"
"After a little while of scolding the fighting twins and ending their argument…"
"How long exactly?" enquired Holmes.
"I would say, five minutes, not more."
"A lot can happen in just five minutes" commented Holmes. "Pray continue."
"I asked the boys to scatter around and go play, and I turned to see where Carroll and Theo had gone. I knew they would not try to walk on the thin ice, but boys being boys, they could step in it, break it, fall in the shallow water and catch a colds
"I knew something was fishy when Carroll Cole was the only one standing near the pond. The ice on the border was broken. He was dragging Theo Dingle, and both were soaked with freezing water. Fearing the worse, I ran towards them. It did not take me long to realise that Theo was… was…"
She took a few swift, short breathes, doing her best not to start crying. I searched the pockets of my coat for a flask of brandy while Inspector Brocklesby seized the empty teacup that was on her desk.
She drank a few sips. She stopped shaking, and went back to telling her terrible story.
"I shook Theo by the shoulders, but it was already too late. Carroll was silent even though he was soaked in freezing-cold water, showing no sign of any emotion. The poor boy was visibly under shock. I did my best to resist shaking him and shouting at him. I did not want to frighten him further. Instead, I wrapped my coat around his shoulders, took my kindlier voice and asked him to tell me what happened.
"He said that Theo and him were looking for frogs, walking besides the pond. They did not walk on the ice, for fear that it would break. Then, they saw something that seemed to be swimming under the ice. Suddenly, the ice broke, and out came a man, looking like any homeless pauper that can be found in the woods sometimes.
"I asked him right away why he did not call out for me. Indeed, our pupils are taught never to approach nor follow strangers, and to warn an adult anytime a person unknown from them tries to interact with them. They are especially warned against dangerous riffraffs like those who can sometimes be encountered in the parks.
"Despite all the lessons I had given him and the rest of his class, neither him nor Theo had the presence of mind to call out for me. When confronted with his fault, Carroll simply told me that the riffraff offered them candies, and that Theo did not want Carroll to warn me because of the candies."
She shook her head with a despaired look on her face.
"I did my best to teach them to protect themselves from any danger they might encounter in their young lives. I had made sure they would never follow a stranger, even if promised treats. And yet, and yet…"
She shivered, clawing at her knees, finished up her cup of brandy, and settled her nerves.
"I do not understand why Carroll let Theo go in the freezing water just to seek a few candies from the hand of a stranger. This is so much unlike what the boys would have usually been doing!"
"What did Carroll say happened after Theo let the candies tempt him?" asked Holmes.
"He said that Theo went into the water and ate the candies. When all the treats were eaten, the stranger seized his friend by the shoulders, put his head underwater, and held him like that until he was drowned.
"While his friend was held underwater, said Carroll, he did his best to have the stranger let go of him, jumping on his back, biting, kicking-all to no avail, for the stranger was bigger and stronger than Carroll. After a while, Theo stopped struggling. The stranger ran in the direction of the forest, and Carroll dragged the dead body out of the water.
"After Carroll told me that, I turned my head in the direction he pointed, but there was no sign of anyone having passed there. Of course, I am merely an english teacher, and know nothing about footprints and such. Yet, snow was freshly fallen from the very morning, and footprints imprint themselves deep there. I saw none going from the pond to the forest."
"How much soaked were the children?" enquired Holmes.
Mrs. Thympston appeared puzzled by his question.
"Is that important?" she asked.
"Very important" answered Holmes.
"Well, I…"
She made a visible effort to recall exactly the details of these terrible moments.
"Theo was completely soaked, and water was dripping from his mouth when I had turned him on his side. Carroll was soaked to mid-chest, and from hands to above the elbow."
"Dry hair, back and shoulders?" enquired Holmes.
"I am pretty sure that he was not wet here" told the teacher.
"This is very interesting" commented my friend. "You are being very helpful."
"Do you need to know anything else?" enquired Mrs. Thympston.
"Any detail you can remember regarding the events of that day can be helpful to me" answered Holmes.
She bit her lower lip nervously during a few moments, then she said :
"I am very puzzled, Mr. Holmes. Your questions are very different from the ones that Inspector Brocklesby asked me."
She gave the policeman a sneaking glance.
"We simply have different methods" said the Inspector with a smile.
I could see that he was interiorly mocking Holmes. Policemen tend to do that, I have observed.
"I think we will go now" informed Holmes, getting up.
His meerkat pokémon imitated him.
"Thank you for the visit" the teacher said politely. "If you have any further questions, do not hesitate to come back. It is important for me to protect my pupils, and…"
She marked a pause.
"Well, good luck" she simply concluded.
We took leave.
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
A child who jumps into freezing water for a handful of candies. A child who pretends to fight agains a man, in freezing water, and who comes out of that fight partly dry. This is queer indeed. Did the child pretend to fight the man only to save his pride and pretend to be a hero? And what about the absence of footprints?
I must not jump to conclusions. There are still a hundred of questions unanswered regarding that case. I need to find more clues in order to discriminate between all the possible explanations.
A Psychic Unit would be fine, in order to verify the possible implication of pokémons.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
The body of the unfortunate little victim had been carried to the infirmary during the time it would take to the police to close the case. It was covered with a bed-sheet out of respect for the deceased.
"What a terrible sight" said the Inspector. "Is it not?"
"We should hurry, examine the body swiftly and find the answer to that mystery as fast as possible" informed Holmes. "This way, the burial can take place soon."
"The family will appreciate that" approved the Inspector.
A label with the name of the victim, Theo Dingle, could be seen on a box containing his earthly belongings. He had been a short, eight-years-old boy with a pale skin, small grey eyes and dark-brown hair cut short. He was not particularly fat or slim.
"We are looking for bruises on the upper part of the body" Holmes told me. "The shape and size could give out capital informations regarding whoever or whatever did this."
I approved.
I was stunned not to see anything peculiar on the victim's body, apart from the obvious signs of drowning. No cut, no bruise, no particular sign of an adult violence. I even asked the victim's head to be shaved, in order to see if there was anything counselled under the hair.
"Holmes, I do not understand; I have seen a few corpses of the unfortunate victims of murderous drowning, and all of them had a least one bruise where pressure was applied to keep them underwater-or to restrain them from struggling. I see nothing on this body, only the traces left by children's hands at the level of the shoulders, certainly when-I think his name was Carroll-picked him up to drag him out of the water."
"Can you make the position of the child's hands on his friend by the shape of the bruises?" enquired Holmes.
"He was facing his drowned friend" I assured him. "The mark of the thumb is very deep and on the front of the arm."
"Something under the nails?" asked Holmes.
"They have been cleaned up."
"There was nothing but mud" said the Inspector.
"Content of the stomach?"
"Nothing."
Holmes frowned.
"Watson, please see if you can find any adult hand-sized bruises on the legs."
I examined the body once more and found nothing.
"I daresay that it looks like an accidental death to me" I told Holmes.
"Impossible" assured the inspector. "Carroll Cole is very persistent regarding his story of a monster-or a homeless, or whoever it was. When we interrogated him, he gave us a story about the monster attracting his friend by offering him candies that his friend ate. Nothing was found in the stomach of the victim, though. When confronted with that, Carroll invented a story about his friend putting the candies in his pockets. When we told him there was nothing in the victim's pockets, he said the candies must have melted in the water of the pond. That is of course impossible."
Holmes and I opened our eyes wide in bewilderment.
"Do you happen to have a Psychic Unit, like the Yard?" asked Holmes.
"Do you mean, one of those fancy mediums paired with a pokémon in order to 'see' the past and the future related to pokémons? No, we do not. We have no confidence in these frauds. Furthermore, what good can they be in investigating a human murder?"
"They have proved useful to the Yard in many an occasion" retorted Holmes.
Inspector Brocklesby sneered.
"I do not think so. Science and deduction are widely enough for me."
"How am I supposed to find an answer to that problem if a pokémon is involved?" grumbled Holmes. "They do not always leave traces that I am able to read."
Fortunately, Brocklesby did not hear him.
"I would like to have a look at the clothes, if they have not been cleaned up yet" demanded Holmes.
"They are here" answered the inspector, holding the labelled box to my friend. "But I doubt that you could find something more than what we already found: mud and water."
"I am not looking only for stains" Holmes answered simply and calmly.
The inspector revealed the heavy black coat, the grey, double-breasted suit, the dark turquoise bolo tie and the assorted waistcoat that composed the clothing of the deceased.
"Do you notice anything peculiar, Watson?"
I contemplated the mud-stained children clothes laid in front of me.
"Something in the composition of the mud, perhaps. Or in the way the stains are distributed over the different parts."
I knew before he told me so that I was wrong.
"The way the fabric has been stretched" he corrected me "shows that the body was dragged by the front of his clothes by someone with small hands standing at the level of his head. Also, there is no visible sign that an adult could have hold him underwater by his clothes. There is no strain of struggle whatsoever on the fabric and on the seams."
"Do you mean that the murderer found a way of holding the poor child down that did not involve keeping him down with his own hands nor seizing the clothes of his victim?" Inspector Brocklesby thought aloud.
"It might seem so" Holmes said.
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
I would prefer the answer to that mystery to simply be 'pokémon' rather than what the clues in presence are telling me. I need to verify a few things where the tragedy happened-if the constable have not trampled all the evidences yet.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
As the inspector took us near the pond, where his constables were patrolling to keep the curious away, Holmes marvelled to see that the footprints left by the children and their teacher near the pond had been left untouched, preserved for further investigation by a tarpaulin held on poles so that the cover would not interfere with the footprints. Of that, he complimented Inspector Brocklesby repetitively. In an instant, he was down on all four, measuring, examining, letting out small exclamations.
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
Everything is so clearly imprinted in the sand, why did they need to call for me to solve this case? The way the trails of the two children overlap, the absence of adult footprints save for the teacher's, everything is in plain view.
As for the presence or absence of a pokémon, I have no doubt about this now. This short visit was very helpful.
So neatly preserved footprints are always a pleasure to use in an investigation.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
When Holmes stand up and announced he knew who killed Theo, I could not believe my ears. The inspector shook his head in disbelief.
"Holmes" I protested "how is that even possible?"
"I am asking myself the same question" retorted Holmes. "I need to send a telegram for Miss L… landlady of ours to verify a detail in my archives"
"Are you absolutely sure that we can loose time this way?" I asked him.
"I am positive" was his answer.
The inspector shook his head.
"I will let you send your telegram, but I will not stop my own investigations" the inspector retorted. "I am going to search the area until I find the horrible, cruel, homeless murderer of that poor child."
"As you please" Holmes told him. "Where is the nearest telegram office?"
Manda Leech's legen-diary
I can't believe my eyes. Holmes sent me a telegram! He is asking for my help in solving a case! And I know exactly the answer to his question, without cheating by having read the story before! This is the best day of my life!
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
Holmes and I had dinner at the table of the teachers this day. For a curious reason, Holmes kept on asking questions about each and every pupil that Mrs. Thympston had in charge, especially the strangest of their foolishnesses. Happy to be able to divert her mind from the gruesome event she witnessed, the teacher was more than happy to oblige.
When we arrived at the dessert, I started to notice a pattern in Holmes' questions. He would ask five questions about random pupils, asking for details regarding this or that silly or nasty behaviour, then he would enquire if Theo or Carroll would or could have done such a thing.
When we arrived at the desert, she finally told us the disturbing tale of how Carroll and Theo killed all of the fishes that the science teacher used to keep in his classroom. Apparently, Carroll was the one who talked Theo into doing it. They tore the finns off of their bodies, gutted them alive, and when caught, Carroll told eye in eye to the science teacher, and his hands messy from cruelly 'playing' with the fishes, that it was the doing of a stray cat.
It made her laugh, to recall that story to us. I was not sure if such a serious matter could be laughed at.
"But they are only children, Doctor!" she exclaimed. "They did not know what they were doing! And it was only fishes! All children play with insects or worms or the like is a similar manner."
"I agree with the Doctor Watson" Holmes defended me. "This is no laughable matter."
"I do not understand you" she said.
"You will understand soon enough" retorted Holmes with a trace of sadness in his voice.
We were interrupted by the entrance of the inspector, escorted by two weary-looking constables.
"Well, Inspector, how have you been doing?" enquired Holmes.
"We found a lighter in the pond, where the boy drowned" explained Inspector Brocklesby. "With a name engraved on it."
Holmes raised an eyebrow.
"May I see it?"
My friend barely gave it a glance.
"That thing has been sitting in that pond for too long to be related to this case."
"Well, at least I had a potential suspect thanks to that clue; you are still in the fog, are you not?"
"Why do you say so?"
"If you really know the identity of the murderer, like you pretend you do, why is he not presently behind bars?"
"Because there is no rush. Because I want to confront him first. Because I want to know his motive. Because someone is still to send me a verification reference. And because the truth will be very unsettling."
"Oh my" I exclaimed. "Do you think it is possible that the victim had a crisis of epilepsy? Is that what you wanted Lee… our landlady to check in our library? Then, why not asking me?"
"Be patient, my dear fellow; all the answers will come in due time."
Holmes left us to go smoke in the school's drawing room, oblivion to any person around him.
"Is he trying to snub me?" the inspector asked me.
"No, nothing of the like" I reassured him. "He is always like that. He hates to reveal half-woven conclusions. It is his pride; nothing to take offence from."
The inspector did not look convinced.
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
I absolutely need the proof that Miss Manda Leech is going to telegram to me. Without it, the inspector will never believe be, and will carry on looking for some random diving child molester.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
The headmaster of the school was kind enough to lend us a room for the night. Holmes was still awaiting the answer from our neighbour, and it arrived right after breakfast. It was a long answer, closer from a letter than from a telegram. Holmes appeared satisfied by the informations it contained.
"Come on now, Watson; it is time for the truth to be revealed."
He gathered in the drawing-room Inspector Brocklesby, the headmaster, Mrs. Thympston, Carrol Cole, and myself.
His revelation was direct, and theatrical.
"The murderer is in this room"
The reaction was instantaneous. Everybody started protesting. The headmaster was infuriated, accusing Holmes to be accusing his best teacher. The inspector was pale, eyeing the headmaster and Holmes, not sure if he was to be angry at the second or to arrest the first. My blood froze in my veins. I was starting to understand the whole affair. In my life I had never witnessed something as terrible as this.
Holmes stood up; everybody went silent.
"Carroll, what happened with your friend Theo before you all went to exercise in the garden?" asked Holmes to the little boy. "What terrible thing did he do to you to make you so angry?"
The little boy looked around him, then, up to Holmes.
"Are you going to punish me?" asked the little boy.
"Well, if he deserved your ire…" eluded Holmes.
Mrs. Thympston started twisting her handkerchief. Inspector Brocklesby was tensed forwards, hanging from Holmes' and the boy's every word.
"He took my canteen, Sir" said Carroll after a little while. "He said he would give it back to me again, but he lied!"
He innocent little boy seemed to turn into a blood-thirsty demon. His eyes were sparkling with rage; he was displaying not a single trace of compassion.
"He gave MY canteen to his little brother as a birthday present! It was mine! I got it for MY birthday! Mine!"
The kid was yelling, stamping; his face was turning purple-red and he was foaming. He was terrifying.
"What happened at the pond, Carroll?"
"He did not want to go inside the water by himself, so I had to drag him there. And once I had pushed him down, I held him there, looking straight into the eyes of the liar he was."
Suddenly, he realised that he just gave himself out.
"He deserved it!" he defended himself. "He stole my canteen, and he lied to me! Mrs. Thympston always says that it is bad to steal, and to tell lies!"
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
When a child's logic encounters the absence of compassion of a psychopath mind, the result is definitely terrible.
Doctor John H. Watson's diary
"How did you know?" asked the headmaster after a glass of brandy.
Holmes lit up a pipe.
"There was not a thousand solutions to this problem" he answered. "The only traces on the body of the victim were of child's hands, and so were the footprints near the lake. Their overlap spoke of the quarrel, the pushing into the water, while the way the clothes of Carroll were soaked-or should I say, were left partly dry-assured me that he struggled with an opponent his size and strength. All of this waved together, I had to make sure that Carroll was not acting under some exterior influence, that he was not manipulated by a pokémon acting on the orders of someone. Without a Psychic Unit to read the scene of crime and detect the presence of a pokémon, I had to use another method.
"You might have noticed during the dinner yesterday, Mrs. Thympston, that I asked a lot of specific questions regarding the behaviour of the children that you have under your care. My aim was to determine if Carroll Cole displayed some specific traits that could be linked to criminal tendencies. The way you defended his 'innocence' in his way of playing with the fishes… I understand that it was not the only time he killed animals?"
She burst into tears.
"I am not supposed to complain about the children, Mr. Holmes. I am supposed to handle them and have them respect me. But he got my cat! I knew it was him-it could only have been him- and yet… I had no proof, Mr. Holmes, save for the remains of Whiskers…"
She sobbed heavily.
"How could I know he was going to turn against his best friend? How could anyone know?"
Holmes waved the letter-long telegram that he had received from our neighbour.
"It is not very well-known, but it has been studied. Some people have no compassion whatsoever and see other humans as tools to manipulate or play with. One of the few clues as to such a tragedy is the torture of animals at a young age. A trait that you pointed out in the person of Carroll Cole, my first suspect. Here is a copy from a psychological encyclopaedia that I received this very morning by wire."
The paper silently passed from hand to hand.
"What shall I do with the boy?" Inspector Brocklesby finally asked.
"Find a way to prevent him to do it again."
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
Carroll Cole. I will remember that name. I might have to deal with him later, when he has grown into an adult. He will never be kept behind locked bars for the rest of his life.
Manda Leech's legen-diary
They went home this evening, making funny faces. Something in-between the satisfaction of well-made work, and the sickness of having done a dirty job.
"I hope that you can guess by yourself the kind of case we solved to-day" Holmes told me "because I am not going to speak about it. Not now, anyway."
"I'm not as bright as you" I retorted "but I'm intelligent enough to know that if you're asking me infos regarding psychopath children, you're not going to deal with blackmailing or burglary."
"And… does it not shock you?" he asked me.
It was funny, this question of his. As if I was the kind of woman to run away at the sole mention of a sick criminal. I made my fair share of research when I was writing fanfictions, and learnt a lot about the dark side of humanity.
"What's important is that you caught him. Don't you think?" I told him. "Moreover, I was only answering a telegram by reading a book. It's not as if I was giving a hand for an autopsy or something. I'll be okay. And… I think I'll make tea for the Doc and you both. You look like you saw a ghost."
He did not answer to my remark, silently picking up his violin instead. He was making his "I am going to play all night long" face.
The doorbell rang; the landlady announced Miss Norah Creina. The Doc was happy to see her, and he confounded himself in excuses for not having been available for a couple of days. The look Holmes gave her from above of his bow, it was not good. Doc did not seem to notice it, for he simply announced Norah would spend the next evening, which was Valentine eve, here in Baker Street, to make up with his absence.
Holmes stopped playing the instant Doc said "Valentine". Without a word, he put his violin back in its case (that did not announce nothing good), snapped it close, and proceeded to fill in his suitcase.
We were all stunned. Was he going to move out of the house just because Doc had a girlfriend? It would be crazy to do that!
The bell rang again. A stranger was introduced.
"Do not say a thing" ordered Holmes to him. "You are the Baron Maupertuis, from the Netherland Sumatra Company. You are having troubles with the latest cargo coming from the oversees, which seemed to have disappeared from its barrels without a trace. Indeed, your Company accuses you of stealing the goods, which you did not. I will now have to follow you to the port where the ship is anchored, and the crew, under arrest, so that I can prove your innocence and try to find the culprit."
The Baron's jaw dropped.
"That is correct, Sir!" he exclaimed with a strong french accent. "You must be some kind of a medium!"
"I merely use my eyes and brains: I observed, and I deduced."
He lost himself in a discourse about observing the peculiar labels on the luggage of the Baron, the fashion of his clothes, the arms on the carriage, together with his latest readings in the newspapers, yadda yadda, and off he went. Poof. Fifteen days of an untold story, someplace away from London, and from Doc, and from me.
And away from the steamy Norah, whose overly social character does not agree with his.
Sherlock Holmes' notebook
Her resilience to the gruesomeness of the human mind might come in handy. I will have to thank her for her swift and intelligent help. She may be a woman, but she has brains of a kind.
Well, off I go to a new case-just in time to escape from being trapped between two lovers making doe eyes to each-other on Valentine eve.
Author's note 1 : next chapter might be a a couple weeks to write. No panic. I'm getting to it.
Author's note 2 : yes, murderous children are real, sadly. And Carroll Cole really existed, though the real one was never suspected of the drowning of his comrade until he confessed many years later.
Source : en. wikipedia wiki/Carroll_Cole