Tension Makes a Tangle - 8

After a moment of silence, Sherlock spoke up, "Your description has been so clear that I only have a few questions to ask. The most important one is: Did you tell anyone that you had this special manuscript to edit?"

"No one."

"Not even Miss Harrison, for example?"

"No. I had not spoken to her from the time I received the assignment until I returned home in my daze."

"And no one outside of your coworkers had come by your office to visit you that day?"

"Nobody."

"Do your personal acquaintances know their way in the building to your office?"

"Yes, most of my friends and relatives have visited me there."

Sherlock mused, "But, if you said nothing to anyone about the manuscript..."

"I swear, I said nothing!"

"What do you know about the security guard?"

"He's an ex-soldier - from the Coldstream Guards."

"Hmmm. Well, I can get more details from Detective Forbes. The police are efficient at collecting facts, but they don't always know how to use them."

Sherlock's gaze was directed at the wall behind me. He suddenly got up and went over to it and stood in front of a shadow box that was hanging there, probably had been for decades. It displayed a collection of butterflies. I've always thought such displays were rather macabre, but Sherlock seemed quite fascinated.

"This is a lovely collection," he murmured. I looked again at the box, but only saw a collection of various, long-dead butterflies. The shimmering lights reflected off their iridescent wings seemed like a sad mockery of the flights they were denied by their capture. I couldn't understand what Sherlock found so interesting; he'd never shown much interest in the aesthetics of natural objects that I could remember.

After some more thoughtful silence Sherlock continued, "I think the best proof of a source of absolute Good in the universe is the existence of butterflies. Every other thing I can think of, our desires, our abilities, our creativity - they're all required for our existence. But butterflies are extra. They are pollinators, but not critical ones. They are also prey for some species, but again, not critical. Butterflies can, and in some cases have, disappeared completely without the ecosystem missing them. They seem to only exist to be improbably beautiful metaphors of resurrection. If I have a hope in religion or the afterlife, it's because of butterflies."

I looked up at his face, which was uncharacteristically expressive. He was looking profoundly sad, but with a ghost of a smile. He then looked down at me and as our eyes met I was seized with an intense desire to wrap myself around him and never let him go. I wanted to soothe all of his hurt and pain, although I knew it wasn't possible. But I decided that I was never going to let him shut me out again, as he had last night.

The other two occupants of the room, of course, had no idea of the significance of Sherlock's musings and were only confused. They had no idea that they had been given a rare glimpse into the beating heart of one of the world's most brilliant minds.

Finally, it was Annie who spoke up rather impatiently, "Do you see a possibility of solving this mystery, Mr. Holmes?"

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed, a bit startled, "yes, the mystery. Well, the case is very complicated but I promise that I will look into it and let you know of anything I find."

Percy then asked, with hope in his voice, "Do you see any clues?"

Sherlock smiled, "Yes, you have given me seven, but I have to follow them up before I can say if they will lead anywhere."

"Do you suspect someone?"

"I suspect myself."

"What?"

"Of jumping to a conclusion too soon."

"Then go and test your theories," Annie said with a bit of irritation. It seemed she did not approve of Sherlock's attempt to be playful.

"Thanks for the advice, Miss Harrison," said Sherlock, "come on, then, John. Don't get your hopes too high, Mr. Phelps, this case is quite tangled."

"I won't be able to rest until I hear from you," said Percy.

"Well, I promise I will stop by and see you again tomorrow, but it's very probable that I won't have good news for you."

"Thank you for promising to come," said Percy, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know that something is being done. I've been assured by my employer that I won't be fired until I have my health back and have had a chance to restore the missing manuscript."

"Well, that seems fairly reasonable," said Sherlock. "Come on John, we have work to do in London."

Joe Harrison gave us a lift back to the station, and we were soon on a train back to central London. I wanted to take Sherlock's hand and maybe say something about what he'd said back at the Phelps' residence, but he immediately started furiously working on his phone.

After a lengthy silence he spoke, "I suppose your friend Percy isn't a heavy drinker?"

"I couldn't say for certain, but I don't think so."

"I agree, but we need to explore every possibility. Your friend has got himself into very deep water, and I don't know if we'll be able to get him out or not. What do you think of Miss Harrison - Annie?"

"She certainly seems very devoted to Percy."

"Yes. I'm doing a bit of research on both her and Percy. It's amazing what people will expose about themselves on internet social sites. She and her brother Joe are from Northumberland. Percy got engaged to her last winter while vacationing in the area. A few months ago she was on a visit here with her brother to get acquainted with Percy's family. Then, this all happened, and she's stayed on as a nurse for her lover, and Joe's stayed on as well. But, we'll be doing more research today. I think we should begin by going to see this Detective Forbes. I want to hear all the details he may have that we didn't get from Percy."

"What are these seven clues you have?"

"Well, we have to start by asking who profits from this crime? Now, there are probably many news organizations that would pay big sums of money to have an advance copy of an unexpected work from a popular author. Leaking the news of it would result in massive revenue. It's not hard to imagine that anyone finding themselves in possession of such a manuscript would realize this. One person we ought to take a close look at is the director who passed the manuscript to Percy."

"The director?"

"Well, he is one of the few people who knew of the manuscript's existence. It could be that he wishes to discredit Percy for some reason, or merely use him to make a tidy sum of money on the side."

"But it would be so damaging to the publishing house!"

Sherlock shrugged, "It could be that is less important than the possibility of the personal profit. It is only a possibility, but we can't ignore it. I will interview the director today and see if he can tell us anything. In the meantime, I'm pursuing another angle. I've just sent an advertisement to the papers and news sites."

He showed me his phone which read: "£100 reward. The number of the cab which dropped a fare at or about the location of B- Publishing House in Charles Street at 22:45 on July 22. Please apply 221B, Baker St. or ."

"You think the thief came in a cab?"

Sherlock shrugged again, "Worth a try. If Percy is correct in saying that there is no hiding place in his office or in the hallways and all the other offices were locked and empty, then the person must have come from the outside. If he or she came from outside on a wet night and left no wet footprints to be found ten or so minutes afterwards, then it is probable that he or she came in a cab."

"Makes sense."

"It's one of the seven clues, John. It may get us somewhere. And then there is the phone call from Percy's office - the strangest part of the case. Why did the phone ring? Was it the thief, taunting Percy? Or was it someone with the thief, trying to stop the crime? Or was it an accident? Or was it - ?"

Sherlock broke off, lost in deep thought. I could almost feel heat from his brain as it turned the facts over in his mind. I suspected that some new possibility had occurred to him, and he wanted to consider it carefully.

He didn't speak again until we reached our destination.

TBC...

A/N: I know that Sherlock seems as if he should be the world's most determined atheist, but the original ACD story has a similar incident of religious/philosophical pondering in it. It just seemed to me that given recent events and his current state of mind and emotions that it fits well here.

Beta: Jarri Scythe!