The Singular Affair of the Announced Crime

Chapter 10

"Watson! Watson!"

I know now that I had imagined the anguished cries of my dear friend, but in that moment, it was the thing that brought me back to consciousness. My head was spinning from the violent blow I had received, and I felt a splitting headache building, but after I had shaken the annoying ringing in my ears and the blurriness before my eyes, I recognised the only sound existing in reality. It was the laboured breathing of another and a sound I would have named a sob.

I found myself tied to a chair as I tried to turn, blinking to adjust my eyes to the dim light. The bonds were not very tight, and with a little shifting, I had almost freed myself, but for the moment, I thought it better not to give that fact away. The room was unfurnished but for the chair to which I was tied, and the other, upon which a man was hunched, bound so tightly that I could see the blood had nearly been cut off from his hands. He was the source of the sobbing, and as his head rolled to one side uncontrolled, a streak of light hit his face.

If not for the dimness and my still impaired vision, I would have known him immediately, but as it was, I only now recognised the familiar features and figure, even with the blindfold covering a good part of his face. He had been stripped of his overcoat and boots, his ankles fastened to the legs of the chair by both iron shackles and rope. Red splotches covered his usually white shirt. He had not acknowledged my presence merely because he was gagged with a filthy looking rag of cloth which must have made the reflex to choke nearly impossible to control.

"Holmes!" I cried, and was rewarded by a curt nod before his head sank back onto his chest, speaking of definite exhaustion. "My dear fellow! I am so sorry – I should have been more careful, but don't worry. I've sent the content of you note-"

He cut me off with a violent motion of his head, which prompted me to finally shake my bonds and free him of the gag. As expected, he burst into a lengthy bout of coughing after I had tossed the gag away, which made the shackles at his ankles, and wrists, too, rattle. "Quiet, Watson. These walls have ears," he finally managed, his voice weak and rough from abuse, a strange sobbing sound still catching in his throat.

I bowed low to his ear and whispered. "Now I understand your note – jewels! The crown jewels? That's insanity."

"Maybe." He flinched as I reached up to remove the blindfold as well. There was nothing I could do with the bindings, the knots were too tight to loosen them without an appropriate device.

"Who are they?"

"Dangerous men, with no respect for the life of others. Maybe they are indeed insane. It's not your fault, Watson, that you are here now. These are ruthless people."

"But why?"

"I do not know." God heavens, his voice sounded wrong, like that of a stranger. It had lost all of his usual aloofness, masterfulness, was stripped bare, and filled with pain and fright I had expected Holmes would never allow anyone to see.

"Holmes, are you sure you are all right?"

He had turned his face out of the light as soon as I had removed the blindfold, but now I carefully turned his head to face me. The bandages I had applied were all but gone, and the freshly crusted wound on his throat was certainly the source of the blood. The bruise on his face was no worse, but he could not keep his eyes focussed on mine, and his lids slid shut from time to time, apparently beyond his control. His pupils were severely dilated.

He smiled thinly, no doubt following my train of thought. "Don't look so horrified, Watson. Had you expected them to leave me lucid, eh?"

"Focus," I instructed, horrified. "Try to follow my finger with your eyes."

He failed abysmally. "Doesn't work, Watson."

"I noticed. Holmes, I need you to concentrate. What is it? A drug?"

Again he made that sound so similar to a sob. "Poison. Slow, but infallibly deadly, Watson. It's almost too late now for the antidote."

"I will get you out of here."

"You cannot. The door is strong, locked and bolted, and the window out of reach."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"Nothing."

"Quite right." We both started at the voice from the doorway, where a man had appeared, pointing his gun at us. He was big, but his face was covered by a mask of black velvet, making his features unrecognisable. "Stand back, Doctor." He levelled the gun at Holmes, who still had his back to the door. "Now replace the blindfold, there's a good chap, or I will not hesitate to shoot."

I did as I was told, and had the feeling that Holmes welcomed the soft cloth, as it did lock out the distorted pictures his eyes were no doubt conjuring up. As soon as I was finished, a bullet shattered the woodwork between my feet and Holmes's chair.

"Back away! Hands above your head."

I obeyed; the gun aiming mercilessly at Holmes's back left me no other choice.

"Now, Emile."

A smaller figure whisked past the first, cloaked in black and masked as well. His grip, however, was harsh as he tied my hands behind my back, and tugged me along and out of the room. Bright, blinding daylight welcomed me, until a black cloth was pulled over my eyes. I heard a horse's hoof scraping on the same stony surface I stood on, and soon enough I was dragged up the footplate of a carriage, and pushed roughly into the far corner of the left-hand-side bench. Someone dropped into the seat beside me, and then there was the clatter of handcuffs, and a muffled outcry followed by an undignified sob as someone, apparently Holmes, collapsed against my feet before he was pulled forcefully away by a fourth person, and the door of the carriage snapped shut. The cold barrel of a gun was pushed into my ribs. "Not a word now, from either of you, or I shall shoot you both." And then the carriage jerked into motion.

I tried to apply Holmes's methods, and determine our route by the sounds I heard, but the pounding of my head frequently drowned them all; besides, the unrestrained sounds of distress from Holmes proved to be very distracting. Once, I heard a church bell in the distance, but nothing helpful. After about an hour's drive I felt the draught of an open carriage door and was pushed out at full speed. My reflex reaction to catch myself broke the bindings which held me, but came too late to prevent my impact on the rough earth and grass of what I assumed to be a ditch by the road.

I lay motionless until the sounds of the carriage had died in the distance before I removed the blindfold and waited for my eyes to adjust to daylight, however faint it was – dusk was falling quickly.

I indeed found myself in a ditch beside a lonely country road. No houses were visible in the immediate vicinity. I had no idea where I was, or why I had been abandoned here, but my musing was cut short by a choked cry further up the road. I recognised Holmes's voice, and hurried up to his listless figure. He was no longer bound, but the blindfold was still in place, and apparently the effort of rolling to his back had pitched him into unconsciousness. His pulse was racing, and his face twisted in agony as I removed the blindfold. The poison was working restlessly, destroying him. I needed to get help quickly, but I could not possibly leave him. He was utterly helpless and without protection, and I had no idea how long it would take me to find anyone if I just stumbled aimlessly to one direction.

To my great relief, fortune looked kindly on us.