Chapter 10: Containing a Somewhat More Complete Chase Scene
They all saw it at once; a bright blue speedboat swung out from behind a cluster of cranes on the far side of the river. Before the men even had a chance to call out, the pilot was angling for it and picking up speed. Sherlock leapt down to the deck and ran to the prow. John climbed down the ladder to follow him. "Yes! There he is!" Sherlock shouted, pointing. John could make out the man seated on the aft deck of the blue speedboat, busy with something at his feet. He saw someone else too, a small dark man, running from one side of the boat to the other. He looked to Sherlock, questioning, "The Small Man?"
Sherlock nodded, pleased. "Watch out for him, though; he only dropped some darts at Sholto's. He still has his blow gun."
The police boat lived up to Lestrade's claims; the pilot pulled up alongside the speedboat, matching its speed. Lestrade used the ship's loudspeaker to hail Mordecai Smith by name. While he was trying to persuade Smith to surrender, Sherlock and John moved quickly to starboard, preparing to jump across as soon as the pilot maneuvered them into position.
The police cruiser kept parallel with the speedboat, edging ever closer. Sherlock grabbed the rail with both his hands, leveraging with his foot, ready to leap the gap. John kept his gun in his hand and his eye on the other boat's two passengers. The One-Legged Man stood and roared incomprehensibly at his companion, who held something in his right hand, moving surely across the deck towards them. The Bushman raised a small object to his mouth; something glittered in the moonlight, and John grabbed Sherlock around the chest, pulling him back and down, even as he fired a shot at the African, who continued his forward path over the edge of the speedboat and into the river. Sherlock and John did not see him sink beneath the cold surface of the Thames; both men turned towards one another, then behind them, where the final blow dart was lodged in the police boat's cabin wall. Their breath came in gulps as they fell together, slumped against the cabin, laughing the nervous laughter that came after a narrow escape.
Mordecai Smith, persuaded by Lestrade's words or John's gun, slowed to a stop, and Lestrade lashed the two boats together. The One-Legged Man surrendered quietly enough, and was brought aboard the Police Cruiser with a small wooden box in his hands. Lestrade gave him the appropriate warnings, and secured him inside the small cabin. Sherlock and John wanted to talk to him then and there, but Lestrade forbid: "He's my suspect, and I will question him when and where it is appropriate. We're all going back to the Yard."
Perhaps in an effort to appease Sherlock, he handed him the wooden box that the One-Legged Man had surrendered to him. "Tell me what you can about this."
Sherlock looked closely at the glossy black box, turning it in his long fingers, examining the sleekly polished surface, the joints, the lock. "African Blackwood. Grows throughout the drier parts of Africa – Angola, Botswana, South Africa. It's usually used for clarinets, instruments like that, because it's hard and strong, but easy to work with. Heavy, too," he added, weighing the box in his hand. "It's hard to tell from the wood how old it is, but the locks are silver. German. Prewar." He put out his hand, expectantly. Lestrade looked at the empty hand, then back at Sherlock.
"The key, Lestrade."
Lestrade returned to the cabin, where he remonstrated briefly with the One-Legged Man before returning. "He says there's no key."
"There's a lock; there must be a key."
"The key is at the bottom of the river, Sherlock," said Lestrade, sharing Sherlock's frustration at this turn of events.
John was outraged, and turned towards the cabin door. "He's probably hiding it. I'll bet he's got it in his filthy pockets!"
Lestrade stepped in front of John, his stance solid, blocking the smaller man. "What are you going to do, shoot him? He says there's no key, and I, for one, believe him. We can add on an obstruction charge later. At the Yard. After we go through the proper procedures." With that, he took the box back from Sherlock and shoved it into a duffel bag which he slung over his shoulder for the slow trip back to the police dock.