Disclaimer: Still Don't Own Holmes. . .
A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed both the previous chapter. ::Sighs:: I'm pretty sure that you guys have heard enough of my apologies and such about not posting enough, but I'm afraid I had to delay the posting of this and subsequent chapters. The most important reason was that I decided to finish writing this story before posting any more (wouldn't want you guys to be stuck at a cliffie for three months ^_^ ). This allows me to post much faster from now on, and I only hope that you will forgive my tardiness one last time.
And now, without further ado, Here's the next chapter:
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Chapter 16- A Light in Darkness
"Miss Granger!" I called out to my companion as I struggled to catch up with her rapidly moving form. Kathryn did not turn back to acknowledge me, but slowed her steps until I fell into step with her.
"What do you make of this, then?" she asked curiously turning to me with thoughtful eyes.
"Well, it appears to me that we've hit a dead end," I replied resignedly, staring at the cobbled ground under my striding feet. "The only man who could have offered us some information is now slumped dead on his bedroom floor. I don't see how anything we saw in there could tie in with Moran, even if the man did kill Rao."
"Keep your head up, doctor." Kathryn mollified with a gentle smile. "We have not run out of road, yet. There are still a few courses of action we could take."
"What do you intend to do?" I asked questioningly, surprised at the slightly satisfied glint in my companion's emerald eyes.
"Our first course of action is to return to Mycroft Holmes and return these schematics," answered Kathryn as she motioned towards the thick sheaf of papers in her hands. "It would not be wise for us to be found walking around in broad daylight carrying these documents, especially since our friend is already in jail for murder; we could be arrested for being accomplices, and Inspector Lestrade would have yet another piece of evidence against us to add to his collection."
Exiting the secret passage was more difficult than entering it, as there was no ladder leading up to the entrance that was slightly beyond our reach above our heads. Fortunately, some constables were within calling range, and with their help, and the added assistance of a small rope ladder, we were soon able to see the bustling street through the windows of the old antique shop once again. We slipped away with as quietly as possible, before hailing a hansom to Whitehall.
"Mycroft should still be in his office at this hour," remarked Kathryn more to herself than to me as she took out an elegantly carved golden watch from one of the numerous pockets in her dress. "We'll have just enough time to drop off the papers and have a quick lunch before we head back to Oxford Street."
"Oxford Street? Why are we going back there?" I asked quizzically.
"I need to return something that was misplaced." Kathryn responded simply, and remained tight lipped about her plans for the rest of the journey.
We were received at the entrance hall of the government offices with raised eyebrows, but with the help of my card, I was able to convince the severe clerk to reservedly show us to the elder Holmes's office.
Mycroft Holmes was stooping over his large, oak desk with an intense expression set into his austere features that could be only compared to a hawk peering with its sharp eyes down at some unfortunate creature that was about to become its lunch. The desk itself, though of substantial size, was barely under the snowstorm of papers that littered the entire surface. The carpeted floor around us was in an equal state of disarray with stacks of documents and thick, leather-bound tomes strewn everywhere, creating a general sense of discord through the entire room.
From beside me, I could hear Kathryn mutter, "Now I see where Holmes gets his cleaning habits from," with a smile.
At the sound of our footsteps, Mycroft stopped shuffling the papers on his desk, and shifted his gaze upon us with a smile. "Ah, Kathryn, Dr. Watson, It's a pleasure seeing you two again so soon. Please, excuse the state of my office," Mycroft announced jovially, motioning us into chairs. "What can I do for you?"
"We've recovered something that you have lost," Kathryn replied, handing over the schematics that we had discovered earlier in Rao's bedroom.
Mycroft's steel grey eyes widened significantly when he beheld the papers, and he quickly yet carefully scrutinized each one. "How did you get this?" He asked incredulously. Kathryn and I made a quick sketch of our actions, recounting how we had found the Arabic spy dead with the sheaf of plans stuffed haphazardly in his pocket.
Mycroft slowly bobbed his up and down in understanding when we had completed our account, and he sat silently with his eyes closed in thought. Just when I had thought that the man had fallen asleep, he uttered solemnly, "What will you do now, Kathryn?"
"I have a few questions I need to ask Miss Jennifer Thompson," Kathryn explained. "Hopefully, she can shed some more light into this whole matter, although the case is almost complete."
At this, Mycroft and I turned to look at our companion with surprise. "You say that you know what happened on the night of Julia Stamford's death?" Holmes asked.
"I know most of the important facts surrounding that evening, yes," Kathryn answered thoughtfully. "All we need now is to find Colonel Moran himself."
We had lunched quickly with Mycroft at a small café across from the elder Holmes's lodgings, before parting ways with him and setting off once again for Oxford Street in a brougham.
"How is Jennifer Thompson involved in all of this mess?" I asked curiously as our cab rattled down the cobbled streets.
"Moran needed someone to assist him with his plan," Kathryn explained. "After all, one cannot simply waltz into a respectable establishment, commit a murder, and waltz out without any help."
"But how can you be so sure that it's Thompson and not anyone else?" I prompted.
Kathryn smiled cryptically. "You shall see soon enough."
"Miss Granger," called Inspector Gregson in surprise as we stepped once again into the threshold of the grey-coloured lodgings of 243 Oxford Street. "What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect to see you here again."
"Good afternoon, Inspector," Kathryn replied in greeting. "We won't take up too much of your valuable time. Could you let me see Miss Thompson for a moment? I simply want to return something that was lost."
The good-natured Inspector looked at us curiously, but showed us into the comfortably furnished front parlour on the ground floor. Soon afterwards, the slightly stumbling form of Jennifer Thompson made her way slowly into the room, with her arms slightly outstretched in front of her as if she were feeling her way around.
The servant stood in front of us quietly with her arms pressed upon her immaculately cleaned apron, as she fixed her piercing gaze that had not lost its sharpness despite her squinting.
"How can I be of service to you, Miss?" she asked with strained politeness.
"I believe that I have something that belongs to you, Miss Thompson, but before I show it to you, I need to ask you something. How long have you been employed here?"
"Over two years, Miss," was the curt reply.
"Do you know anyone named Markus Fleming?" Kathryn prompted.
"No," Thompson answered confidently with a shake of her head. "I've never heard of the name. Why, does he have something to do with all this mess?"
"Perhaps," Kathryn assented. She delved one of her gently tapering hands into a pocket hidden among the many folds of her long, elegant skirt, extricating a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. "I believe that these belong to you," Kathryn remarked as she handed the spectacles to the servant before us.
Jennifer gasped in surprise at the sight of her spectacles and frantically snatched them from Kathryn's loose grip. "Where did you get this?
"Oh, it was only in the possession of one Abdullah Raquesh, also known as Kumar Rao," Kathryn replied simply, her piercing green eyes boring into those of the servant before her. Thompson flinched visibly as the name was uttered and began shaking uncontrollably. Quickly, I stood to support the pale girl before she would collapse onto the floor, beckoning her to a chair and pouring her a glass of brandy.
"Now, let's begin again, shall we?" Kathryn started calmly again as the colour returned to Thompson's pallid cheeks. "How long have you known Markus Fleming?"
Thompson looked up quickly at the question, before taking a deep breath and tightening her lips. "I t-told you that I d-don't know any such person."
"Miss Thompson, when we first met, you had agreed to be frank with me," Kathryn said in an admonishing tone. "Yet you have been trying to deceive us both again and again. I know that you received a letter from Mr. Fleming on the night of Miss Stamford's murder, telling you that he would 'finish her off.' I know that you were with Mr. Rao when he died. The game is up, Tigerlily; Markus Fleming will not help you now. It will only be easier for you if you tell the truth."
Thompson's eyes had widened considerably throughout Kathryn's statement; she now gasped slightly before lowering her head in defeat. "I met Mark when he dropped by this place about four months ago. He said that he was passing by and stayed about a fortnight here."
"I see," Kathryn commented pensively. "I suppose that you fell in love with him during that time?"
"It wasn't as though I could help it!" Thompson cried indignantly. "I wasn't the only one charmed by his face and his purse. He told me that he was a widower and that he had fallen in love with me."
Kathryn nodded calmly. "What did he tell you about Julia Stamford?"
"After he left, Mark sent me letters every week, telling me that he would come back for me. He told me that he just needed me to stay long enough to watch over his acquaintance, Miss Stamford, for him," Thompson explained slowly. "When I asked him who she was, he told me that she was an old jealous mistress of his; he explained that he needed to keep an eye on her, because he feared that she would act violently if she ever met him again.
"At first, I thought this was a little strange, because when I met Miss Stamford, she had been quite pleasant to everyone, even if she was a little distant," Thompson continued. "That changed gradually as the weeks passed; she became angrier and more secretive around me as time went on-I think she found out that I was now Mark's new mistress. I wrote continually to him, in the new spiral code that he had taught me, telling him about all that I saw.
"About a week ago, I saw Mr. Holmes with Miss Stamford. They had talked about the papers that she had carried with her at all times. I told Mark about this, and he immediately wrote back telling me to meet him. He sent me a packet of powder, telling me to make curry that evening and slip some of the powder into the food. I didn't know what the powder was-he just told me not to eat the curry- and had no idea what he was going to do until he came the night of Miss Stamford's death."
"I understand, Miss Thompson. So, after you let him in, he sent you to his lodgings till morning, am I right?" Kathryn asked curiously.
"Yes," Thompson affirmed. "Markus returned shortly after one in the morning, and told me about everything. He told me to help him escape, because I would be arrested as well if he were caught. After I promised, he returned me back here so I would not be missed in the morning."
Kathryn sighed deeply, shaking her head in thought, before continuing. "I'm afraid that you may not have been charged had you not aided Mr. Fleming so much in his crime. What happened with Mr. Rao? Why were you there?"
"Markus called me back to his lodgings soon after you had come to question me the first time. He told me that he needed me to retrieve some papers from Mr. Rao that had belonged to him. Rao was already dead when I arrived, and I was sure that Markus had something to do with it. When I saw the papers that Markus had told me to get, I recognized them because I saw Miss Stamford with them when she was alive. I thought that if Markus or I were caught with those papers, then we would be suspected for her murder, but if Rao still had the papers when the police found him, then they would suspect him and not us. So I took the papers from where they were hidden in the cabinet and stuffed them in his pocket before leaving as quickly as I could. I suppose I must have left too quickly, since I left my glasses in the room."
Kathryn sat silently for a few moments in deep thought, before standing quietly. "Excuse me for a moment," she said quietly, before stepping swiftly out of the room. Miss Thompson and I were left in an awkward silence, in which her piercing stare would not waver from the wooden floor. I was glad, therefore, when Kathryn returned soon after, with Inspector Gregson in tow, looking as if he had just received the shock of his life.
"You have gotten yourself into quite a mess, Miss. Thompson," Kathryn announced gravely as she stood before the servant. "However, I may be able to help you if you tell me where Mr. Fleming currently resides."
"I won't be able to help you there," Thompson replied with a defiant tone still present as she spoke. "I've only been there once, and I don't know the exact location."
Kathryn, however was unfazed by this answer, and fixed Thompson's stare with a piercing gaze of her own. "Mr. Fleming will not come to your aid after you disobeyed his direct order; I assure you that your only option is to assist us. Do you know anything that could help us find where it is- the name of a nearby street, perhaps, or the name of the house itself?"
Thompson broke eye contact reluctantly. "Markus resides at the Camden House."
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A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this chapter; the next one will be out in a week.
Here's a final FYI before I stop rambling:
I had a review concerning the potency of acetic acid, specifically whether it's strong enough to burn your skin.
Vinegar is acetic acid in a VERY diluted form (only about 4%), and vinegar has its tangy flavour because it has a slight corrosive action on your taste buds. Just imagine what pure 100% acetic acid can do if 4% will burn your tongue!
A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed both the previous chapter. ::Sighs:: I'm pretty sure that you guys have heard enough of my apologies and such about not posting enough, but I'm afraid I had to delay the posting of this and subsequent chapters. The most important reason was that I decided to finish writing this story before posting any more (wouldn't want you guys to be stuck at a cliffie for three months ^_^ ). This allows me to post much faster from now on, and I only hope that you will forgive my tardiness one last time.
And now, without further ado, Here's the next chapter:
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Chapter 16- A Light in Darkness
"Miss Granger!" I called out to my companion as I struggled to catch up with her rapidly moving form. Kathryn did not turn back to acknowledge me, but slowed her steps until I fell into step with her.
"What do you make of this, then?" she asked curiously turning to me with thoughtful eyes.
"Well, it appears to me that we've hit a dead end," I replied resignedly, staring at the cobbled ground under my striding feet. "The only man who could have offered us some information is now slumped dead on his bedroom floor. I don't see how anything we saw in there could tie in with Moran, even if the man did kill Rao."
"Keep your head up, doctor." Kathryn mollified with a gentle smile. "We have not run out of road, yet. There are still a few courses of action we could take."
"What do you intend to do?" I asked questioningly, surprised at the slightly satisfied glint in my companion's emerald eyes.
"Our first course of action is to return to Mycroft Holmes and return these schematics," answered Kathryn as she motioned towards the thick sheaf of papers in her hands. "It would not be wise for us to be found walking around in broad daylight carrying these documents, especially since our friend is already in jail for murder; we could be arrested for being accomplices, and Inspector Lestrade would have yet another piece of evidence against us to add to his collection."
Exiting the secret passage was more difficult than entering it, as there was no ladder leading up to the entrance that was slightly beyond our reach above our heads. Fortunately, some constables were within calling range, and with their help, and the added assistance of a small rope ladder, we were soon able to see the bustling street through the windows of the old antique shop once again. We slipped away with as quietly as possible, before hailing a hansom to Whitehall.
"Mycroft should still be in his office at this hour," remarked Kathryn more to herself than to me as she took out an elegantly carved golden watch from one of the numerous pockets in her dress. "We'll have just enough time to drop off the papers and have a quick lunch before we head back to Oxford Street."
"Oxford Street? Why are we going back there?" I asked quizzically.
"I need to return something that was misplaced." Kathryn responded simply, and remained tight lipped about her plans for the rest of the journey.
We were received at the entrance hall of the government offices with raised eyebrows, but with the help of my card, I was able to convince the severe clerk to reservedly show us to the elder Holmes's office.
Mycroft Holmes was stooping over his large, oak desk with an intense expression set into his austere features that could be only compared to a hawk peering with its sharp eyes down at some unfortunate creature that was about to become its lunch. The desk itself, though of substantial size, was barely under the snowstorm of papers that littered the entire surface. The carpeted floor around us was in an equal state of disarray with stacks of documents and thick, leather-bound tomes strewn everywhere, creating a general sense of discord through the entire room.
From beside me, I could hear Kathryn mutter, "Now I see where Holmes gets his cleaning habits from," with a smile.
At the sound of our footsteps, Mycroft stopped shuffling the papers on his desk, and shifted his gaze upon us with a smile. "Ah, Kathryn, Dr. Watson, It's a pleasure seeing you two again so soon. Please, excuse the state of my office," Mycroft announced jovially, motioning us into chairs. "What can I do for you?"
"We've recovered something that you have lost," Kathryn replied, handing over the schematics that we had discovered earlier in Rao's bedroom.
Mycroft's steel grey eyes widened significantly when he beheld the papers, and he quickly yet carefully scrutinized each one. "How did you get this?" He asked incredulously. Kathryn and I made a quick sketch of our actions, recounting how we had found the Arabic spy dead with the sheaf of plans stuffed haphazardly in his pocket.
Mycroft slowly bobbed his up and down in understanding when we had completed our account, and he sat silently with his eyes closed in thought. Just when I had thought that the man had fallen asleep, he uttered solemnly, "What will you do now, Kathryn?"
"I have a few questions I need to ask Miss Jennifer Thompson," Kathryn explained. "Hopefully, she can shed some more light into this whole matter, although the case is almost complete."
At this, Mycroft and I turned to look at our companion with surprise. "You say that you know what happened on the night of Julia Stamford's death?" Holmes asked.
"I know most of the important facts surrounding that evening, yes," Kathryn answered thoughtfully. "All we need now is to find Colonel Moran himself."
We had lunched quickly with Mycroft at a small café across from the elder Holmes's lodgings, before parting ways with him and setting off once again for Oxford Street in a brougham.
"How is Jennifer Thompson involved in all of this mess?" I asked curiously as our cab rattled down the cobbled streets.
"Moran needed someone to assist him with his plan," Kathryn explained. "After all, one cannot simply waltz into a respectable establishment, commit a murder, and waltz out without any help."
"But how can you be so sure that it's Thompson and not anyone else?" I prompted.
Kathryn smiled cryptically. "You shall see soon enough."
"Miss Granger," called Inspector Gregson in surprise as we stepped once again into the threshold of the grey-coloured lodgings of 243 Oxford Street. "What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect to see you here again."
"Good afternoon, Inspector," Kathryn replied in greeting. "We won't take up too much of your valuable time. Could you let me see Miss Thompson for a moment? I simply want to return something that was lost."
The good-natured Inspector looked at us curiously, but showed us into the comfortably furnished front parlour on the ground floor. Soon afterwards, the slightly stumbling form of Jennifer Thompson made her way slowly into the room, with her arms slightly outstretched in front of her as if she were feeling her way around.
The servant stood in front of us quietly with her arms pressed upon her immaculately cleaned apron, as she fixed her piercing gaze that had not lost its sharpness despite her squinting.
"How can I be of service to you, Miss?" she asked with strained politeness.
"I believe that I have something that belongs to you, Miss Thompson, but before I show it to you, I need to ask you something. How long have you been employed here?"
"Over two years, Miss," was the curt reply.
"Do you know anyone named Markus Fleming?" Kathryn prompted.
"No," Thompson answered confidently with a shake of her head. "I've never heard of the name. Why, does he have something to do with all this mess?"
"Perhaps," Kathryn assented. She delved one of her gently tapering hands into a pocket hidden among the many folds of her long, elegant skirt, extricating a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. "I believe that these belong to you," Kathryn remarked as she handed the spectacles to the servant before us.
Jennifer gasped in surprise at the sight of her spectacles and frantically snatched them from Kathryn's loose grip. "Where did you get this?
"Oh, it was only in the possession of one Abdullah Raquesh, also known as Kumar Rao," Kathryn replied simply, her piercing green eyes boring into those of the servant before her. Thompson flinched visibly as the name was uttered and began shaking uncontrollably. Quickly, I stood to support the pale girl before she would collapse onto the floor, beckoning her to a chair and pouring her a glass of brandy.
"Now, let's begin again, shall we?" Kathryn started calmly again as the colour returned to Thompson's pallid cheeks. "How long have you known Markus Fleming?"
Thompson looked up quickly at the question, before taking a deep breath and tightening her lips. "I t-told you that I d-don't know any such person."
"Miss Thompson, when we first met, you had agreed to be frank with me," Kathryn said in an admonishing tone. "Yet you have been trying to deceive us both again and again. I know that you received a letter from Mr. Fleming on the night of Miss Stamford's murder, telling you that he would 'finish her off.' I know that you were with Mr. Rao when he died. The game is up, Tigerlily; Markus Fleming will not help you now. It will only be easier for you if you tell the truth."
Thompson's eyes had widened considerably throughout Kathryn's statement; she now gasped slightly before lowering her head in defeat. "I met Mark when he dropped by this place about four months ago. He said that he was passing by and stayed about a fortnight here."
"I see," Kathryn commented pensively. "I suppose that you fell in love with him during that time?"
"It wasn't as though I could help it!" Thompson cried indignantly. "I wasn't the only one charmed by his face and his purse. He told me that he was a widower and that he had fallen in love with me."
Kathryn nodded calmly. "What did he tell you about Julia Stamford?"
"After he left, Mark sent me letters every week, telling me that he would come back for me. He told me that he just needed me to stay long enough to watch over his acquaintance, Miss Stamford, for him," Thompson explained slowly. "When I asked him who she was, he told me that she was an old jealous mistress of his; he explained that he needed to keep an eye on her, because he feared that she would act violently if she ever met him again.
"At first, I thought this was a little strange, because when I met Miss Stamford, she had been quite pleasant to everyone, even if she was a little distant," Thompson continued. "That changed gradually as the weeks passed; she became angrier and more secretive around me as time went on-I think she found out that I was now Mark's new mistress. I wrote continually to him, in the new spiral code that he had taught me, telling him about all that I saw.
"About a week ago, I saw Mr. Holmes with Miss Stamford. They had talked about the papers that she had carried with her at all times. I told Mark about this, and he immediately wrote back telling me to meet him. He sent me a packet of powder, telling me to make curry that evening and slip some of the powder into the food. I didn't know what the powder was-he just told me not to eat the curry- and had no idea what he was going to do until he came the night of Miss Stamford's death."
"I understand, Miss Thompson. So, after you let him in, he sent you to his lodgings till morning, am I right?" Kathryn asked curiously.
"Yes," Thompson affirmed. "Markus returned shortly after one in the morning, and told me about everything. He told me to help him escape, because I would be arrested as well if he were caught. After I promised, he returned me back here so I would not be missed in the morning."
Kathryn sighed deeply, shaking her head in thought, before continuing. "I'm afraid that you may not have been charged had you not aided Mr. Fleming so much in his crime. What happened with Mr. Rao? Why were you there?"
"Markus called me back to his lodgings soon after you had come to question me the first time. He told me that he needed me to retrieve some papers from Mr. Rao that had belonged to him. Rao was already dead when I arrived, and I was sure that Markus had something to do with it. When I saw the papers that Markus had told me to get, I recognized them because I saw Miss Stamford with them when she was alive. I thought that if Markus or I were caught with those papers, then we would be suspected for her murder, but if Rao still had the papers when the police found him, then they would suspect him and not us. So I took the papers from where they were hidden in the cabinet and stuffed them in his pocket before leaving as quickly as I could. I suppose I must have left too quickly, since I left my glasses in the room."
Kathryn sat silently for a few moments in deep thought, before standing quietly. "Excuse me for a moment," she said quietly, before stepping swiftly out of the room. Miss Thompson and I were left in an awkward silence, in which her piercing stare would not waver from the wooden floor. I was glad, therefore, when Kathryn returned soon after, with Inspector Gregson in tow, looking as if he had just received the shock of his life.
"You have gotten yourself into quite a mess, Miss. Thompson," Kathryn announced gravely as she stood before the servant. "However, I may be able to help you if you tell me where Mr. Fleming currently resides."
"I won't be able to help you there," Thompson replied with a defiant tone still present as she spoke. "I've only been there once, and I don't know the exact location."
Kathryn, however was unfazed by this answer, and fixed Thompson's stare with a piercing gaze of her own. "Mr. Fleming will not come to your aid after you disobeyed his direct order; I assure you that your only option is to assist us. Do you know anything that could help us find where it is- the name of a nearby street, perhaps, or the name of the house itself?"
Thompson broke eye contact reluctantly. "Markus resides at the Camden House."
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A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this chapter; the next one will be out in a week.
Here's a final FYI before I stop rambling:
I had a review concerning the potency of acetic acid, specifically whether it's strong enough to burn your skin.
Vinegar is acetic acid in a VERY diluted form (only about 4%), and vinegar has its tangy flavour because it has a slight corrosive action on your taste buds. Just imagine what pure 100% acetic acid can do if 4% will burn your tongue!