Chapter 18- Another Empty House
Our brougham rolled to a halt at the end of Broad Street shortly after eight, just as the sun had sank below the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. A light yet dreary fog began to settle around us, enveloping the scene in an impenetrable veil of grey mist.
Kathryn briskly hopped out, seemingly unperturbed by the gloomy weather, and stood surveying the surroundings introspectively. Inspector Hopkins and I cautiously followed her out, hugging our coats tightly against the chill.
I glanced around towards the wharf and the nearby buildings with recognition dawning in my mind. "First Camden House, and now this," I mused with a wry laugh. Seeing their confused faces, I continued, "Holmes and I came here after using a dog to track down a trail of creosote in the case of Jonathan Small."
Indeed, the old wooden wharf had changed little since Holmes and I first arrived here during the adventure I later named "The Sign of Four." There were numerous punts and skiffs bobbing about in the water. Glancing beside the worn landing stage, I could still see a small empty, and obviously abandoned, brick house with the words, "Mordecai Smith- Boats to hire by the hour or day," painted with peeling letters on a faded wooden placard slung across a boarded up window.
"This has just been a day of reminisces for you, hasn't it?" Kathryn commented with a smile, lightening all our moods considerably. I turned to see Kathryn step slowly to the end of the jetty, carefully pacing out the exact length of the small wooden dock and scrutinizing every detail. As she reached the very edge, she leaned over the railings on each side of the pier and peered searchingly into the murky depths of the icy water below.
Returning my gaze to Hopkins, the two of us sought for an appropriate hiding spot. Unfortunately there were few places of possible concealment on the jetty before us; apart from a few barrels and crates covered with fishing nets at one end of the landing stage, the wharf was completely bare.
"Don't you think that Moran will suspect that someone may be hiding behind those?" asked Hopkins doubtfully as he raised his eyebrow.
"Yes," I conceded with a sigh. "We must find somewhere else to hide, at least temporarily; Moran will be sure to check that spot when he comes."
"I presume that you have found an adequate hiding spot?" Kathryn asked quietly once she had finished her examination of the quay. She glanced quickly at our sheepish expressions, with her emerald eyes twinkling in amusement. "I'm sure that you two will come up with something. In the mean time, I must leave for the moment, gentlemen- Moran will be suspicious if he finds me waiting for him. I will return in an hour." With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the thickening fog. Silence enveloped us like a dense blanket once again, broken by the clatter of hooves that signalled Kathryn's departure.
"Now what do we do?" Hopkins asked, with desperation peeking through his normally calm voice.
The empty brick house on the landing-edge caught my eye as I had started to shake my head. Curious, I stepped slowly up to the shabby weather-beaten door. "We could try in here if there's no one else inside," I suggested.
"But we can't do that," Hopkins immediately objected. "That's breaking and entering without a warrant!"
"Do you have a better suggestion, then?" I asked wearily. "We have to find somewhere to hide quickly- Moran will be here at any moment, now."
The inspector eventually acquiesced grudgingly, and when I found the door was unlocked, the two of us slipped surreptitiously inside. Darkness filled our vision as the pungent odour of mildew and rotten fish filled our nostrils, making both of us wrinkle our noses.
"It smells like something's died in here," he scoffed in disgust as he bumped unceremoniously into a small wooden bed in the corner of the room.
It seemed to take forever before our eyes adjusted to the pitch-black interior of the single-roomed dwelling. We felt our way cautiously to the single boarded window that was covered with layers of soot and grime. The slats of wood covering much of the window would not budge under our collective efforts to shift them, and after several minutes of trying, Hopkins and I had only managed to make a two-inch wide slit between the panels of oak.
"I suppose that one of us should stay at the door then," I commented as I took a seat on the dust-covered cabinet that stood beside the window to prepare for the vigil ahead. "It will allow us to reach Miss Granger more quickly if something unexpected arises."
The inspector nodded and made his way past a decrepit round table, which stood on feebly with a shattered leg in the centre of the abode, back to the soggy decaying door, with his hands hovering anxiously over the doorknob.
We had not long to wait, as it was too soon before I saw through the tiny gap bobbing lanterns that indicated the arrival of a carriage. A dark figure whose face was hidden in shadow stepped cautiously from the brougham and made his way towards the small wooden wharf. Just as we had thought, Moran carefully examined the crates and barrels that were placed by the landing side. His sharp gaze then shifted to our brick house and I leaned back from the window, holding my breath as he scrutinized every detail. After what seemed like hours, Moran seemed satisfied, and continued his jaunt towards the wharf.
The old man strolled with a nonchalant gait towards the edge of the dock, and paced leisurely in expectation. Five minutes crawled by, and then ten, but still I could see no sign of Kathryn's reappearance. Moran seemed equally anxious, as he peered intently into the swirling fog and snuck frequent glances at his pocket watch.
Finally, just as bells from a distant chimed the ninth hour, a second figure emerged onto the scene, shrouded in a heavy cloak. The gaunt form swept with swift steps towards Moran's awaiting outline, silhouetted by the distant lamps of passing ferries.
"Miss Granger's here," I whispered softly to Hopkins, who placed his hands expectantly on the doorknob.
I returned my anxious gaze to the window and peered out absorbedly at the hunched figures that stood at the end of the quay. The two of them seemed to be having an animated conversation, as Moran, who had his back towards us, was gesturing frantically at Kathryn. The latter, however, was completely still, with her head lowered slightly, making her appear like a foreboding statue.
"Perhaps we should try to get closer," I suggested in a murmur.
Seeing a small nod from the inspector, I turned from the windowsill and crept as silently as I could to Hopkins's side, painfully aware of the creaking floorboards beneath my strides. Hopkins tightened his grasp on the doorknob and slowly turned it. The door swung out with a slight creak that was muffled by the dense fog, which also obscured our exit from the figures on the dock.
With our shoulders hunched, Hopkins and I stole across the landing, carefully hugging our bodies against the shadowed wall to avoid being seen. As we approached the water's edge, voices drifted through the opaque mist.
"So what will you do now?" Kathryn's voice echoed.
"Well, it really depends on what you try to do, my dear," Moran replied, "but believe me; you will not put me in the dock tonight, Miss Granger."
"Colonel, I have held much respect for your intelligence so far, so please don't let me down, now," Kathryn announced assertively. "Do you really expect me to let you disappear nonchalantly with your hands swinging freely by your sides onto the Continent without any qualms?"
"I am afraid that your hands are quite tied in this affair, Miss Granger," Moran countered quietly. "You see, every one of us has dark secrets in our pasts-even you. I'm sure that many people would be interested to know where the daughter of Robert Granger is residing."
There was a heavy pause, before Kathryn spoke up again. "Your idle threats don't frighten me. The shadow of which you speak has loomed over me for many years, yet I am still here standing before you, in perfect health."
A gruff, bark-like chuckle reverberated from the edge of the wharf as we slinked ever closer to the two figures, whose dark outlines were illuminated by a lantern at the tip of the pier.
"It seems that we have come to a stalemate, Miss Granger," Moran mused, still laughing loudly. "I cannot convince you to let me be, and you have no way to catch me here tonight."
There was a slight shuffle of cloth, before Kathryn replied with her glasses glinting from the reflected lantern light. "Indeed, the situation does appear as you describe."
"This reminds me of a similar situation that occurred at Reichenbach falls a few years ago," the Colonel commented idly as he began to pace around Kathryn, poised as if ready to strike his prey at any moment. "It seems the only differences are the location and the players in this game- we have followed the footsteps of our predecessors."
"If I remember correctly," Kathryn answered calmly, still standing as still as a statue as she eyed Moran's circling figure, "the good Professor Moriarty lost, and paid with his life,"
"Yes, I believe so," Moran conceded unflinchingly. "Moriarty was a genius when it came to planning anything, but Mr. Holmes's relentless pursuit of the poor old man made him doubt his own abilities. When the confrontation occurred, the professor did not believe that he would survive, so he did not plan with that in mind.
"I, however, have learned from my old mentor's mistakes, so the scale tips once more in my favour." An audible click resounded in my ears, and I tried to rush towards the figures before me, held back only by Hopkins's vice- like grip on my shoulder.
"We would endanger Kathryn more by revealing ourselves," the young inspector whispered urgently into my ear. "We must be patient and let her deal with this."
Before I could utter a retort, Moran's voice caught both of our attentions once again. "It would be a shame if you force me to remove you from my path, but I'm afraid that you must stand aside, one way or another."
"You shall not pass, Colonel- not this time," Kathryn replied clearly with calm defiance radiating from her words as she pulled out a gleaming silver police whistle from her dress pocket and placed it at her lips.
"Then you leave me no choice, my foolish dear. Say hello to your father for me."
Before any of us could react, the relative silence that had enveloped us was pierced with the shrill cry of a police whistle that seemed to cut through the fog with the sharpness of a blade. The Colonel growled angrily he rushed forward at Kathryn. The next moment, a sharp bang erupted into the air like the crack of a whip, and the scene before us was obfuscated in a flurry of dark cloth.
"Kathryn!" I exclaimed frantically, rushing forward desperately as my ears were still ringing from the gunshot, with Hopkins at my heels.
The mist had parted to reveal the two figures thrashing on the ground as the firearm slid a short distance away from them unnoticed. Moran forced himself to the top and grasped Kathryn tightly in a chokehold as the latter grasped the Colonel's arms in an attempt to break free. Just as Kathryn's struggles began to diminish, Moran's overbearing weight was projected into the air as he was kicked unceremoniously away from her. Landing with a dull thud on the wooden boards of the dock, Moran fought to regain his footing. He groped blindly around him until his fingers felt the smooth handle of his revolver. The two figures returned to their feet simultaneously, before Kathryn made another desperate lunge for the weapon.
The tussle between the two figures before us continued as both of them sidled dangerously close to the water's edge. Kathryn and Moran sought urgently for control of the firearm clutched tightly in their grasps as a second shot rang into the night sky.
Finally, Kathryn's cloaked figure managed to disentangle from Moran, as she backed away from the menacing figure, pointing his gun at its owner. The latter fumed at this, and charged once more towards her like a crazed rhinoceros, causing the two of them to topple from the wooden wharf and tumble into the murky depths of the Thames below.
Hopkins and I halted at the end of the dock, peeking desperately for any sign of either figure in the bubbling expanse of icy water. An eternity seemed to elapse, before Kathryn's head burst from the turbulent surface of the river, coughing and gasping urgently for air.
Hopkins and I released the breaths that we didn't know we were holding, as she began to swim steadily back to the shore, but our looks of relief returned to those of horror as Kathryn uttered a shocked cry before disappearing again under the waves.
"We have to go after her," I exclaimed, taking off my billowing coat before plunging into the freezing water after my companion.
The bitter coldness of the river seared my skin and gnawed angrily at my old bullet wound as I heaved my first stroke, diving deeper in frantic search of some sign from either Kathryn or Moran. Ignoring the blinding relentless pain, I opened my eyes as widely as I could, peering anxiously into the opaque darkness that surrounded me.
Three strokes down, then four, but still I could find nothing. Then, just as my lungs would allow me to go no farther, I thought I could barely make out in the dappled lamplight the ghostly outline of a pallid hand freely adrift in the mucky depths almost as if it had detached from its former owner. I reached out as far I could, and my fingertips barely grazed the nails on the other hand.
Pushing with all my might against my surrounding water, I heaved a final stroke, before I firmly grasped the hand below me at the wrist. I turned myself back upwards, and began the long journey back to the surface with the scattered lights from lanterns my as my only guide.
I kicked frantically and stroked as hard as I could, but alas, it was to no avail- the weight of the body I dragged with me was too great. I would not be able to return to the surface unless I relinquished my hold on the hand in my grasp.
Just as my hopes began to dim along with my already clouded vision, I felt a pair of strong arms clasp my own, before I was lifted hastily out of the water, with the hand that I had grasped firmly in tow.
A cacophony of strident noises besieged my ears as soon as my feet touched firm ground once again. I staggered drunkenly this way and that, struggling to make out something coherent from the overwhelming discord of shouting and pounding that was smothering me. My bleary heavy-lidded eyes could make out the faint outline of a person rushing towards me, before everything went blurry, and I was sent tumbling into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed the climax; please review and tell me what you think!
Our brougham rolled to a halt at the end of Broad Street shortly after eight, just as the sun had sank below the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. A light yet dreary fog began to settle around us, enveloping the scene in an impenetrable veil of grey mist.
Kathryn briskly hopped out, seemingly unperturbed by the gloomy weather, and stood surveying the surroundings introspectively. Inspector Hopkins and I cautiously followed her out, hugging our coats tightly against the chill.
I glanced around towards the wharf and the nearby buildings with recognition dawning in my mind. "First Camden House, and now this," I mused with a wry laugh. Seeing their confused faces, I continued, "Holmes and I came here after using a dog to track down a trail of creosote in the case of Jonathan Small."
Indeed, the old wooden wharf had changed little since Holmes and I first arrived here during the adventure I later named "The Sign of Four." There were numerous punts and skiffs bobbing about in the water. Glancing beside the worn landing stage, I could still see a small empty, and obviously abandoned, brick house with the words, "Mordecai Smith- Boats to hire by the hour or day," painted with peeling letters on a faded wooden placard slung across a boarded up window.
"This has just been a day of reminisces for you, hasn't it?" Kathryn commented with a smile, lightening all our moods considerably. I turned to see Kathryn step slowly to the end of the jetty, carefully pacing out the exact length of the small wooden dock and scrutinizing every detail. As she reached the very edge, she leaned over the railings on each side of the pier and peered searchingly into the murky depths of the icy water below.
Returning my gaze to Hopkins, the two of us sought for an appropriate hiding spot. Unfortunately there were few places of possible concealment on the jetty before us; apart from a few barrels and crates covered with fishing nets at one end of the landing stage, the wharf was completely bare.
"Don't you think that Moran will suspect that someone may be hiding behind those?" asked Hopkins doubtfully as he raised his eyebrow.
"Yes," I conceded with a sigh. "We must find somewhere else to hide, at least temporarily; Moran will be sure to check that spot when he comes."
"I presume that you have found an adequate hiding spot?" Kathryn asked quietly once she had finished her examination of the quay. She glanced quickly at our sheepish expressions, with her emerald eyes twinkling in amusement. "I'm sure that you two will come up with something. In the mean time, I must leave for the moment, gentlemen- Moran will be suspicious if he finds me waiting for him. I will return in an hour." With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the thickening fog. Silence enveloped us like a dense blanket once again, broken by the clatter of hooves that signalled Kathryn's departure.
"Now what do we do?" Hopkins asked, with desperation peeking through his normally calm voice.
The empty brick house on the landing-edge caught my eye as I had started to shake my head. Curious, I stepped slowly up to the shabby weather-beaten door. "We could try in here if there's no one else inside," I suggested.
"But we can't do that," Hopkins immediately objected. "That's breaking and entering without a warrant!"
"Do you have a better suggestion, then?" I asked wearily. "We have to find somewhere to hide quickly- Moran will be here at any moment, now."
The inspector eventually acquiesced grudgingly, and when I found the door was unlocked, the two of us slipped surreptitiously inside. Darkness filled our vision as the pungent odour of mildew and rotten fish filled our nostrils, making both of us wrinkle our noses.
"It smells like something's died in here," he scoffed in disgust as he bumped unceremoniously into a small wooden bed in the corner of the room.
It seemed to take forever before our eyes adjusted to the pitch-black interior of the single-roomed dwelling. We felt our way cautiously to the single boarded window that was covered with layers of soot and grime. The slats of wood covering much of the window would not budge under our collective efforts to shift them, and after several minutes of trying, Hopkins and I had only managed to make a two-inch wide slit between the panels of oak.
"I suppose that one of us should stay at the door then," I commented as I took a seat on the dust-covered cabinet that stood beside the window to prepare for the vigil ahead. "It will allow us to reach Miss Granger more quickly if something unexpected arises."
The inspector nodded and made his way past a decrepit round table, which stood on feebly with a shattered leg in the centre of the abode, back to the soggy decaying door, with his hands hovering anxiously over the doorknob.
We had not long to wait, as it was too soon before I saw through the tiny gap bobbing lanterns that indicated the arrival of a carriage. A dark figure whose face was hidden in shadow stepped cautiously from the brougham and made his way towards the small wooden wharf. Just as we had thought, Moran carefully examined the crates and barrels that were placed by the landing side. His sharp gaze then shifted to our brick house and I leaned back from the window, holding my breath as he scrutinized every detail. After what seemed like hours, Moran seemed satisfied, and continued his jaunt towards the wharf.
The old man strolled with a nonchalant gait towards the edge of the dock, and paced leisurely in expectation. Five minutes crawled by, and then ten, but still I could see no sign of Kathryn's reappearance. Moran seemed equally anxious, as he peered intently into the swirling fog and snuck frequent glances at his pocket watch.
Finally, just as bells from a distant chimed the ninth hour, a second figure emerged onto the scene, shrouded in a heavy cloak. The gaunt form swept with swift steps towards Moran's awaiting outline, silhouetted by the distant lamps of passing ferries.
"Miss Granger's here," I whispered softly to Hopkins, who placed his hands expectantly on the doorknob.
I returned my anxious gaze to the window and peered out absorbedly at the hunched figures that stood at the end of the quay. The two of them seemed to be having an animated conversation, as Moran, who had his back towards us, was gesturing frantically at Kathryn. The latter, however, was completely still, with her head lowered slightly, making her appear like a foreboding statue.
"Perhaps we should try to get closer," I suggested in a murmur.
Seeing a small nod from the inspector, I turned from the windowsill and crept as silently as I could to Hopkins's side, painfully aware of the creaking floorboards beneath my strides. Hopkins tightened his grasp on the doorknob and slowly turned it. The door swung out with a slight creak that was muffled by the dense fog, which also obscured our exit from the figures on the dock.
With our shoulders hunched, Hopkins and I stole across the landing, carefully hugging our bodies against the shadowed wall to avoid being seen. As we approached the water's edge, voices drifted through the opaque mist.
"So what will you do now?" Kathryn's voice echoed.
"Well, it really depends on what you try to do, my dear," Moran replied, "but believe me; you will not put me in the dock tonight, Miss Granger."
"Colonel, I have held much respect for your intelligence so far, so please don't let me down, now," Kathryn announced assertively. "Do you really expect me to let you disappear nonchalantly with your hands swinging freely by your sides onto the Continent without any qualms?"
"I am afraid that your hands are quite tied in this affair, Miss Granger," Moran countered quietly. "You see, every one of us has dark secrets in our pasts-even you. I'm sure that many people would be interested to know where the daughter of Robert Granger is residing."
There was a heavy pause, before Kathryn spoke up again. "Your idle threats don't frighten me. The shadow of which you speak has loomed over me for many years, yet I am still here standing before you, in perfect health."
A gruff, bark-like chuckle reverberated from the edge of the wharf as we slinked ever closer to the two figures, whose dark outlines were illuminated by a lantern at the tip of the pier.
"It seems that we have come to a stalemate, Miss Granger," Moran mused, still laughing loudly. "I cannot convince you to let me be, and you have no way to catch me here tonight."
There was a slight shuffle of cloth, before Kathryn replied with her glasses glinting from the reflected lantern light. "Indeed, the situation does appear as you describe."
"This reminds me of a similar situation that occurred at Reichenbach falls a few years ago," the Colonel commented idly as he began to pace around Kathryn, poised as if ready to strike his prey at any moment. "It seems the only differences are the location and the players in this game- we have followed the footsteps of our predecessors."
"If I remember correctly," Kathryn answered calmly, still standing as still as a statue as she eyed Moran's circling figure, "the good Professor Moriarty lost, and paid with his life,"
"Yes, I believe so," Moran conceded unflinchingly. "Moriarty was a genius when it came to planning anything, but Mr. Holmes's relentless pursuit of the poor old man made him doubt his own abilities. When the confrontation occurred, the professor did not believe that he would survive, so he did not plan with that in mind.
"I, however, have learned from my old mentor's mistakes, so the scale tips once more in my favour." An audible click resounded in my ears, and I tried to rush towards the figures before me, held back only by Hopkins's vice- like grip on my shoulder.
"We would endanger Kathryn more by revealing ourselves," the young inspector whispered urgently into my ear. "We must be patient and let her deal with this."
Before I could utter a retort, Moran's voice caught both of our attentions once again. "It would be a shame if you force me to remove you from my path, but I'm afraid that you must stand aside, one way or another."
"You shall not pass, Colonel- not this time," Kathryn replied clearly with calm defiance radiating from her words as she pulled out a gleaming silver police whistle from her dress pocket and placed it at her lips.
"Then you leave me no choice, my foolish dear. Say hello to your father for me."
Before any of us could react, the relative silence that had enveloped us was pierced with the shrill cry of a police whistle that seemed to cut through the fog with the sharpness of a blade. The Colonel growled angrily he rushed forward at Kathryn. The next moment, a sharp bang erupted into the air like the crack of a whip, and the scene before us was obfuscated in a flurry of dark cloth.
"Kathryn!" I exclaimed frantically, rushing forward desperately as my ears were still ringing from the gunshot, with Hopkins at my heels.
The mist had parted to reveal the two figures thrashing on the ground as the firearm slid a short distance away from them unnoticed. Moran forced himself to the top and grasped Kathryn tightly in a chokehold as the latter grasped the Colonel's arms in an attempt to break free. Just as Kathryn's struggles began to diminish, Moran's overbearing weight was projected into the air as he was kicked unceremoniously away from her. Landing with a dull thud on the wooden boards of the dock, Moran fought to regain his footing. He groped blindly around him until his fingers felt the smooth handle of his revolver. The two figures returned to their feet simultaneously, before Kathryn made another desperate lunge for the weapon.
The tussle between the two figures before us continued as both of them sidled dangerously close to the water's edge. Kathryn and Moran sought urgently for control of the firearm clutched tightly in their grasps as a second shot rang into the night sky.
Finally, Kathryn's cloaked figure managed to disentangle from Moran, as she backed away from the menacing figure, pointing his gun at its owner. The latter fumed at this, and charged once more towards her like a crazed rhinoceros, causing the two of them to topple from the wooden wharf and tumble into the murky depths of the Thames below.
Hopkins and I halted at the end of the dock, peeking desperately for any sign of either figure in the bubbling expanse of icy water. An eternity seemed to elapse, before Kathryn's head burst from the turbulent surface of the river, coughing and gasping urgently for air.
Hopkins and I released the breaths that we didn't know we were holding, as she began to swim steadily back to the shore, but our looks of relief returned to those of horror as Kathryn uttered a shocked cry before disappearing again under the waves.
"We have to go after her," I exclaimed, taking off my billowing coat before plunging into the freezing water after my companion.
The bitter coldness of the river seared my skin and gnawed angrily at my old bullet wound as I heaved my first stroke, diving deeper in frantic search of some sign from either Kathryn or Moran. Ignoring the blinding relentless pain, I opened my eyes as widely as I could, peering anxiously into the opaque darkness that surrounded me.
Three strokes down, then four, but still I could find nothing. Then, just as my lungs would allow me to go no farther, I thought I could barely make out in the dappled lamplight the ghostly outline of a pallid hand freely adrift in the mucky depths almost as if it had detached from its former owner. I reached out as far I could, and my fingertips barely grazed the nails on the other hand.
Pushing with all my might against my surrounding water, I heaved a final stroke, before I firmly grasped the hand below me at the wrist. I turned myself back upwards, and began the long journey back to the surface with the scattered lights from lanterns my as my only guide.
I kicked frantically and stroked as hard as I could, but alas, it was to no avail- the weight of the body I dragged with me was too great. I would not be able to return to the surface unless I relinquished my hold on the hand in my grasp.
Just as my hopes began to dim along with my already clouded vision, I felt a pair of strong arms clasp my own, before I was lifted hastily out of the water, with the hand that I had grasped firmly in tow.
A cacophony of strident noises besieged my ears as soon as my feet touched firm ground once again. I staggered drunkenly this way and that, struggling to make out something coherent from the overwhelming discord of shouting and pounding that was smothering me. My bleary heavy-lidded eyes could make out the faint outline of a person rushing towards me, before everything went blurry, and I was sent tumbling into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the climax; please review and tell me what you think!