Chapter 4
I heard bells ringing, signaling that it was one o'clock. I waited outside a telegraph office as Holmes stopped to send a 'quick' message as he said. It wasn't quick; he must have been writing a letter or something. But I didn't complain as he came out. As we walked along to our destination, I studied his face. He looked to be thinking, deeply, I could only imagine the wheels running around in his head. Of course I could tell that he was calculating the case and planning many ways to be a show off. I think I despised him then, thinking about how his narrow mind was calculating the facts as we walked. But then I laughed as the thought of a hamster wheel running around in Holmes's pointy head popped through my mind. Holmes looked at me questionably. "What's so funny?" he asked. I lowered my laugh to a chuckle looking at him.
"How did you know all that stuff?" I asked, ignoring his question, "How did you know all that stuff about the murderer?"
"Why should I tell you?" he asked rather coldly looking away, moving at a quicker pace to get away from me. I frowned, angry that he was again being rude (although I had become use to it by now).
"Fine!" I cried, standing and watching him walk away, about ready to just run up and tackle him.
"FINE!" he called back louder and angrier as he kept walking. I watched as he walked away. Soon he stopped and just stood there, not looking back at me. I studied his figure as he just stood there with his hands in his coat pockets and his shoulders back. Then he said something I couldn't understand, it was soft and mumbled.
"What?"
"I saw two ruts where two wheels came close to the curb," he said again, still not looking at me, "Since we really haven't had any rain up till last night I knew that the ruts had to have been caused last night, since it was there after the rain began and not in the morning. There was one clearly cut tire mark out of all of them suggesting that it was a new tire..." I listened quietly before walking up beside him. His face was turned away from me as I tired to look up into him. Something strange came over me at that moment, some strange thought that maybe in the deepest of his heart this was a young man who didn't want to be alone.
"Would it be too forward of me to ask how you knew the other's man height?"
"I won't waste time by telling you my figures, but I calculated his strides which often enough depict the height of a man. I discovered this information from the marks outside and inside. The way I checked my calculated my figures was by the markings on the wall, since the instinct would be to write at his eye level, so since the writing was six feet from the ground I naturally observed that he was six feet."
"And what about his age?"
"Don't you have anything else to do then to question my judgments?!" Holmes suddenly cried, so coldly it made me jump back. I think it scared Holmes himself as his eyes were wide as he looked at me, some kind of fear sparkling in them, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. He looked away again, breathing slightly labored. "If a man can move four and half feet without an effort, I'd say he was in the best of health," Holmes said after the pause, "He stepped in a puddle outside and left marks of a leather boot going around. As for his nails, the writing was done with a man's forefinger dipped in blood. My magnifying glass helped me to distinguish the plaster on the wall was scratched and that wouldn't have happened if the man's nail was trimmed. There was the cigar ash on the floor and I figured it to be a Trichinopoly." I watched him as he talked, I could tell he had some enjoyment in telling me this investigation and yet at the same time I could hear sadness in his voice that I hadn't heard there before, like he was ashamed of something, something about his work. I smiled softly; I guess I felt caring at that moment, although in the past all Holmes had ever done was make me angry. As I said before my life has always been about caring for others, and at that moment I guess I wanted to assume that he wanted someone. I didn't even realize I had taken his hand. He looked down at me, and quickly pulled his hand away. I came back to reality and blushed quickly. "Don't think because you are here you can take liberties," Holmes told me coldly. I sighed as once again Holmes was his cocky self.
"Well we have to get along somehow?" I told him, looking at him, softer then normal. He just glared.
"How about this? You stay out of my business and I stay out of your face!" he told me, again coldly, walking away. I watched as he walked away, a strange feeling coming over me again.
"You could try to be a little more friendly to people!" I called to him.
"What?!" he called back, turning all the way around to face me. I smiled softly again.
"People would respect you more if your were a bit more friendly," I told him softly, "You might actually have a chance to really make yourself into something. People would really want help from a guy who could both help them with their problems and understand how they feel you know? I think that's all anybody wants." I knew he heard me because I could see the acknowledgement in his eyes.
"I didn't get to where I am by being nice," he answered, "but I will take your advice to mind Laura." I smiled again.
"That's that the first time you just called me Laura..." He seemed to be slightly surprised by himself as well.
"It's the first time you've ever had anything intelligent to say," he answered with his trade mark smirk, turning back to me once again. We began to walk again, not talking this time, with me a few meters behind him. There was a strange silence between us all the way to our destination. Standing on the doorstep of Audley Court, we waited after Holmes rang the bell.
"So I guess all we have left to do is to figure out how these two men came to be in the empty apartment? Why this murder was committed? Why the woman's ring? And why should someone write the word RACHE on the wall before leaving?" I said, breaking the silence. Holmes sighed again look at the door, avoiding looking at me.
"Well I can tell you is that the man was not German, he over did the use of the Latin characters, more commonly used by a real German. I think this murderer is trying to send the police off the right track. But I'm sure he wasn't expecting me..." I would have answered this cocky insight, but the door opened a bit. Through the crack where the latch lock held the door, an older man with a way-too-short robe (with nothing under it) glared at us with distaste.
"What ever you're selling kids I'm not buying..." the man said moving to shut the door, but Holmes stopped it with his arm.
"We were looking for more information about the Lauriston Mystery..."
"I told all I know to the police," the man answered, who I now figured was Race (in all his disgust). Holmes pulled some cash from his pocket and held it in front of Rance's face.
"I think you could help us a little more don't you think?" Race starred at the money for a while, and then instantly unlocked the door and opened it so we could both come in. We entered into a small apartment, filthy as an apartment could possibly be.
"Go on and take a seat!" Rance called as he walked to the near by kitchen, "Would you kids like anything to drink?"
"No thank you," I answered, very quickly. It was hard to find a place to sit, I had to remove a pair of boxers from a near by chair with my finger tips. Holmes seemed unaffected by the mess, and I was reminded that he lived like this himself. But compared to this guy, Holmes was a neat freak.
"No thanks," Holmes answered sitting on the sofa. Rance returned from the kitchen with what looked like a cheap beer and chugged it while taking a seat much to close to me. With a giant burp he looked to me. I tried to keep my face neutral, to hide my great disgust for this slob, and the fact that my stomach was turning with each smell of his breath that drifted past my nose.
"Relax babe," Rance told me but I found no way that was happening in that apartment.
"What happened last night, when you discovered the body?" Holmes said pulling the conversation back to the point (thankfully).
"Well my beat is from ten to at least six in the morning. There was a fight at eleven but other then that it was quiet. It started to rain around one and I met Harry down on the Holland Grove beat. We stood on the corner together of Henrietta Street, talkin' about nothin' really. Maybe a little after two, I decided to take a look down around Brixton road. I didn't meat anyone and it was extremely lonely out there, all that was there were a couple cabs passing me by. Suddenly a light caught my eye. It was the empty Lauriston Garden's place. Well I knew that no one had been living in that place since it was where an old guy died and had been left to rot for a while causing such a mess that they had to clean out the place then keep a closed. I went to the door..."
"But you stopped and turned around again, moving back towards the gate," Holmes interjected. It wasn't a surprise to me to recognize the surprise on Rance's face.
"It was such a lonely beat," Rance began again, "And I ain't afraid of nothing from the other side of the grave, but when a old man dies in such a horrible way as this old man did I was figuring there might be still some bad vibes from the place. So I went back to the gate to see if I could get Henry and his lantern to join me but I didn't see anyone around.
"So there was no one on the street before you went in?"
"Not a living soul, so I pulled myself together and went in. It was so quiet inside and when I got to the room where the candle was burning, a red wax one, I saw it-"
"I know you saw it," Holmes answered sitting back, "You walked around the room looking at things, then you knelt down to the body, and then you walked through the kitchen door..."
"I think you know a little more then you are supposed to boy," Rance said rather coldly. Holmes just laughed.
"I'm sure you would arrest me for murder now I guess," my roommate joked, "But I'm one of the good guys, I'm working with Lestrade and Gregson. Now what did you do next?"
"I went back to the gate," Rance then continued, still a little shaken, "I blew my whistle calling Henry and two more officers with him."
"Was the street empty at this time?" Holmes questioned.
"Well no one that was important to the case at hand I think."
"What do you mean?"
"Well there was a drunk stumbling through the streets," at this Rance's features brightened into a smile, "Now I have seen plenty of drunks in my time but no one quiet as drunk as this. Singing as loud and as high as he could, stumbling down the street and wavering about. He wasn't able to stand little less help us."
"What sort of man was he?"
"He was a drunk," Rance answered matter of factly, "He's lucky we didn't bring him in, but we were so busy at the time, we didn't even think of it."
"His face and his dress, what were they like?" Holmes asked rather impatiently.
"I did notice them as me and Henry was forced to prop him up between us and carry him out of there. He was a tall chap, a red face-"
"That will do Mister Rance," Holmes came in quickly, "What happened to him after you carried him away?"
"I guess he found his way home for the night as we didn't have anytime to take care of him..."
"How was he dressed?"
"A brown coat I think."
"Did he have keys or anything in his hands?"
"Keys? No, no keys."
"He must have left it with the cab..." Holmes muttered, "Did you see or hear a cab after that?"
"No."
"I'm glad you could shine some light on this situation Mister Rance," Holmes said standing, "And here is your money. But I'm afraid that you could have had even more money and your sergeant stripes last night if you had only held on to that drunken friend of yours. Because that man, whom you and Mister Henry held in your arms, held a clue to the murder. Come on Laura." We walked out without another word leaving Rance behind in his dirty, filth covered, and mess room. We caught a cab and Holmes ordered the cabby back to Bakerstreet. "Poor fool," Holmes sighed, "He had ever chance in the world to catch a criminal and he didn't just at the chance."
"Well not all people are as 'enlightened' as you Holmes," I told him, "But what I can't understand is why the man would come back to the scene of the murder?"
"That ring!" Holmes said as if I should have known already, "Of course I guess it's well enough, if we can't catch him any other way, we can use the ring as bait. But now I think it's all just a study in scarlet, the red thread of murder that must be untwined, piece by piece till we can discover who holds the thread. Now I'll only be stopping at home for a quick lunch and then I'll be leaving for a concert so don't expect to be seeing too much of me." I nodded, not really caring for what he was telling me but just studying his face as he looked at the window. I had learned a great deal from my roommate today, especially about his character. As there were still cords to unravel in this mystery, I was still unraveling the cord that was Sherlock Holmes.
I heard bells ringing, signaling that it was one o'clock. I waited outside a telegraph office as Holmes stopped to send a 'quick' message as he said. It wasn't quick; he must have been writing a letter or something. But I didn't complain as he came out. As we walked along to our destination, I studied his face. He looked to be thinking, deeply, I could only imagine the wheels running around in his head. Of course I could tell that he was calculating the case and planning many ways to be a show off. I think I despised him then, thinking about how his narrow mind was calculating the facts as we walked. But then I laughed as the thought of a hamster wheel running around in Holmes's pointy head popped through my mind. Holmes looked at me questionably. "What's so funny?" he asked. I lowered my laugh to a chuckle looking at him.
"How did you know all that stuff?" I asked, ignoring his question, "How did you know all that stuff about the murderer?"
"Why should I tell you?" he asked rather coldly looking away, moving at a quicker pace to get away from me. I frowned, angry that he was again being rude (although I had become use to it by now).
"Fine!" I cried, standing and watching him walk away, about ready to just run up and tackle him.
"FINE!" he called back louder and angrier as he kept walking. I watched as he walked away. Soon he stopped and just stood there, not looking back at me. I studied his figure as he just stood there with his hands in his coat pockets and his shoulders back. Then he said something I couldn't understand, it was soft and mumbled.
"What?"
"I saw two ruts where two wheels came close to the curb," he said again, still not looking at me, "Since we really haven't had any rain up till last night I knew that the ruts had to have been caused last night, since it was there after the rain began and not in the morning. There was one clearly cut tire mark out of all of them suggesting that it was a new tire..." I listened quietly before walking up beside him. His face was turned away from me as I tired to look up into him. Something strange came over me at that moment, some strange thought that maybe in the deepest of his heart this was a young man who didn't want to be alone.
"Would it be too forward of me to ask how you knew the other's man height?"
"I won't waste time by telling you my figures, but I calculated his strides which often enough depict the height of a man. I discovered this information from the marks outside and inside. The way I checked my calculated my figures was by the markings on the wall, since the instinct would be to write at his eye level, so since the writing was six feet from the ground I naturally observed that he was six feet."
"And what about his age?"
"Don't you have anything else to do then to question my judgments?!" Holmes suddenly cried, so coldly it made me jump back. I think it scared Holmes himself as his eyes were wide as he looked at me, some kind of fear sparkling in them, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. He looked away again, breathing slightly labored. "If a man can move four and half feet without an effort, I'd say he was in the best of health," Holmes said after the pause, "He stepped in a puddle outside and left marks of a leather boot going around. As for his nails, the writing was done with a man's forefinger dipped in blood. My magnifying glass helped me to distinguish the plaster on the wall was scratched and that wouldn't have happened if the man's nail was trimmed. There was the cigar ash on the floor and I figured it to be a Trichinopoly." I watched him as he talked, I could tell he had some enjoyment in telling me this investigation and yet at the same time I could hear sadness in his voice that I hadn't heard there before, like he was ashamed of something, something about his work. I smiled softly; I guess I felt caring at that moment, although in the past all Holmes had ever done was make me angry. As I said before my life has always been about caring for others, and at that moment I guess I wanted to assume that he wanted someone. I didn't even realize I had taken his hand. He looked down at me, and quickly pulled his hand away. I came back to reality and blushed quickly. "Don't think because you are here you can take liberties," Holmes told me coldly. I sighed as once again Holmes was his cocky self.
"Well we have to get along somehow?" I told him, looking at him, softer then normal. He just glared.
"How about this? You stay out of my business and I stay out of your face!" he told me, again coldly, walking away. I watched as he walked away, a strange feeling coming over me again.
"You could try to be a little more friendly to people!" I called to him.
"What?!" he called back, turning all the way around to face me. I smiled softly again.
"People would respect you more if your were a bit more friendly," I told him softly, "You might actually have a chance to really make yourself into something. People would really want help from a guy who could both help them with their problems and understand how they feel you know? I think that's all anybody wants." I knew he heard me because I could see the acknowledgement in his eyes.
"I didn't get to where I am by being nice," he answered, "but I will take your advice to mind Laura." I smiled again.
"That's that the first time you just called me Laura..." He seemed to be slightly surprised by himself as well.
"It's the first time you've ever had anything intelligent to say," he answered with his trade mark smirk, turning back to me once again. We began to walk again, not talking this time, with me a few meters behind him. There was a strange silence between us all the way to our destination. Standing on the doorstep of Audley Court, we waited after Holmes rang the bell.
"So I guess all we have left to do is to figure out how these two men came to be in the empty apartment? Why this murder was committed? Why the woman's ring? And why should someone write the word RACHE on the wall before leaving?" I said, breaking the silence. Holmes sighed again look at the door, avoiding looking at me.
"Well I can tell you is that the man was not German, he over did the use of the Latin characters, more commonly used by a real German. I think this murderer is trying to send the police off the right track. But I'm sure he wasn't expecting me..." I would have answered this cocky insight, but the door opened a bit. Through the crack where the latch lock held the door, an older man with a way-too-short robe (with nothing under it) glared at us with distaste.
"What ever you're selling kids I'm not buying..." the man said moving to shut the door, but Holmes stopped it with his arm.
"We were looking for more information about the Lauriston Mystery..."
"I told all I know to the police," the man answered, who I now figured was Race (in all his disgust). Holmes pulled some cash from his pocket and held it in front of Rance's face.
"I think you could help us a little more don't you think?" Race starred at the money for a while, and then instantly unlocked the door and opened it so we could both come in. We entered into a small apartment, filthy as an apartment could possibly be.
"Go on and take a seat!" Rance called as he walked to the near by kitchen, "Would you kids like anything to drink?"
"No thank you," I answered, very quickly. It was hard to find a place to sit, I had to remove a pair of boxers from a near by chair with my finger tips. Holmes seemed unaffected by the mess, and I was reminded that he lived like this himself. But compared to this guy, Holmes was a neat freak.
"No thanks," Holmes answered sitting on the sofa. Rance returned from the kitchen with what looked like a cheap beer and chugged it while taking a seat much to close to me. With a giant burp he looked to me. I tried to keep my face neutral, to hide my great disgust for this slob, and the fact that my stomach was turning with each smell of his breath that drifted past my nose.
"Relax babe," Rance told me but I found no way that was happening in that apartment.
"What happened last night, when you discovered the body?" Holmes said pulling the conversation back to the point (thankfully).
"Well my beat is from ten to at least six in the morning. There was a fight at eleven but other then that it was quiet. It started to rain around one and I met Harry down on the Holland Grove beat. We stood on the corner together of Henrietta Street, talkin' about nothin' really. Maybe a little after two, I decided to take a look down around Brixton road. I didn't meat anyone and it was extremely lonely out there, all that was there were a couple cabs passing me by. Suddenly a light caught my eye. It was the empty Lauriston Garden's place. Well I knew that no one had been living in that place since it was where an old guy died and had been left to rot for a while causing such a mess that they had to clean out the place then keep a closed. I went to the door..."
"But you stopped and turned around again, moving back towards the gate," Holmes interjected. It wasn't a surprise to me to recognize the surprise on Rance's face.
"It was such a lonely beat," Rance began again, "And I ain't afraid of nothing from the other side of the grave, but when a old man dies in such a horrible way as this old man did I was figuring there might be still some bad vibes from the place. So I went back to the gate to see if I could get Henry and his lantern to join me but I didn't see anyone around.
"So there was no one on the street before you went in?"
"Not a living soul, so I pulled myself together and went in. It was so quiet inside and when I got to the room where the candle was burning, a red wax one, I saw it-"
"I know you saw it," Holmes answered sitting back, "You walked around the room looking at things, then you knelt down to the body, and then you walked through the kitchen door..."
"I think you know a little more then you are supposed to boy," Rance said rather coldly. Holmes just laughed.
"I'm sure you would arrest me for murder now I guess," my roommate joked, "But I'm one of the good guys, I'm working with Lestrade and Gregson. Now what did you do next?"
"I went back to the gate," Rance then continued, still a little shaken, "I blew my whistle calling Henry and two more officers with him."
"Was the street empty at this time?" Holmes questioned.
"Well no one that was important to the case at hand I think."
"What do you mean?"
"Well there was a drunk stumbling through the streets," at this Rance's features brightened into a smile, "Now I have seen plenty of drunks in my time but no one quiet as drunk as this. Singing as loud and as high as he could, stumbling down the street and wavering about. He wasn't able to stand little less help us."
"What sort of man was he?"
"He was a drunk," Rance answered matter of factly, "He's lucky we didn't bring him in, but we were so busy at the time, we didn't even think of it."
"His face and his dress, what were they like?" Holmes asked rather impatiently.
"I did notice them as me and Henry was forced to prop him up between us and carry him out of there. He was a tall chap, a red face-"
"That will do Mister Rance," Holmes came in quickly, "What happened to him after you carried him away?"
"I guess he found his way home for the night as we didn't have anytime to take care of him..."
"How was he dressed?"
"A brown coat I think."
"Did he have keys or anything in his hands?"
"Keys? No, no keys."
"He must have left it with the cab..." Holmes muttered, "Did you see or hear a cab after that?"
"No."
"I'm glad you could shine some light on this situation Mister Rance," Holmes said standing, "And here is your money. But I'm afraid that you could have had even more money and your sergeant stripes last night if you had only held on to that drunken friend of yours. Because that man, whom you and Mister Henry held in your arms, held a clue to the murder. Come on Laura." We walked out without another word leaving Rance behind in his dirty, filth covered, and mess room. We caught a cab and Holmes ordered the cabby back to Bakerstreet. "Poor fool," Holmes sighed, "He had ever chance in the world to catch a criminal and he didn't just at the chance."
"Well not all people are as 'enlightened' as you Holmes," I told him, "But what I can't understand is why the man would come back to the scene of the murder?"
"That ring!" Holmes said as if I should have known already, "Of course I guess it's well enough, if we can't catch him any other way, we can use the ring as bait. But now I think it's all just a study in scarlet, the red thread of murder that must be untwined, piece by piece till we can discover who holds the thread. Now I'll only be stopping at home for a quick lunch and then I'll be leaving for a concert so don't expect to be seeing too much of me." I nodded, not really caring for what he was telling me but just studying his face as he looked at the window. I had learned a great deal from my roommate today, especially about his character. As there were still cords to unravel in this mystery, I was still unraveling the cord that was Sherlock Holmes.