Chapter 5
Once back at Barkerstreet, Holmes did as he said he was going to do and left after a light lunch. I lay on the couch, being a bit tired out from all the mornings' excitement I tried to go to sleep. When that didn't work I decided to read, but I couldn't keep my mind on the words. I just kept thinking back to the murder and Holmes. Every time I closed my eyes the pictures would all come back and I would jump awake again. I was not expecting any of this when I agreed to be Holmes's roommate and now I was starting to worry that I may have gotten my self into something much more serious then I originally thought.
Holmes got back late that night, much later then I thought he would be even with the concert. I pretended to sleep as he came in, not wanting him to know that I was even thinking of waiting up for him. But of course being Sherlock Holmes, he sighed and dropped a paper down in front of my face. "Read it," was all he said as he turned to the kitchen. I sat up, took the paper and looked at it. He had highlighted something in the 'lost and found' and I read it. Instantly I was up and over to the kitchen in less then a nano-second.
"What is this?" I growled.
"Do you think the milk is going bad?" Holmes asked as he looked around in the fridge.
"What is this?" I asked again angrily.
"And when did we get sprouts, I don't even think either of us eat them, so why the-"I cut off his words by grabbing him by the back of his coat and pulling him back. The fridge door slammed shut as I pushed Holmes against the sink, holding the paper up in front of his face.
"WHAT IS THIS?" I repeated louder. The ad in the 'Lost and Found' read: 'Found- Woman's wedding ring. Found on Brixton Road. See Laura Galahad at 211b Bakerstreet at anytime.' "You used my name?!" I said angrily, "What in the world possessed you to use my name?!"
"You wanted to be part of this thing and since I knew idiot would try to bungle things up if I put my name, I figured your name would be the next best thing," Holmes said calmly, snatching the paper away and moving past me into the other room. I fallowed him, still rather angry at this situation.
"But what can I do when this person shows up and I don't have this ring in question?!"
"And that is where you would be wrong." Holmes, with his trademark smirk, pulled from his pocket a ring, similar to the one we found this morning. "Since both rings are pretty generic gold wedding bands I figure he won't be able to tell the difference at first sight. Now we should both be ready as he will be here at any time."
"And what makes you think he will come?" I asked, calming a little, "I mean, wouldn't he think this whole thing to be a trap? He would be a little stupid to risk everything for a ring."
"I see him as the type that would need to risk everything and anything to get that ring back right now," Holmes said, "When our murderer killed Drebber, he dropped the ring and didn't miss it till he was out and down the street. Then when he realized it was missing he tried to go back for it but found that his mistake of leaving the candle lit had brought the police on the scene. Therefore he had to cover up himself being there-"
"The drunk," I murmured as the thought dawned on me.
"Exactly!" Holmes cried, "And since he couldn't have known where he dropped the ring, the thought that someone found it on the road and it wasn't the police would make this man very happy. So therefore we get this man or someone who works for him to come here and then we get more information on how to trap him. Now do you have any weapons?"
"I took self defense classes a while back," I answered. Holmes shook his head.
"You'll need something a bit more powerful." Then from his pocket he pulled out what looked like a small revolver (I have no knowledge of guns so I don't know what type of gun it was, and I really don't want too) and handed it to me. "Do you know how to shoot it?"
"You carry a gun?" I asked, surprised, holding the gun nervously in my hands
"On occasions," he answered, "Do you know how to shoot it?" I shook my head quickly and he sighed. "Here, I'll show you..." He moved behind me, holding up my arms with his, his hands on mine as we both held the gun pointed at the door. "Now you put it against your hand like this and your finger on the trigger like this, now to shoot you click the safety back and then pull the trigger no matter what happens you got me?"
"Just two questions..."
"Yes?"
"Where did you learn to shoot a gun and would you let go of me...not that it's bad or anything but it's just kind of funny you know..." At that moment I looked up at him and he looked down at me, and once again it was like it had been that afternoon. A silence that held a connection that was felt internally...I could see something different in my roommate's eyes, something different then I had seen in the little time I had been with him...The door bell rang and we both blushed in embarrassment at being like we were a moment ago.
"You answer the door," Holmes told me placing the gun in his jacket, the one he had neglected to take off when he arrived, and waved his hand towards the door, "I'll watch your back."
"Oh well that is comforting," I chuckled rolling my eyes. He shook his head with one of his famous sighs.
"Less insulting, more answering the door." I chuckled again as I approached the door. I stopped just as I reached out my hand to turn the knob. I started to think of who could be out there, what desperate crook could be waiting for me to open that door? I took in a deep breath and turned the knob expecting to find myself face to face with someone dangerous. But instead I was met with something I was not expecting. It was a sweet little old lady who stood in the hall way, leaning against her cane as if to rest her legs. She blinked her eyes as the light from our apartment hit her eyes, and with fumbling hands searched her pockets, pulling out a pair of little wire rimmed glasses along with a copy of this evening's paper.
"Does a Miss Laura Galahad live here?"
"I am she," I answered stepping aside, "Please come in."
"Thank you my dear," she answered in her crinkle voice. She hobbled inside, using her cane for each step. As soon as she was inside, she held out the paper to me pointing to the advertisement that Holmes had put in. "I came to see you about this advertisement. I have a feeling that the gold wedding-ring you have found on Brixton Road belongs to my daughter Sally. She was married 12 months ago to a sailor who swore if he ever found her without that ring he come 'ome he do something horrible, especially since he is a drinking man. Of course I knew nothing good would come of Sally going to that circus last night"
"Is this your ring?" I asked giving a casual glance to Holmes, who didn't look to me but was occupied in studying our guest.
"Oh the heavenly lord be thanked!" the old woman cried, "My daughter will be so happy tonight!"
"Do you mind if I ask you what your address is?" I asked, looking up to notice the look of approval on my roommate's face. The old lady blink in surprise but then nodded.
"I don't see why you need it but its 13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A long walk I can tell you-"
"Brixton Road isn't between any circus and Houndsditch," Holmes said, his voice cocky in a way. The old lady once again blinked in surprise.
"Well I believe that the young lady asked me for my address," she answered quickly, "My daughter lives at 3, Mayfield Place, Peckham."
"And your name is-?"
"My name is Sawyer and my daughter's is Dennis, as in her husband Tom Dennis. Not a bad boy, but he gets a little rough now and again. He is a good sailor, always working hard, but it's when he is on shore is where he gets into trouble-"
"I believe we shouldn't keep you any longer Miss Sawyer," I interrupted, giving her the ring, "Here is your ring, I have a good feeling it belongs to your daughter and I am happy to return it too you..."
"Thank you my dear, may God look down on your good head!" the old lady said happily as she hobble from whence she came. The instant the door was closed behind her, Holmes buttoned his jacket more and wrapped a scarf around his neck.
"I'm going after her, wait up for me again if you wish..." he told me before he hurriedly moved out the door. I watched from the window as the old lady and Holmes both disappeared down the street and into the darkness of the moonless evening. I watched the spot they had gone from for a few moments before sighing and once again returning to my place on the couch. I tried to read a book but found myself just flipping through the pages, not getting anything from the words. I was just too anxious to see if Holmes's theory was right that I couldn't focus on anything else. As it got later I started to get drowsy and finally fell asleep. But it was a short lived sleep as the sound of a slamming door woke me up. Holmes stormed in, angry as any man could get I suppose. He threw his jacket on the coat rack along with his scarf and took a seat in a near by chair, sighing violently. We both sat in silence once again that day, me looking at him as he sat there with his eyes closed. After a moment I got the nerve to ask him what was wrong, but he held up his hand.
"Please I'm not in the mood to talk..." I stayed silent, just looking at him. Again we sat in silence and once again I was about to ask him what was wrong but he began to ramble off again. "You want to know why I'm angry don't you?! Of course you do, you're that kind of person! Well that 'little old lady' walked down the street and then stopped, showing every sign that her feet were sore. She hailed a cab and I stood close enough to hear her address. She indeed told the driver to go to Houndsditch and after she had taken off I haled a cab of my own and told them the same address. We got there the exact moment that the 'little old ladies' cab pulled up. The cabby man, being polite got out to open the door for the lady but nothing came out of that cab. Both I and the man searched the cab but found nothing. Afterwards I inquired at number 13 if an old lady had ever lived there, but no old lady of either the name Sawyer or Dennis ever lived there! That 'old lady' seems to have just disappeared and you know how?!" I was about to answer but Holmes continued without waiting. "Of course you don't! Because you would never suspect that old lady was not an old lady! No she was a young man, a very active one who somewhere jumped out of the cab without my notice. He must be one great actor to nearly fool me. He also must have noticed me fallowing him and slipped through my fingers! This of course proves that he is not working alone! He must have some friends working with him...You know, it's getting late and I have classes in the morning. You should stop badgering me with questions and let me go to be." Without letting me get out a word, he stood and walked into his bed room, closing the door behind him. I just looked after him, unable to speak as I sat there. I was in awe that he had done all this 'deduction' in such a short time...not to mention was even thinking about going to his morning classes...
Once back at Barkerstreet, Holmes did as he said he was going to do and left after a light lunch. I lay on the couch, being a bit tired out from all the mornings' excitement I tried to go to sleep. When that didn't work I decided to read, but I couldn't keep my mind on the words. I just kept thinking back to the murder and Holmes. Every time I closed my eyes the pictures would all come back and I would jump awake again. I was not expecting any of this when I agreed to be Holmes's roommate and now I was starting to worry that I may have gotten my self into something much more serious then I originally thought.
Holmes got back late that night, much later then I thought he would be even with the concert. I pretended to sleep as he came in, not wanting him to know that I was even thinking of waiting up for him. But of course being Sherlock Holmes, he sighed and dropped a paper down in front of my face. "Read it," was all he said as he turned to the kitchen. I sat up, took the paper and looked at it. He had highlighted something in the 'lost and found' and I read it. Instantly I was up and over to the kitchen in less then a nano-second.
"What is this?" I growled.
"Do you think the milk is going bad?" Holmes asked as he looked around in the fridge.
"What is this?" I asked again angrily.
"And when did we get sprouts, I don't even think either of us eat them, so why the-"I cut off his words by grabbing him by the back of his coat and pulling him back. The fridge door slammed shut as I pushed Holmes against the sink, holding the paper up in front of his face.
"WHAT IS THIS?" I repeated louder. The ad in the 'Lost and Found' read: 'Found- Woman's wedding ring. Found on Brixton Road. See Laura Galahad at 211b Bakerstreet at anytime.' "You used my name?!" I said angrily, "What in the world possessed you to use my name?!"
"You wanted to be part of this thing and since I knew idiot would try to bungle things up if I put my name, I figured your name would be the next best thing," Holmes said calmly, snatching the paper away and moving past me into the other room. I fallowed him, still rather angry at this situation.
"But what can I do when this person shows up and I don't have this ring in question?!"
"And that is where you would be wrong." Holmes, with his trademark smirk, pulled from his pocket a ring, similar to the one we found this morning. "Since both rings are pretty generic gold wedding bands I figure he won't be able to tell the difference at first sight. Now we should both be ready as he will be here at any time."
"And what makes you think he will come?" I asked, calming a little, "I mean, wouldn't he think this whole thing to be a trap? He would be a little stupid to risk everything for a ring."
"I see him as the type that would need to risk everything and anything to get that ring back right now," Holmes said, "When our murderer killed Drebber, he dropped the ring and didn't miss it till he was out and down the street. Then when he realized it was missing he tried to go back for it but found that his mistake of leaving the candle lit had brought the police on the scene. Therefore he had to cover up himself being there-"
"The drunk," I murmured as the thought dawned on me.
"Exactly!" Holmes cried, "And since he couldn't have known where he dropped the ring, the thought that someone found it on the road and it wasn't the police would make this man very happy. So therefore we get this man or someone who works for him to come here and then we get more information on how to trap him. Now do you have any weapons?"
"I took self defense classes a while back," I answered. Holmes shook his head.
"You'll need something a bit more powerful." Then from his pocket he pulled out what looked like a small revolver (I have no knowledge of guns so I don't know what type of gun it was, and I really don't want too) and handed it to me. "Do you know how to shoot it?"
"You carry a gun?" I asked, surprised, holding the gun nervously in my hands
"On occasions," he answered, "Do you know how to shoot it?" I shook my head quickly and he sighed. "Here, I'll show you..." He moved behind me, holding up my arms with his, his hands on mine as we both held the gun pointed at the door. "Now you put it against your hand like this and your finger on the trigger like this, now to shoot you click the safety back and then pull the trigger no matter what happens you got me?"
"Just two questions..."
"Yes?"
"Where did you learn to shoot a gun and would you let go of me...not that it's bad or anything but it's just kind of funny you know..." At that moment I looked up at him and he looked down at me, and once again it was like it had been that afternoon. A silence that held a connection that was felt internally...I could see something different in my roommate's eyes, something different then I had seen in the little time I had been with him...The door bell rang and we both blushed in embarrassment at being like we were a moment ago.
"You answer the door," Holmes told me placing the gun in his jacket, the one he had neglected to take off when he arrived, and waved his hand towards the door, "I'll watch your back."
"Oh well that is comforting," I chuckled rolling my eyes. He shook his head with one of his famous sighs.
"Less insulting, more answering the door." I chuckled again as I approached the door. I stopped just as I reached out my hand to turn the knob. I started to think of who could be out there, what desperate crook could be waiting for me to open that door? I took in a deep breath and turned the knob expecting to find myself face to face with someone dangerous. But instead I was met with something I was not expecting. It was a sweet little old lady who stood in the hall way, leaning against her cane as if to rest her legs. She blinked her eyes as the light from our apartment hit her eyes, and with fumbling hands searched her pockets, pulling out a pair of little wire rimmed glasses along with a copy of this evening's paper.
"Does a Miss Laura Galahad live here?"
"I am she," I answered stepping aside, "Please come in."
"Thank you my dear," she answered in her crinkle voice. She hobbled inside, using her cane for each step. As soon as she was inside, she held out the paper to me pointing to the advertisement that Holmes had put in. "I came to see you about this advertisement. I have a feeling that the gold wedding-ring you have found on Brixton Road belongs to my daughter Sally. She was married 12 months ago to a sailor who swore if he ever found her without that ring he come 'ome he do something horrible, especially since he is a drinking man. Of course I knew nothing good would come of Sally going to that circus last night"
"Is this your ring?" I asked giving a casual glance to Holmes, who didn't look to me but was occupied in studying our guest.
"Oh the heavenly lord be thanked!" the old woman cried, "My daughter will be so happy tonight!"
"Do you mind if I ask you what your address is?" I asked, looking up to notice the look of approval on my roommate's face. The old lady blink in surprise but then nodded.
"I don't see why you need it but its 13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A long walk I can tell you-"
"Brixton Road isn't between any circus and Houndsditch," Holmes said, his voice cocky in a way. The old lady once again blinked in surprise.
"Well I believe that the young lady asked me for my address," she answered quickly, "My daughter lives at 3, Mayfield Place, Peckham."
"And your name is-?"
"My name is Sawyer and my daughter's is Dennis, as in her husband Tom Dennis. Not a bad boy, but he gets a little rough now and again. He is a good sailor, always working hard, but it's when he is on shore is where he gets into trouble-"
"I believe we shouldn't keep you any longer Miss Sawyer," I interrupted, giving her the ring, "Here is your ring, I have a good feeling it belongs to your daughter and I am happy to return it too you..."
"Thank you my dear, may God look down on your good head!" the old lady said happily as she hobble from whence she came. The instant the door was closed behind her, Holmes buttoned his jacket more and wrapped a scarf around his neck.
"I'm going after her, wait up for me again if you wish..." he told me before he hurriedly moved out the door. I watched from the window as the old lady and Holmes both disappeared down the street and into the darkness of the moonless evening. I watched the spot they had gone from for a few moments before sighing and once again returning to my place on the couch. I tried to read a book but found myself just flipping through the pages, not getting anything from the words. I was just too anxious to see if Holmes's theory was right that I couldn't focus on anything else. As it got later I started to get drowsy and finally fell asleep. But it was a short lived sleep as the sound of a slamming door woke me up. Holmes stormed in, angry as any man could get I suppose. He threw his jacket on the coat rack along with his scarf and took a seat in a near by chair, sighing violently. We both sat in silence once again that day, me looking at him as he sat there with his eyes closed. After a moment I got the nerve to ask him what was wrong, but he held up his hand.
"Please I'm not in the mood to talk..." I stayed silent, just looking at him. Again we sat in silence and once again I was about to ask him what was wrong but he began to ramble off again. "You want to know why I'm angry don't you?! Of course you do, you're that kind of person! Well that 'little old lady' walked down the street and then stopped, showing every sign that her feet were sore. She hailed a cab and I stood close enough to hear her address. She indeed told the driver to go to Houndsditch and after she had taken off I haled a cab of my own and told them the same address. We got there the exact moment that the 'little old ladies' cab pulled up. The cabby man, being polite got out to open the door for the lady but nothing came out of that cab. Both I and the man searched the cab but found nothing. Afterwards I inquired at number 13 if an old lady had ever lived there, but no old lady of either the name Sawyer or Dennis ever lived there! That 'old lady' seems to have just disappeared and you know how?!" I was about to answer but Holmes continued without waiting. "Of course you don't! Because you would never suspect that old lady was not an old lady! No she was a young man, a very active one who somewhere jumped out of the cab without my notice. He must be one great actor to nearly fool me. He also must have noticed me fallowing him and slipped through my fingers! This of course proves that he is not working alone! He must have some friends working with him...You know, it's getting late and I have classes in the morning. You should stop badgering me with questions and let me go to be." Without letting me get out a word, he stood and walked into his bed room, closing the door behind him. I just looked after him, unable to speak as I sat there. I was in awe that he had done all this 'deduction' in such a short time...not to mention was even thinking about going to his morning classes...