Chapter Five: Rising Action

I took the magnifying glass from my pocket, still standing where Ms. McGuiness had left me, and examined it. It was finely crafted, if not old, and the grip had a small crack running up the side. The poor tool had seen action, but not recently. A fine layer of dust had gathered on the lens. I decided that its call for action had finally come, and I began wiping the lens on the cuff of my sleeve. Ms. McGuiness was right. It would be foolish for me to attempt to take on the kidnapper-

'Or kidnappers,' Holmes reminded me quietly.

-or kidnappers by myself. But there was something nagging at the back of my mind. I couldn't quite place the feeling, but I let it rule me. I stood to my full height, turned my attention to the tire tracks, and returned to the spot where my hand had come into contact with the puddle of blood. I followed the tracks toward the entrance that Watson and I had entered through. A large spot of blood in the grass. I grimaced.

A trail.

I looked back at the park, to my friends and compatriots.

I turned my back to them and exited the park.

The blood, having been deposited in a rather large puddle, gave a large, if not dry, spot on the road just outside the gate. I brought out my magnifying glass. The tread was the same, and so it was the same vehicle that young Ms. Anna and Ms. Sara had seen earlier. I stepped out, making sure that my followed parallel to the tire tracks. And the occasional, ever shrinking, marks of blood from the tire. Soon I would reach an intersection, and I might even lose my trail. A loud, shrieking car horn sounded from directly behind me, and a large white automobile screeched to a halt mere inches from my person. I fell backwards to the pavement in shock, my heard thudding away in my chest. I saw a head emerge from the drivers-side window, and a rather frizzy head at that.

"What in the bloody Hell d'you think you're doin' in the middle of the road?!" I stared, pulse racing, at the angry, red-faced driver. I had completely forgotten about moving vehicles.

"S-sorry," I muttered quickly, getting out of the way of the car as quickly as possible. The man glared at me as he brought his head back inside of his car.

"Y' think you're some kind of bloody detective?!" And with that, he roared off, right over the tracks that I had been following. As I watched the car careen away, I sighed.

"I'm trying to be," I answered his question, although his ears were probably halfway across London, the way he was driving. Then came the feeling of Holmes, as if he were right next to me. It was if I could even smell the smoke from his pipe.

'Jack,' his voice came. I wasn't sure whether to be glad of his companionship or to shun him for his previous attitude toward me. 'Did you see that?' It took only a moment for me to fall back to the side of the old detective, and I was glad to be there.

"Yes," I muttered under my breath, so as to attract as little attention as possible. "That white car has not always been so white."

'And its previous color...?' He asked, prompting me.

"Black, no doubt of it. The areas around the latches still retained a distinct black colour."

'And behold our trail.'

I looked on the pavement, and beheld two spots of blood where there had previously been only one. I waited for two more cars to pass, and I was back on the road, knelt next to the blood spots with my magnifying glass drawn.

"Their shapes are not identical." I stated aloud. I looked to the mark I had been studying before. "The first blood deposit is noticeably smaller than the newer one." I pressed my fingertips against the new marking. "And this blood is nearly fresh." I brought my bloodied fingertips to my face and examined the sticky liquid. After removing myself from the street as a group of slow-moving cars moved past, I returned and examined the two treads, and found them to be exactly alike. A smile hovered on my face.

'And what else do you deduce?' Holmes asked. I felt oddly relieved that Holmes was not guiding me, simply aiding, free to make my own assumptions. Perhaps it was because of our chat earlier that I was enjoying my newly found freedom.

"That the driver is returning to the point of origin, and most likely where Mr. McGuiness is being held." I stood again, narrowly dodging a speeding motor vehicle. "Do you think that we could catch up with it?" I asked.

'Perhaps. It was moving rather fast...'

I didn't let him finish. I was running as fast as I could push my body. I kept my feet out of traffic, but my eyes stayed with the two sets of tire tracks. At intervals, I could see the rapidly fading blood stains. I had no idea how many people I forced out of my way, or how many dodged as if a vehicle had come running up to meet them. I searched for the white car, looking up only intermittently from the tire tracks. I did not know where they were leading me other than to a kidnapper or an accomplice. I focused entirely on finding that car.

And I was rewarded.

Sirens echoed about me. I looked up sharply. The tracks had ended. There, smashed into a light pole, was the black car turned white. A crowd of people more curious than concerned had gathered, and I craned my neck to look over them. Sirens still whined in the distance. Perhaps they were headed this way. I began to inch my way through the thick cloud of people.

Then, from the crumpled wreckage of the white car climbed the red-faced man. A stream of blood was trickling from his brow line. A bad injury had been sustained in his lower left leg. I shoved one of the younger watchers aside and entered the inner circle of the audience.

"Stop there!" I shouted at the man. He looked up sharply, and his face pinched upon recognizing me. Despite his injuries, he bolted. I planted my feet and charged off after him.

He ran remarkably far and fast for a man with such injuries, but I matched his pace, following only a few paces behind. If only I could manage a burst of speed, I would have him! Our path was unknown to me again, my concentration on the man running in front of me.

"Hold! Cease!" I called futilely after him. Still he ran. I could see the limp in his left lower leg becoming steadily more pronounced. He was slowing. I readied myself to spring.

"There he is!" A voice shouted from somewhere near my ear. My foot suddenly found the thin wire that had been placed in my way, and I fell over myself. I mentally cursed myself, and Holmes himself put in a few choice words. Before I could stop my own body from tumbling, two sets of rough hands grabbed me and righted me. I was being held to my feet, and I watched as the frizzy-headed man approached with a blunt instrument in his hand.

"How is it that I always end up in the clutches of madmen?" I asked no one in particular. The red-faced man grimaced.

"Shut-up, kid." He raised the object in his hand and proceeded to crack it on the side of my head.

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I felt large hands seize me again, and I was pulled to my feet. I felt the pain from the growing welt on the side of my skull and opened my eyes to peer into the face of Sherlock Holmes. His eyebrows were furrowed in discontent. All around us, it was night. The trees were the same as they had been, except that they now were bare of leaves and their naked branches danced in the chill breeze.

"Jack, you are a fool," he said summarily, and turned to light his pipe away from the wind's influence. Eventually the bowl lit, and he puffed the smoke to life. I held my arms akimbo.

"Yes, I know that I walked directly into the jaws of danger and was snatched up by-"

"No, Jack, you are a fool because you ran in blindly, without a plan, without knowing whom you are up against."

"Heyman," I said simply, crossing my arms across my chest. Holmes turned to me. "The man that nearly ran me over was Gerald Heyman. The line dispersed while I was speaking to you earlier today, and Mr. Heyman left as fast as he possibly could, eradicating all evidence against him that I might find. He slopped paint onto his black car and cut his long locks short. To all but the observant, Gerald Heyman disappeared along with David McGuiness."

"As he would have wanted it to seem," Holmes said, speaking my thoughts. He shook his head and tapped his teeth with the stem of his pipe. "Well, my boy, you know who it is that has you under his custody, but as to what you are going to do about it...?"

"I am at a loss." The chill wind picked up, and I glared furiously. No sooner had I thought it, the scene around me turned to a warm open field, experiencing the last days of summer. The wheat of the field tossed in the fragrant breeze. I sighed. At least I could feel comfort inside of myself. Holmes was leaning against a decaying fence post nearby.

"We have seen three men. One of which is Gerald Heyman, and at least two other well-sized men. How many more await us upon your waking, we have yet to find out." As Holmes spoke in his droning voice, I felt the knot on the side of my head. It had grown to the size of a small egg by this time and was causing me a considerable amount of pain. Holmes glanced irritably at me.

"I am sorry, Holmes, but it is difficult to concentrate with a drill boring into my skull."

"Focus. In times like these, our petty aches must be forgotten and the problem at hand must be assessed." He puffed on his pipe, then looked to the late summer sky. "Sometimes I do miss the world I left behind. The better part of it I could live without, but what I would give for an afternoon in Sussex among the fields."

As I sat in the billowing waves of wheat, I was bowled over by the man's sudden change. I had never head Holmes speak in such a way, and I thought that I should never live to hear it again. The thought process eventually brought about a question that had been hovering in the back of my mind since I had discovered that I was Sherlock Holmes reincarnate.

"Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"Will you always be there, to guide me when I go wrong?"

There was a deep silence, and the wind died in the air. The only sound was of Holmes knocking the ashes from his pipe on the leaning fencepost.

"I suppose that there will come a time when you will no longer need my advice and guidance. You are, perhaps to your chagrin, becoming more and more like me as each day passes. Perhaps one day I will cease to exist in your subconscious and move on."

I wasn't pleased.

"Holmes, I don't want you to-"

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes."

I had been rudely awakened from my talk with Holmes to face a man's black boot with rounded toes. I groaned, feeling the pain in my skull anew. I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering Holmes's words. Voices surrounded me, and the closest one was muttering my name. I opened my eyes again and turned my head. I winced as I realized that my hands and ankles were bound with very abrasive rope. As I looked to the voice, it dawned on me as to whose brown eyes I was staring into. I coughed, letting my surprise exit me in a gasp.

"Mr. McGuiness!"

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AN: SUSPENCE!! Sorry, I have to keep everyone on the edge of their seats. And Jack figured it out all by himself this time! Huzzah! I hope this story is getting more exciting!