"I think that you should return home tonight, Watson" said Holmes after a period of silence.
"Home?" I questioned incredulously.
"Only for a short time," clarified Holmes. "Say at about ten o'clock."
I saw immediately what he was thinking. "I suppose that you wish to travel with me."
"I shouldn't dream of sending you alone," commented Holmes rather dreamily. He was still half-occupied with his thoughts.
"And the lady?" I inquired, glancing over at Mrs Kendrick. She met my gaze evenly.
"Although the watchers appear to have been drawn away, the matter must be resolved before I can feel that she is safe," stated Holmes. "She will stay here with us until then."
Although I did not express the thought aloud, I hoped that Holmes would be able to bring the case to a conclusion quickly. I felt confident in issuing medical clearance for Mrs Kendrick to travel now, for apart from the incident our first evening together, I had seen nothing that caused me grave concern for her, but time was running short. I knew that at any point events might be taken out of my hands and she would be unable to be moved without grave danger to her health, and, in that case, Holmes might find himself with a houseguest for a longer period of time than he was perhaps anticipating.
Mrs Kendrick offered no argument to the statement, but she looked up at Holmes. There was a gleam of eager anticipation in her eyes. "Are you quite sure that you wish to leave me alone with your reference materials while you and the doctor are away?" she asked mischievously.
"Alone?" said Holmes, his own serious eyes twinkling brightly. "I shouldn't think so. There is no telling what facts you might catch hold of. I will send for my brother. He shall keep you perfectly occupied, and away from my references, until Doctor Watson and I return."
I knew little enough of Holmes's brother Mycroft, having only formally met the man once, over the matter of the Greek interpreter, but I knew that he was generally loathe to go anywhere but his rooms or his club. "Will he come?" I asked.
"If I make the note intriguing enough," said Holmes, catching up a paper and a pencil from somewhere in the pile of books and correspondence at his side. He scribbled away for a few minutes before sitting up with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He passed the paper over to me, asking, "What do you think?"
It was quite incomprehensible to me, being only a series of seemingly random words interspersed with figures. "Will your brother be able to read this?" I was forced to ask.
"I should certainly hope so," said Holmes, "though it doesn't actually say anything of substance. Mycroft will no doubt puzzle it out for several hours until he thinks that he has deciphered it, and then he will wonder how I have come upon this great government secret and will be forced to seek me out, lazy and set in his ways though he is."
"Will that be enough to bring him?" I inquired with some scepticism.
"I suppose we will see, won't we?" replied Holmes, standing. "I will deliver it to the telegraph office along with a note for our Baker Street Irregulars, for I think that they may be of some use."
I did not know to what task Holmes intended to set the young gang of street Arabs on, but I knew that they had served him invaluably on several other occasions and was not inclined to question his judgement. I knew that the dirty boys could go places and see things that would have been quite impossible for either Sherlock Holmes or I.
Holmes returned to us less than an hour after he left for the telegraph office, not stopping to detour to the docks and make further inquiries into the identities of our two mystery men as I thought he might. Either he already knew who the two men were, or he was still missing some vital piece of identification that would let him make that identification. I could not tell which and Holmes was remarkably uncommunicative about the whole matter, even more so than was his usual custom.
We three spent the afternoon in quiet pursuits. I alternately dozed and read a few medical journals that I brought with me from home, while Mrs Kendrick worked her way through all of the mending that Holmes had accumulated. I should think that it was for a lack of anything better to do with her hands while her mind was occupied with the problem of the notes. Although Holmes also spent the afternoon quietly, he was the most restless of us all. He would begin reading a monograph or a passage from one of his books only to throw it aside a moment later and take up something else. He returned several times to the three notes that we had in our possession, but he spoke not a word about anything to either of us.
We dined early for once, our silence carrying over into the meal that was usually so lively. Customarily we set aside the case during mealtimes to discuss other matters and Mrs Kendrick had proved to have wide-ranging interests. I had several opportunities to tell tales of my Afghan experience in relation to the conversation and Holmes followed the conversation eagerly, always with something of interest to note. Tonight, however, all was quiet. I would not have been averse to discussion, but as neither of my companions appeared inclined towards it, I did not press matters.
Although Holmes had proposed going to my home in Kensington at about ten o'clock, I knew that he would want to be there early enough to set a trap for whoever it was that was watching us. So I was not surprised when he rose from his seat at about eight o'clock and began to don his coat. I stood and began to wordlessly prepare myself as well. Holmes nodded to me with silent approval.
I had just finished wrapping my cravat about my neck when we heard someone pull the bell and a set of heavy footfalls come up the stairs. "Your brother Mycroft?" I asked.
Holmes nodded as a sharp rap came at the door. "Come in," called Holmes brusquely, even as the door swung open to reveal the large bulk of Mycroft Holmes.
The two brothers embraced warmly, and I was more than a little surprised at the show of affection. My one previous meeting with Mycroft Holmes had not led me to believe that there were such warm feelings between the two, although they got on well enough. Rather, I had been left with the general impression that Mycroft was somewhat averse to interaction with his fellow man. I made no move until Mycroft extended his broad hand to me.
"That is Mrs Marian Kendrick," Sherlock Holmes told Mycroft as his brother and I shook hands. He made a small gesture to the lady, who had turned to evaluate our visitor. "Mrs Kendrick, this is my brother Mycroft."
"Charmed," said she sweetly, dipping her head toward Mycroft.
I had expected Sherlock to make some further explanation or introduction, but he did nothing of the sort, instead starting immediately for the door. I followed after him hastily, clapping my hat on my head and closing the door behind me.
There was a cab waiting outside our door and I presumed that it was the one that Mycroft had come in, although Sherlock could have always arranged it while he delivered his telegraphs. I climbed into the cab after Holmes and the two of us travelled to my home. Other than the rattle of the wheels and the sound of the horse's hoofs, the only sound inside the cab was that of the rain beating down against the roof and the sides.
"Your consulting room has direct access from the road, does it not?" Holmes asked as we turned onto my street. "And a clear view to the street?"
"There is a side door that allows access without having to pass through the rest of the house, and, yes, the windows overlook the roadway."
"Then that is how we shall enter," said Holmes. "And that is where we will wait."
