Chapter Fifteen

On Stakeout

More often than not, Holmes' stakeouts had to be conducted in some cramped, uncomfortable or horribly filthy space. Slouching comfortably on a park bench in the late spring sun with a book in my hands was definitely one of his better efforts.

Jensen's attempt to reverse his experiment was only in the beginning research stages. Formulae had to be composed and theorems tested before any work with the chemicals began.

It had been only two days since we had retrieved Professor Jensen from the madhouse and already I was contemplating homicide. Aside from his culpability in starting this temporal tangle, he was the most infuriating lab partner I had ever been cursed with. He guarded his notes with the ferocity of a mother bear and would only permit me to do the most basic work. The only thing to be said in his defence was that he didn't mistrust my abilities because I was a woman, but because I wasn't him.

So when Stiggins arrived, bearing a telegram from Holmes, saying that I should meet him at a particular bench in Hyde Park near the London Zoo, I was glad to have an excuse to make an escape.

Normally, an unescorted woman with no children under her care would be a subject of some interest. I dressed very carefully, in the plainest of the governess outfits, with my long hair pulled back into a severe bun. I also moved my wedding band from my right hand to the more customary position on the left, to prevent any potential misunderstandings.

Holmes was not there when I arrived at the designated location, of course. I occasionally thought that he might show up when and where he was expected, just for novelty's sake. I had brought "Great Expectations" from the hotel with me. I had finished the book yesterday, but it gave me something to do while I waited, and if challenged I could produce a sensible opinion on the text.

Someone stepped in front of me, casting their shadow over my book.

"Afternoon, missus. Mind if I share your bench?"

"Not at all Holmes. You appear to have been working all day, considering the quantity of mud on your boots."

Holmes made a surprised noise and I looked up. In addition to the sturdy work boots bearing a considerable quantity of garden soil, Holmes was wearing a sturdy tweed suit, with more dirt ground into the knees, and a shabby, dull red cap.

The groundskeeper shuffled over to the bench and slumped down on the furthest point possible from me. I returned my gaze to the book and stared at the words without seeing them.

"You saw me coming?" He asked after a moment. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was gazing across the park at a number of ducks that had congregated at the edge of the lake in hopes of a handout.

"No. A groundskeeper would have taken one of the empty benches. And you did ask me to meet you here."

"So I did. I take it Jensen has had no success?"

"None at all. And in any case, the whole thing was an accident in the first place. Reversing it is like trying to make a mistake on purpose."

"Counterintuitive. So you do have time for a stakeout then?"

"I've nothing else to do."

"Do you see the gentleman near the lake?"

"Feeding the ducks?"

"No, further on, carrying the walking stick."

"Ah, yes."

"Watch him and make a note of what he does, and when. When he leaves the park, try and get his cab number."

"You'll forgive my asking, but doesn't Dr. Watson generally help you with this sort of thing?"

"He does indeed, Miss Russell. But Dr. Watson's medical practice has been unexpectedly busy of late and when he is not attending to his patients, he can hardly be bothered to move from sofa to dining table."

I was surprised, though I quickly hid it, both at Holmes' echoing the phrase that Watson had once used to describe him, and his casual dismissal of Watson's vocation. I wondered if he'd done the former consciously, or if that particular adventure had not been written yet.

"I believe you dropped this, missus."

A bronze watch and a stick of graphite were deposited on the open pages of my book. I had to snatch at the pencil to keep it from rolling to the ground and when I looked up Holmes was gone.

I swore softly and adjusted my perch on the bench so I could watch the well-dressed clerk with the painfully earnest expression without appearing to do so. It wasn't that I minded being given surveillance work; after all, I had basically volunteered when I consented to become one of the Irregulars. But his aloof manner grated on my nerves. My Holmes would have never abandoned me to some menial assignment while he presumably worked miracles of deduction elsewhere.

Well, he would; but at least he would give me a better explanation.

The reality of the situation hit me with all the subtly of a steam engine. I'd lost husband and partner, home and vocation all at a single, crushing blow. I realized with a sudden start that I could do anything. It was a painful sort of freedom; the kind that comes from not having anything left to lose.

I could go anywhere. Certainly there was no reason to stay in England, and a dozen reasons to leave. Everything was familiar, but slightly off. I could not find my balance when I had to constantly remind myself this was not the Holmes I knew.

Australia or America might be worthwhile. Certainly the Colonials were more willing to respect intelligence and capability, even if it came packaged in a feminine form. There was the Continent as well. I spoke a number of European languages, and I could learn a new one fairly quickly. For that matter, I could go to the Holy Land, though that might prove tricky under the current Ottoman occupation.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly lost track of the man I was supposed to be watching. I was gazing off into space when I realized with a start that the well-dressed clerk was no longer in sight. Almost as soon as I realized this, the clerk wandered out from behind the stand of trees to stand at the water's edge. I returned to my wool gathering, relieved, but more mindful of the task at hand.

Mycroft. It was so simple. I had never asked what precisely came under the job description Mycroft so whimsically referred to as "accounting", but I could draw my own conclusions. Mycroft had ears everywhere, and no few of those must be female ears. He shared his younger brother's disdain for the feminine sex, but he also had far greater respect for their abilities as operatives. A talent for languages and a theology degree made me basically unemployable for most regular jobs; but as one of Mycroft's clerks, I could be very useful.

The only difficulty would be planting the idea in Holmes' mind without him noticing that I had done so. Mycroft was not known to anyone outside of a select circle of people, and it wouldn't do to know more than I should. On the other hand, as I was from the future, it might support my case to know about things that I couldn't possibly know otherwise.

Damn and blast. Time travel would never catch on. It was far too much of a headache.

The clerk was joined at the lake's edge by a rather more expensively dressed gentleman. I would have said he was a lawyer or a banker, but I couldn't tell with any certainty, given the distance between us. The banker wore the very latest in London fashion, including a sleek black top hat and black cane with a silver knob. His whole demeanour suggested the word "smooth", although I was aware of "slimy" intruding on the edges of the thought. The clerk seemed to treat the new man with a great deal of deference.

Their conversation was brief, but I noted the time down and recorded everything I could think of, including my speculations on the men's respective professions and a sartorial critique. I had to make my shorthand notes on the flyleaf of "Expectations", since Holmes had neglected to supply paper with the pencil. However, I wrote very lightly so I could erase the marks later.

The two men moved toward the taxi ranks. I closed my book and followed sedately, admiring the scenery around me. The banker stepped into the first cab, which appeared to be waiting for him. I remembered the bronze watch, which I had purposely left behind, and went to retrieve it, returning in time to see the clerk hop into a second cab.

I hailed a cab, taking the third one which presented itself, and directed the driver back to the hotel.

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