Prompt #24. Stellar. The Crab Nebula. Use this however it inspires you.
A little less polished than usual, so hopefully there aren't too many typos.
By the time the constellations started flickering into view, fear had started to wonder if I would ever get free.
The sharp rock shifted out of my grip yet again, but fresh pain in my arm soon revealed its new location. I resumed sawing at my bonds though my gaze remained on the sky. At least I had been able to push the blindfold aside. The stars always made a more reliable compass than the setting sun.
Ursa Major. Points to Ursa Minor, but Polaris hid behind sparse clouds. That gave me the area, but not the exact north.
Orion. Low in the sky this time of year and free of the dying storm, I easily followed the belt to the horizon to find east. If these knots would ever break, I might be able to return to the manor before Holmes had time to realize those blackguards had grabbed me. I always preferred to rescue myself.
Though that preference did nothing when I remained tied hand and foot. The first thirty minutes had cut the rope tying my hands to my feet, but the one around my wrists was proving more difficult, probably due to my shoulder. More than one painful cut trickled blood down my lower arms. Could I pull the ropes apart yet?
No, but hope renewed when they gave slightly. Less than five minutes finally let me relax my shoulders for the first time in far too long—and sent pain radiating through that old scar. I would not be able to use my left arm much at all tonight.
The hand still worked, however, and the rising moon provided ample light to untie the ropes binding my feet. By the time the moon had cleared the horizon, I had an obvious direction and a makeshift cane. The only road that left Freedmack Manor went due south. As they would not have taken me toward town, the ruffians had dumped me south and west of the main house.
Though not anywhere near even an animal trail, I soon discovered. The horse would have paid for every step dragging that wagon this deep into the underbrush, but the cloudburst earlier had ruined any sort of trail well before I could see it. If not for the stars above and my memory of the wagon ride, it would be dangerously easy to get lost out here.
Orion slowly followed its path across the autumn sky, giving me a constant guide in place of Polaris' fickle presence. Scattered forest eventually gave way to grassy, rolling hills that hid a multitude of pits and holes more than willing to turn my ankle. The clouds that had dissipated around sunset billowed to life ahead of an incoming storm. Surely I would spot the lights soon?
No. Either hills or distance obscured even the light of the manor's many outdoor lanterns. The moon's silvery glow had disappeared by the time my limping gait crested the next hill, and three small drops became my last warning before the clouds opened once more.
Cold!
The sudden drenching stole my breath and immediately sent shivers threading down my spine. That was cold, much colder than the last one had been. Whether due to the falling night or simply a chance of weather, I now had another reason to hurry to shelter. The gusting wind risked hyperthermia.
And hindered my ability to walk. Even the sturdy stick I had claimed earlier did not always keep me from hitting the ground, and my pace slowed more and more as spasms in my leg continuously tried to buckle that knee. How long had I been walking?
Just under two hours, according to the astronomical clock fleetingly visible behind the dissipating shower. I did not have the tools to know how far I had traveled, but I doubted it was more than a mile or two, considering how many times I had fallen or been forced to stop and rest. If I did not see it soon, I would need to make a shelter and wait for Holmes. I would do neither of us any good wandering in circles.
Avoid a large hole. Muddy my shoes in a drying creek bed. Soak them in a full creek bed. Hours and miles passed at a crawl, each longer than the one before. My leg made me stop far too frequently. The ache in my shoulder changed to a distracting throb when I landed hard. The cuts on my arms announced they needed a thorough cleaning. I would have to treat those as soon as I reached our rooms
If I ever reached our rooms. Yet another hilltop revealed no sign of that giant manor. Had I gone the wrong way?
No, I realized with a sigh of relief. Not completely. That dancing light to my left could only be the guardhouse. The manor proper had been north and slightly west of the small structure left over from more turbulent times, and I redirected my steps. I would be warm and dry in a few minutes.
The guardhouse stood empty, as usual, and the weather had chased the few remaining servants inside. I saw no one between the gate and the front door, which opened silently. Shuffling steps made painfully slow progress down the hall. With Holmes on a long day trip to the nearest town, I might be able to reach our rooms without him knowing I had ever left. He would check the library before wondering why I had not waited up in our rooms.
"Watson!"
Or not. Footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as I rested against the wall yet again. He stopped in front of me a moment later, though a steadying hand on my upper arm vanished when I could not smother a grunt of pain.
"You—are back early," I managed, blinking water out of my eyes to look up at him. Considerable effort went into not allowing my teeth to chatter. "Successful trip?"
His wrinkled suit and scuffed shoes said he had not been here for long—probably had not yet returned to our rooms—but the frown turning his mouth conveyed his entire opinion of me wandering the halls looking half-drowned. While I would have preferred to tell him about this over breakfast in the morning, he would never let me avoid the conversation now.
"Not as much as I wanted." The muscle spasming my leg eased enough for a few more steps. Holmes immediately moved between me and the wall to make me lean on him, though his support readjusted when he noted the ache in that shoulder as well. "Why were you outside in this—"
The question cut off, his attention on the long, shallow lines traveling perpendicular to the chafing around each wrist. A string of deductions turned uncertain worry to steely anger.
"Who attacked you and when?"
I made no reply, simultaneous spasms in shoulder and leg tinging my vision and forcing me to focus on staying upright. I needed to sit before I lost the ability to stand.
"Watson?"
Or before a hovering detective decided to call another doctor. A disjointed hum acknowledged the hanging question. He could wait a few seconds.
"Four men," I replied when I could breathe again. "Maybe five. Nev—never saw them. Jumped me in the closest g—" The already choppy sentence became a gasp when my knee finally buckled. Only Holmes' grip prevented me from hitting the floor.
"Are you injured?"
"N—" Lightning shot through my leg yet again, stealing my breath and making me lean on him far more than I had intended. I settled for shaking my head. Feet protested the walk and shoulders the restraints, but the true cause of my pain lay in my old injuries. The scars did not appreciate restraints, walking, or weather, and certainly not all three stretched over several hours. I would not be able to walk on my own until at least tomorrow.
"They jumped you in the garden," he finished, nearly carrying me toward our rooms while watching my expression to confirm the deduction. "They would have tried to knock you out, but no injuries means they probably stunned you instead. Knowing you could not take on that many and win, you feigned unconsciousness while they tied you up, blindfolded you, and carried you off the manor grounds. How far?"
"Miles." A last corner found our rooms. I leaned heavily on the wall as he fought with the door. "Two or three, I think. Dumped me roughly—easy!"
He froze, one hand still gripping me directly over those many cuts. I twisted my arm away without explanation. If he had not noticed just how much blood patterned my skin, he did not need to know about it now.
He obviously did not agree, though he waited until we reached the sofa before he called me on it. "You said you were not injured."
"Chafing and scratches do not count as 'injury,'" I retorted, "but that doesn't mean I want you grabbing them. Hand me my bag, would you?"
My medical bag thumped the ground almost before I finished my question. "Finish your statement. They dumped you somewhere?"
"Southwest." Disinfectant burned to nearly turn the word into a chattering hiss. The longest wound obviously needed a more thorough cleaning—that I would do later. "Two hours before sundown. Sharpest rock I could find refused to hold still, and I did not start walking until full dark. The second storm passed through about an hour later."
"When was the first?"
"Before I got the blindfold off. That one wasn't as c-cold, though."
I shut my mouth with a click, cursing my disobedient jaw, but the damage had been done. The single stuttered word reminded him that the facts could wait. He abruptly disappeared into my room, returning a moment later with a fresh outfit before he turned away to stoke the fire. Faltering movements exchanged wet for dry, and as the room started to warm, so did I.
Which destroyed my ability to conceal my shivering. Worry lined his forehead as I wrapped a nearby blanket tightly around my shoulders.
"Did you get too cold?"
"D-don't—think s-so." A scowl escaped at the chattering mangling my words. "Just t-the chill of—coming inside."
He dragged a chair closer to study me, obviously beginning a silent vigil to catch anything I tried to hide. I simply rolled my eyes and claimed another blanket. He could stare at me if he wished. I would rather that than endless questions when my tongue refused to obey me.
"Your watch is in your room," he noted after several minutes. "How do you know the times?"
"Sun and stars," I answered shortly. How else? Freedmack Manor did not exactly have its own version of Big Ben.
"How did the stars tell you the time?"
Honest confusion finally leaked into the question, and I fought off a surprised smile. I did not often get to teach him something.
"The sun was two hours—the width of two hands at arm's length—above the horizon when I got the blindfold off my face, and Ursa Major had traveled one twelfth of the way around Polaris by the time I spotted the manor." My shoulder twitched with the force of another spasm. I covered the movement by turning to lie on my side. "I kept Orion on my right when clouds hid true north."
He still stared at me, curious questioning in his gaze. "The one with the belt?"
I made no effort to halt a laugh. "Yes, Holmes. The one with the three bright stars for a belt. Did you seriously never learn the constellations?"
"Why would I?" He flicked his hand as if the very idea was preposterous. "Constellations do not solve a crime."
"No," I agreed easily. "They guide you home when your criminal kidnaps you. They jumped me at least three hours before sunset, but you did not know I was missing until I returned. A cloudy night would have seen you leading a search party." And our client in danger.
I did not need to voice the second part for him to hear it—or for it to redirect his immediate protest to a different question.
"What did you hear?"
"They intended to use your absence to target Stiltwood." This should get him out of the room for a few minutes. "I don't know if they saw me return, but they are hiding in the hills east of the manor. I doubt they will show themselves unless they see you leave, but Stiltwood needs to know not to leave the manor."
Stiltwood's newly acquired home lay north of the nearest town and against cliffs and hills of varying steepness on the other three sides. Holmes had not yet gathered enough information to form a conclusion, but I thought it rather likely that the ruffians harassing the young heir contained an illegitimate cousin that wanted the family home. Whatever the case, they had already proven themselves willing to kill.
Though not when someone else could interfere. Stiltwood had promised us days ago to go nowhere alone.
"I will warn him," he promised. A glance at the door indicated an—expected—wish to deliver the warning now. "Will you be alright for a minute?"
"Of course." I quickly waved him away as if I had not planned this. My shivering was tapering off, and that would let me check my arms without him hovering. "I'll try not to fall asleep before you get back," I added wryly.
He left without replying, though a twitched grin tried to acknowledge the humor. I made quick work of the shallow cuts and scrapes and pulled my dressing gown over the patchwork of bandages. Awake or asleep, he intended to stay nearby tonight. He did not need to know just how many were deep enough to require bandages.
I still caught him checking my arms when he returned. My half-hearted growl amusingly startled him into returning to his chair, and I resettled with a show of more irritation than I honestly felt. We would discuss the merits of trusting a doctor's diagnosis in the morning.
Hope you enjoyed! Every review is read multiple times, even if I don't always have time to reply individually
MHC1987 & Fireguardian22: Thank you! :D I admit I had a lot of fun with a young mongoose in Sussex. Coco might have to come back, if the prompts align
