The clock ticked loudly, somehow easily cutting through the much louder noise of raucous, drunken sailors enjoying their shore leave. I feigned another sip of my beer.
Where was he?
We had agreed to meet here tonight instead of the sitting room, mostly so he would not have to walk all the way across the city only to walk back with me. The arrangement had let me take a cab to the bolthole closest to the river, use the disguise materials Holmes stored there, and meet him in time for the stakeout tonight. The smugglers believed a foreign contact wanted a partnership, and our presence in their headquarters would let the Yarders enter without breaking down the door.
The plan would fail if Holmes did not show, however, especially since they would smell a problem if I arrived alone. Had the gang spotted him today? He had refused to let me join his surveillance or even know where he had gone. If something had gone wrong, I would have very little chance of finding him.
Three men stumbled out the door to continue their argument in the street. The barmaid scowled at the mess they had left behind, but she still greeted the next customers without a hint of fear. Of Holmes' many contacts, Serenity had made herself indispensable by living up to her name. We relied on her to stay calm in the face of anything, and she had easily recognized the pseudonym I had provided. Holmes had admitted more than once that Serenity's relaxed smile and excellent timing had defused a tense situation. She would signal if trouble entered.
Though not if Holmes did, for all that she had called him "trouble" many times. I scanned the dimly lit room yet again, searching for Holmes' current disguise. Was that him in the far corner?
No. Holmes had proven himself adept at changing his body shape at need, but the unhealthily thin man wore a different outfit than Holmes had when he left this morning. While circumstances might have made him change his appearance throughout the day, the gang would only recognize the one disguise. He had told me to expect the foreign-born dockhand.
There. Just walking in the door. That outfit had the right shape, and the tall man's hat appeared the right style. Would he have changed his posture?
Unlikely, I decided. Once he decided a character's appearance and personality, he did not usually mix and match the defining features. I made no reaction when the man slumped into the nearest bar stool. He would be drunk within the hour.
As would the short man listing between the tables. Less than four feet tall meant he crawled into a bar stool like a child, but he had not yet consumed enough to lose his ability to speak. He and the counter's other occupant soon struck up the sort of rambling conversation that only made sense when under the influence.
And Holmes had still not arrived despite the clock announcing nearly twenty minutes past our agreed time. A long sip received a silent negative from Serenity. She had not seen him either.
Alright. I would give him another few minutes to account for the downpour outside, but I also needed to start planning possibilities. I knew only that Holmes had planned to roam the docks today. His current disguise resembled a dockhand more than a sailor, which meant he probably had not taken last minute employment on some departing cargo ship, and the gang we trailed had built a reputation for kidnapping anyone who got too close too quickly. Would they have taken him to their headquarters?
Possible, but not probable. They had as many smaller hideaways along the river as Holmes did boltholes through the city. A kidnapping plot would have involved the closest one to wherever they subdued Holmes.
A large, hulking man briefly filled the entrance on his way to the loud group in the corner. As even Holmes could not make himself look like three hundred pounds of muscle, I paid him no mind. A street woman left in the company of an experienced sailor. Serenity broke up another fistfight in the corner. The man in the corner laboriously pulled himself to his feet and left the back way. Holmes still did not arrive.
Wherever they had subdued him would have either been deserted or on an already dangerous street, a place where the residents had learned to look the other way in the interest of their own safety. Considering my friend's fighting skills, I figured at least four or five attackers, possibly more, and they may or may not have weapons. I had my revolver in one pocket, extra bullets in another, and my sword cane leaning against the chair next to me. That would have to suffice.
Did I need to alert the Yard?
Yes, but not immediately. Lestrade would not expect to see us until well after dark, when they took their posts to let us approach first. Until I ran out of places to look, I could not risk word leaking that someone had noticed Holmes' absence.
Did I need to alert his contacts?
Aside from Serenity, I did not know how to reach anyone quickly, and I would not ask her to do that even if she could leave the bar before closing.
So what could I do?
Sip my beer, for the moment. I would wait five more minutes before I left to wander the docks. If the easing thunderstorm had slowed his travel, he would arrive soon.
Prompt #82. To the Makeup Table! Focus on Holmes and/or Watson in disguise – for a case, or for any other reason.
And perhaps in the wrong disguise. I began checking anyone that entered, but the low light prevented me from checking eye color—my only sure identifier.
Some made it easy. Holmes made himself shorter by bending his knees and slouching, so the small man trying to look taller could not be him. My friend added to his height with attachments on his shoes, so the barefooted giant could not be him—nor could the sandaled street woman, despite my desire to rib him for such a disguise. He made himself wider with padding, which ruled out both bodybuilders, and smaller with a mixture of posture, tailored clothes, and makeup—all of which ruled out the entire group in the corner.
Others proved more difficult, however. I did not believe the limping, misshapen man to be my friend, but I could not rule out the possibility. Same for the quiet sailor two tables away and the man apparently taking a drunken nap in the corner. A problem could have required he involve one of his contacts in our plan. Could he be half of the young couple obviously lost?
Or would I spend this night searching London's underworld?
Neither. Relief drained fearful tension from my shoulders as a familiar dockhand sauntered through the front door, his long strides betraying clear irritation. Something had made him horribly late, but at least he was unhurt. I raised my beer in the greeting typical of this area.
A nod acknowledged the attention, but he gave no other reaction. The barest hint of a frown twitched his mouth as he claimed a table in full sight of the door. Someone here had prevented him from joining me.
Which meant I needed to join him—carefully. If the delay had stemmed from a tail, I would need to avoid drawing undue attention, but we could hardly guide someone to the stakeout. When a slow count of a hundred and twenty revealed no obvious pursuer, I dropped a few coins on the table and started a slow circuit of the room.
The two at the bar never glanced up, too deep in their alcohol to note the roof caving, much less a crippled laborer limping toward the other door. The street woman winked at me but moved on when I silently declined. The newlyweds in the corner finally stopped arguing to survey a map. They would leave shortly, probably in the company of the quiet sailor who had taken pity and started helping.
As Holmes remained the last to arrive even when I reached his table, either he had lost his tail, or the man had not come inside. He looked up only when I propped my cane nearby and sank into the opposite booth. Reproach clearly laced his quiet words.
"You are late."
"No," I returned lowly. He undoubtedly heard my last hour's fear, though I would not voice it. "You are. You promised to meet at half past. Another five minutes and I would have started wandering the docks. What kept you?"
"Nothing. I—" Reproach had gained an indecipherable undertone, but whatever he intended to reply broke in half as a stray candle's light briefly hit my face. Surprised irritation flickered into view. "You were at that back table for the last hour?"
"Or so," I agreed, wondering what I had missed. "Are you going to tell me why you were late?"
Only his current persona prevented him from scowling at me. "I was not late. I did not have time to change disguises before arriving."
To change disguises? He had—
A wide grin stretched my mouth, hidden only by the glass I still cupped in both hands. "The thin man that went out the back way," I realized. "That was you? But that means—"
His glare somehow deepened without ever leaving his eyes. "That you did not recognize me," he said in place of my thought. "As usual."
"Nor did you recognize me." I nearly laughed aloud as the affected haughtiness fell away at my pointed counter. The low light should not have made a significant difference. I had partially recognized a disguise I had never seen, but for all that he boasted about always being able to find me in a crowd, my friend had sat less than thirty feet away for nearly an hour without once looking in my direction. I would be able to hold this over him for months.
Too much comment now, however, would quickly compromise tonight's plan. I settled for using my hunched position to keep my grin behind my drink. He would be able to see it easily, even if the other patrons could not. Silence stretched as I fought to conquer my amusement.
"Kin I finish me drink 'fore we go, boss?" I asked when I was sure the slightly louder volume would not betray me. The two at the bar had grown somewhat suspicious at our quiet conversation. "This 'un's a good beer."
He noted the same glances I had, though a minute shake of his head denied both danger and my request. "Shoulda drank it quicker. Ye know th' barmaid don't like lingerers. D'ju awready pay?"
"'Course I did." I faked another sip and gained my feet. "Sally likes thieves e'en less 'an linger'rs, 'n she's sceery when she's mad."
I stretched my shoulder as if my injuries had come from a bar fight instead of a bullet, and even Holmes fought to hide a smirk when the two at the bar exchanged worried glances then dug in their pockets. Serenity's murmured thanks followed us out the door. She knew as well as I did that those two had planned to run out on a tab that had grown steadily larger over the last hour. Holmes waited only long enough for the door to close before he started outlining what he had found today.
I listened quietly, though I did not dare look at him. My thoughts were undoubtedly written across my face.
"Did you hear anything I just said?"
"They received a new shipment," I answered promptly, my gaze alternating between the other pedestrians and—when my grin threatened to escape—my feet. "You don't know if it's jewels or china, but it's heavy, and they put guards around it. You intend to mention recent shipments during the 'treaty talk' tonight in the hopes they will tell you. I can listen, watch people, and think all at the same time, Holmes."
The insinuation that he could not birthed a scowl, but he resumed without comment. He did not need to deduce what I was thinking, not with the mischievous grin I struggled to kill.
If I could learn how to fool Holmes like that on purpose, an entertaining accident would become a tool to pay him back for years of testing disguises with a "chance" encounter on the street. I needed to learn just what about today's disguise had made me unrecognizable.
Perhaps the thrill of a finished case would make him willing to answer.
Hope you enjoyed! and don't forget to review :) Thanks to those who did last chapter
Fireguardian 22: I've always thought astronomy incredibly interesting, and it is how we traveled before the invention of compasses, after all
MHC1987: Thank you :)
Corynutz: I'm glad you're enjoying the stories! I would agree on those blackguards getting their behinds handed to them, lol. Holmes is rather protective of his biographer.
As for your other comment, I can assure you that each chapter (at least so far) has been posted before midnight-in my timezone. Based on a few of your comments, I'm figuring you 9 or 10 hours later than me-maybe the same time zone as Cairo?-which is why they appear to show up late for you. I rather doubt I'll ever be able to finish an entry before midnight your time (chuckle)
