"It's good to be out in the free air again!"
I sucked in several lungfuls of it, before I was forcibly reminded that 'free' was not the same as 'fresh'. I coughed on the smog generated by thousands of chimneys and furnace flues, as Holmes whacked my bowed back in empathy.
"It is true that the cells can be dampening on the spirits," Susato-san said, brows puckering into a tiny frown line. "We are always so focussed on our client's plight during our investigation, that it usually serves to fuel our zeal to prove their innocence. But when visiting otherwise…"
"Now now, this will not do! You are both far too gloomy on such a fine morning." Holmes was right – despite the constant smog, today was shaping up to be a rare sunny day after the long bitter British winter. It would be a shame not to appreciate the welcome transition into relatively milder temperatures. "I know the very thing to cheer you fellows up!" Holmes continued. "Fortunately, it is entirely on our way, so let us make haste and proceed there directly!"
We trotted after him on the busy pavement. "Where exactly are we going, Mr Holmes?" asked Susato-san.
"To the market at Covent Garden!" Holmes revealed. "They have a delightful baked goods counter there that is a great favourite with Iris."
"I'm sure it must be absolutely lovely then! Do you think they will have carrot cake available for purchase?" Susato-san asked with great animation. "After the wonderful fragrance of Captain Booter's birthday cake, I've a craving to try a slice for myself!"
"I do believe they have that flavour," said Holmes. "Hopefully with a lower mineral content than the erstwhile captain's friends' recipe!"
"Oh dear, didn't you eat enough breakfast, Susato-san?" I echoed her earlier barb teasingly.
Susato-san stopped in the middle of the pavement to glare at me with arms akimbo. "This is an entirely different matter, Naruhodou-sama. Growing girls always have room for pudding."
"Quite right! I've often noted the phenomenon myself, whilst observing Iris over the years," Holmes corroborated. "I've postulated a separate stomach for the course exclusive to young females, but Iris only laughs at me. But let us hurry on, before the counter runs out of anything we wish to try!"
We shortly arrived at the edge of the sprawling Covent Garden market. A great clamour and crowd spilled out, far more than the modest hustle and bustle at the local market we'd visited before. Vendors hawked their wares in loud brash voices, and haggled bargains lobbed back and forth through the air hard and quick. The entire park was trodden into a miry mass after the spring thaw. Straw strewn about on the surface served as the only protection from boots sinking deep within the mud. The myriad of colours, motions, and smells of hundreds if not thousands of people, and tens times as many products and livestock, was overwhelming to the senses.
"This is actually the best time to enjoy the Garden, I think," Holmes said, apparently reading my thoughts on my face. "Late morning, when all the sellers have arrived yet not sold out. And on a bright spring day, free of the risks of frostbite in winter and overheating from the press and stench of crowds in high summer. But I admit, it may take some getting used to, even at its best! Let's fortify ourselves with sustenance to start."
He led us to an open counter at the near edge of the throng, still bountifully stocked and exuding an appetizing scent. The sheer variety of pastries, cakes, loaves and biscuits, watched over by aproned matrons with grandmotherly smiles, was a sight to behold, but couldn't hold a candle to Susato-san. She flitted from shelf to shelf, cheeks rosy with suppressed joy, as she drank in all the different puddings there were to discover and sample in this hub of civilization. I don't think I'd seen her so incandescent since our first glimpse inside 221B, when she first glimpsed all the paraphernalia of her literary idol. I confess I was a little disappointed; why wasn't she this happy after our successful trials together?
"I'm always overjoyed when you secure an acquittal, Naruhodou-sama," said Susato-san. Had I said that last bit aloud? "I'm not sure why you would think I'm not enourmously proud of your progress and abilities; I'll have to rectify that. But truly, I've never seen such an array as this! However shall I choose?" She leant even closer to a mound of many-hued biscuits with an intense expression on her face.
"Oh, do you like them, dearie? Our jam biscuits are proving popular, especially with the little ones. Mixing the jam into the batter instead of spreading it atop proved an inspiration - for the same amount of sweetness, you get these lovely colours and extra moisture, and less sticky fingers whilst eating!" The attendant retrieved a tray from beneath the counter. "But if you are interested, we also have these." So saying, she presented an assortment of the same biscuits, but with little animal faces piped on with fruit preserves.
"How cunning!" Susato-san could barely breathe in adoration of the whimsical renditions of woodland and barnyard creatures.
"I'm glad you like them, miss," said the saleslady. "If you enjoy these, I do hope you visit us at our permanent confectionery as well, in the entertainment and shopping district across the Town. We have many more types of pastries available there, particularly if you'd wish to try the French styles."
"Even more?!" Susato-san was beside herself in ecstasy.
"I don't think that's going to be of any help, if you can't manage to decide on anything here," I pointed out.
"How about we purchase some for an early elevenses now, and more to take away for a proper tea later?" Holmes suggested, watching us with genuine amusement.
We ended up doing exactly that. Susato-san thoroughly enjoyed her first taste of carrot cake, whilst Holmes and I ate our vegetables in the more traditional method by means of sandwiches. For afters, there were meltingly rich cream buns to split among all three of us. We washed it down with hot chocolate for Susato-san and me, and spiced apple cider for Holmes, rather than tea; even their selection couldn't tempt us in comparison to Iris' herbal blends back at Baker Street. Once we had finished, Susato-san packed away a loaf of bread and some biscuits to share with Iris later. She also transferred the remainder of our drinks into the insulated bottles of Iris' design, which had been set aside for our use out and about. The innovative containers caused a small stir among the counter's employees, and we resolved to let Iris know how taken they were with the concept.
"Now my friends, I believe we should part here temporarily," Holmes said as he stood up. "I have a few side matters to attend to, which I'm sure would bore you to tears. In the meantime, there is much for you to explore, so I propose to rejoin you in less than an hour's time."
"What?" I asked, surprised. "Didn't you want to investigate the feathered fan's origins together?"
"We shall cover more ground as two units instead of one," said Holmes. "Let us compare notes when we reconvene."
"And where should we meet, exactly?"
"Not to worry, I shall find you!" Holmes stated with characteristic confidence. "And if not, we can regroup at this very counter!" With that, he dashed off into the crowd and was lost to sight.
"That was odd," said Susato-san, frowning.
"Though, considering who we're talking about, oddity in itself is actually normal," I added. It didn't escape me that he had left me holding all our purchases, in effect designating me the de facto grocery carrier.
"Either way, this is perfect timing for us," Susato-san decided, leading me deeper into the crowded aisles. "Let's shop, Naruhodou-sama."
"Shop? For what? And for whom?" I asked, dragged along. Susato-san kept a tight grip on my right sleeve, while I did my best to maintain a similar grip on the baked goods held by that arm and on Karuma's hilt at my opposite hip.
"First, everything on my and Iris' lists, of course," Susato-san explained. "But in addition to that - you heard Mr Holmes earlier. We missed his birthday this year, so we should start looking for a present for his next, and for Christmas too!"
I understood that unlike in Japan, birthdays and Christmas were big celebrations in England, but still! "That's over nine months away!" As a student, I knew the importance of starting at least a year in advance, but that was for studying, not shopping! "Won't everything be out of season?"
"Out of season is precisely the correct season for shopping, Naruhodou-sama," she said, raising a finger to highlight her lecture's main point. "That is how you get the best prices."
"Oh, I see." That did make sense. I followed her as she swiftly bought everything we needed on both lists, and accepted each new item to carry obediently. I was mostly silent, not just because we had the secondary mission of watching for any leads to the dropped fan's owner. All this talk of Christmas and presents reminded me of something I had been wondering about before.
"Um, Susato-san, you know a lot about Christmas, don't you?"
"Not very much, but I have read about it a little." Knowing Susato-san as well as I did now, I was sure that meant she knew as much as a Japanese person possibly could without having celebrated it herself. "From what I understand, he's also known as Father Christmas. I confess, I was a tiny bit disappointed to have just missed the Christmas festivities on our arrival to London."
"Well, I was wondering… you know how Santa is a large, jolly man, dressed in red, with a curly white beard? And how he's the authority on who's behaved, and who hasn't?"
"I'm no expert in the matter, but yes, I believe so. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I was thinking… do we know for certain that the judge at the Old Bailey is not Santa himself?"
"Of course he's not!" Susato-san denied it immediately. "Really, Naruhodou-sama! The very idea!"
"But it would make so much sense." I warmed to my developing theory. "He must spend his time somehow outside of the holidays, and he even has ready access to a large supply of coal, from the jury voting system with the burning scales of justice. Maybe that's where the coal for the naughty children comes from!"
"I can't believe that I need to convince you, but it really is impossible. For one thing, Santa lives in the arctic, at the north pole. He could hardly preside at trials in London from that distance."
"True," I admitted, adjusting our packages in order to rub my chin in thought. "But perhaps that's only his holiday residence? If I were Santa, I wouldn't want to live in such a cold place year-round, and I'd prefer to keep my main identity secret, to avoid unwanted attention."
"Nevertheless, the judge is not Santa," Susato-san firmly asserted. "Santa delivers presents by traveling down chimneys. Can you honestly believe that the judge would slide down a chimney?"
"I can't imagine it," I agreed. "But I can't imagine how any Santa could either."
Susato-san sighed in resignation. "I'm afraid you'll either have to take my word for it, or we must agree to disagree. The judge is definitely not Santa."
"You're probably right. You usually are." Besides our disastrous confrontation on the SS Burya, Susato-san always pointed me in the right direction. "But I'll be paying him careful attention next December, just in case."
"I think you should pay the judge close attention inside the Old Bailey, regardless of the season," Susato-san clarified. "But enough nonsense. Have you noticed anything that would make a likely present for Mr Holmes, or for Iris?"
I had mostly forgotten about that. "Do you think they'd like a nice paperweight?" We were opposite a small stall covered with a collection of meticulously carved wooden knick knacks. Whoever made them was very talented. I wondered how one would look on the shelves behind my desk.
"The last thing anyone needs at 221B is another paperweight, either on the first floor or in our attic," Susato-san scolded. "I don't know why you are so attracted to bric-a-brac. You should clean up the office, not add to the clutter."
I already knew it was a losing battle to bring up how those words applied even better to our mutual detective friend. "Have you thought of anything yet?" I asked instead.
"Maybe a handkerchief?" Susato-san drifted towards another stall displaying many kinds of sewn goods. "It's always useful, and I believe is a traditional gift choice. The lace edging on these is very fine. Maybe we could even get them monogrammed?"
"I wonder how the British can keep their things straight, using their initials out of only twenty-six characters each, in a city with millions of people," I mused. "But then again, I guess it would be hard to cram 'Sherlock Holmes' into one tiny corner."
"Sherlock Holmes?!"
A sudden crowd formed around us.
"'Ere, do you know 'im?" asked the sewn goods seller.
"Oh, er, yes! We do!"
"Has he rendered you aid?" This was from a customer at my elbow. She leaned towards us over our bulging shopping bags, waiting breathlessly for confirmation.
"Eh? Was there a story with an easterner client in it?" called the vendor from the neighbouring stall.
"I'm certain it's in the midst of being chronicled! This gentleman is obviously someone's gallant protector - see that elegant sword on his waist, and the solid gold medal affixed to his arm, doubtless a badge of meritorious bravery. And the young lady is certainly of noble breeding from her manners and carriage. You can hear how well they've mastered the Queen's English, despite their foreign origins; they must have received the most extensive of educations. I'm sure we'll look forward to reading your case with the deepest anticipation!"
We both turned to discover who had announced such a peculiar list of observations and conclusions, so close yet so far from the truth, but with far more feminine tones than the usual suspect. We were met with the frank, penetrating gaze of an expensively dressed young woman, about my age or a little older. She curtsied as far as was practical in the crowded conditions, and covered her mouth with the back of one elegant white-gloved hand. "Oh ho ho! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Violet Penelope Rose, but please call me Penelope!" She handed us a cream-coloured calling card wafting a delicate floral scent; 'Violet P. Rose, XXX Place, West End, London' was printed in gilt cursive letters. Before we could do more than half-bow in return, she continued on. "I'm sure that you desire to remain incognito, but it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance regardless. As you can tell, I've made my own small study of Sherlock Holmes' methodology, insofar as his readings of people. I find that Covent Garden in particular provides unequalled opportunity for practice. It is my supreme fortune to have run into such a pair as you. Oh ho ho! What a picturesque couple you make; I wish you every joy!"
"Um, thank you?" I managed, extremely confused. Was a 'gallant protector' toting the weekly groceries really an occasion to wish someone joy of? At least she'd noticed the armband.
"Naruhodou-sama!" Susato-san's rebuke sounded weaker than usual, as if strangled. Her face was a bit red too. Perhaps the press of the crowd was to blame. I tried to shield her to make a little more room.
That must have done the trick, because she quickly picked up the dropped thread of conversation. "You sound very familiar with Mr Holmes' methods - have you often visited his lodgings?" My eyes widened as I caught on to Susato-san's plan - she was fishing for a clue if this woman could be connected to our mysterious morning visitor. I focussed on her dress, trying to determine if it would clash with a feathered fan.
Miss Penelope shook her head with regret. "I've never had the pleasure, to my great sorrow - I imagine visiting Baker Street would be a masterclass in itself. Until such a happy occasion, I've had to content myself with what I can glean from the published accounts of his cases."
"I'm sure the detective would love to have such a dedicated student of his technique to stop by for tea. A refined lady as yourself would brighten anyone's rooms, doubly so one that was home to two bachelors!" Wasn't Susato-san laying it on a little thick?
"Oh ho ho! You flatter me, madam! I do admit, I have pictured that Sherlock Holmes' sitting room might benefit from a feminine touch." Well, that settled that. There was no way Miss Penelope could be our clandestine fan-dropper. No sighted person who witnessed Iris' cute pink-and-white heart-motif half of the room could ever in their wildest dreams assert that the flat lacked a feminine side.
"In that case, I hope that the opportunity arises," Susato-san replied, now with her usual natural warmth. "He always welcomes those who appreciate his work." Her happiness at finding another admirer of Sherlock Holmes' exploits was infectious, and soon the surrounding conversation devolved into an impromptu social discussion.
"We allus have a Sherlock 'Olmes story when our sewin' circle meets," said the goods seller. "Those that have book learnin' take turns readin' aloud each installment, every time one comes out."
"The book club at the ladies seminary I attend never misses an issue either," the interested customer from before confided. "We never tire of discussing the great detective."
"I understand completely!" Susato-san positively glowed. "It must be such fun to compare theories on the mystery's solution with your friends!" I was fairly sure that this was a genuine personal dream Susato-san shared, rather than any angle to search for the fan's owner. In fact, I rather doubted the clandestine visitor featured in her thoughts at all by this point.
"Oh yes, of course, we do that too!" The ladies seminary student agreed after a slight hesitation. "There are many facets to appreciate, certainly."
"Indeed! There is always some new detail to discover! Mr Holmes's intellect is incomparable!" I privately noted that Susato-san's praise was more attributable to the genius author rather than the protagonist, especially considering our insider experience, but I refrained from interrupting. It was a novel experience for me, since usually I was the one gripped by overwhelming emotion, while Susato-san kept her rock-solid composure. Hopefully she'd find this role-reversal as cathartic as I did.
"Well, that is one reason we find him so compelling, naturally," the young lady student admitted. "But his best feature is that there's even more… isn't it?" She appealed to the assembled listeners.
"Right, that's what they say at the sewin' circle too," confirmed the seller. "He's got more than one side, they sez. It's in all the things that aren't there."
"Exactly, that dichotomy!" The seminary student clasped her hands together. "It's what makes his character so alluring."
"Eh?" Susato-san was visibly confused now - almost as much as I was.
"It's easily observed, with close reading." Miss Penelope rejoined the conversation. "He may project a stoic, intellectual front, but that is only a façade. His most dedicated followers already know." Really? She'd already figured him out? Maybe she really was budding detective! She continued in a discrete low pitch. "Isn't he actually a lonely man of hidden passion, a brooding, tortured spirit, who's languishing for want of a tender companion to care for him?"
"Eh!?" I'm not sure which of the two of us screeched louder.
"Come now, you've met with him yourself," Miss Penelope urged, a newly kindled flame in her eyes. "And you, madam, are clearly familiar with the written accounts. Surely you must have caught a glimpse that he is so."
"I don't believe he is…" Susato-san's eyes were spinning as she turned to me. "Could he be?"
"No, he couldn't," I answered emphatically.
"I'm sure a gentleman such as yourself wouldn't perceive it," said Miss Penelope indulgently. "But a woman's intuition can pierce where a man's cannot reach." That much was true. I recalled Susato-san's chiding about a young maiden's room being a place for bittersweet secrets; is this sort of thing what she meant? If so, perhaps it was a good thing I wasn't allowed to see inside; this was all rather out of my depth. In fact, this whole conversation was also. Unfortunately, Miss Penelope wasn't able to discern my thoughts on the matter, and stated passionately, "If only there were someone with a feminine sensibility at Sherlock Holmes's side, to bathe his fevered brow after his many exertions!"
"Can't Dr John Watson do that for him instead?" Of course I knew that the real Dr John Watson was not available to do so. But considering his fictional position of chronicler, Miss Penelope would not know that.
"With the doctor's recent marriage and relocation? Oh ho ho, I'm afraid that is impossible," Miss Penelope declared. "I'm sure that Sherlock Holmes has managed an impervious front, but he must feel the loss most keenly. I can see him in my mind's eye even now, his dark intelligent eyes, brimming with secret anguish. His midnight locks are pushed back from his high alabaster brow in careless tangles as he paces tirelessly on the cold, comfortless wooden floor; his lithe form still desperately handsome despite the disarray. I can feel his tortured soul's cries locked tight within his aching breast, waiting for his true soul-mate to hear and heal him, and to be enfolded in a loving embrace within his strong, steady arms - !" There were a number of dreamy sighs and nods around us in response. She really had an interesting way with words. "If only the right sufficient, yet sympathetic lady of means, such as a detective in training -"
"Or a hardworking, educated young woman embarking on a practical career," suggested the seminary student.
"Or the best seamstress in Covent Garden – with a running stitch that disappears even in the sheerest muslin," offered the sewing goods vendor, pushing forward some of her wares for our inspection.
Miss Penelope raised her mellifluous voice to regain control of the narrative. "If only she, whoever she may be, would enter his self-regulated, stern existence, to soothe his secret tumultuous emotions!"
"Who has secret emotions?" asked a new unrestrained voice behind us.
"Oh, Mr Holmes!"
I heard a series of thumps, and turned about to see several of our former conversationalists collapsed on the ground, including Miss Penelope, with a rapturous smile on her face.
"What's happened here, then? Have you gotten yourselves mixed up in another crime in progress?" Holmes surveyed the scene with undisguised cheer.
"No, we were just talking. I'm not sure what came over them," I said.
"They must have all eaten something that disagreed with them. I'm sure they'll be right as rain once they come to." Holmes stepped obligingly to the side as the remaining sensible bystanders scurried about with smelling salts and hastily procured burnt chicken feathers. He ignored the muttered "His features aren't even aquiline" from the ladies' seminary student, and urged us away from the spectacle as all the swooners were slowly roused. "Have you finished your shopping? I just popped by to tell you I've the one last stall to visit, and then we may proceed on to our next destination."
Susato-san and I obediently trailed after him towards a large bustling stall, which overflowed with the unmistakable stench of live poultry.
"My dear Breckinridge! Do you have a moment?" Holmes called loudly as we approached.
"Breckinridge!?" Susato-san's eyes fully regained their usual focus. "Is he the same Breckinridge from your adventures?"
"The very one," Holmes confirmed. "His place of business, however, has since been outgrown and relocated to this even finer stall."
"How exciting!" Susato-san looked about her eagerly for the named man to appear. "That was one of my favourites of your cases!"
"What was?" I asked, once again an outsider to the celebrated detective's history.
"Oh, it was so clever!" Susato-san was always eager to share Holmes's exploits. "I loved when he discovered the -"
Holmes interrupted her. "If you'd like to find out, Mr Naruhodou, you can read the all-new bound edition of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, available in October at all reputable booksellers for the low price of two shillings."
"Aw," I pouted. I'd have to remember to ask Susato-san to lend me her Strand issues later.
Holmes laughed at my expression. "Let's just say that due to my direct intervention, Christmas sales at Breckinridge's have increased a hundred-fold. Everyone hopes against hope that they may get lucky!"
At those words, a harried looking man with whiskers and ink-stained fingers rushed to the desk from the noisy interior. "What do you want, eh? If I've told you once, I've told you an 'unnerd times - no entries accepted for the Christmas list 'til after Easter."
"On the contrary, my good man!" said Holmes. "Today I've not come to you about a goose, but an ostrich."
"A what?"
"An ostrich - the fine feathered fowl that produced this." So saying, Holmes flashed the fan feather in front of the incredulous purveyor's nose, and then secreted it again in his pocket. "We were passing by, and thought to ask if you knew of any way to procure such a creature."
"Never 'eard of one in London," said Breckinridge shortly.
"I thought not." Holmes turned towards me with a wry smile. "As I told you, Mr Naruhodou, it is of no use trying here. I hardly think the thing can be done. Perhaps at a more upscale shop with rare breeds."
"Now, I didn't say I couldn't find one," Breckinridge interrupted. "I've got the widest contacts in the city; if anyone can source a bird, it's me."
"Is that so?" Holmes asked. "I rather think it can't be done by anyone in town; they're so rare."
"Well I say I can." Breckinridge retorted.
"Are you willing to bet on it?" Holmes asked.
"I am," said Breckinridge. "And you'll owe me ten shillings for the information when I do, half of which can be put towards the purchase price."
"All right, but we need word within the week," said Holmes. "And what of your side on the wager?"
"What do you want?"
"A guaranteed spot on the Christmas waiting list," Holmes responded - a little too quickly in my opinion. This really wasn't the time to get a head start on Christmas shopping!
"Done!" Breckinridge shook hands with the detective to conclude the deal, then disappeared again back into the clamouring frenzy within his stall's recesses.
"I must say, I'm quite looking forward to goose for Christmas already!" Holmes pranced over to a nearby pen, and surreptitiously poked at a gander waddling therein. "If they're all to be as fat as this one, then it will be a fine dinner indeed!"
Unsurprisingly, the gander took objection to the prod and the remark, and arched his neck, hissing ferociously.
"Do you want a go at me, sir? I warn you, I'm a champion boxer, and just came fresh from a round with a hissing Yard inspector. So there's little use trying to intimidate me with that feeble stuff!" The ridiculous man began ducking and weaving in front of the enraged fowl, fists jabbing in air.
"Don't worry, Mr Holmes!" Susato-san took a far too familiar solid stance beside him with her arms raised. "Any goose that attacks you will have to go through me first!"
"I don't think a Susato Takedown will be necessary here! Or any boxing for that matter!"
Before any of the three could escalate matters, Holmes burst out laughing. "Wah ha ha ha!" He flailed wildly and toppled over.
"Wot, just a feather? That's disappointin'." A familiar voice sighed. "Coo, it is a big 'un though, and no mistake!" Gina Lestrade, street urchin and professional 'diver' by trade, waved the ostrich feather about to get a better look. "A swan's, mebbe?"
"Gina!"
"Oh no, it's you lot!" She scrambled for her smoke grenade launcher hanging at her side, and shoved in some ammunition.
"My dear young lady, I must ask that you give a chap some warning before brushing his wrist with his own personal belongings, much less absconding with them!" Holmes reprimanded, climbing back to his feet.
He was answered by a cloud of coloured smoke in his face. "Didn't tickle your wrist on purpose, did I? It's your own fault for keeping ticklish and worthless rubbish in yer pockets!"
"Actually, it's part of our investigation. Have you happened to see any others like it recently, especially made into a fan?" Susato-san asked.
"Eh, I've seen 'em in swells' hats, but not fans." Gina appraised us, walking a coin that was undoubtedly not originally hers back and forth across the backs of her knuckles. "I could keep an eye out, if ya like. Dependin' on wot it's worth to ya."
"It would be a big help! Thank you, Gina!"
"I think yore misunderstandin' - I meant dependin' on wot it's worth to you to make it worth somethin' for me! Wot do I get out of it, eh?" She raised her smoking gun to my face this time.
I raised my hands on reflex. "How do you still have smoke left in that thing?"
"That was my last one, actually." Gina smirked. "Or not. Wanna find out?"
"Iris thought you might be running out," said Susato-san. "She made some more coloured smoke grenades for you. I'll gladly give them to you now, if you'd be so kind as to let us know if you happen to hear of someone misplacing a fan made of feathers like that one.
"Sure, I can do that!" Gina returned the feather to Holmes, and started loading the rainbow of rounds into her satchel as Susato-san handed them to her from her bag.
"Couldn't you have waited to give them to her until we were leaving?" I asked Susato-san belatedly.
"Don't worry so much, lawyer man." I could see her face brighten considerably as Susato-san sneaked in a couple colourful round confections in addition to the ammunition. "So, wot's it all about, eh? Someone bin trafficking swans?"
"No, not that we're aware of. And it's an ostrich feather, not a swan's."
"'Hoss-rich'? Do ya mean a rich 'orse?" Gina looked mistrustful. "Never 'eard of a 'orse with feathers, 'ceptin' unicorns."
Susato-san took over explaining. "No, an ostrich is a large exotic, flightless bird -"
"It don't fight? Ya sure it's a bird?"
"No, she means that it can't fly," I said.
"Again, don't sound like no bird to me. What use is a bird that don't fly?"
"Actually, the ostrich is an exceptionally speedy creature on land." Susato-ran her finger over a passage in her trusty book. She really must have everything under the sun written in there, if it includes ostrich facts. "It can run over forty miles per hour!"
"I think you've confused birds with horses, Suze."
"Oh no, I assure you! The ostrich goes about on two legs!" Susato-san looked sure that this would clear up the misunderstanding.
Gina nodded wisely. "Lots of horses like to go up on two legs 'round busy streets - 'specially the rich ones. They're skittish."
"Well, if you happen to see such feathers sprouting from a horse, by all means, we'd love to learn of it too," Holmes interjected. "News of missing fan or fledged horse - you're always welcome at 221B with either. Or without: Iris often tells us she wishes her dear friend Ginny would visit more often." He lifted a finger to make a point with a smile. "Please do not trouble yourself to bring the articles themselves, mind! Our flat is roomy, but I'm afraid that a horse would find it rather close quarters."
"All right," Gina grunted. She made as if to move off, but was restrained by a hand from Susato-san.
"Before you go, I have another request from Iris for you. She would like to know if you would be so kind as to distribute some pamphlets on her behalf." Susato-san rummaged within her purse and withdrew a few coins. "Iris said if you'd agree, I am authorized to pay you half now as an advance, and the rest she'll give you herself anytime next week, if you'll drop by for tea once you finish handing them all out."
Gina's eyes glittered with the sparkle of the promised earnings. "All right!" This acknowledgment was vastly more enthusiastic than the first.
"What are the pamphlets?" I asked, trying to catch a glimpse as the papers transferred custodianship.
"They appear to be a subscription special advertisement for the Strand," Susato-san read from the top one. Her eyes widened as she read further. "It includes an excerpt from the newest Adventure of Sherlock Holmes story to be serialized next month! Gina, may I have the favour of receiving a copy?"
"Sure - here ya are, Suze." Gina handed her the sheet she'd been eyeing, and hurried off.
As we walked away, we could hear Gina's shrill calls into the crowd. "Step right up! Brand new, exclusive, ne'er-before-seen stories, get your discount for the next serial right 'ere! You don't wanna miss it! Get a taste of the next biggest spine-tinglin' genuine Sherlock 'Olmes tale right 'ere! Eh, wot's that? How do I know it'll be spine-tinglin' if it's ne'er-before-seen? Well, that's 'cos I saw that lady, yes that lady in pink leavin' over there, I saw 'er spine tingle when she got an eyeful of this 'ere page. And let me tell yer, she don't scare easy. I saw 'er go toe-to-toe with the Reaper hisself, with me own two eyes I did, and she were cool as a cod on a slab in January. Yessir, if ya like a good shocker, you need this paper. 'Ere, take another for a friend."
"I think we may be witnessing the discovery of a true calling," I said, impressed despite myself.
"Gina is a bright young woman," Susato-san remarked, radiating pleased pride. "She can do whatever she sets her mind to, once given the opportunity. I didn't even give her instruction on what to tell the passers-by."
"Indeed," said Holmes. "I can only hope that she doesn't invent a way to pursue both of her current lines of work at once." He watched with detached interest as a tumultuous hubbub formed around her. "Ah, perhaps she already has."
"Or perhaps not." I could recognize a few familiar figures from our previous conversation pressing into the throng with intense zeal, as well as a faint "Oh ho ho!" drifting from that direction. Susato-san and I shared a grim decisive nod. "I think we'd best be getting on with our investigation now, Mr Holmes."
"But of course!" Holmes quickly secured a cab, and waved us inside. "Onwards we go!"