So, there we go again, another week - another chapter for you.

As you may have realised, I am currently giving my stories a workover and hope that at last, the quality will improve. So this case has another two chapters coming (not counting this one) and after I have posted them, I might take a short break and carry on working in the background depending on what comes up. But I think I have earned a little holiday for when counting together everything I have written this year it counts up to roughly a quarter of a million words published on this site alone. I think that is quite an achievement. But, before I get too proud of myself, there is still a lot on queue such as another adventure for little Sherlock, another short story for Sherlock and his faithful Boswell (something I have horribly neglected this year), then I have another idea for a Hendrik Sigerson - Adventure, which might end up becoming something longer as well and of course Mr and Mrs Holmes need to be kept busy, too. On topf that I try to figure out whether I should write about a teenage-Sherlock (ideas appreciated!) and then there is always Pride and Prejudice where I am also working on a new story, perhaps soon even two as yet another idea has crept into my mind lately that looks as if it might run away with me again - sounds as if I might be busy after all...

So, I hope you still enjoy my scribbling and are not yet getting tired of it. Now all that is left for me to do is to ask for some feedback from you. - Yes, I know it is troublesome, but come, if I can write 250,000 words for you (well and for myself, of course) a few lines or so should not be too much of a hassle, should it now? ;) In any case it is greatly appreciatd and makes everything all the more worthwhile.

So, thank you very much, grab yourself a cup of tea, lean back in your armchair or sofa and enjoy.

Love Nic

A needle in a haystack - Part 4

Harriet:

Sherlock sent out Tom to get him a certain MacRae and his men and as I had never heard of the man and never as yet had met his 'Baker Street Irregulars' I was quite surprised when half an hour later a group of eight street urchins piled into our sitting room, assembling themselves into a line, and, like soldiers, saluted to us.

"We are awaiting your orders, Sir." the tallest of them greeted with a slight Scottish accent which made me assume he was said, MacRae. "We are working at our usual rate."

"Very well," Sherlock replied smiling, looking from one grubby face to the other, "I have a job for you. On the night from Saturday to Sunday, a police cart was stolen and last seen when it dashed up Bishopsgate. It is a secure police cart with the emblem of the City Police, meaning it is gold instead of silver in colour – a Black Maria, with the number 8705. Better write it down so you won't forget. What I would like you to do is, to check every nook and cranny up this road and down this one for it."

There he had pulled out a map of London and placed it on the table, indicating the area he wanted to be searched. Eight eager faces followed his trailing finger, some boys nodding and a few chewing on their bottom lip to memorise everything. As I watched them I became aware that some did not even own a scarf and one boy's trousers were so threadbare that I had the feeling one could see through them. Catching my husband's eye I saw he had noticed, too.

"Very well, Sir," MacRae answered at last. "If we don't find it, it's not there!"

"Of that, I am very sure. Here is a Shilling for you each. I expect a report by this evening, let us say six o'clock? And I think you all should come."

"Yes, Sir!"

And before another word could be uttered they ran from the room and moments later they were heard in the streets.

"I'll quickly speak to Mrs Hudson to have a bit of broth ready for them tonight. What is it, Tom?" my husband asked, while I was already wondering where to quickly get a couple of thick scarves and thick woollen socks from.

"Sir, where do they sleep at night? It is terribly cold and wet out there."

"Yes, it is, but you need not worry. On my suggestion, they share a room. They put together the money they earn and if that is not enough I usually help them out." my husband assured him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

xxx

Sherlock:

We set off towards the City though taking a bee-line towards Scotland Yard first to see whether Doctor Bell would be willing to have Harriet assist him. We found the Doctor at his desk, drinking a cup of tea. When we entered his small office right next to the dissecting room he glanced up with some surprise.

"What brings you here, Mr Holmes? Doctor Holmes?" he greeted.

"We have a request," I answered, suddenly not so sure anymore he would agree to such a scheme.

After all, it was a somewhat unusual situation and while he had acknowledged Harriet to be a good doctor, she still was a woman and unfortunately right in assuming that as such she would never be fully accepted into the illustrious circle of her male colleagues. To many, she was nothing more than an oddity and with her now being a wife and soon a mother they might just as well be of the opinion that she should stay at home and be nothing besides.

"Well?" he asked, shuffling his papers. "I haven't got all day. The superintendent has got it into his head that the Saunderson case needs to be re-opened and I have to look through some of the old notes now to see if there had been a mistake somewhere. And that beauty there is also waiting for me."

There he pointed at the shrouded figure on the slab. It seemed we were in luck after all.

"I would like to assist you for a while to learn more about this field of the medical profession," Harriet answered before I could say anything.

First Bell looked surprised, then a cheeky grin spread across his face.

"Very well, you can start right now if you've got the time. Here, find the needle in the haystack. If there is any, that is."

Shoving the papers at her he got up and walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

"Then I can at the last start with the autopsy. There is another body coming in soon, I was told and I better get a move on. I would have already had it not been it for Superintendent Brown." he carried on, while my wife and I shared an amused glance.

"James, get everything ready!" Bell shouted towards his assistant, while my wife kissed me and send me on my way with a wide smile.

Well, the questions from the doctor would follow later, her expression told me she fully expected as much, but for the moment everything was in perfect order.

I faintly remembered having read about the Saunderson case while being abroad, but nothing definite came to mind. My three years of absence still haunted me.

I had almost been looking forward to having my wife with me today, but perhaps this was the better option. She should not run around all day long, and certainly not in this cold.

When I arrived at the Bank of England I met with Gregson, who looked even more irked and tired than he had the previous day.

"Have you got some news for me, Mr Holmes?" he greeted me, reaching out his hand.

"None. I am about to speak to Sir Frederic if he is willing to see me – though he surely must be willing to see you." I replied, smiling.

"He is not yet in. I have come here to report to him, but no-one as yet has seen him." the official detective gritted his teeth.

"Then I suggest we go to speak to Mr Barnicott first."

And that we did.

Mr John Barnicott was a middle-aged man, haggard and tired looking, creases of worry spreading across his forehead as he greeted us with a polite bow and a forced smile.

"I had quite a mind of engaging you myself, Mr Holmes. Not that we have much damage, the gold was insured after all and due to the contract, the sum will fall to us. But it is a very vexing business. How will the people trust us with their money if we have made such a blunder as to lose such an immense amount of gold – guarded by the police, even? No-no, this is most unfortunate."

Gregson looked quite sheepish at this speech. Offering us a seat Barnicott rang a small silver bell on his desk and as if on queue one of his clerks appeared and was sent away with the order to bring in some tea.

"I have two questions, Mr Barnicott. The first one being, who invested the gold? And the second, why was such an awkward route chosen?"

"That is the very thing, Mr Holmes, I cannot answer either of these questions. Not that I would not want to, but I simply don't know the answer. The gold was to be transferred in the name of the Bank of England, who in turn acted for one of their clients, whose identity is unknown to me. It was also the Bank of England who gave the route. Personally, I would have preferred another time and another path, to be honest but assumed they had their reasons to act this way. We are all men of honour and it is not good for business if one is too insistent on impugning each and every particular."

"But I was told that the route was planned by both yourself and Sir Frederic." Gregson chimed in.

"No, you have been misinformed. I was merely informed about it and agreed to have it done so. That was all."

"Who was your main correspondence at the Bank of England?" I enquired. "Was it Sir Frederic himself?"

"No, it was a Mr Peabody, one of the senior clerks there, who acted for Sir Frederic."

"Was there a particular reason why the police had been applied to guard the transport? For if as far as I know normally the banks make arrangements themselves."

The man looked surprised and it was Gregson who answered my question: "apparently Sir Henry Simmons, who was applied to for advice, thought it to be safer."

"Was there any particular reason he was asked in the first place?" I could not help asking thus.

"Apparently Sir Frederic and our chief are members of the same club and the latter owed the former a favour. You know how it is." Tobias Gregson answered with a slight grimace showing his disdain for such practices.

This information also showed, that there was at least one other person who had known about the transfer well before it had taken place. Interesting!

Sighing I leaned back in my chair, sipping on the tea that had been brought in in the meantime. A 'normal' robbery I had by then all but ruled out. There was too much that was off right from the start, and the deeper I dug, the clearer it became that the whole crime had been carefully planned right from the moment it had been decided that the money should be transferred to Barnicott and Harris, with poor Inspector Gregson being the intended scapegoat for not doing his job properly, when in fact he could not possibly have done so under these circumstances.

"I thank you very much, Mr Barnicott. You have helped us a great deal." I, at last, said, getting up from my chair, eager to speak with Sir Frederic Belmont, who hopefully had arrived in his own bank by now.

Instead, we found Mr John Peabody, an astonishingly young man for such a senior position and not yet cursed with the usually rounded shoulders and the short sight of a clerk. The contrary rather, as he was a rather handsome man with a surprisingly athletic built. He looked at us with some contempt but otherwise gave at least the appearance of wanting to help.

Yes, he had been the one closing the deal with Mr Barnicott, but no, it had not been him who had planned the route to be taken, he had merely brought the papers over to Barnicott and Harris to be sanctioned and signed and that was that.

He could also not tell us where to find Sir Frederic, who normally always came in at nine.

"As a matter of fact, I am waiting for him, also," he told us.

By the way, he glanced at us I was quite sure that it was not him who waited for the director, but the client we desperately tried to make out.

"Mr Peabody, could you please tell us, who had the money transferred? I mean the client the bank has been acting for."

The clerk turned first pale than red but was adamant not to say anything, his eyes fixed on a point over my right shoulder. Turning around I was faced with a young and regal looking widow, wearing an arrogant expression on her lovely face which showed her character to be none too pleasant.

"Lady Metcalf?" I enquired, remembering to have seen her in some photographs that had been published in the papers.

She did not reply and merely gave a curt nod in acquiescence of my recognition.

"I did not..." Peabody stammered.

She dismissed him with nothing but a wave of her hand before she turned to Gregson and me. I had heard rumours about her and more particularly her husband's demise, though nothing could be proven. And since Lord Metcalf had died almost two years ago and at an age where death did not come as much of a surprise, no inquiry had been conducted.

"So you are now troubling yourself over this most unfortunate business," she remarked, looking me over as if I were a beetle pinned to a board in some museum for display.

"It is no trouble, Madam," I replied as suavely as I could, trying not to show my distrust.

A man could easily be approached directly, while with women more caution was advisable and an indirect approach was usually the best. That the client was a lady, had come as a surprise. Then again, Lord and Lady Metcalf had had no children, making her the sole heiress.

"I presume you are now wanting to stick your overly large nose into my affairs of business, Mr Holmes."

Well, politeness was not her strong point it appeared.

"Yes, exactly."

"What is the point of it? The issue has been resolved as I got the notice from the insurance that the money would be paid out to Barnicott and Harris and thus no harm is done, is there?" she asked offhandedly, about to turn around.

"The point is, that a crime has been committed and that the criminals have to be tried and punished accordingly. You might not have suffered a loss, but I dare say the insurance company would disagree with your statement that 'no harm has been done'."

"Why do men always have to act so incredibly honourable?" she sighed theatrically.

"Because if you cannot rely on our honour we would be unable to do any business, Mylady." Peabody, who had lingered behind, but out of sight of the lady, piped up.

"I thought I had made it clear that you could leave." she snapped at him, angrily.

"You have, but I have a responsibility regarding this bank and one such is to watch any strangers to the establishment behaving themselves."

"Then I dare say you should check your own behaviour first, before that of any other person. So, Mr Holmes, have you found out something then?"

"Yes, I have."

With an inquisitively raised eyebrow, she waited for me to continue, but I was in no mood to oblige her.

"Was there any particular reason, you wanted to invest at Barnicott and Harris' Bank?" I instead asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

"It was recommended to me by a good friend."

"The Bank of England has equally good opportunities, why not make use of them?"

"Because it is never wise to bet only on one horse, Mr Holmes."

"But to bet gold amounting to the value of eighty thousand Pounds on an outsider?" I remarked with a slight disbelieving smirk.

"It is on the outsiders that one earns the most money with. I see you are not a betting man, Mr Holmes, otherwise, you would have known. The favourites are all nice and well and fairly sure to win, but the winnings are usually miserable." she replied arrogantly. "But now, gentlemen, you will excuse me, for I have other appointments and cannot linger around in the hopes of Sir Frederic turning up eventually. Peabody, tell him I am very displeased with him for having me wait. By the way, I have always been curious, is it true what they say about men with large noses, Mr Holmes?"

At that, her eyes trailed down in an insinuating manner that almost had me blush. This last sentence I chose to ignore but the rest was quite an interesting statement. So, the lady liked to bet on horses, apparently. Well, that was an expensive hobby if one was prepared to bet on outsiders only for the thrill of it.