Fairy land

„All is not lost; the unconquerable will/ and study of revenge, immortal hate/ and courage never to submit or yield:/ And what is else not to be overcome?/ That glory never shall his wrath or might/ extort from me."

Paradise Lost

The old Vernet castle seemed close at hand, however we realized we would have to cover some distance ere we got there. Like a mighty scissors cut, it stood out from the night, with a fleck of light here and there on its facade: Windows illuminated with electricity. Mycroft had certainly made a good job of modernizing the place, although some anachronisms remained. The electric light, for instance, was reflected on an extensive water surface in front of the building - the moat, to be sure.

We had not gone far before we were stopped. Two men in plain clothes, but with unmistakably military bearing, appeared out of nowhere to bar our way. A smart and snappy voice called: „Halt!" and we obeyed, like so many puppets on a string.

I expected the worst when the men drew near for scrutiny, however they seemed kindly disposed towards us. One of them said: „I see you are walkers who have been surprised by the dark. But you must not proceed here. These are private grounds, and I am afraid you are trespassing."

I abided by my instructions to let Holmes do the talking, and stood as if transfixed to the ground as he stepped forward. „You are mistaken, gentlemen. We are here to see Mycroft Holmes."

The men, disciplined though they were, traded a confused look. Either Mycroft did not go by his real name in this place, or it was unusual for people to seek him out. I suspected the latter.

„Are you being expected?" On of the guards finally asked.

„The answer depends on your meaning". Holmes smiled gently. „If you wish to know, do I have an appointment, I must admit, no I don't. However I do not think myself presumptuous in believing that I am, in a way, very much expected by the landlord. Does he happen to be in?"

„Who are you?" The guard asked warily. By now, he could not but have guessed we were not on a courtesy call.

Holmes eyed them unblinkingly. „My name is Sherlock Holmes", he replied, ignoring the subtle alarm that was present in the expressions of both men. „And these are my friend and colleague Dr. Watson, and my niece, Miss Fanny Morris."

There fell a brief silence. It was plain to see the guards would have liked taking private counsel, but had to be content with an exchange of glances. Finally, one who seemed to be senior to the other uttered: „We cannot admit you without an appointment. But if you wish, you can take a seat in the library and wait whether Mr. Holmes will not see you."

He was too much of a soldier to wince under Sherlock's gaze, as no doubt I would have. However, he seemed a trifle uncomfortable as he received the reply: „Thank you so much. We do wish."

oooOOOooo

I seemed to feel many eyes upon us as we were led up to the castle - eyes from the darkness, from the shrubbery and from the windows of the building, both the lit and unlit ones. What were we to expect on the inside? I could not even venture a concrete guess, but anticipated a vague, shapeless darkness.

Another watch approached us at the entrance, but was informed about our identity in whispered tones by our escort. After some to and fro, the watch nodded, and we were being led into the ancient hall of the Vernet family home.

I was, to say the least, surprised. The interior was by no means different from an English manor house. Not that I had much experience of those, but one had heard awed accounts of course, and leafed through glossy magazines. There was the oaken panelling, the paintings on the walls, the potted plants and heavy carpets one would expect from such a place - much in contrast to my prior apprehensions.

However, we did not make a station here, but instead were ushered into an adjoining sitting room, where a bright fire burnt vigorously in the fireplace. I felt the three of us look around as one person - but we were alone. Beside ourselves, there were only the fire, some sofas and books and a table with refreshments.

The men informed us that our arrival would be brought to the landlord's notice, and asked us to wait. Then they left us. I lowered myself onto one of the sofas, feeling faint and apprehensive. The cheerful atmosphere of the room did nothing to disperse my anxiety. I knew we would be face to face with the enemy before long, and the prospect, to speak the truth, turned my stomach.

Holmes, however, leaped into activity as soon as the door had closed behind the plainclothes soldiers, checking the wainscot, the fireplace, the window beyond which the moat reflected the bright illumination of our room. I wondered what he might be looking for, and hoped it was not yet a way to escape.

Uncle John took off his greatcoat, wiping his forehead. „My word! After the chill air of the night, this room seems like an oven. Isn't this large fire a little de trop in a small room such as this?"

I gave him to understand that I, too, began to experience the warmth as a discomfort. My complaint, however, was silenced by an impatient whistle from Holmes' corner of the room. „Fanny, please stop these useless wailings. They are quite an obstacle to my free flow of thought. And you, doctor, had better assist me in devising a plan, rather than moaning like the resident ghost. If we wish to assess the most probable whereabouts of Madame Zhao in this awful place, we ought to do so now, and make the most of the time we have before they come back."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Uncle John was as suave as ever, anticipating any possibility of quarrel. „First things first, Holmes." He stepped over to the table with the beverages, and, without a ruffle, poured a glass of clear water. „My throat is quite parched, and Fanny looks ready to faint. The temperature in this room is abnormal. You will allow us to forestall a heat stroke ere we engage in any effort that requires our mental and physical abilities."

And he handed me the glass of water, a gentleman to the core. I drank while he poured another glass for himself, and, suddenly drowsy, heard Holmes reply: „You are right of course, doctor. I apologize for my incivility, but I must confess this heat is wreaking havoc with my nerves, too."

„And you're not looking too chipper either, old man! Come, have a drink as well. We must gather our strength for what lies ahead of us."

That was the last I can remember of their conversation before I drifted away into a deep, deep slumber.

oooOOOooo

When the lids of my eyes lifted again, the oppressive heat had faded, and left behind a merely agreeable warmth. Recognizing my surroundings, and experiencing a sudden reflux of recollections, I started, and sat up.

The fire had died down; and the room was dipped into a faint, almost spectral light….the light of very early morning, before the rise of the sun. The curtains had not been drawn, and the dark night outside had passed and ceded room to a foggy, bluish state of transition, a state of utter stillness.

By my side, I spied an arm in a shirt sleeve thrown negligently across the sofa that I was lying on, the rest of the man on the floor, slumped against the piece of furniture. Another motionless form was sprawled across the chaiselongue opposite to the sofa, a dark head lolling against the backrest and threatening to drop aside and go over the edge.

My heart leaped with alarm, and I rose from the sofa swiftly, my numb legs notwithstanding. I knelt down next to Uncle John, passing a hand over his forehead. „Uncle John! Uncle John, please waike up!"

He sighed in his sleep, but could not be stirred. I turned around, and dropped to my knees next to the chaiselongue. I reached for the sleeping form, but recoiled bashfully from this violation of privacy: His face, bare of expression, looked so different from what I knew it to be like during day time. Dark lashes cast bluish shadows onto skin whose pallor seemed increased by the ghostly illumination. The pupils behind the closed eyelids were in constant motion, left-right, left-right, without a pause. He was sleeping profoundly, maybe dreaming.

A panic seized me, a panic because all of this was like an evil dream, with me as the only conscious agent among breathing corpses. And somewhere, somewhere near me, this unspeakable dread! Was he asleep, too? On top of a mound of treasures maybe, like a dragon on his hoard? Was it for me to seek him out, unaided?

No, no, my thoughts were confused, an aftereffect from the drug we had no doubt been tricked to ingest. There was no magic in this sleep, or anywhere in this blasted old house. I reached for the left arm of the sleeper, carelessly thrown above his head, and yanked it powerfully. „Waike up!"

His hand formed claws, gathered against his face protectively. He gasped, blinked, and, recognizing me, relaxed. „Frances."

He swung his legs over the rim of the chaiselongue, getting into a sitting position. His hand pressed to the spot where his heart was, he inhaled deeply, cast a sideways look at me, and laughed. „This was a nasty business! I can see Watson has been affected by it as well."

„You're damn lucky I woke up! Who knows what was ter become o' us!"

He didn't heed my words, but stepped over to where the doctor lay huddled on the floor, and clapped his hands together close to his ear. My face writhed with the resounding clap, for I could imagine the agony it momentarily caused the elderly man, who sped up from the floor and looked around frantically, pressing both hands against his ringing ears.

„There, there! What old women we have been. Every child knows better than to eat or drink in fairy land", Holmes sneered. He had recovered more quickly than the doctor, who brushed his hands down his clothes and wiped the hair away from his forehead.

„Well, this is `ardly fairy land we've got ourselves into", I remarked drily. „And I would recommend increased vigilance to all of us, from now on. We're lucky nobody seems to `ave noticed our momentary defencelessness."

„I shouldn't say so", Mr. Holmes returned calmly, reaching into his waist coat. „If I am not much mistaken, I had a revolver in here, and the King's Orb. Both are gone."

„My…!" Uncle John mechanically mimicked the movement. „My weapon is gone, too!"

„What?" I could not believe my words. Did that mean we had lost our most important trump, and were without armament at that?

„How long have we slept?"

„It is hard to ascertain." Holmes stepped toward the window and looked out over the still surface of the moat. „Some five or six hours. It is early morning. Mycroft will be up, he requires little sleep."

„Maybe we had better go, if he will let us." Uncle John's visage was seriously troubled. „He has demonstrated his superiority, maybe he'll be content with that. Consider, he could easily have taken our lives, but chose not to. We ought to take this as a warning, and be gone."

„Go away? And Madame Zhao?" I tossed my head, sensing something like disdain for his cautious reasoning. Holmes, also, did not seem to cherish the idea of Mycroft having demonstrated superiority and practiced mercy on us. How could we possibly go, and live with this defeat?

Suddenly, I formed a resolution. „I'll find `er."

I crossed over to the door, but was stopped before I could get there.

„No." Holmes peered down at me sharply, his hand on my arm. „We shall go together. John?"

„Holmes…" Uncle John seemed torn between his options. „With our revolvers, this errand had seemed stupid and dangerous enough. Deprived of them as we now are, we don't stand the shred of a chance against those guards."

„Then I am afraid Fanny and I are alone in this", Holmes replied coldly.

Uncle John shook his head with an impatient click of the tongue. „Of course you aren't."

A smile ghosted over the lips of the great detective. „Splendid! Come along, then."

oooOOOooo

We left the library on tiptoe, and re-entered the vast hall we had crossed on the preceding evening. A steep, and in every respect daunting set of stairs rose in front of our eyes, indicating the way to the upper floors. With hesitation, I exchanged a glance with Holmes, but he just nodded, and made to go ahead.

We followed him, first I and then Uncle John, treading the heavily carpeted stairs gently. Although my heart seemed to be beating in my throat, I could not help wondering at the excellent taste of the fittings, the painted tableaus that were our company all the way up to the first floor. Everything was exceedingly pricey and I dimly wondered how Mycroft could have become such a rich man. Better not ask, though.

We had reached the landing, and Holmes stopped and turned around, his index placed over his lips and brows drawn together as a warning to maintain silence. From somewhere, a small sound was to be heard, a low and yet unmistakably human sound…was that crying? Or the sighs of a vexed soul?

There was a lengthy corridor, with an imposing carved door at the farther end. At every step that we advanced, the small, mournful sound became more distinct. Also, another sound was to be heard: A high, tinkling voice, like glasses touching, unspeakably brilliant and cold. I felt the hair rise on my nape: Yes, it was him, undoubtedly him, and the person he was talking to Madame Zhao, my Madame!

We halted just short of the paneled door, inclining our heads so as to be able to hear the most. Inside the room, Mycroft softly continued to speak. „I am very grateful to you, my dear…very grateful. After all these months of bad news - frustrating to me as well as to you, believe me! - finally you are able to give me good news. The gem is genuine, you say?"

There was an insecure little whimper, which obviously did not satisfy him. „It is, or isn't it? I'm afraid you will have to make up your mind!"

There was a ferocious whack, and a loud shriek. I pressed my eyes closed, and opening them again, found Sherlock's gaze upon me. There was an expression in his eyes I had not heretofore experienced with him - was that sympathy?

Mycroft, meanwhile, seemed to have received the affirmative answer, for he chuckled his content. „Excellent. It is only too bad, too bad my dear, that now your services have become dispensable to me. I could have you killed here on the spot, you know that? Only, there is people who rather wish I hadn't. Let's humor their quirks, what do you think? Yes. My idea exactly."

There was a tiny pause, before the tinkling voice called out: „Come in, Sherlock. Come right in."

Hiya!

I used the last words because I seem to recall Mycroft saying that somewhere in the Canon. Can't remember where, though. I looked up the Greek Interpreter, that's not it.

Haha. Ok, now we're there. Right there in the heart of Mycroft's lair, with him separated from our heroes only by a door. And he is not alone.

We shall see what happens, aight?

Love, Mr. F