Author's Note: I am SO very sorry for so late an update, but exams have not left me alone, so hasn't stress. Now, in a better mood, we keep on with the updates. There will be another this Saturday, the soonest.
Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Disney/Eve Titus. Save for my OCs (which include Inspector Kent and the Hardwickes), all is theirs.
III
First Encounter
It took Miss Hardwicke a few instants to recover her wits. Basil had his stern eyes upon her, calm and patient, and I did my best to understand Miss Hardwicke's fear. It was a young soldier's fear of returning to the battlefield after having just returned from another bloody skirmish. Some time or another I think about my time in the 66th, hence my inability to draw examples from another more pleasant source.
"I would like to suspect otherwise, miss, but I find no other way to explain these series of events," Basil said, to Miss Hardwicke's dismay. "Let me give you a brief retelling of the Black Murders and the fate of those involved. You will find a lot of similarities- well, practically, history seems to be repeating itself.
"Like you brother must've told you, the victims of the Black Murders all revolved around a certain family, the Whitneys of Bloomsbury. They were a family of high status and held a position in society as Mr. William Whitney, senior, was a wealthy and prestigious lawyer. He was often solicited and made a good monthly sum of money. He had two children, William and Charlotte, who were in charge of the bakery their grandfather had left them. Mrs. Whitney, Katrina by name, often spent her days in the company of her children. Their income was steady, aside from the extra weekly shillings their daughter made from the typewriter. It all seems fairly normal so far, doesn't it? Well, from here onwards, we venture into the situation.
"Mr. Whitney had a wide circle of… let's say friends, and colleagues –lawyers, doctors and bankers alike. What people liked about this gentleman was his easy-going person and amiable attitude towards those of the working class, going as far as to lend some financial aid to an elderly mouse in charge of his hat shop. According to what Inspector Kent told me, he was respected and dearly loved by many. Late in the last week of August of last year, Mr. Whitney had to travel to Wandsworth to assist his brother in whatever matters concerned the two. He was there for seven days exactly; by the time he returned, two of his colleagues at work and a close friend, Miss Jacqueline Norton, were dead. Those were three victims and the start of the Black Murders, the dates being the first, the fifth and ninth of September, respectively, that last one the same day of his return. Do you follow?"
"It does seem a normal and relatively easy case to me," said Miss Hardwicke, hesitant. Basil punched his palm.
"Ahaha! But not for long!" he cried, a grin on his face. "It is true and undeniable that the perpetrators were caught and hanged for their crimes, since neither of them would confess nor repent. But it was not until the end of the month that the murders continued and the remaining two scoundrels were seen and caught. This time, the pattern was different. A fortnight until the two next murders took place; have that detail in mind. The murders dealt a significant blow: the last two victims were Charlotte and William Whitney, senior."
"Great Scott!" I exclaimed, as shocked as Miss Hardwicke, who had visibly paled.
"I fear it may be so this time, too, and the family in question is yours," said Basil, fixing his eyes upon Miss Hardwicke.
"But how?" she cried, her eyes wide. "It's only me and my brother! There's nothing they would want from us!"
"That, we don't know yet," Basil replied as Miss Hardwicke stood, anxiety drawn all over her features. "It is true that you are only two… but sometimes, family extends even beyond your own flesh and blood." My friend's countenance was grim as he spoke, and he paced with his hands behind his back and head sunk deep against his breast. "Don't fail to notice that it is everyone related to the League's target that are struck down. Be it a beggar, be it an aristocrat; be it your average and every day mouse: no matter what, they will be dead sooner or later."
Basil fell silent, leaving us in awe and impotence. I felt as though a fifth wheel, but I soon had the chance to act by consoling Miss Hardwicke, who had leaned against the mantel for support. Tears began streaming down her face.
"Then everybody I know will be dead?" Her voice faltered, but not her gaze, which she did not turn away from Basil. "Even I?"
Basil sighed heavily. "Unless they are stopped, yes," he replied. "These sewer rats have fooled justice for far too long, and I shall bring them before Her or so help me, I shall never forgive myself. They have caused far too much harm and destroyed many lives." Basil grunted, shaking his head hastily. "It shall not happen again. Now, Miss Hardwicke, would it be alright if we went to see your brother at the Yard tomorrow?"
"It wouldn't be a problem; in fact, I am in need of seeing him," said she, wiping her eyes dry. "Dr. Dawson would come too, am I correct?"
Basil smiled calmly, his gleaming eyes on me. "It is both or none of us, miss." There was a light caustic tinge in his words, something that both upset me and touched my heartstrings. "May we have your brother's name?"
"Elias," said Miss Hardwicke, looking down at the fire. "Mr. Basil, what would these people want with us? I can't stop wondering; whatever they are trying to punish us for, we are not to blame for anything!" I laid a hand on her shoulder, and she suddenly seemed older than she really was.
"I'm afraid it's too early to make assumptions," said he with a sigh. "Since none of the original League's members confessed their intentions against the Whitney family, I cannot imagine what their purpose is this time with yours. None the less," he added, nearing Miss Hardwicke, "I shall try my best to obtain as much information from Inspector Kent as possible, even if I have to pry it out of him or find myself face-to-face with the higher ups. Something I can put my finger on is that it's either revenge or simple dastardly crimes with terror as their only profit, not to mention money. After we talk with your brother tomorrow, I will dispatch a wire to Mr. Andrew Vaughan and request his presence. Have you any idea of where he could be now? He does seem a busy mouse."
"Elias will know better than me, I'm sure," said Miss Hardwicke, glancing at me for a moment. "I think, though, he lived quite near to the Yard."
"I'd say there's nothing more, then, no other details? No? Well, we should retire for today. Another busy period is nigh."
Miss Hardwicke bid us good-night when Mrs. Judson came to fetch her and show her to her room. I was on my way too when I felt a tug at my sleeve; I looked back and saw a familiar glint in my friend's eyes: there was something else. With no other word, he marched upstairs at the same time Mrs. Judson came down again and left Baker Street for the night.
Once we were all settled, I heard a knock on my door at around eleven and Basil slipped inside, silent as a ghost.
"I find no heads or tails to this case, Dawson. I deserve to be kicked from here to Lewisham, for amusement's sake," he told me, ruffling his hair and pacing up and down. "Some things are clear, such as the perpetrators of these cruel atrocities and who they are after, but I am still unaware of their ulterior motives. Hm, I think not even a dose of cocaine would help, and not at this time of the night."
"We'll find answers tomorrow, I'm sure," said I, trying to instil some confidence in him. "We have but started, Basil."
"I don't doubt that." But Basil's reply came unusually subdued and absentminded. I sighed in concern, something he paid no attention to, and remained with his gaze fixed upon the floor. He was thinking, or perhaps not, but my worry for him was growing.
"Basil?"
"Yes, doctor?"
"What's bothering you, old fellow?"
I received no answer at first but eventually, Basil gave in. "You know I am not especially keen of dealing with women, but I was certainly shocked to see Miss Hardwicke in such a state. It reminded me of one of my old cases, in which the victim was even worse, and, honestly, I felt as impotent as I have felt today whilst you were treating her wounds." He chuckled, bitter. "Confound it, I'm only-"
" –wasting my time?" I finished for him, smirking. Basil stared at me, blinking several times. "You should know that that feeling is everybody's, even an expert surgeon's who, despite his experience, would not know how to tend to a soldier that has been maimed for life. Mind you, I have met such people."
"I'm sorry; perhaps I… perhaps I'm letting this case affect me more than it should, and it's merely begun." In the end, he smiled. "I should know better. Thank you, though; I shall sleep at ease tonight."
"Try to, at least, if you can't sleep soundly," I told him. "As you said, we have much ahead of us."
"Reason speaks! I shall be off now." And with a trace of a smile, Basil left my room. I spent a good thirty minutes musing upon the case, trying to uncover any hidden details like Basil would, but it only seemed more confusing the more I thought about it. Eventually, I fell asleep.
-.-
I will jot this down, doctor, in case I forget what we have talked about several times already. Also, this is here for your own enjoyment and if the want of character analysis appeases you.
The next day I was up quite early, before Mrs. Judson had arrived –I do believe it was fifteen past five-, and whilst passing through the kitchen to the parlour, I received a somewhat nasty surprise: the door was ajar. Miss Hardwicke was already up (it was strange for a lady such as her, wasn't it?), and I found her sitting in front of the embers of last night's fire. I crept up behind her, placed myself at her side, and so submersed was she in her own thoughts that she failed to notice me. When she did, it was with a long gasp in shock. She scrambled to her feet and straightened her clothes (which were still mine, I tell you), all the while I watched on with amusement.
"I did not mean to scare you," I told her as she regained her wind, "but isn't it a bit early to rise?"
"I… I couldn't sleep, Mr. Basil," she told me. Her mannerisms were remarkably strange: it was as if she had never been close to a man, all meek and hesitant, as if she'd led a secluded life. At the same time, it surprised me that she had shown herself to be comfortable in our presence. Doctor, I shall never understand women, and neither do I have the intention.
"I am an early riser, too," she added, finally looking up at me. "I was always up before Mr. Smyth to tend to the shop and rearrange it as neatly as possible for the day."
"Old habits die hard, I suppose." It was an idle comment, just to show I was indeed listening and playing along, but I was concentrated on her hair. As you perhaps noticed before me, her haircut was odd, not to mention improper, since it had been cut diagonally and her right side had been left longer than her left. I decided to remark upon it, because it presented me with a singular opportunity to acquire information. And so, I did, but that information did come at a price.
"Miss Hardwicke," I called, and she turned, "you didn't cut your hair in such a way, did you?"
"No," (of course she hadn't, blast it), "it was one of my attackers; I don't know which, sadly. I had it wavy, a bit past my shoulders, and I was planning to have it cut a lot shorter to match my appearance. In the meantime, I gathered it up with pins as well as I could and used a top hat from time to time; others, I would just wear my hair loose... with top hats, too."
I was and will not (ever) be up to date on women's fashion, but even that was strange to me. I had a glance at her hair. Her fringe had been left untouched, out of which I deduced that her attackers had done it to humiliate her, not caring about how they did it, and the yank had been harsh and uncalculated. Also, if I may add, the scoundrel who'd done it was left-handed, aside from the other details you already know.
"May I… May I have a closer look at your hair?" Before Miss Hardwicke could muster a reply, I added, "It will provide some information about the perpetrators."
That, Dawson, was the price I had to pay. I have neither an aversion to women nor I am extremely fond of them, you must surely know that, but it was the first time in my life I had ever come into physical contact with a young lady.
With a hesitant nod and an intent stare that never left me, she allowed me. I circled her and lifted up some strands of her hair in my hand. There were details that revealed facts about these people, most specifically the one who took care of snipping her hair off. I could also smell faint traces of creosote, which pointed me in another direction. It took me mere moments to obtain some more clues.
"Thank you; it was most useful," I told her, stepping in front of her. "Rest assured, it all points in a positive direction." There were no false hopes to instil within that statement: you see it did lead us somewhere.
"You're welcome; anything to lend a helping hand," she said with a smile. "Mr. Basil?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," said Miss Hardwicke, blushing, "for helping me. Like I said, you have all the thanks I could ever give. I'll do whatever I can to repay you."
"You will not, unless I have changed my mind by the end of this case," I told her, shooting her a sideways glance. It was then and only then that I realised how close we were to each other, and there was unrest again, tapping on my shoulder. It was the precedent to a situation that, as you know, never took place and never shall, for –in need of a better metaphor- loneliness is the only mistress I will ever devote myself to. And you might wonder, why then did I accept you as my friend and colleague? Ah, you shall never know.
I spent quite some time engaged in a conversation with a wide variety of topics, but there came a time when she spoke of her father and brother with the immortal and omnipresent affection of a loving daughter and sister. She was quite versatile when it came to establishing relationships with people; she even mentioned a most peculiar family down in Moorgate of which she was quite fond, and like the country girl she was, she had a passion for drawing landscapes and specimens of fauna and flora.
These are details that are, whilst not entirely superfluous to me, still unnecessary, but I shall rely them on to you, since she told me things you would never have known.
Eventually, Mrs. Judson came and you appeared.
From here on, I shall leave it up to you.
-.-
Damnation, Basil, you're too old for this, aren't you? But I never understood your sense of humour, so I will make no remark upon it.
When I awoke the next morning, I was (undoubtedly) surprised to see my friend and Miss Hardwicke already seated at the table. Basil was the first to notice me and kindly bade me welcome. Miss Hardwicke looked much better than the night before; rest could work literal wonders. Some of the less severe scratches on her face were already healed, and the more serious ones were starting to close. One of those, perhaps even both, would end up scarring her features. I asked about her hand, about which Miss Hardwicke told me that whilst it still hurt, it was nothing compared to what she'd felt last night.
"It was not in vain that I said the doctor is from a different kettle precisely because of his efficiency," Basil said with a smile. He was in a better mood that morning, and I could only wish for those light spirits to accompany him for what was left of the day. We had breakfast in relative silence and by fifteen to ten we were on our way to Mouseland Yard.
Basil did not speak a word. One moment he was staring at Miss Hardwicke; the other, outside, but I could tell he wasn't too deep in thought. It was the first time that I found his gaze unnerving, so much it struck me. Whatever he was looking for, he still hadn't found it. We reached the Yard in less than twenty minutes, where we found Inspector Kent along with a keen-faced, smiling gentleman with whom he was chatting with. Basil briskly walked up to them, his countenance changing visibly.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Basil!" Inspector Kent said, shaking Basil's hand.
"Morning, inspector. Ah, Mr. Elias Hardwicke, am I correct?" He turned to the gentleman, who eyed Basil with surprise.
"Basil of Baker Street, yes?" Mr. Hardwicke and Basil shook hands, the former with a wider smile. "Glad to make your acquaintance, sir." His eyes went wide when he saw his sister behind me. "Heavens above, Elene!" he cried, pulling Miss Hardwicke into a brief but heartfelt embrace. At my side, Inspector Kent was baffled. "My God, what happened to you?"
"Dear miss, what happened?" asked the inspector, blanching slightly.
"May I introduce you to my colleague, Dr. Dawson, who took care of your sister when we found her injured in Baker Street," Basil said. Mr. Hardwicke shook hands with me more baffled than before, then looked at Basil. "We shall explain everything in due time. Now, Mr. Hardwicke, we've come here in need of information you hold."
"What would that be about?"
"I suggest we go inside, if that's not a problem, inspector."
"At all. Come in then."
Once we were inside, Basil opened fire with a question. "Inspector Kent, you're still familiar with the Black Murders, yes?"
The inspector visibly shivered. "Don't remind me; one of the most awful experiences so far," he said, leading us up the stairs to his office. "I'm sure Inspector Hardwicke has it a bit fresher than me."
"What a tragedy!" cried Mr. Hardwicke, shaking his head. "I've been around ten years, perhaps more, in the force and, whilst I've seen a few things now, I have to say I will take some more time to get used."
"Fifteen, you forgetful pillock!" snapped Inspector Kent with a smirk. "Well, to what do we owe your kind visit, Mr. Basil?"
We were led inside a small room, most likely the inspector's office, and once out of earshot, Basil began explaining. "I am here to request both your assistance and Mr. Hardwicke's."
Inspector Kent chuckled. "Don't know how to play your cards?"
Basil smiled gently. "On the contrary, inspector, I have just played them accordingly by visiting you."
The inspector cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Basil.
"What kind of investigation are you conducting now, Mr. Basil?" asked Mr. Hardwicke, concern passing through his features.
"Last night, as I've told you, we found Miss Hardwicke near our home in Baker Street. She was badly injured, having been bea1ten up by a band of scoundrels, hence her paleness, cuts on her face and her remarkable haircut. She kindly relayed most useful information about your family and how she came to know about the Black Murders, about which you told her, am I correct? Well, the Black League is at large once more."
"By Jove!" cried Elias Hardwicke, taken aback. "Are you saying my sister was attacked by them?"
"Surely enough."
"But why? What would they want with us?"
"That's exactly what I am wondering, Elias," said Miss Hardwicke. "Do you remember when we were told of Dr. Matthews' death?"
"Another tragedy; he was a good person, yes."
"It's going to be like two years ago, then, I guess?" inquired Inspector Kent, gazing at Basil. "The Whitney case?"
"I'm afraid so," said he, rubbing his chin pensively. "The Black League, despite having been inactive thus far, did not change their modus operandi in any way back in their time, going as far as to remain in the vicinity and waiting for you to come and arrest them."
"Aye, the scoundrels…" murmured the inspector.
"But if the Black League is after us, it doesn't make any sense that they didn't kill Elene," remarked Mr. Hardwicke, resting his hands on his sister's shoulders. "I can't tell you how glad I am to have her back without any severe injury, truly, but I fear there is something more sinister behind this."
"Sinister enough indeed," Basil agreed. "Inspector Kent, was there any stain in Mr. Whitney senior's reputation?"
"Well, Mr. Whitney had wronged Mrs. Woods, the convict Jason Woods' wife, long before the case started because he mistook her for a prostitute. We have notice of only that."
"And on Mr. Hardwicke's?"
"Basil!" I cried. The Hardwickes were visibly hurt by Basil's inquiry, but not even Inspector Kent's displeased expression would deter him from getting his answer.
"Our father was a respectable man!" cried Mr. Hardwicke in indignation. Basil raised his hands, solemn.
"I beg that you don't misunderstand me, Mr. Hardwicke," said he, calm. "I doubt that your father had committed an act of such sort or of any other, but I don't think these low-lives chose to beat Miss Hardwicke for fun, no. The Black League's motive is revenge; it always was and always will be. If by some unfortunate circumstance that isn't the case and the blackguard's statement was a ruse to intimidate Miss Hardwicke, then it is to satisfy their thirst for depravity. Remember that the victims were always the closest people to Mr. Whitney, and he eventually met their same fate."
Mr. Hardwicke was startled, confused. "What statement?"
"I told Mr. Basil that those people said I was suffering the consequences of something," Miss Hardwicke told her brother. "Perhaps something father did. It does seem like there are more secrets to our family than we were aware of."
Mr. Hardwicke sighed, lowering his head. "Forgive me, sir. Then our dad did do something, after all."
"What that was, we shall find out in time," said Basil, reassuringly. Elene Hardwicke gently took her brother's hand.
"Elias, Mr. Basil inquired as to Mr. Andrew's address. I thought you might remember," said she. Mr. Hardwicke nodded.
"And I still do, indeed. He lives quite nearby, in Knightsbridge, hence my stumbling upon him on my way home."
"What exactly happened that night, sir?" asked Inspector Kent.
"Hm… I had just stepped outside after organising my office and completing some reports when I heard somebody calling out to me. I didn't recognise the person at first, but the voice was familiar, and then I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Andrew Vaughan. We engaged in a long conversation and spoke of every-day matters and our lives, since we had departed for London long before he did and had only seen him once out of just a glance, and upon reaching Hans Place he presented me with an offer for our dad."
"Which was to be in the employ of the Sherringfords?"
"Aye. Mr. Andrew was the Sherringfords' personal financial manager. When he told us about the poor state of Mr. Sherringford, dad couldn't help feeling sorry for the mouse. After a few negotiations, dad accepted the offer and from that day forth, he assisted the Sherringfords as many times as they needed it. It was quite the push for us. With the sum of money Mr. Andrew had promised, we knew both our prestige and wealth would increase. We're not ambitious people, no sir, but we wanted some stability in our life."
"So I see…" murmured Basil, closing his eyes.
"We're still in debt with him, in fact."
Basil spoke no other word. Then, I asked, "I know touching upon so delicate a matter such as this may be improper, but your father passed away from tuberculosis last year, did he not?"
Mr. Hardwicke nodded sadly. "Indeed. He'd been fighting it for several years –I dare say since the days I was capable enough to help him with his patients-, and with great determination too. Last year, he ran his very last miles."
"Quite sorry to hear that."
"It's no problem now," said Mr. Hardwicke with a brief smile. "With each other by our side, we've pulled through fantastically. We were also quite distraught after Dr. Matthews' death, poor fellow, but death is inevitable. Mr. Basil, what can be said about our father and the Black League?"
"That they were waiting for him to die."
All colour vanished from Mr. Hardwicke's face, and his sister's knees failed her for a brief moment.
"Allow me to speak with all openness," said Basil, his tone a lot softer, "for hiding the truth would be foolish no matter how cruel it can be. The Black League was after your father for his wrong-doing, whatever that could've been, and wanted to have their revenge. But they did not make a move against him: they waited for him to die of his illness. Then came Dr. Matthews' murder a week later, which does differ from the original League's pattern of four days between each murder."
"But why the hiatus then?" I inquired.
"There is a logical reason behind that inactivity of theirs."
"What would that be?" asked the inspector.
"Miss Hardwicke, did many people know about your habits?"
"No, not many. Just Elias, my father until his passing and Mr. Smyth, also until his passing. From then on, I have made acquaintances, but none that required giving details of my personal life."
"And save for them, nobody else knew which streets you took to get back from Oxford Street to Weymouth?"
"None. I did tell Elias that I would take the usual route that night, since we were supposed to meet at Regent's Park. He told me that he wouldn't make it, since he had important matters to attend to."
"That is correct."
"And there, my friends, is the answer to our question," Basil said, smiling with confident glee. "They have been observing her all this time. No, I'm wrong: they've been observing both of you. Doesn't it relate to the end of the murders last year, inspector?"
Basil cocked an eyebrow at Inspector Kent who, after a moment's thought, stared at Basil in shock. "That's it! That's the reason behind the change!"
"I'm glad you follow me. Besides, we shall have these scoundrels behind bars in less than a fortnight! Have this in mind: the original Black League took four days between each murder between dealing the final blow, which was two weeks after the third murder, by the end of the month. I can say we are dealing with less experienced people, but none-the-less equally efficient. Now, would you be so kind as to take us to Mr. Vaughan's address?"
"It will be my pleasure, Mr. Basil," spoke Mr. Hardwicke with a fervent nod.
"In the meantime, inspector, make sure to get as much information on last year's case as possible. I did not forget or overlook your two reports, but I need details, data."
"Very well," said Inspector Kent. An instant later, he smiled a contemptuous smile. "Shall I hold you responsible for your inquiries and allow you to handle Inspector Vole?"
Basil snorted. "I can take him easily. I am an official consulting detective, after all, and may I remind you that the Yard has taken the credit for most of the cases I helped you follow the right track of?" He chuckled. "Good day, inspector! Come along, then."
We made our way outside, leaving behind a scowling Kent. As we walked, Basil burst into a fit of hearty laughter.
"Oh, quite the satisfying conversation! It was worth our time after all, despite being placed between the sword and the wall," said he with mirthful eyes. "I will have to face Vole, yes, but not without arguments to defend myself. Then all the credit can go to them, I'm sure; I need no more feats to polish my name and reputation."
"Then the best thing to do would be to quit the profession, Mr. Basil," quipped Mr. Hardwicke, light-hearted.
"Ha! Why should I quit when I'm the only one at my profession?" He chuckled again. "I invented it."
"The 'consulting detective'?"
"Aye! Whilst not entirely official, I am a standalone. Just because of that fact, I beg of you: do not mix me with the detective force. I am well beyond them."
We found a cab that was heading towards Knightsbridge, more concretely to Lower 21, Sloane Street. Along the way, Basil revealed his intentions concerning Mr. Andrew Vaughan.
"This is one of the times when I have a hunch I must follow, my friends," said he, "for if I don't, I might as well remain on a cave with no light whatsoever. Now, it is my suspicion that the Vaughans might be involved in some way so that they are who the League is ultimately after and not you. It is not a strong lead, but I will not discard the possibility."
"It would make sense," said Mr. Hardwicke, "since dad was quite close to the family. But what confuses me is, if that were the case, why they would have attacked Elene first and not Mr. Andrew. Elene barely knew the Vaughans; we were only acquaintances."
"Do you know how old he is?"
"Not exactly," answered Mr. Hardwicke, "but I'd estimate he's around his forties, nearing them at least."
"Very well."
We soon reached Sloane Street. From then on, everything changed.
A/N: Things will indeed change with their meeting with Andrew Vaughan. The case is building up and advancing. Any typos or comments you may want to point out, feel free to do so!
Reviews are appreciated!^^