"Must you do that?"
"What am I doing?"
"You're twitching your leg incessantly and tapping your nails against the window pane. It's quite irritating, to say the least."
"Well, I'm bored and anxious. So you'll have to endure it," I replied nonchalantly as Holmes and myself sat in a coach that was on its way to Lord Daniels's estate. Beddington was a few miles away from Baker Street, so we left exactly at midnight so as to not waste any time. There were a very few people out on the streets, so we were moving pretty quickly through the streets without any traffic from passing bystanders.
However, Holmes had suggested that we take one of the coaches instead of having someone drive us there, so Watson was driving the coach as Holmes and I sat inside. Alone.
"I have to agree, this ride is making me quite restless. I feel as if we will discover something of great value tonight," he said.
"What if we find nothing but an empty house? What will you do then?"
"I'd rather not think pessimistically, Miss McClaire."
"I'm not thinking pessimistically. I'm thinking realistically. You should try doing the same. But what do I know? I'm just a woman. I'm nowhere near as brilliant as you," I replied calmly, but sarcastically. I could feel his eyes on me, a frown on his lip as I looked out the window of the coach. I stretched my legs out on the opposite seat and tucked my hands on the inside of my coat, trying to shield myself from the chilly Autumn air. I knew that we were getting close by as I saw the scenes of the countryside slip into view.
"Cold?" he asked.
"No, I'm fine."
I heard him grunt in response and shift around, making himself more comfortable on his seat. I continued to stare out the window and unconsciously started tapping my nails against the window again. I closed my eyes and placed my head against the cold glass window. I was content with the silence until Holmes spoke again.
"Do you miss playing the piano?"
I opened my eyes and turned to face him. "What?"
"Well, because of your relentless tapping, I can only assume it is a subconscious act that your mind is making you perform because you miss playing the piano."
"I don't play the piano," I replied slowly.
"Well… your memory loss must be worse than I had anticipated." I furrowed my brows at this but waited for him to continue. "The insides of the tips of your fingers have very tiny, yet very prominent calluses. I noticed it the first day you woke up, when we first shook hands. When you pair it with your rather bad habit, it is safe to assume that you, at one point in your life, learned how to play the piano."
In an instant, my hand was in front of my face and I was staring at my fingertips, trying to see what he was talking about. I was surprised that he could have realized that detail from a simple handshake and a rather common habit. I was about to respond again when Watson pulled open the door of the coach.
"We're here," he announced. I hadn't even realized that we had stopped moving. "It seems as though the security around the building isn't as strict as we had suspected. In fact, I don't see any guards around the building at all," he added.
"Well, it could be a case of reverse psychology. Daniels could have assumed that an increased amount of guards around the building would cause some suspicion among others. Or maybe the security inside is stricter than it is outside. Or maybe I'm just giving him too much credit."
"Well, I suppose we're about to find out," Watson added. He stepped out the way and allowed us to exit the coach. Holmes exited first and I followed suit, immediately met with the scenery of the countryside. The pathway we were on was made of cobblestone, and it was lined with trees and grassland. The estate was perched atop a small hill. Because we were in the middle of Autumn, the trees around us were all covered with red or orange leaves. The area was beautiful and was very comfortable to be in.
"So, how do you expect to get inside? Surely you're not thinking of just breaking and entering?" I asked while admiring the scenery.
"I think going through a window would suffice," Holmes replied.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that still breaking and entering?" I asked looking at him now.
"Not if we don't break the window," he replied, proceeding towards the mansion. I looked at him incredulously, the glanced at Watson who only smirked at me.
I followed both men as they hurried towards a side window. "You know, I'm not one for breaking rules Mister Holmes. I find it much easier to abide to the law," I whispered as we made our way to the side of Daniels's home.
"Well, if you go on in life following all the rules, you'll never get anywhere," he retorted.
"Do you know what part of the house this is?" Watson asked before I could argue with him.
"I do, actually. It's the main kitchen. I had time to scope out the house earlier today," he replied as he walked up to the side window. Looking inside, I couldn't really make anything out. Holmes, however, knew exactly what he was doing as he fiddled with the hinges of the window, gradually pulling it open.
"Alright. Shall we proceed?" he smirked. He was the first to enter the house, and Watson followed not too far behind him. I, being the naturally stubborn person I was, stood outside the window with my arms folded. He eventually returned to the window and rested his elbow on top of the window sill. I looked down at him as he stared up at me, both of us locked in a death stare.
"You are a very confusing woman, Rosemary," he began. I raised my brows, half surprised that he called me by my first name, half anticipating this speech he was about to give. "You say you want to leave the house, get some fresh air, explore. Now I take you out and you're being uncooperative," he finished calmly.
"That's because wanting fresh air and wanting to break into someone's house are two different things."
"Alright listen… rather than going back and forth at each other the whole night, I propose that we deal with this as two mature adults. So… I am asking you to come with us. It would put everyone's mind at ease."
I sighed and ran my hand over my face. "I hope you know what you're doing. That's all I'm going to say," I said before I moved him aside and stepped inside the house. I was actually lucky that I didn't push him to far away, because I tripped on my way in and almost fell on my backside. He easily caught me and helped me steady myself.
"You aright?" Watson asked.
"Of course she is. Wouldn't want to make a commotion now would we?" he stated as he began walking out of the kitchen and further into the house. Watson followed suit and I, somewhat unwillingly, followed closely behind the two.
From the kitchen, we walked through the dining room. It was decorated with beautiful paintings and a few statues in the corners. Curios filled with glass figurines. To sum it all up, everything looked extremely valuable. The curtains looked as if they were made from the finest silk. The table in the center of the room seemed to be made of the best mahogany. The paintings were definitely worth a great amount. All in all, this Daniels person was quite the wealthy man indeed.
"Holmes, is Daniels a bachelor?" asked Watson.
"He is. It seems like a rather large place for only one man," as we reached the hallway of the estate.
"Unless he has something to hide," Watson mused, and Holmes agreed. Maybe it was the silence that surrounded us, or maybe it was just my paranoia, but I found myself looking over my shoulder and around the house. I kept thinking that Daniels was going to show up and have us all arrested.
"What if you do find Daniels with the stolen artifact? Can you still arrest him even though you broke into his house?" I asked.
"I don't see why not. Our petty crime will be overlooked once we find the medallion."
"If," I clarified.
"Fine. I'll make you happy and live in your pessimistic mindset. If we find Daniels with the medallion."
"Okay, there's no need to argue now," Watson began in a hushed tone. "I wouldn't want our suspect or anyone acquainted with him to unexpectedly be in the house and have us arrested. We would be the ones at fault, no matter what our intentions are."
"What are we even looking for?" I asked as we began our descent into the basement of the house.
"Anything out of the ordinary," Holmes replied.
"And what would out of the ordinary be, exactly?"
Everything after that happened was a bit fuzzy and blurry. All I was able to process was my scream, which could probably be heard through the entire estate, Holmes and Watson shouting my name, and my back coming in contact with the ground. Hard. The impact knocked the wind right out of me, and I couldn't respond to the calls coming from the worried men above. I covered my eyes with my hands to stop the debris that was falling from above from hindering my eyesight. A loud groan escaped my lips as I tried to roll over onto my side.
"Rosemary? Are you alright? Can you speak?" one of the men asked.
I tried to reply, but found it increasingly difficult. After a few coughs, I was able to mutter "I'm fine" to the two.
"Stay still. Holmes and I will be down in a minute," Watson replied, and I heard their footsteps hurriedly truing to find their way down to the room that I fell into. Now that I happened to be more aware of my surrounding, I covered my nose and my mouth to prevent myself from emptying the contents of my dinner. A pungent, foul stench had found its way up my nostrils and it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to retch on the ground.
Trying to distract myself from the smell, I slowly sat up and began surveying the room that I was in. It was dark and very dim lit, but my eyes had adjusted and allowed me to see a bit more. From just a first glimpse, I was already sacred out of my mind. The walls of the room all had these strange symbols and signs written all over. Some of it was written in chalk, and some was written in what I could only assume, and what I hoped to God wasn't, blood.
My eyes darted to the floor, and sure enough, it was covered with weird writings as well. I immediately got to my feet, but regretted it when a string of pain shot though my back. I hunched over and steadied myself and my breathing for a while. Even though I was in pain, I would rather take it than sit on a ground that looked as if it was used for some sort of abnormal ritual.
I stood straight and began walking around, but found that I had to limp to get around. I slowly examined the remainder of the room, silently wondering what was taking Holmes and Watson so long to get down here. I saw a table in the middle of the room, and walked up to examine it. I couldn't help but think that in an odd and sick way, this room somewhat resembled that of a chapel or a church. It seemed as if this was supposed to be a place of worship.
The table was made of a hard stone, marble I think. I placed my hand on it and leaned in to see the writing that was etched into the table. It was hard to see, but it looked as if it was written in Latin. I was unable to identify what it said, but I was able to see the blood (or at least what I assumed, and was pretty sure was blood) that was lodged into the cracks into the table. I quickly backed away from the table, confused as to why I didn't see the blood before.
I paused as I felt something pasty and sticky on my palms and my fingertips and I hurriedly wiped it onto my shirt, not wanting to look at a pair of blood stained hands that I would know belonged to me.
"Oh God, what are taking you two so long?" I whispered to no one. My heart was pounding just from being in this room. I didn't have any idea what went on in here, and I wasn't sure if my mind wanted me to figure it out. I limped around the room, trying to find an exit. There had to be one. Clearly someone spends time down here, and they didn't just fall through the steps anytime they wanted to pop in.
My eyes caught something behind the marble table, and I walked around to inspect it. There were many thinks that were on the wooden stool. A small book was open, and by skimming through it, I could tell that it was in Latin as well. Among the other items on the table, I saw a few feathers, a bone of some animal, what looked like a human toe, a strange looking dagger, and a small coin.
'Could this be the medallion?' I thought as I looked at it more closely. It was gold and had a lot of intricate designs on it. It was a bit worn and old, and it looked as if it belonged in a museum.
My head darted to my right as I heard a dish clatter on the floor. I pocketed the medallion and, unconsciously, the dagger as well and began towards the opposite direction that I heard the noise come from. However, before I was able to get very far, I tripped over something and fell on my stomach. I arched myself up and cradled my stomach. I was sure to have bruises all over my body when I got back to Baker's Street.
I started picking myself up off the ground, but paused when I felt something strange underneath me. My heart started beating out of control now as I felt something sickening underneath me. It was cold and hard, but still had a bit of softness to it.
Skin.
Flesh.
Human Flesh.
Before I knew it, I found my back to the opposite side of the room and my feet kicking against the floor, trying to get as far away from the dead body as possible. My hands covered my mouth and I kept my eyes tightly shut. I didn't know what else to do. Maybe it had only been a few minutes, but it felt as if Holmes and Watson were taking days to get down here. I slowly opened my eyes and cast a glance towards the dead body, and I had to avert my eyes as quick as possible. The place was beginning to look like a butcher house more and more every passing second.
I saw something move from the corner of my eye and looked over. There was a rather large rat at the corner of the room, but it was the large dead body that it was crawling over that caused me to jump up and let out a scream that I couldn't hold in any longer.
"Help! Someone Help Me!" I shouted, thinking that the two would find me faster. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the biggest mistake I could have made. I spun around as I heard something moving from the wall opposite me. The stone wall, which I had thought was just a regular wall, was opening. It cast a bright light into the room and made it significantly easier to see. My breath became more labored with every passing second.
I watched as two men came from behind the wall, one armed with a pistol while the other had a knife in his possession. The two slowly walked into the room until each of them were on the opposite side of me. The position in which we were all standing formed a large triangle.
"So…" the one with the pistol began in a rather thick Russian accent, "what is excuse for being in here? Wait! Let me guess!" he chucked deeply. "You were at wrong place at wrong time?"
'Oh God, Oh God, Oh God… where are you two?'
"So what do you think happens now? Beautiful woman meets very tragic death? Huh?"
I jumped at the sudden outburst and subconsciously pulled myself closer to the stone wall. He said something to the second man, but it was in Russian, so I had no idea what he had said. However, I wasn't prepared for his partner in crime to run towards me full charge. This wasn't the time to panic. I had to act fast.
Right before his knife came I contact with my chest, I side stepped and allowed him to hit the wall. I quickly grabbed his hand and gave it a good, hard twist, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream and drop the knife. While he was down, I quickly turned him around and forced my knee into his stomach.
How he even got so close, I have no idea, but the first Russian had managed to spin me around, grab me by the hair and throw me onto the ground.
"You're very feisty one, aren't you?" he chuckled as I tried to scurry up off the ground. As I stood up, I felt him grab onto my waist. At first I tried to pry his hands off, but I eventually started to kick and punch in every direction. Once I could form a clear thought in my head, I successfully kicked him in the shin, causing him to loosen his grip on me. I quickly pushed him away, then elbowed him hard in the stomach.
"Duck!" I heard Holmes's voice shout, and I was immediately on the ground, covering my head as I heard gunshots fly through the room. I hurriedly crawled over to where I could see Holmes's black loafers and stood behind him on my limp leg.
"Good God, what took you two so long?" I breathed from behind the two that stood upright, revolvers pointed ahead of them. I finally looked ahead when I saw the Russian clutching at his now injured arm and his partner in the corner of the room, lying on the floor, clutching his leg and arm.
"We apologize for taking so long, but the room was increasingly difficult to locate," Holmes replied.
"It was hidden behind a secret wall. Ironically, your scream is what made us find you in time," Watson added, glancing my way.
Our little exchange was interrupted by the manic laughter of one of the Russian men. His back was arched over and it looked as if he was convulsing on the ground. "Goddamn you… you bastard detective," he shouted in between laughs.
"So you know of me?" Holmes asked.
"Who.. In this whole wide world does not know of great Sherlock Holmes?"
"Well them you must know that you'll be sentenced and hanged for murder," Watson stated.
"What makes you think I kill these people? This was not my doing," the Russian smirked.
"Then you'll be hanged for attempted murder," he replied, quickly gesturing to me. "Either way, you lose."
Strange enough, the Russian began laughing once more. "I never lose, Detective. In the end, it is you who will lose. The dark lord shall return," he chuckled, slowly picking his gun up off the floor. Both Holmes and Watson became more alert as he picked up the gun. They moved in front of me protectively and watched as the Russian slowly raised the gun. What surprised the three of us, however, was when he placed the gun to the side of his head, ready to pull the trigger.
"Wait? Do you even know what you're doing?" I shouted, unaware of how fast my heart was beating at this point.
"Just wait a minute, alright?" Watson warned the delusional man. He responded by once again by bursting out in a fit of laughter.
Everything else happened extremely fast after that. I heard the Russian shout something in his first language. Someone tried to rush and stop him, I'm not sure who. The sound of the gunshot pierced the air, freezing me in my place. I couldn't move. The eerie sound stayed in my ears for the entire time. I watched as the Russian's lifeless body fell to the ground, a pool of blood collecting where his head lay. I felt someone grab me and turn me away from the scene. I think it was Watson. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. All that kept replaying in my mind was that gruesome scene.
"Watson?"
"Yes?" he asked from where he stood, holding onto my slightly trembling body.
"Get the Inspector."
~.~.~
"Well, whoever did this was desperately in need of some medical attention," Lestrade stated as he inspected the area.
"I think whoever did this was desperately in need of a hanging," Holmes retorted.
"So what do we do now? It's pretty obvious that Daniels is involved with whatever this is," Watson stated.
"Easy. We wait for him to get back and we arrest him. It's as simple as that."
"I have no doubt about that. But this seems like much more than just a couple of murders. There seems to be some underlying motive involved in all of this, and quite frankly, I have no idea what it is."
"Simple. This seems to be a copycat of some sort. The pentagram on all sides of the wall, the apparent human sacrifices. It all seems to be someone trying to bring black magic back into London. That's all I see here," Holmes explained, gesturing to the room.
"So what? We just wait until Daniels returns home and apprehend him when he does?"
"Yes. I'm sure you can do that Inspector. Keep me updated," he said as he turned around to head outside.
"Holmes!"
He turned back around and faced Watson, who quickly approached him. "Look, I have to stay here for a while and deal with this, so I'm asking you to check on Rosemary. I highly doubt that she's experienced anything like that before in her life, and she looked really shaken up about it-"
"As any woman would be," Holmes interjected.
"Look," he warned, "She's in a state of shock, which is natural for anyone. So I'm asking you to at least try and make her feel better. I already treated her ankle, and I'll be by tomorrow to make sure she's alright. Mentally, I mean." Holmes gave a quick nod before turning around to leave.
~.~.~
Holmes and Watson had called Inspector Lestrade in, and he and his men had went inside to asses the problem within. After Watson had treated my sprained ankle, he suggested that I go outside and leave the officers to do the work. Without any reluctance, I went outside and sat on the doorstep.
Of all the things I thought I would experience with Holmes and Watson, I never thought I would experience half the things I saw tonight. I assumed that we would just find a stolen coin. How wrong I was. Instead, I found what could only be called a torture chamber. Dead bodies, blood stained table. The thought just made me sick to my stomach. I'm half surprised that I kept my food in this long.
I jumped as I heard the front door of the house open, but relaxed when I saw Holmes emerge. "Watson has some business to take care of, so he's instructed us to go on ahead."
I nodded and quickly stood up, ready to leave this hellish place. I limped towards the coach as Sherlock walked beside me. It was a semi-long walk from the house to the coach, and he did ask a few times if I needed any help walking, but I declined up until the very end when I tripped and stumbled a bit. While we both wobbled there, I made as much mental notes as I could. Holmes was taller than me, but not as tall as Watson. He wasn't too much shorter than Watson, though. I also noted that he had an unusual scent to him. He didn't smell bad, but he had his own signature scent. It was very spicy, and pipe tobacco and smoke was evident. It was all a very natural scent.
I inwardly laughed at myself because of how distraught I was at the moment. I was basically identifying how Holmes smelt, and it was all because I was willing to think of anything other than what I experienced in this house tonight. We eventually made it to the coach, and one of the police from Scotland Yard took us back to Baker Street. Despite the awkward silence, the ride back was cordial enough. When we got back, he helped me up the stairs and into my room before retreating into his own.
"I think you'll be okay for the rest of the night."
I nodded, not really paying attention to anything.
"Look, about tonight-"
"I don't want to talk about it," I replied immediately.
"Regardless, you shouldn't have witnessed any of it."
"Well, unfortunately, as much as I want it to, it's not just going to disappear from my mind," I replied.
"Yes, well…. Pleasant dreams," he said before leaving my room and closing the door behind him.
I laughed a bit at his statement. 'I seriously don't think so.'
***Oh my gosh! I seriously don't know why this is so late. I think I lost sight of time for a while. I apologize for that. However, I have started the next chapter and that will be out a lot sooner.
I'd like to thank all of you that reviewed and messaged and added me to your alert list and favorite list. All I ask is that you keep them coming people. Reviews make me smile! And even if you have a comment or opinion or idea or criticism, sent them in. I read everything and take it all into consideration.
Tata for now,
PoisonLipz