"Run!"
Terror filled the command, and I jerked upright. Run. Danger. Escape. I needed to leave, needed to get out of—
My bed? Blankets registered, then my mattress, then the room around me, all of which appeared to tremble from the panting making me shake. A dream. It had been a dream, nothing more. Just another vision spawned by the strange situation in which we found ourselves.
Another frightening vision, though I would never have admitted as much aloud. A sigh took advantage of the empty room to fall back to my pillow, eyes closed. Far too many nightmares had conspired to steal my sleep and keep me coiled tighter than a spring. If I wanted to be of any use today, I needed to relax.
Easier said than done. Long minutes went to slowing my heart rate and breathing, but I could do nothing about the tension stiffening my shoulders and making me startle at the slightest noise from the hall. Everything in me screamed the wrongness of our situation. Gideon's attempt to enter last night had not helped matters.
The desk chair beneath the handle had kept him out, at least. He had spent nearly thirty minutes cursing the door before finally stomping back down the hall. I could only hope Holmes had thought to barricade himself similarly.
I would ask him later. For the moment, my watch announced it close to dawn, and I forced myself out of bed. Several minutes changed clothes and packed my bag, but removing the chair still did not let the door open.
I tried again, jiggling the knob this way and that, but the old handle had not malfunctioned. Gideon had locked the door from the other side. This probably served as retribution for refusing him entrance last night.
Whatever the reasoning, I could not open the door, nor could I hope to pick the lock when my pick remained in Holmes' pocket. I could not even expect any of the manor staff to come to my aid. My search yesterday had found our horses safely in stalls but no sign of the stable hand, and Cook, Brent, even Stewardson had gone just as missing as Lord Thrombak, though whether through foul play or simply a chance holiday I had no way of knowing. What could I do until Holmes found me?
Search the room again for tunnels. Sipping only enough water to wet my mouth, I slung my bag over my shoulders rather than toss it to a corner, then slow movements spent the entire day checking every stone, every tapestry, every piece of furniture for any sign of a door. From dents in the wooden wardrobe to small divots in the stone walls, I pushed, pulled, and lifted any spot I could find—with no luck. If my room had another exit, I could not find it.
Which left me trapped in a small, cramped bedroom rapidly darkening with the setting sun. Gideon wandered the halls to prevent me from forcing the door, and while Holmes could conceivably leave via the window—provided his opened as Rossenthwaite's had—a single look at my own had announced it purposely broken. Cracked hinges prevented the frame from moving more than an inch or two. I would never be able to fit through the gap.
Nor would I leave Holmes, anyway. I tiredly sank into the desk chair I had left near the door. Holmes would free me eventually, and until then, pacing would only make me hungry. I would need to save the food in my bag for as long as I could. Should I face the nightmares to get some sleep?
Probably, I decided, but not in the bed this time. That left me too vulnerable. I finally dragged my chair behind the door. Leaning backwards braced me against the stone without risking leaning too far, and I propped my head on the wall, eyes closed as my mind wandered.
Conversations. The ride across the moor. Sir Walter, bantering with Nara. Raynolds' comments about the library.
"But how…escape…—son."
The memory jolted me awake, but I merely shifted in my chair.
Mrs. Hudson's reaction to our last prank war. Lestrade, stopping by for a surprise visit. Sir Walter, worry visible as he tells us about his missing friend.
Holmes, pointedly moving out of reach.
No. I wanted to sleep, not dream. I had done that enough last night.
Children playing outside my Baker Street window. Leisurely walks through Regent's. Familiar footsteps creeping up the stairs as if to sneak up on me.
Or enter my room. Early morning moonlight barely illuminated my door when small clicks startled me awake yet again, but this time, I quietly rested all four chair legs on the floor. Either Gideon had returned, or Holmes had finally broken out of his own room.
The door slammed open much faster than Holmes could pick the lock, impacting my chair with a loud thump as a tall figure barreled into the room. Stunned surprise froze him not three steps from the door and barely checked my lunge. Apparently, he could pick the lock that quickly.
"Holmes."
He spun, relief flickering into view as he lurched to grab my arm. A gentle shove shut the door without potentially locking us both in here, but his attention never left me.
"Alright?"
I nodded. "He tried to break in a few hours after we went to bed. I found the door locked when I woke."
"As did I." That keen gaze scanned me for injury. "Why could you not escape?"
"You still have my pick."
Concern became confusion, realization, then wordless apology. Patting his pocket easily found the narrow piece of metal I usually kept in my sleeve.
"That is all?"
"Yes. Did you get what you needed?"
"I found what I originally sought, but the information revealed a gap I could not fill. I need another day." He still studied me. "Did you find any of the staff?"
I shook my head. "The place is deserted. I could not even find the stable hand we heard when we arrived, though the horses had been stalled and groomed before I reached the stables."
That frown indicated more information he saw no reason to share. "How much food and water do you have left?"
"Most of it." Unsure when Holmes would escape his own room, I had allowed myself only enough to stave off the more inconvenient effects of hunger and thirst. Sir Walter had given us less than three meals, and I had eaten one the night we arrived. "Do you need some?"
I pulled my bag off my shoulder, already intending to offer him half. He usually went nearly without when invested in a puzzle, but I saw no other reason for him to ask unless he had gone through his own. A gesture halted me before I could free the clasp.
"I have enough," he promised. "Come to my room tomorrow three hours before dawn. We can leave through the garden."
Through the tunnel. His room did have the same tunnel I had found in Rossenthwaite. Good. That would be more secure than trying to reach the front door.
"Why not now? I could hide in the second bedroom until you finish."
He opened his mouth, glanced at my cane, then shook his head. "Too easily captured. Better to wait."
We are safe enough in our rooms, that said, which also suggested we would be abruptly unsafe should Gideon catch us in the halls. A distracted thought wondered if listening to the boy's ramblings today would have revealed him insane.
He would not answer if I asked, but the possibility prompted another idea.
"We need a backup then." He raised an eyebrow. "You think I will not be able to reach your room without him finding me, but you intend to spend the next day wandering the manor." Vindication bloomed when remorse announced the blunt words accurate. He knew my opinion on letting him face danger alone. "How many times has he nearly spotted you?"
"Too many to count," he admitted quietly. "Two are too easily noticed, and you will need to be quick but silent when you come. Gideon st—" A near flinch halted the word mid syllable. Discomfort shuffled his feet as he tried once more, then rephrased. "Gideon rounds the house at irregular intervals."
Yes, he did, but he clearly did more than that. Strange fear leaked into Holmes' warning, and the lines tracing his forehead announced a decision he refused to voice. He hid something from me. Something in addition to whatever the omitted word had been. I could decipher what as well as the reasoning later, but I fought to deduce the word he had nearly used. Important information rested in what had refused to form. What could "st—" be?
Stomps, straightens, strikes, staggers, and stumbles came to mind, but none quite fit. What would match what I had already seen—and heard—of Gideon?
Stalk. Stalk would work, and the word added a new depth to Holmes' warning. This could explain why he wanted me to stay behind a barricade-able door.
Unless he simply did not want me around. I would deal with that possibility later as well.
"Does he carry a weapon?"
"I have not seen one, but—" He shifted his feet again, clearly uncomfortable. My friend normally preferred to show the case's information rather than tell—at least until the denouement—but keeping me out of the action required some explanation. "Do not treat him as a child. He is not being blackmailed."
Assume he is armed. I wished yet again we could leave now.
Though I also knew better than to try to convince him. "Fallback time an hour before dawn?"
He considered, then indicated a negative. "An hour after sundown."
Because anyone in the manor could see over the moor for miles, I remembered. We needed to be well clear before the rising light betrayed our escape.
"Why can we not leave now? Or even tonight?"
All in good time.
He nearly said it, nearly brushed the question away as he so often had before—and as I half expected him to—but a painfully long hesitation provided the one answer I had hoped to avoid.
"I need to search Lord Thrombak's rooms, and I will not be able to do so until Gideon retires."
Lord Thrombak's room. He wanted to enter the one place in this manor Gideon would take the largest exception, and he intended to do so without me. Something more than Gideon's actions determined that plan.
"Why?"
He would not tell me, however. Cracking the door both checked the hall and pretended not to hear my question. I managed only a single sentence before he slipped away.
"Find the kitchen first."
He waved an acknowledgement but left without a word, and footsteps ghosted down the hall to leave me alone. Again. In a small, dark bedroom.
I set to work inspecting my doorknob. Perhaps I could lock Gideon out rather than letting him lock me in.
Uh oh. Seems Gideon made the first move. Do you think Watson's room has a tunnel? Will Holmes reach Greyson Thrombak's room? Don't forget to drop a review
And thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter! :)