Chapter Notes: I have had controversial elements in my Chapters before, usually I just mention them, and let it go...often I find that my readers with a little advanced notice are fine with it as long as they know somethings coming that might hit them sideways. Stephen King wrote in On Writing, that as long as you tell the truth, and remain true to what you feel your characters are, that you will remain safe within the context of the story.

I believe I have told the truth.

I believe I have remained true to my characters...and the ones that Doyle created.

I remain safe...at least that's my theory. LOL!

This is Doyle's World...I'm just living in it for a bit.

Enjoy!

Bart

Doctor John Watson, Police Surgeon: Scotland Yard 4

The Frozen Image

Chapter Six

Lestrade was finally able to extricate himself from Agatha's clutches by promising her an exclusive, he had a hunch he would be dealing with her again soon enough.

Her information had been beyond anything Lestrade had suspected or feared. Alfred FitzRoy was indeed a daunting antagonist.

However, Doctor Gustav Bedlow was the real villain; he was proving to be a monster beyond anything Mary Shelley ever conceived.

Lestrade read Frankenstein when he was a lad on a dare; the tale had kept him up many nights after. Bedlow was the embodiment of that mad creator.

To play with the minds of humanity just for the sake of societal advancement, to destroy lives in the pursuit of understanding the darkest elements of human nature, was akin to electrifying a golem of dead body parts to mock an ability that belonged only to God.

Jeremiah Giordan was a brilliant young man, deeply troubled; he could have become successful at anything he set his mind to if he received the help he so desperately needed. Instead, because of Bedlow's evil manipulation, he lived out the rest of his days believing himself to be Sherlock Holmes, while deep down knowing he was not, a fact that eventually led to his suicide.

Now this misguided, but influential group of people wanted to honour Bedlow's accomplishments, and make sure his name lived on as a great benefactor of humanity, as though the man was reaching from the grave to commit one last atrocity.

Lestrade felt a determination to make sure if Bedlow's name lived on, it would be in infamy.

He made his way to where a cab waited, only to find that Mayweather was waiting beside it.

"Are you not returning with us?" Lestrade inquired.

Mayweather shook his head. "I need to report to the Diogenes, Mycroft wants daily updates on the Doc's condition. He's been paying for everything since tha Doc's laid up."

Lestrade startled, that news was surprising considering the way Mycroft and Watson had parted. They were not enemies, but Watson made it clear he did not trust the elder Holmes enough to be friends.

He nodded that he understood. Mayweather tipped his hat and was about to blend in to the crowd, when Lestrade asked, "Are you entirely sure Eads won't die from that dart?"

Mayweather got a distant look in his cold eyes. "I once placed fifty-two of them into a bloke before his heart gave out. All one dart will do, is make Eads wish he could cut his hand off for a day or so."

Lestrade gave a low whistle. "Fifty-two? What did that man do to deserve such a fate?"

Mayweather smiled, it was not a pleasant one. "I guess you blokes would call him my natural father."

With that disturbing statement, he was gone.

Lestrade stifled a shudder. "Giles old boy, don't ask Mayweather any more questions, you have too many nightmares as it is."

He climbed aboard to see Watson resting his head against the side of the cab, as he was earlier that morning. He showed he was not asleep though, his eyes cracked enough to give Lestrade an eye roll. "You know Lestrade, I used to think you became a constable because of some desire to be in the cause of justice, I know now you just wanted a job where you could get paid for being meddlesome."

Lestrade shrugged. "A man's got to play to his strengths."

He settled in, checked that Mayweather was indeed gone and was about to ask about Mayweather when Watson pulled a note out of his coat pocket. "What is written there is all I know."

Lestrade accepted it with a glower. "I was not that curious."

Watson chuckled. "Yes, you were. Read the damned note."

Lestrade recognized the Diogenes stationary, having seen it far too often lately, as he pulled it out of the envelope.

Doctor Watson,

The man that has found his way to you is whom he claims. I know that lately we have had infiltrators and impostors, a disconcerting reality to be sure. However, our enemies cannot copy the man who bears this note because they are unaware that he exists.

Only one man knew his real identity, that man was the agent killed by Charon in Calcutta, he was also my trusted friend.

Mayweather swore to kill Charon, and he had already killed the elder holder of that title, which is why the younger man was the current incarnation, a fact only known to me last night when Mayweather showed up unannounced in my supposedly heavily guarded private quarters wanting to know whom killed the last Charon.

He explained that he swore a blood oath to rid the world of Charon upon the head of his lost partner, and since he did not strike the final blow, he owes the man who did a life.

As often as you are in peril, dear Doctor, I feel this is only a temporary nuisance.

All I know of Mayweather, is that he is the best at what he can do. He is a wraith and a ghost, and lethal with any weapon imaginable, he is loyal to his last breath. If he has transferred his allegiance over to you, then you have a ridiculously capable bodyguard for the duration.

My dear friend raised this man from a youth, if he believed in Algon, be assured you can as well.

Mycroft Holmes

Doctor Watson was still resting his head against the carriage wall, but he was eyeing Lestrade as he read the note.

"So, you have a bodyguard whether you want it or not?"

Watson nodded, "So it appears."

Lestrade smirked. "With your propensity for drawing danger down upon yourself, I place the duration of his guardianship a month."

Watson chuckled. "You are being kind."

Lestrade grasped his friend's shoulder. "Yes, unfortunately, I was being kind."

---

It was getting on towards luncheon when they arrived back at the Yard. The rest of the ride had been silent; Lestrade listened to Watson's laboured breathing with consternation. The man was obviously in pain, but if he did not want anyone to remark upon his circumstance, Lestrade was going to honour his wish. (6) However, that did not preclude Lestrade making other plans.

As he helped Watson down from the cab, he glanced up to see Geezer's livery was parked out front of the Yard.

Watson was perceptive as always. "I did not call for Lewis, why is he here?"

He began to eye Lestrade suspiciously, and his wariness rewarded once they entered the building.

"Doctor Watson! They told me you were feeling ill, but look at you."

Mrs. Hudson came into view; she was carrying a dish under a cover. As she began to fuss over Watson, he frowned at Lestrade. "I thought you gave in to my wishes rather easily."

Lestrade was unrepentant. "You can use my office, Mrs. Hudson, bon appetite, Doctor."

Watson allowed himself to scolded and led down toward Lestrade's office. Lestrade would have followed, but something he had been dreading all day derailed his plans.

"Lestrade, get in here." Superintendent Collins's voice cracked, out like a whip.

Lestrade had never heard the man so raw, but then again he had never been under the pressure that he was undoubtedly experiencing now.

He sighed, straightened his coat, located his badge just in case it necessary to turn it in, and strode into the office.

This was one of the longest days of his career already, and it was just before noon. He longed to go home to Lizzy and spend time in her comfort, but it appeared more and more likely, he was going to be there into the night.

He was surprised to find the barrister assigned to the Yard seated across from Collins with a cup of tea in hand.

You knew things had really progressed from bad to worse when the Old Red Fox made an appearance at the Met.

The Honourable Eoin Payne, was a Scotsman by birth, but fought his way up through the ranks of the judiciary in spite of his heritage to become a legendary barrister. He gained his nickname because of his competence and the trademark dark red hair nearly gone gray on his head. The man kept a tightly trimmed Van Dyke of a darker shade, which he stroked often while in thought.

He was the most successful prosecutor that the Yard had access to, but he was not a man to trifle with. He did not tolerate handling cases to prosecute with significant flaws. If he saw a gap or weakness in the evidence he was to present, he would appear for a consultation, and he was just as dissecting to the Inspectors as he would be to a witness on the stand.

Lestrade had been under the man's scrutiny more than once, and did not find it enjoyable.

Collins sat on the edge of his desk as Lestrade entered.

"Ahhh, Chief Inspector Lestrade, it is so nice that you would honour us with your presence, considering the straights in which we find ourselves," Payne remarked with that trademark perfect diction.

The tone was light and friendly but the brown eyes were cold and intense. "I would like to know everything you have so far."

Lestrade settled into the other chair. "What we have so far, gentlemen, is a red hot mess that is threatening to give Scotland Yard a black eye for years to come."

Payne smiled. "I have always enjoyed your candor, Lestrade, but how about specifics?"

Lestrade sighed. "We have a young lady who was killed last night in the trademark style of the Red Tear Strangler, we do not have proof as of yet, but our top men feel that this was the work of an accomplice under Alister Eads's instruction. There is a group wanting to release Eads, and they have at their head the possibly future Duke of Grafton, Alfred FitzRoy. As I understand it, they are pushing for a hearing within the next day or so, most certainly, before Eads's hanging. So we need to find this accomplice as soon as we can manage or it may be months to years before Alister meets his just fate."

Payne nodded. "You are very well informed Giles, but your information is old."

Lestrade ran a hand over his tired eyes. "What has happened now?"

Payne leaned back trying to show a casual manner, but his knuckles were white. "They are filing for a hearing in civil court."

"But criminal court takes precedence!" Lestrade stated outraged.

Payne nodded. "The criminal court docket is full; he is due to die this Friday, so the civil case will be pushed through, no doubt. I am trying to clear space for a hearing of the criminal case against Eads, but if they get this new body introduced as evidence they can argue that Eads is the accomplice, and Eads's rights have been violated by police negligence."

Collins nodded his eyes more serious than Lestrade had ever seen them. "Let us not put too fine a point on it, the Yard is on trial here, our procedures and diligence will be called in account, and this is a disaster of epic proportions for this office."

Lestrade tried not to panic, so he focused on the details. "If we get a criminal hearing first, will it supersede the civil?"

Payne nodded. "If we get the criminal court hearing first and reintroduce the mountain of proof we have against Eads, and throw enough light on his role as the instigator and main participate of his crimes, even with the accomplice we can get a Judge's ruling to hang the man on his appointed time. That would make the civil case moot."

Lestrade leaned forward meeting Payne's gaze. "Let us suppose..."

Payne nodded. "Go on."

Collins made for the door. "I will let you two discuss the situation, I am going to find some lunch."

He was a politician, the best way to feign ignorance was not to be present, Lestrade appreciated Collin's position, but he still felt it cowardly to a certain extent.

"You were saying," Payne encouraged, his eyes twinkling.

"If you can create some room on the docket for a hearing in Criminal this afternoon, maybe the last session, what if I told you the Civil case will not be filed until late this afternoon at the earliest?'

Payne considered his words. "There is only one Judge who cannot be intimidated by a FitzRoy, a spot on his docket might be available, can the Yard be ready to present their case by then?"

"Investigative, or forensic evidence?"

"Both."

Lestrade sighed. "We'll be ready."

Payne nodded. "I will call in every favour I have to make this happen, some of them saved for years until a rainy day, but I forgot this is London, they are all rainy days. Make sure that civil case filing delays, Benedict will make any amount of room they need him to make, and he might as well be a servant. I don't have to tell you what his ruling in the matter will be."

Lestrade nodded. "Done...you know...supposedly."

Payne chuckled.

---

Lestrade made his way down to his office, when he heard a familiar voice recounting a story that Lestrade hoped would have died with him.

"And so we decided to set up a sting, and Gilesy was tha bait, he was the only one with legs smooth enough to get into the knickers."

Lestrade increased his pace before he could get to the next part, but he was too late.

"It was a pretty dress too, it was, a nice yellow color."

He heard the gales of laughter, and sighed. This day could not get any longer!

He made the common room, the inspectors and milling PC's were listening with rapt attention to a tall slender built man with a gray beard and dark blue eyes filled with mirth.

"Well speak evil, and there's Gilesy."

Lestrade saw that to his utter chagrin Gregson and Hopkins were back, and the big Swede looked like he was memorizing all of the ammo he was receiving for future shenanigans.

"Hello, Patterson, I see you've been entertaining," Lestrade remarked in a wry tone.

Gregson got a suspicious thoughtful look on his face. "Blimey, Gilesy, I dint know your colour was yellow."

They all had a laugh, Lestrade did not bother with the patented end-your-career stare, he was happy to see that Yard spirits were up, even if it was at his expense.

"What did you two find out with Tommy and Bobby?"

Gregson and Hopkins exchanged a look of pain.

"Well we found out why those two stay on the night walk,"Hopkins began.

Gregson grunted. "It turns out that's tha only time they can get a word in."

Hopkins nodded. "We met their wives, Barbara, and Thomasina."

"You must be jesting!" Lestrade exclaimed.

Gregson shrugged. "I wish we were, Tommy and Bobby live in a two story together, their families right on top, and we got the full run down on all neighbourhood activities while we waited. I asked Hopkins to shoot me at one point, but he refused."

Hopkins looked unrepentant as he responded, "If I had killed you, who would have done for me?"

Lestrade cleared his throat in a meaningful manner.

Hopkins pulled out his ever-present pad. "We followed Bobby and Tommy around the rest of the morning, giving me a blinding headache by the way, the only resident we could find who would talk to us was Annie MacPearson."

"Cockney Annie?" Lestrade interjected

Gregson nodded. "Could not understand a word, Hopkins wrote her entire spiel down hoping someone could interpret.

Lestrade nodded to the young inspector. He cleared his throat and recited:

I were mindin' me own business, I sell 'air bows yer know, not wot yer might 'ave 'eard because there are some jealous cows 'ereabouts. It were foggy, sor this bloke pushin' a cart that I 'ad not seen before. I asked if 'e wanted ter put the mockers on for a chat, right, a chat thats all mind yer. He 'ave a looked wite as a sheet, right, he did. He declined and that were the bloomin' end of it. I did not spot his Nanny Goat Race too clearly but I fink 'e were a yung bloke from the bleedin' sound of 'im.

Lestrade sighed. "Anyone know what all that meant?"

A deep resonating voice came from a back corner. "She was minding her own business, it was foggy and she saw this man pushing a cart that she had not seen before, she propositioned him, he turned her down, his face was white as a sheet, most likely from shock, said she did not see him clearly, but thought he sounded young."

Everyone turned to the voice, it was PC Reynolds, under their scrutiny, he just shrugged.

Lestrade sighed. "Right, so that confirms what we suspect, that the mystery killer is a young man, and that he is not a calloused killer. What do you remember about that case, Patterson?"

"Here name was Mary Kessel, she was a single scullery maid North Side, her home was down near Shoreditch, strangled with a ribbon garrote so hard it crushed her throat, no signs of struggle or assault. If it was an Eads, it was before he gained full control over his urges and refined his technique. At the time, I thought the killer had a twisted sense of humor."

"Sense of humor, how so?" Hopkins, inquired.

Patterson shrugged. "My wife used to wear ribbons around her throat in her dressier outfits, they call'em chokers."

The inspectors all exchanged a glance. That detail had not occurred to any of them; plainly written on their already exhausted faces.

"Why didn't you think of that Giles, evidently you know women's clothing, " Gregson remarked with a grin.

Lestrade made a weak obscene gesture in response.

He glared at the smiling Patterson for bringing that morsel from his early career to the Yard's attention.

"We have a hearing this afternoon where we have to present all of the evidence that we gathered for the first Eads conviction, both forensic and investigative."

Bradstreet grunted. "This afternoon, Giles that's not much time to prepare."

"I am aware of that fact, but if we fail to get a ruling this afternoon to keep the current conviction, then it goes to civil court and Benedict tomorrow.

They all winced at that name; not many Yard investigators had escaped that man's bias.

"Let me talk to Doctor Watson." he said turning to go into his office.

Gregson nodded. "I wouldn't go in there; Mrs. Hudson told us they were not to be disturbed until she could get some soup in 'em."

"I asked her here, maybe she'll make an exception." Lestrade replied.

"We need a representative of the Yard, I think Hopkins is our best foot forward," Lestrade said as he started toward the office, "any objections, no? Get your notes together, son."

Hopkins started to protest, but Lestrade's glare silenced him, it was nice to see that someone was not immune.

He knocked on the door of his office as softly as possible; Mrs. Hudson bade him to enter.

When Lestrade did, he was amazed to find that Doctor Watson was sleeping soundly on his settee.

Mrs. Hudson, seated on a chair she had pulled over; she was gently brushing his hair. "You don't have to be quiet Chief Inspector. He won't be waking up until sometime tomorrow."

Lestrade pulled a chair over to her and sat on her level. "How can you be so sure?"

She smiled. "Mister Holmes and I worked out a formula for when Doctor Watson was ill but being stubborn about it, that soup he managed to eat had a solid dose of knock out drops."

"Knock out drops!" Lestrade exclaimed.

She gave him the stare that made even Sherlock Holmes penitent. "The message I received from you, was that Watson was very ill and could not keep anything on his stomach, you wanted me to see if I could talk him into backing away until he recovered a bit. Lewis did not exaggerate, those where your words?"

"Yes, they were my words, but I hoped he would be available for consultation at the very least." Lestrade said in his least confrontational voice.

She shook her head ruefully. "I thought you were becoming friends with John, surely you understand that the man is incapable of half measures, it is either active or unconscious, he is far too stubborn to compromise."

She gave Watson's forehead a quick feel. "His fever is still far too high for my liking; he would refuse a hospital if he were awake so I will care for him at Baker Street as soon as that nice young man that has been caring for him returns."

Lestrade decided it was not prudent to disabuse her of her misconception of Mayweather, besides if anyone on the earth could bring that man to heel it was this formidable lady in front of him.

He tipped his hat to her as he rose. "The Yard is at your disposal, anything you need, please send me word as soon as he regains lucidity."

She sighed as she went back to brushing the Watson's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "He will most likely insist upon it."

Lestrade nodded and left the office, he found the inspectors gathered around Hopkins giving advice to the young man who was furiously scribbling notes into his pad. Patterson was particularly vocal, having been involved in one of the Yard's largest criminal prosecutions ever. Lestrade sensed that the man was eager to be back among his peers. The formerly gregarious policeman forced to be a recluse in the past years, was right in the middle of the discussion, fitting in like a comfortable sock.

"Doctor Watson is out for the time being, St. Cloud will have to present their findings at the hearing, inform him of it. Make sure that Mrs. Hudson and Mayweather have all the manpower they need to get Watson home," he remarked to Gregson.

Gregson, to his credit, nodded assent with no argument. "Where are you going Giles?"

Lestrade turned back to him long enough to say, "I am going to make sure there is a meeting to prepare for."

Gregson nodded. "You need to go out tha back, the word got out."

Lestrade grimaced, he had been at the centre of media frenzy before, it was not and enjoyable experience

He took the Swede's advice.

---

The greasy little clerk namedWilliam Barkley, known to himself as Handsome Bill, but to the females of London that had the misfortune of crossing his path as "The Grabber" was shuffling some papers, grumbling about the increased workload.

Some blighter came down a bit ago and dropped a stack on his desk, telling him that The Earl of Tutwiler, or someone, had made a request, and now he had to make room on Judge Benedict's docket by this afternoon.

Benedict had done many favours for the nobility over the years, so much that the Judge was practically a servant. "The Earl says I wan' you to dive off of Dover, ole Ben says would you like a half-twist in pike position on da way down?" he groused.

Suddenly, William smelled a familiar perfume.

It was light with a mysterious spice mixed in under the floral. Miss Giordan?

He looked up to see Carla Giordan peeking through the door, smiling at him. "Mister Barkley, do you perchance, remember me?" she purred in that wonderful alto voice of hers.

She was abnormally tall, around one and half meters in height, with rich blond hair pulled up into an elaborate plate. Her perfect bone structure accented with just enough make up to enhance not conceal the beauty beneath, her smiling light blue eyes transfixed him in his chair.

Yes, he did remember her.

Of course, their last meeting had not gone very well, he still felt a twinge from her well placed knee to his groin.

"Hello my lovely, it is wonderful to see you again," he called slicking his moustaches with an ink-mottled finger.

"I just could not get you off of my mind as of late, so I wanted to come down and see if you would have dinner with me this evening, to apologize for any past deplorable behaviour," she replied, her face pensive for his answer.

William ran a quick hand through his hair, and rubbed the oil on his wrinkled pants. "I would be honoured, but I have just been given a task that will take me most of the day."

She pouted prettily. "I am leaving for Italy tomorrow; I know not when I will return. I was so looking forward to an escort this evening; I need a reason to come back to the Isle."

As she locked eyes with him, he felt his resistance melt. "Well, I could just shuffle this new case to first thing tomorrow morning, the bloke has until Friday, that would free me up for this afternoon."

"That is the most wonderful news." She said conversationally as she carefully touched up her lipstick, in her compact mirror.

"Yes, tomorrow will most definitely be sufficient." he murmured watching her perfect lips being swathed in that delightful red. "I'll change around a case for tomorrow and shuffle it to tonight, that should not take an hour, and then I will be free, and yours."

She smiled so warmly that William felt he was going to burst into flames from desire, his hands twitched in their longing to touch some of her perfection.

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "You do that right away, I will see you tonight, a runner will arrive with a note to tell you where."

She stopped his hand before it could stray, waggled a finger at the naughty boy, and made her way out in a manner that promised many things, most of them covered by the seven deadly sins.

He immediately began bundling up the file, and writing missives to the representatives of the relocated case from tomorrow, that their hearing had been moved up last minute.

This new file was going to be there in the morning, he had a date to prepare for. He wondered if his barber was open, he was running out of his favourite hair tonic yet again.

---

She exited the Bailey trying to conceal a shudder; she strolled down the steps under a parasol, which she collapsed expertly as she boarded the waiting cab.

"Ugh, that is the most disgusting, odious specimen of manhood I have ever had the misfortune of encountering in all my years, and I am in the theatre! It is a good thing I am the best actor in the city."

Lestrade reached out and gave her hand a gentle kiss. "Indeed you are Carla, we are very grateful to you. William will not remember you after the activities of this afternoon; he will be far too busy saving his job once the Judge realizes plans have gone awry."

"What a comfort," Carla remarked with a smirk.

"Indeed," Lestrade agreed with a smile. "Judge Burkett will hear the criminal case, he is the least beholden to the upper class; he is upper class himself, second in line to the Duke of Kent. Alfred FitzRoy will not be able to influence him; as he is higher up. If we are to get a fair hearing, it will be with that man."

She looked serious. "Those people took my Jeremiah away from me, turned him into a monster, the puppet of evil men. You must stop them, Giles, at any cost."

Lestrade inclined his head, graciously. "You have my word we will try, there is not much we can do directly against the nobility, but they will not find their way easy. I am sorry you had to be in reach of William's greasy hands though."

She winced at the memory. "You tell John Watson, he owes me a dinner as soon as he recovers and we will consider our account settled."

Lestrade chuckled. "He will be informed of it."

Story Notes: Wikipedia Notes on Choloral Hydrate (Called Knock Out Drops in Victorian England):

It was discovered through the chlorination of ethanol in 1832 by Justus von Liebig in Gießen. Its sedative properties were first published in 1869 and subsequently, because of its easy synthesis, its use was widespread. It was widely abused and misprescribed in the late 19th century. Chloral hydrate is soluble in both water and alcohol, readily forming concentrated solutions. A solution of chloral hydrate in alcohol called "knockout drops" was used to prepare a Mickey Finn.

Chloral hydrate is used for the short-term treatment of insomnia and as a sedative before minor medical or dental treatment. It was largely displaced in the mid-20th century by barbiturates and subsequently by benzodiazepines. It was also formerly used in veterinary medicine as a general anesthetic. Today, it is commonly used as an ingredient in the veterinary anesthetic Equithesin[citation needed]. It is also still used as a sedative prior to EEG procedures, as it is one of the few available sedatives that does not suppress epileptiform discharges[citation needed].

In therapeutic doses for insomnia chloral hydrate is effective within sixty minutes, it is metabolized within 4 minutes into trichloroethanol by erythrocytes and plasma esterases and many hours later into trichloroacetic acid. Higher doses can depress respiration and blood pressure. An overdose is marked by confusion, convulsions, nausea and vomiting, severe drowsiness, slow and irregular breathing, cardiac arrhythmia and weakness. It may also cause liver damage and is moderately addictive, as chronic use is known to cause dependency and withdrawal symptoms. The chemical can potentiate various anticoagulants and is weakly mutagenic in vitro and in vivo[citation needed].

Chloral hydrate is now illegal in the United States without a prescription. Chloral hydrate is a schedule IV controlled substance in the United States. Its properties have sometimes led to its use as a date rape drug.

Just so you know I'm not making it up...Holmes would have known the chemical and it's results so while not in cannon I think it fits. Mrs. Hudson is a mum, mum's sometimes do underhanded things for the good of their kids, and I think Holmes and Watson were like two big kids to her...that's my take...feel free to discuss.

(6) Yet another sick Watson pic...lets face it the man is not well LOL!

Bart