Chapter 25
John stared when they drove through a steel gate and the mansion came in sight. It was a huge, white building, encircled by a neat garden (though now, in winter, it looked rather sad, having no sprigs that stuck out wildly to break the bareness). He could only just keep himself from stating that Ian's uncle must be rich, having a house like that, but probably Ian would get embarrassed. Instead, he remembered that Sherlock needed him to observe, and he let his gaze go over the garden and house, taking in where there were accessible windows.
As the car stopped in front of the house, Ian jumped out and went round to John's side to open the door for him. "Welcome to Gryffydd Hall."
"It's impressive," John said, looking around as he got out of the car.
Ian just smiled and led the way to the large front doors. As he approached, they opened. Ian broke into a smile and said: "Uncle, I could not bring you Sherlock Holmes, but this man will be able to help you. Meet Doctor Watson."
The man in the door opening could simply have walked out of 1895, John thought with some surprise. On the road, Ian had told him that his uncle was a professor emeritus in English literature from Cardiff University, who simply lived for his book collection, and of course those facts had already formed a rather dusty image of the old man in John's head - though that was nothing compared to reality. Professor Gryffydd was wearing a dark grey three-piece suit, complete with a golden chain that led to the fob watch in his pocket. Another gold chain held his reading glasses around his neck, half hidden under a white beard. The man was smiling as he welcomed them, but he still had an earnest look, caused by his piercing blue eyes.
"Come in, come in! My name is Owain Gryffydd, just call me Owain and don't dare to professor me, that's about the only house rule. How do you do, Doctor Watson?"
"Er, John's fine, too. Very nice to meet you, you have a magnificent house."
"See, Ian? People like it. It's not over the top at all, like you are always nagging." Owain lifted his glasses off his chest and looked into them for a moment before dropping them again. "Be a good boy and fix us some tea."
"Certainly, uncle," Ian said with a little bow. He nodded to John and disappeared further into the house.
John was once again surprised. Ian really seemed to function as a butler; did that even still exist these days? If Gryffydd Hall was placed on a rift in space and time, it was no wonder that books disappeared.
"Follow me," Owain said. They went to what was apparently the living room, or at least one of the living rooms. A fire spread its warmth and on the other side of the room stood an impressive grandfather clock, its ticking impossible to ignore. Sherlock would go mad here. Or he would love it.
"I will show you the books in a minute. It just really is time for my cup of tea, and I must admit that in my laziness I have waited for Ian to return."
So he would get along with Sherlock.
"Ian told us what has happened. The police didn't help you?" John said.
Owain flew up from his chair. "Curse the police!" he called out, his Welsh accent showing much more than it had done before.
"Uncle," Ian said, as he entered, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. "Remember what the doctor said. You must not let yourself get so excited."
"Right," the professor said, sitting down again. "Sorry. I just don't see how they can think that I just put it somewhere. As if people don't know the place of an object in their own house!"
John decided not to react on that. "Ian told Sherlock and me that you last saw the book on Friday evening. Was there a reason why you especially went to have a look at it?"
"Yes! I went to a convention, last weekend, and we were discussing mysterious books like the Abscondita in aperta," Owain nodded. "I got a special invitation because they knew I had it in my possession."
"But you didn't take it with you?" John frowned.
"No, of course not! The very thought! It is far too delicate to travel with. The bastard who took it out of the house has probably damaged it..." Owain had a look at his glasses again. "I needed to take a picture of the cover, they had asked to see it."
Ian put down the tray and started pouring the tea.
"Is there anyone who can enter the house when you are absent?" John asked Owain.
"No, only Ian, but of course I don't suspect him. He's fussing about my blood pressure all the time, then surely he wouldn't do anything to my books. This situation certainly isn't helping my health."
Ian nodded in agreement as he handed his uncle a cup of tea. "I was away the whole weekend," he said. "Visiting friends in Birmingham."
"Alright," John said, before taking a sip of his tea. "I'll need to have a look at your library, and then at the security system. Then I'll contact Sherlock and hopefully he'll find a solution."
Owain nodded. "Why didn't he come himself?"
"He couldn't excite himself too much either. Doctor's orders and all that," John said with a small apologetic smile.
"I can show you the library," Ian said. "And the security system, though it has already been checked. There have been no malfunctions and it was never shut off, during the weekend."
John stood up and looked at Owain.
The old man nodded. "Yes, you can go, I'll enjoy my tea a little longer if you don't mind. Don't forget to wear gloves if you touch the books!"
"This way, please." Ian led John upstairs, then down a corridor. At the end he got out a key and unlocked a large wooden door. "Uncle has kept it locked since the theft," he explained, as he opened the door into a large square room lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling.
"Wow," John said under his breath as he looked around. This certainly was a paradise for a book lover. The backs of most books looked old and brownish, but some had extravagant drawings; some were tiny, and one was so high that the shelf above had been shortened so it could fit in the case.
"Can you show me the place where the Abscondita in Aperto is missing now?" he asked after a moment.
Ian went to the very back of the room and behind the large desk. "Down here," he said and pointed to a small gap in the line of books on one of the lower shelves.
"Hmm." John looked at the desk, then scanned the walls. "Is that the only motion detector in this room?" he asked, pointing at the corner farthest from the desk.
Ian nodded. "Yes, it covers the whole room."
"Okay," John nodded. "I think I'll call Sherlock to inform him about everything I've seen so far. Can I walk around a bit, or are there any rooms you or your uncle would like to keep private?"
Ian considered. "My uncle would probably prefer if you did not go into his rooms. At least not unaccompanied. But that should be it."
John nodded. "Can you show me where it is, so I don't wander in by accident?"
"Of course." Ian went to the door and held it open for John. He gave him a quick tour of the house, showing him not only where his uncle's rooms were, but also his own, which he assured John he could freely enter during his investigation.
John thanked him, hoping that Ian was just being friendly and not actually inviting him, as he took his phone out of his pocket and leaned against the wall. "Hello, Sherlock?"
Sherlock had almost tripped over the power chord for his laptop getting to his phone. Taking a moment to compose himself, he answered, as nonchalantly as he could. "Yes, John. Have you arrived?"
"Yeah. Is the flat still standing? Nothing exploded yet?"
"I almost did at one point," Sherlock replied with a snort. "So, how does it look?"
"Pretty safe at first sight... There are motion detectors that cover the rooms, in the library as well. The house is huge though. There was no-one at home last weekend, and except for Ian and Owain no-one can come in either," John reported.
Sherlock considered for a moment. "So," he said finally. "No-one entered or exited the house during the time in which the book was removed." He thought some more and then asked: "How reliable are those motion detectors? Have they been checked for defects? Blind spots?"
"Er, they're pretty sure they're functioning... I can have a better look at them, if you want - but even then, with the alarm on, I'm sure no-one could move through the mansion without getting caught."
"Yes, we need to have them checked. How about the doors? Are they monitored or could they have been opened? Have you checked all the rooms yet? You need to look for anything, and I mean anything out of the ordinary." Sherlock flopped down on the sofa, doing his best to keep his frustration out of his voice. If only he could be there. John had learned much, but he still did not have an eye for details. Not the important ones anyway. "Perhaps you could take some pictures and send them to me. Of the library. Any possible access points. The different rooms in the house. And of course the security system."
"Wow, Sherlock, not everything at the same time. Doors, rooms, got it. I'll send you some pictures. How do you want me to check blind spots of the detectors? Do a little dance and see if the alarm goes off?"
"More or less," Sherlock said with a chuckle. "But a little more complex than that. You'll need to have someone keep a constant watch on the monitors and check any possible route from the door to the location of the book." He almost added: 'and have someone film it, because I could do with a good laugh.'
John sighed. "Already looking forward to it. Do you mind if I do the rest of the investigation tomorrow? It's getting late and I couldn't sleep in the car, Ian was chatting away."
It took great effort for Sherlock to harness his impatience and not just scream at John to get moving. Instead he said: "Of course not. Get some rest. I have got plenty of research on the book and its myth planned to keep me occupied."
"Thank you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, John."
As Sherlock hung up, he let the frustration take over for a second, groaning with exasperation. This was intolerable. Here was the most deliciously mysterious case he had had in a long time and he was stuck in the flat while John was off taking naps at the crime scene. He jumped off the sofa and started pacing.
Then he had an idea. He rushed to the mantelpiece and picked up the card left by Ian earlier. If John was too tired, maybe the chatty young man could give him some information.
John felt a little guilty when he put his phone away. Sherlock probably didn't approve of the fact he was going to sleep, but he simply couldn't abandon his health completely for a case, at least not if he didn't have an impatient Sherlock by his side. Ian brought him to the guest room, next to his own, and John let himself drop on the bed. Tired as he felt, it took him hours to fall asleep in the cold, small bed, which made him feel even more guilty because he could have used that time for the investigation. Tomorrow, early in the morning, he promised.
"Hi Ian," Sherlock said, unaware that he was using his Molly-voice. "I hope you don't mind me calling so late, but I just felt that we didn't really have time to talk before you rushed off with John."
"Oh." Ian hesitated for a moment. "No, of course not. I'm just so grateful that you have agreed to help uncle with this. Anything I can do to help, just let me know."
Sherlock smiled smugly as he settled down on the sofa, and began the interrogation.
