Chapter 7: John does not Want to Make Small Talk with Lestrade
The dogs quickly picked up the scent from Sherlock's sticky scrap of tar-paper; Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and the handler followed them across country, towards the river. The night was cold and clear, and the men had to run to keep up with the dogs at first. The dogs kept off the road, following their quarry through private gardens and public parks, climbing over low fences and trailing along treelines and hedges. Clearly, the One-Legged Man and his small friend had been trying to stay out of sight.
As they came into the more densely populated parts of town, the dogs slowed down, and the men did too. The roof-tar scent must have become mingled with other scents; the dogs were cautious in the alleys and backstreets. At one point, they spent several moments inspecting a large puddle of oil before finding the right scent and moving on.
Sherlock was intently focused on the dogs and their handler, almost as though he envied the dogs their sense of smell. John and Lestrade fell back a little.
"Nice hat," offered Lestrade. "She's an interesting woman."
John nodded and bit his lip; he glanced at Lestrade, then at Sherlock.
Lestrade pressed: "So, have you known her long, or…"
John shook his head. "She came to us a few days ago with the case, is all."
Lestrade smiled. "She knits fast, then."
John cleared his throat and changed the subject. "The dogs are slowing down."
The dogs circled in the middle of an empty intersection. They were in an old part of London, close to the river. "Aaah, they've lost him," moaned Sherlock. "He must have picked up a ride, or …" Sherlock looked up at the buildings around them, "found help here."
The handler gathered his dogs in the middle of the empty intersection while Sherlock, John, and Lestrade read name plates and addresses all around. Sherlock knew what to look for, so it didn't surprise them when he sang out, "Mordecai Smith, River Boat Service." He turned around and pointed at the building behind him. "He means to escape on the river." Sherlock, John, and Lestrade met in the center of the intersection, where Sherlock crouched down and pet the dogs, praising them, "Good doggy. Good Toby," while John and Lestrade chuckled overhead.
The dog handler radioed his partner for a pickup. Sherlock, however, was not done searching for the One-Legged Man and Mordecai Smith's boat, and Lestrade and John scrambled after Sherlock, up and down the wharves and docks of the Thames until well after the sun was up.
(Author's Note: I struggled with this chapter. I think it is too short and blah, but I don't quite know what else to do with it. Readers thought it wasn't a problem, but it still bugs me. Maybe I just like long chapters.)