Chapter 11: The First Move

The next night Sherlock and I met with William and his friends. The sky was a bit cloudy and a chill swept through the air. It was almost as if the atmosphere that loomed around us knew exactly what was ahead. Moran and Bonde stood side by side dressed appropriately for this mission, but I almost didn't recognize Fred. As a master of disguise he looked like an old vagrant and had the look all the way down to the smell. Funnily enough, I wasn't the only one that took notice.

"Fred…what on earth did you spray on yourself?" Moran said, holding his nose.

"Just a mixture of mud and clay," he said in his normal tone.

Moran shook his head but Bonde came to his defense.

"Hey…if you're going to play the part, you at least need to get all the details right," Bonde said, winking at Sherlock.

Sherlock flushed and cleared his throat.

"Remember…this is just to get information. Try not to draw too much attention to yourself," William said quietly. Almost as if reminding everyone to keep their voices lowered.

The team nodded and we began to split up with Moran, Fred, and Bonde going one way and us going the other. As we walked down the street together none of us spoke to one another. We approached a dark alley. William and Sherlock turned down it while I followed behind them. Sherlock had his hands in his pockets with a look of determination. William also had that same look. As we approached the den's door, William stopped us and pulled Sherlock aside.

"You need to wait outside," he said.

"What?! I didn't come all this way-" he retorted back in a harsh whisper.

"Your hands Sherly," William said interrupting.

Sherlock pulled his hands out of his coat pockets. I hadn't noticed but they were indeed trembling. William's keen eyes once again rivaled my friend's. Sherlock clenched his fists together. I expected him to lie and say that it was just a chilly night, but knowing that William would see right through this just huffed and put them back into his pockets.

"I'm here..and I'm going in," he said walking toward the door. I noticed William looked down with an air of forlorn and melancholy. He then nodded towards me and the three of us entered the opium den together.

The room itself had such a strong odor and the smoke filled the air so much so that you could almost barely see anything. Various people were either completely asleep or in lulls of their fixed drug state. To say that I hated this place was an understatement, it reeked and was not the coziest of places. But what did I expect? Opium dens aren't exactly lavish spots for local tourists. That thought sounded like something Sherlock would say; so I just kept these thoughts to myself. I noticed William made his way over to an area of…I guess you could call them patrons. How were we going to find more info on Raffles from these men? The majority of them were either zonked or dead to the world.

I decided I would also try to have a word with some of these people but Sherlock worried me. After all, he had some painful memories involving Raffles and a drug den. He seemed to be doing okay…or so I thought.

"I'm going to try and see if I can speak to the manager of this place," he said walking toward a bar area. "He might know something."

"Blimey! Is that you, Haly? I haven't seen you in ages!" Sherlock yelled in another voice entirely. He was good at disguises as well; just like Fred Porlock.

So there I stood watching Sherlock and William talk to various beggars and vagrants of the like. I myself spoke to a couple people but tried not to overthink or over share anything. Too many questions may give rise to suspicion.

"Ain't seen you in here before," an older man said to me. "If you're looking for a mighty fine time, then this is the place."

I just nodded and moved away from him. At the moment our mission for information seemed to be going well at the moment. However, I looked over and saw that Holmes was wrapping up a conversation with the manager. He stood up from a bar stool and began walking toward me when suddenly…he froze. Fortunately, I took notice of this and rose from my chair to meet him. Never in my days had I ever known him to be so rigid and still. Still if listening or looking for clues, yes. But this was him being rigid and stiff with fear. I don't know if he was thinking about the case at hand or the man we were after…the "gentleman thief" known as the despicable Raffles. As if my physician's training kicked in, I approached him with ease trying to deduce any physical ailments. The ones I could currently see at present seemed to be mental ones.

"The spider and the fly…" I heard Holmes say to himself. It was almost a mumble.

"What is it Holmes?" I asked, my concern growing.

"The spider and the fly!" He said this time in a yell.

Holmes put a hand to his face and staggered backward. He was shaking with nervous energy and anxiety. I knew that this moment could potentially botch the whole mission.

"Holmes," I whispered.

He then slid down a wall covering his ears with his hands. I bent down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder…or I at least tried to. He swatted it away, still breathing rapidly and shaking terribly. As a doctor, I had seen something similar to this before…a soldier on the battlefield remembering a horrible event like an open wound. They would get a wide eyed look and begin shaking. I must admit there have been times that I have had those moments as well. Before I could begin speaking to him; I saw William walk over to us at a quick pace.

"Time to go," he said rather harshly.

I grabbed Holmes and pulled him to his feet. The three of us then quickly left the den. I thought I could see a smirk from one of the patrons inside the building. As soon as we got outside, Holmes was no better. He was still shaking and trembling.

"Holmes…it's alright. You're safe," I told him. "Just take a few deep breaths."

After a few minutes, I noticed his breathing was starting to return to normal. His hands were still shaking but not as bad as they had been. I pulled him to his feet and noticed his face was flushed. No doubt from embarrassment.

"I…I'm sorry…" he said. "I don't know what came over me…"

"It's okay Sherl-"

"This is why I wanted you to wait outside," William cut in.

I looked in his direction and he had a look that could kill. Almost as if he wanted to slit my throat.

"You said we should work together." I replied a bit harshly. How dare he act this way with Holmes in this state!

"You're too emotionally invested Holmes," he said walking toward him. "You need to let me and my team do their job."

I watched as Holmes puffed out a bit of air. I wasn't sure if it was a sigh to catch his breath or a release before he launched into the conversation he went into next.

"This was your plan," Holmes said, pointing at William. "You involved me in this!" I noticed his hand and index finger were still trembling. "You have no idea how badly I want to catch this man! I have been emotional, I admit. But you too are hiding something! Something that I would like you to share with me! You're leaving me in the dark again!"

I started trembling at the tension that now filled the air. William's scarlet eyes grew sharper with anger and intensity. I had never ever seen them like that. Unexpectedly, his next remark was not angry nor harsh…just cold.

"Go home Holmes," he said.

There was an awkward silence between them. The sound of rumbling thunder came into play. I looked up and noticed some dark and dreary clouds heading our direction…it was about to storm. Sherlock raised a fist up into the air and then slowly let it dangle down at his side.

"Very well…" he said. "But let's just see who will catch him."

I gulped. Sherlock leaned in toward William and whispered, "I'm not the only one that's emotionally involved here. When you want to talk to me…you know where I am."

As we walked away from him down the street, small raindrops began to pour down on us. The cold rain felt icy cold as it hit my shoulders. Before we were just out of earshot of William, Sherlock called back to him.

"Watson and I will catch him first!"

And with that we headed back to Baker Street. I was worried for my friend, but also worried about what either he or Moriarty would do to Raffles if they caught him.