Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse (17 page)

He stood back briefly while she exited, returning moments later with an additional camp stool. He followed her into the tent then, and saw her seated in her folding chair before taking the stool himself.

“So Da sent you?” Leighton wondered. “Why? Or did he say?”

“Yes. We had some… concerns… about your, ah, emotional state. We did not wish you to fall into a melancholy over this whole very upsetting situation, so at your father’s urging, I popped ‘round to see about you.”

“Well,” she answered, and Watson thought the word sounded more like a sigh than anything else, “I suppose that’s a reasonable thing, for I am certainly embarrassed and discouraged by all of it.”

“Rest assured, anything you wish to confide in me will remain with me, and none other. I take my patients’ confidences VERY seriously.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” Leighton offered him a meagre, wistful smile. “Sherry has nothing but good to say of you, and he says you are a consummate gentleman.”

Surprised, Watson felt himself flush, and tucked his head slightly.

“He does me too much honour,” he murmured. “But if I may help, I shall.”

“May I ask you a few questions? About Sherry, and, and, things?”

“Certainly. If they do not violate his confidences as a friend, I will endeavour to answer you, if it will help.”

“All right. And no, I shan’t ask anything too private, I think. He is so intelligent, and he has never been anything but charming to me, even as a child. I can scarce credit it—but I credit even less that he could, or would, tell me a falsehood. So does he really plan to remain single for his whole life, as he said?”

“If he said so, I cannot gainsay it.”

“Come now, Doctor,” Leighton scolded. “Surely you hold his trust as much as I.”

“Well then… he does intend it,” Watson confirmed, relenting in light of the girl’s prior knowledge, obviously imparted by Holmes himself. “I do not really understand as yet why he feels it necessary, so I do not entirely agree with his decision, but then, it is not my decision to make.”

“But you are bosom friends,” she pointed out. “How is it that you, of all people, do not understand? Surely you would have discussed such a thing, would you not?”

“We are bosom friends, because we… connected, is perhaps a good word… relatively quickly after meeting,” Watson explained. “I hope you grasp my meaning in that. But we have not actually known each other that long, Holmes and I, not really. We met last year when we both went in search of decent, affordable lodgings in London, and decided a particular flat in Baker Street suited very nicely, if we shared the cost. A mutual friend, a medical dresser from St. Bart’s named Stamford, introduced us, rather fortuitously, we felt.”

“So you have scarcely known each other a year.”

“Just a bit over, actually. It was, if I recall correctly, late summer of last year when we were introduced, Holmes and I. The flat he had already found was to our liking; we leased it and moved in, and proved congenial companions. But he only took me into his confidence regarding his cases about six or seven months back. We have but grown closer as friends since then. So yes, I know of his decision, but… well, it is not an easy thing to discuss, as I’m sure you can fathom. Matters and mind-sets have to be just so, for the subject even to come up, let alone be considered in detail. And so I have insufficient understanding, as yet.”

“He does not have many friends…”

“No. He does not. Nor does he especially seek for any. But… I think he cherishes those he has, all the more, as a consequence.”

“Yes, he said as much.”

“And you are one of those friends, Miss Whitesell.”

Leighton nodded. “Yes, he said that, too.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend him, Doctor. I… he was special to me, from the moment I met him as a child, and, and you see, I…” Leighton broke off and sighed again. Suddenly the light broke for Watson.

“You had a case of calf love for him as a child, didn’t you?” he asked. She blushed a bright red.

“Well, I did. I… confessed it to him during our walk last night. But… he made it plain that, that it could never be… more than a childhood fantasy…” She raked a distracted hand over her face, tangling her fingers in the hair above her forehead; the action pulled several golden strands loose from her chignon, and they drifted across her cheek. Instinctively Watson reached up to tuck them behind her ear, and she looked up, meeting his eyes, as he did so. He froze for a split-second before withdrawing his hand.

“What shall I do, Dr. Watson?” Leighton asked, her voice soft.

“Are you asking me as a physician, or as a friend?” he wondered.

“You… would still consider being my friend, after what happened with Sherry?”

“It was no one’s fault that your respective feelings for each other were not mutual. And you have not parted in antagonism.”

“No…”

“Thus, if you are willing, yes, I should like to be your friend.”

Leighton nodded slowly.

“Yes, I think I would like that, as well.”

“So. Are you asking me as your physician, or as your friend?” he reiterated.

“Both, maybe.”

Watson leaned back, considering the situation. He well knew he would prefer more than simple friendship, but that more might not be forthcoming, and it would be unwise to throw away what he did have for what he might not get. Even more, he wanted to be careful to avoid violating her trust in him, her confidences, yet still find a way to help her out of her current doldrums. Finally he decided to ask a few more questions before making a recommendation.

“The other day, at Holmes’ suggestion, you came and worked at the hospital for a few hours.”

“Yes.”

“I… know I was a poor substitute for Holmes, who is the one you would have preferred to be with,” he added, “but you seemed to be interested in the work, and at dinner, you were rather enthusiastic…”

“You are no man’s ‘poor substitute,’ Doctor, and I am sorry I gave that impression,” Leighton remarked, somewhat shamefaced. “But yes, I had hoped to spend more time with Sherry, and I fear that made me petulant instead of appreciative. Please accept my sincere apologies.”

“No matter,” Watson waved away the apology. “I was not attempting to reproach you, but rather seeking information. Did you actually enjoy the work itself?”

“I did, yes.”

“Well, then. In lieu of sitting here staring into space, as you were when I found you just now, I think it might be better if you were to come to the infirmary and join my staff, at least for the time being. It will give you something to focus on, rather than pining, and I can assure you that the skills you will learn will be useful in future, no matter what comes.”

“But…” Leighton began.

“But what?”

“What if Landers, or, or Sherry, God forbid, should be hurt? I…”

“Would not be comfortable tending to them,” Watson finished her statement, understanding. “Trust me to take that into account, my dear. I will ensure you are not required to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.” He paused, then added, “I cannot speak for Mr. Phillips, of course. But I can readily tell you that Holmes regrets having to hurt you, and still desires your friendship. When you are ready,” he amended. She nodded.

“When I am ready,” she agreed. “I promise you, Doctor, I will not hold him off forever. Just until… I can forget the embarrassment of, of… oh, Doctor, of that whole dreadful evening.”

“Good. Yes, I understand, and so does he, for it was not especially enjoyable for him, either. And since we are friends now, I should like it very much if you would call me John,” Watson offered. “You must still call me ‘Doctor’ in the hospital, of course, but otherwise, if you like, you may use my Christian name.”

“I would like that… John,” she said with a shy smile. “Do you please call me Leighton, or Leigh, if you would prefer. My closest friends do.”

“Thank you, Leighton.” He returned her smile. “I think I shall refrain from the more familiar form of your name until we know each other a wee bit better.”

“That is fine, John. When do we need to go to the infirmary to begin work?”

“Well,” here Watson pulled out his pocket-watch to check the time, “formal hours do not begin for another, oh, half an hour yet. Morning hours are from ten until the noon luncheon bell; afternoon hours from after the siesta, or roughly 2pm, until the dinner warning bell. An emergency is dealt with whenever it comes up, of course, and you would be expected at hospital if and when one is announced. But if you would like, we can go now. There should be no one else there at this hour, as we currently have no overnight patients, and I can give you a little more of a beginning tutorial than you have yet received.”

“And maybe we can get to know each other a bit better, my new friend,” Leighton said, offering him another smile, her expression lightening.

Watson smiled again and offered his arm. She took it, and they left her tent, headed for the camp hospital.

* * *

At the infirmary, the pair started getting to know each other better, around Watson giving Leighton a much more thorough introduction to the medical equipment and techniques. Some fifteen minutes later, the rest of the hospital staff began arriving, and Watson formally introduced them.

“Leighton, this is my staff. You did not get to meet them properly the other day, and I should like to rectify that now. This is Sati, my orderly; Alimah, my emergency triage nurse; and Wahbiyah, my anaesthetist. All, this is Leighton Whitesell, the Professor’s daughter. She will be joining us to learn some nursing techniques. If you would all be so kind as to assist her in learning, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“It will be our honour,” Alimah said with a beatific smile, her white hair framing her dark face beautifully beneath her
hijab
.
44

“Sati,” Watson continued, “I would like for you to begin by showing Leighton where everything is. Leighton, we are all on a given-name basis here; I feel it makes for good morale.”

“Except for our greatly respected Doctor,” Wahbiyah said with a smile; she seemed not terribly much older than Leighton. “Dr. Watson is a good man, very kind and understanding.”

“He is the chief of staff,” Sati declared. He was a handsome man, dark-complected as all his fellow Egyptians, tall and slim, yet with a wiry strength which sometimes reminded Watson of Holmes himself. “We owe him our respect, if for no other reason. But he has also earned it, for he is obviously skilled and knowledgeable, and he is also very benevolent and thoughtful. Doctor, if you would be so good as to tell me what Leighton’s duties will be, I will keep that in mind when I work with her.”

“For now, Leighton will be responsible for stocking supplies, and laying them out on the surgical trays when needed,” Watson decreed. “I will add to those duties as she learns her way.”

“Very good,” Sati sketched a slight bow. “Miss Leighton, would you accompany me, please?”

As the two headed off, Watson put out a staying hand, putting the index finger of his other hand to his lips to indicate quiet, and gestured the two remaining women closer.

“Professor Whitesell has requested I try to keep his daughter’s spirits up,” he told them in a low tone. “She is interested in the work, and it will keep her mind occupied.”

“Ah, yes, I heard of the fight of last night,” Alimah murmured. “Most distressing for a girl of that age. So you would like us to help you maintain a cheery atmosphere in the infirmary.”

“Precisely,” Watson said in relief. “And, ah, should Mr. Phillips or Mr. Holmes come in, notify me right away, and if you can, divert Miss Leighton, until such time as I tell you otherwise.”

“Very good, sir,” Wahbiyah agreed.

“Let us go aid Sati, Wahbiyah,” Alimah said to the younger woman. “We can get to know Miss Leighton better in the doing.”

Watson watched in satisfaction as the two Muslim women moved to join the other two members of his staff.

* * *

The science team had moved one of the tables from the artefact tent to the outside, just in front of the door flaps, and spread out the maps, weighting the corners against vagrant breezes with convenient rocks.

“…So here is the layout of Wadi al Muluk,”
45
Whitesell said, running a hand over a map of the Valley of the Kings, “and here is the terrain of our own valley, or cañon, as Thomas here likes to term it.” He ran another hand over a topographic map of the area in which they stood.

“I’m not so sure it is Abwab al Muluk
46
we should be comparing it to, Will,” Nichols-Woodall suggested. “I’m inclined to think there is more similarity, at least geologically speaking, to Ta-Set-Neferu.”
47

“Possibly, possibly, Parker,” Whitesell murmured, studying the map of the Valley of the Queens, putting it alongside the other two. “Yes, I see your point. There is a certain similarity in the layout of the ridges and spurs. Yet, the Valley of the Queens is not so very different, really, from that of the Kings.”

“True,” Beaumont agreed. “So what are you suggesting,
mes amis
?”

“I think we should mark off the locations of the tombs from the known sites on the map of THIS site,” Whitesell proposed. “Then, Parker, you look to see what fits and what doesn’t, from a geologic perspective, and that may well tell us where the various pre-dynastic tombs are, here.”

“It seems a reasonable start,” Holmes decided.

“Agreed,” Nichols-Woodall assented. “Beaumont?”

“I concur,” the other archaeologist said. “It is, as Monsieur Holmes says, a good place to start.”

“Well, then, someone fetch the grease pens,” Whitesell ordered, “and let us get started.”

* * *

About half past ten that morning, Landers Phillips walked into the hospital tent, holding his nose and grimacing in pain. He walked right into Leighton Whitesell, who had her back to him, stacking fresh linens, before he knew what he was about. He looked up, startled, to see what he had run into, just as she spun in surprise.

“Leigh!” he exclaimed, and the other staff members spun likewise; Watson cursed under his breath. “What are you doing here?!”