Sherlock Holmes in 2012: TIMELESS DUEL (4 page)

“Perfect, Mr. Wells, absolutely perfect!”

“Does this mean you accept my proposal?” Wells asked, still amazed at Irene’s response and at her reaction all together.

“Of course, Mr. Wells, of course I accept. But we have-I mean I have-some work to do prior to my departure. First, I must ascertain the date and place of Sherlock’s landing, and then I must prepare myself for such a voyage-I could not possibly arrive in a strange land, in an even stranger time, in apparel such as the one I am wearing now.” Irene’s hand went from her dress-coat lapels to her hat. She smiled demurely at the thought..

As soon as Irene returned to her home and before she prepared to leave on the time machine the next day, she needed to call on the man who would be most interested in this latest development. She went upstairs to her private apartment, which was comprised of two separate rooms. The first was a small parlor, some sort of anteroom to the second-her bedchamber. She sat down at the desk and picked up the ear-piece from the telephone device.

“4-7-3 in Chelsea,” she said to the operator.

“Yes, Madame, I will connect you..”

In less than a minute the party was on the line.

“I must see you.,” Irene said, and listened to the response. “No. That’s too late. We must meet tonight..” She paused. “I cannot speak of this over the telephone, no..” After a few seconds, Irene nodded. “That will be perfect. Yes, I understand.” With these words, she replaced the ear-piece on its hook.

“The fool,” she muttered.

Irene then spent the next hour writing a couple of letters and telephoning two of her friends.

“No, it’s not that I do not wish to see you, Jean, I just need to have a rest-away from the city,” she said, smiling to herself while thinking of her next destination.

“How long will you be away then?” Jean de Reszke asked, his voice hardly concealing his disappointment.

“I supposed I should be returning by the middle of next week, why?”

“You ask why! My dearest love, I have been longing for you to return from Milan for weeks; do you realize how much distress your absence has caused me?”

Irene tittered. “Really, Jean, you should calm yourself. I should be back in no time at all. Since you must be used to my absence by now, I should think a few more days won’t make any difference, will it?”

“Do you know that you will drive me to drink? Your dismissal of my love for you is quite hurtful.”

“Please, leave the drama for our duets,” Irene replied airily. “Besides,
ce n’est qu’un au revoir,
Jean. I should be back soon as I said.”

“Alright then, I’ll abide by your wishes and wait for your return once again.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.,” Irene said as she was about to end their conversation, “Did Mr. Wells tell you why he wanted my address when he telephoned you?”

“Well, no; he just said that he would want to send you some flowers or some such thing.. Why, did he contact you?”

“No, not really,” Irene lied, wanting to leave no trace or thought of her meeting with Wells in the mind of the people she intended to leave behind tomorrow. “Perhaps, he will show at my door or send a message later-it’s not of any importance at this point in any case.”

Following a few parting words, Irene replaced the earpiece once again on the hook, took her address book and leafed through its pages quickly, and placed another call. This time it was to her secretary-the person who would need to fend off all of the people who would be either calling on her, querying the reasons for her renewed absence, or those who would be expecting to see her the next Saturday at her party.

“Ah, Hilda, my dear, how are you?” Irene said as soon as she heard the voice of her secretary.

“As well as can be expected, Madame, thank you; a little tired from the travel, that’s all. And I am very glad that you telephoned me; I was just reviewing the schedule.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.. Actually, I was telephoning you to advise you that I will be away for the better part of the week if not longer.”

“Oh but, Madame,” Hilda interrupted, “You have so many engagements.”

“No-no, I don’t. I need to get away from here, Hilda, or I will be going quite insane!” Irene practically hollered. If her friend Jean was the dramaturge par excellence, Irene wasn’t far behind-she could be as flamboyant or as seemingly distressed as the next Diva.

“Very well, Madame,” Hilda replied resignedly. “And may I ask when you will be returning?”

“Of course, you may ask, but I do not think you will appreciate my answer-that is to say, I have no idea when I shall be back. So, I suggest you leave all of these engagements waiting for my return, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well, Madame. I gather then that you will be incommunicado for some days?”

“Yes, you gathered correctly indeed.”

When Irene hung up, she exhaled a breath. “My dear Sherlock,” she said aloud, “What on earth made you do such a foolish, foolish thing?”
If only you had waited for my return....

However now was not the time for rueful thoughts orrecrimination; it was the time for preparation.

Next, Irene called her parlor maid, Cynthia. Gladly, Irene had retrieved the note Wells had left for her before she returned home, but now she needed to stave off any and all speculations from Cynthia’s inquisitive mind.

As soon as the maid showed up at the door of Irene’s parlor, she noticed her impatience-somehow Cynthia appeared to be expecting something sensational-
if that’s the case,
Irene thought,
the little maiden will be satisfied.

“Come in, my dear, come in,” Irene said, turning her head from the papers on her desk. “I should be glad if you would sort out riding britches from my wardrobe and three or four dresses to wear on country outings-very light ones-if you wouldn’t mind?”

“As you wish, Madame,” Cynthia replied, already on her way to Irene’s bedchamber. “Would Madame prefer a valise or a trunk to travel to the country?”

“I should like you to pack the garments in my sea-trunk.” Irene got up and followed the maid to her bedroom. “Once you have packed the luggage, you may ask Henry to send it on to the consigned baggage department at the docks in Dover-I will confirm the arrangements with him when I will have made the reservation for my passage to Athens.”

That last sentence stopped Cynthia instantly. She turned around and looked at her mistress, astonished. “You mean, Athens as in Greece, Madame?”

“Unless there is another Athens somewhere else in the world of which I know nothing about, yes, this is where I intend to travel next.” Irene took the pair of britches Cynthia had already laid on the bed. “This one”—she pointed at the outfit—”I will wear tomorrow morning when I go for a ride with my country friends.”

Meanwhile, Cynthia had not moved an inch and was still staring at her mistress.

“Well, do get on, girl.,” Irene said, going to the wardrobe. “What is the matter with you?”

“But, Madame, Athens is where my brother should be.,” Cynthia uttered. “He’s still missing.”

“I know that, Cynthia, and that’s perhaps one of the reasons I am intending to go and visit your mother.”

“Oh, but Madame, Moma lives in Mikonos-on the island,” Cynthia said, returning to her task now.

“All the better,” Irene said distractedly. “If you give me directions, I will be most pleased to pay her a visit.”

A broad smile illuminated Cynthia’s face when she said, “Oh that would be wonderful! Thank you, Madame, thank you!”

Irene only smiled and continued sorting through her dresses.

When the chimes of her clock announced the approaching hour of ten o’clock in the evening, Irene swung her cape over her shoulders, made her way down the stairs and exited her now quiet house. She went down the path adjacent to the row of houses lining the street and leading to the park. She had traveled this way many a time and still did so when her assistance in serious underworld matters was required. However, Irene’s involvement in such matters was somewhat limited to sate one of her strongest desires-beat Sherlock Holmes at his own game. Holmes was a master detective with endless resources at hand, such as Scotland Yard, and his brother, Mycroft, occupying a post in government was not of negligible service either. Yet, Irene had powers-that-be-perhaps as influential as these others-to assist her in her covert endeavors.

As soon as she reached the bench, well shaded from view by day or night, Irene sat down and waited for her contact to come to her. She was a few minutes early, so she was not surprised not to see the man yet. However, when the pealing of the bells in the nearby church resounded the quarter past the hour, Irene began to worry. She instantly reviewed the events that had led her to be sitting on that bench and could not see where she would have made a mistake anywhere. She had advised three people of her intended departure and the two people she had telephoned were beyond suspicion as far as she knew. As for telling Cynthia about going to Greece, Irene thought there could not be any better blabber-mouth to divert all unwanted attention onto a trail that would lead nowhere. Lost in such thought, Irene didn’t notice the two men approach the bench, nor had she noticed the carriage that had pulled in the laneway.

She just had time to lift her gaze to one of the men and see the white handkerchief he placed on her mouth and nose before passing out.

Chapter Three
 

Irene Adler
 

Finding the house empty, Watson telephones Mycroft Holmes and learns of Sherlock’s government assignment to parts unknown. Knowing how interested his brother is in time travel, Mycroft fears the worst but does not divulge his contention to Watson. Having abducted her and obtained the information he sought from Irene Adler, Mycroft’s suspicions are confirmed.

The man woke up, his body lying under a tree, aching all over. He looked around, sat up, brushed his coat and passed his hand through his blond hair. He had been knocked down and now only remembered entering the park ... and then nothing. He heard the bell of the church pealing eleven o’clock and began to worry. Although feeling a little dizzy from the bump on his head, he looked around him to get his bearings. He made his way to the bench and sat on it. He put his head in his hands, and elbows on his knees he swore under his breath. Who could have known about their meeting? “The wench must have talked,” he muttered under his breath.

Having regained a bit of his strength, the man got up and rushed out of the park. He was in no way looking forward to reporting this incident to the professor.
He’d still be waiting for me and when I tell him what’s happened, it’ll be the death of me,
he thought.

When Mrs. Hudson opened the door to Dr. Watson three days after Sherlock had departed for parts unknown, Watson saw his answer deepening the lines of her face. “He hasn’t returned then?” he asked superfluously.

“No, Dr. Watson, he hasn’t, I’m sorry to say.”

Watson walked in the hallway while Mrs. Hudson closed the front door. “Would you mind if I took a brief look around his room; it would perhaps tell us something about his whereabouts at this time-or his intentions?”

“By all means, Doctor. You know him better than anyone, I should think, and if you should find an answer as to where Mr. Holmes has gone, all the better.”

Something in what Mrs. Hudson had said just then had caught Watson’s attention. He hung his hat and cane on the portmanteau and made his way up the stairs.

“I’ll bring you some tea, if you like,” Mrs. Hudson called after him before he reached the upper landing.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that would be welcome-a cup of tea always warms one’s heart to the task at hand,” Watson replied from over his shoulder.

As soon as he reached Holmes’s table, Watson rummaged through the papers and folders. When he found what he was looking for, he looked through the notebook anxiously until he stopped at the page where Holmes had recorded the telephone number he wanted.

Mrs. Hudson entered the room at that moment, a tray with a teapot and a cup in her hands.

“Ah, Mrs. Hudson., thank you,” Watson said to her, taking the tray from her and depositing it on the table. “Would you mind if I used your telephone?” he asked then.

Looking up at him a bit surprised, Mrs. Hudson replied, “Of course not., come with me; I’ll show you where it is.” As the two of them went down to the landlady’s apartment, she added, “Is there someone you know to telephone and who would know where Mr. Holmes has gone?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I believe the person I am about to telephone will be able to answer our query readily enough.”

They went through Mrs. Hudson’s parlor and she stretched an arm toward the device sitting on her desk. “Please, Doctor, have a seat”—she indicated the chair beside the table—”I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need me,” and walked away through the door.

Watson sat down, picked up the ear-piece and waited for the operator to answer the call.

“Yes, Miss.,” Watson said hesitantly, “I would like you to connect me with Mr. Mycroft Holmes at the Ministry of Defense.”

“Right away, sir., and who should I say is calling?”

“Doctor Watson.”

He waited somewhat impatiently until he heard the familiar voice saying, “Ah, my dear Doctor, what an unexpected and pleasant surprise to hear from you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Watson replied, “however, I don’t know if you will qualify this conversation as pleasant once you have heard what I am about to tell you.”

“Let me interrupt you, Doctor, if I may. You are worried about my brother, is that correct?”

“Yes., but may I ask how you know this?”

“I make my business to know such things, Doctor. And for now, although I cannot speak of the matter clearly, I suggest that you rest assured that my brother has not come to harm and that he will return in his own due time.”

“Am I to assume that you know where he is then?”

“You may assume so, Doctor, but since this affair is to be kept absolutely confidential, and of the utmost importance to our nation, I cannot divulge where Sherlock is at present, or can I tell you when he is likely to return.”

“Very well then.,” Watson said, on the one hand relieved to know Holmes was alive and well, and on the other querying the fact that Mycroft was not prepared to make light of his expected date of return. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes.. Shall I tell Mrs. Hudson?”

“You may indeed assure Mrs. Hudson that my brother will return to his lodging in due course, yes. However, you may also tell her that I will be taking care of paying the rent on Sherlock’s apartment.”

“You mean you will assume rental remittances on the premises.?” Watson could not disguise the surprise from his voice. This meant that Holmes would be gone for months probably. What’s more, Watson had never heard of Mycroft taking care of such matters in all the years he had known the brothers. This must be indeed a very serious matter for Mycroft to extend his involvement so far into it.

“Yes, Doctor, that is what I said. And now, you will have to excuse me, but duty calls and I must end this conversation, I am afraid.”

“Yes, yes, of course, sir. I am sorry to have taken so much of your time.”

Mycroft chortled. “No bother at all, Doctor. I shall speak to you again, I’m sure.”

“Good day, Mr. Holmes, and thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Doctor, it was a pleasure..”

Watson replaced the ear-piece slowly on the hook, and looked up at Mrs. Hudson who had been standing in the doorway of her kitchen for the most part of the conversation. Her face betrayed her amazement when she said, “Mr. Holmes is gone for good, isn’t he?”

Watson shook and lowered his head. “Not for good, Mrs. Hudson. For a long time perhaps, but not
for good,
no.”

“Did I hear correctly that Mr. Mycroft is going to assume rental payments on his brother’s rooms?”

Watson nodded. “I should expect the reason being that Mr. Holmes doesn’t want his brother’s papers or belongings disturbed in any way during his absence-however long that absence may be.” He got up from the chair, walked toward the door and added, “I will have that tea upstairs, Mrs. Hudson, and perhaps try to find some indication as to where Holmes has been assigned.”

“You mean Mr. Holmes is gone on another of the government’s affairs?” the landlady asked, following Watson to the door.

“Yes, that’s precisely what I meant. Mr. Holmes was quite adamant on the point; he wants no one to speak of his brother’s sudden departure.” Turning from the first two steps, Watson looked down at the elderly lady. She appeared dumfounded. “And don’t worry yourself needlessly, my dear lady, I shall be coming by from time to time to have tea with you..”

Mrs. Hudson retrieved a handkerchief from her apron pocket and put it to her mouth-her eyes wet with tears. “Why won’t they leave the poor man alone,” she managed to say.

“I wish I knew, Mrs. Hudson, I wish I knew.”

“Ah, David-finally! Where have you been?” Professor Moriarty bellowed as soon as he set eyes on the young man. “Come on, man..” He grabbed his prey by the front of his shirt and brought his face close to his. “What did she tell you?” Moriarty pushed the blighter roughly away-so roughly that the man landed on the sofa behind him.

“I didn’t see her, sir.., I swear, she wasn’t there.”

“Not there, you say? How could that be?” Moriarty went to tower over the wretched fellow. “And it takes you all this time to report to me?” he hollered, bending down close to David’s face. “Did you go and have a pint on the way back?” He paused, staring into the man’s eyes. “You better tell me what happened and soon, before I send you to hell at this very minute.”

Perspiring profusely now, David sat up. “Well, sir, it’s like I said; I got to the park like I do all the time, and when I was about a couple of paces in, somebody hit me on the head and it was all black after that..” He looked up at his tormentor, fearing what would be coming next. The professor didn’t suffer failure very well.

“And what happened after you were clobbered-besides fainting from the blow like a woman?” Moriarty demanded.

“Well., when I woke up, I gone to the bench and Miss Adler had gone; I mean I don’t know that she’d been there at all.”

Moriarty harrumphed and straightened up. “Get out of here!” He shouted, brandishing his cane in the direction of the door. “And don’t ever come back!”

Not daring to ask for his stipend, the man scurried to the door and in a moment was gone.

Moriarty then went to sit in a large chair by the fireplace, pondering. Irene’s disappearance..
or perhaps she never showed up,
he thought. Maybe this call for a meeting was just a diversion to send him on a blurred trail. Or the wench had devised a plan to escape his scrutiny. “But why? Why would she do that?” Moriarty yelled out loud, frustrated.
Maybe she decided to go to some place to chase Sherlock somewhere...?”

Getting up he called-hollered-for his footman. When the tall fellow appeared at the door of Moriarty’s study, impeccably dressed as usual, the professor said, “James. I want you to go to Miss Adler’s home and get friendly with who ever among the household help and see if you can ferret out information about Miss Adler’s next trip.”

“Very well, sir,” James replied and then hesitated. “Would you want me to wait until morning, sir? My going there in the middle of the night might arouse suspicion.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But go at first light. It is most important that I know what the woman is planning.”

Irene woke up lying on a chaise-longue in what seemed to be some sort of study. She looked around, but could not recognize any of the objects or pieces of furniture decorating the place. She sat up and suddenly realized that the movement had ignited a tremendous headache in her troubled brain. She pushed her cowl back and lifted her gaze to find Mycroft Holmes handing her a glass of water.

“Drink this, my dear, it will relieve the headache some,”

he said.

Irene, not wanting to show her surprise, took the glass and emptied it in one long swallow. “Why on earth did you abduct me, Mycroft? You could have as easily telephoned me or come calling to my residence if you so longed for my company.”

“Yes, you are absolutely correct, and were it not for your intention to meet with your unsavory partner at that hour of the night, I would have done so.”

“How did you know I was meeting anyone at anytime?” Irene queried, curious to know whether Mycroft had been observing her movements for some time.

“When it comes to you and my brother, I make my business to know everything that could eventually present me with a problem.”

“A problem? And what problem would that be?”

“The fact that my brother has disappeared from his lodging for three days now-that presents a problem for me. And the fact that you have contacted Mr. Wells-that also presents a problem, my dear.”

“Does it now?”

“Absolutely! What’s more, I had no intention of letting you divulge your plans to follow Sherlock anywhere to anyone.”

“But I am not following Sherlock anywhere., I can assure you.”

“You may be very good at some games, Miss Adler, but when it comes to lying-or should I say trying to hide the truth from Sherlock or me-you are not doing a very good job of it.”

“But what makes you so sure that I know where Sherlock is at the moment?”

“Because, my dear, you left a trail of deceitful information in your wake whilst preparing your departure tomorrow in the time machine.”

“How would you know this?” Irene asked, flabbergasted. “Have you spoken to Mr. Wells?”

“No need to bother the man at this point. He is the subject of the latest reports in the news and hounded by journalists-which would present another problem for me if I were to intervene.”

Irene rose to her feet. “Well then, what do you propose I do at this point?”

“I will have my carriage take you home, and then tomorrow morning you will go to your appointment with Mr. Wells, as planned.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, my dear, that’s it for now. However, should you attempt to contact anyone between now and then; I will make sure that you do not see another day. Oh., one more thing-when you reach your destination..”

Mycroft’s next request was nothing short of amazing.

Irene stared, wordless. When she had recovered from the shock, she nodded and left the house, in company of My-croft’s coachman without another word.

At the appointed time, the next morning, Irene Adler presented herself at Wells’s home. Upon opening the door, Mrs. Cartridge let out a gasp. “My, my, Miss Adler, what could be the purpose of you wearing such an attire?”

“Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. Cartridge,” Irene replied, entering the foyer, “A dress would be much too cumbersome for my scheduled journey.”

“I dare say, Miss Adler., but do come in, my dear. Mr. Wells will be down from his rooms any moment now. I’ll see you into the lounge room where you will be more comfortable..” Mrs. Cartridge closed the door and led Irene where Holmes and Watson had met Wells four long days ago now.