Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (8 page)

Holmes paced about, obviously agitated. “Curse our lateness! I had a notion that we may miss the last ferry departure but I had to try. The evening London traffic was our downfall...We must leave tonight Watson! Any delay now could cause us considerable problems later.” He looked about at all the ships moored in the harbor. “Perhaps we will be able to gain passage on a commercial vessel taking cargo across to France. Many depart at these late hours to avoid the congestion on the Channel so our chances are rather good. But which of these ships is soon to leave?”

“Many of the crewmen from these moored ships can be found at these waterfront pubs.” Watson explained as he pointed to the commercial hub of the wharf slightly lit within the fog bank. “Perhaps we can enquire if any ships are sailing tonight directly from the sailors who service them.”

“Good idea Watson! Most of the pubs lay over on Seaweed Lane or Packers Row, which are over this way near the wharves. Shall we go for a pint?”

A cool draft whipped around them as they wandered through the labyrinth like alleys and lanes of the waterfront district. The ceaseless sounds of waves lapping against the wharf set a hypnotic rhythm, and the fog, creeping in low and thick, added to the already eerie atmosphere. Scents of brine, salt and sewage drifted on the breeze as rats scurried out from behind barrels and into torn sacks.

The companions approach a pub named the Sea Wolf, a waterfront tavern of little repute. Its cracked weathered sign swayed on creaking rusted hinges in the ocean breeze. Muffled sounds of music and laughter escaped the slightly open front door from inside and trails of thick tobacco smoke curled outward. A popular establishment with locals and visiting sailors alike for the cheap ale and rotund barmaids offered within, Holmes is sure the patrons of the Sea Wolf will be able to offer up the information they are looking for.

The pair were about to enter the front door when suddenly distracted by some raucous noise nearby, the crashing of overturned crates and raised voices drew their attention over.

Down a misty alley they noticed a couple of larger toughs beating up on much smaller man, the victim was clearly being overpowered by his attackers. The smaller man was on the ground covering his head in a vain attempt to shield the multiple blows being rained down upon him. The larger toughs were assailing him with verbal taunts as well as kicks and punches.

“Go ‘ome to ya country ya darkie! We no wants ya

‘ere, you is not welcomed !! Take yo’ rag head back to da desert!” they barked.

Holmes and Watson cried out and moved forward into the alley while waving their walking canes in the air. The low light and swirling mist lent a menacing silhouette to their obscured approaching forms. The startled toughs stopped what they were doing and fled in the opposite direction, leaving behind a curled up body groaning on the ground.

“Watson! Your services are needed!” Holmes stated as he rushed over to aid the stricken man.

The victim was moaning lightly and although pretty bashed up, is conscious and able to speak.

“Salaam effendi.” he said. “Thank you sirs for your assistance, you are much too kind to help a stranger. Without your intervention I would surely have been in a bad state.” the man acknowledged as Watson carefully helped him to his feet. “I was on my way back to ship, as we depart across the Channel in an hour or so, and my tasks needed tending before we set off.”

The man, now standing on his own, was a smallish framed, brown skinned fellow of middle age and foreign caste, his dark hair, well-trimmed beard and hooked nose noted most probably of an Arabic background. Of course one could not mistake the accent which colored his speech as one originating from the Middle Eastern part of the world. His turban covered head was the only cultural garb he wore; otherwise he was dressed in the typical uniform of a boatman. He introduced himself as Hassan.

“I was actually coming to the Sea Wolf pub to collect my fellow shipmates for our journey, we depart soon and our captain wishes all hands on deck” he continued. “I was not a few lanes away when I heard some voices behind me approaching in the shadows. Two drunken louts accosted me with their foul insults, they were not pleased that I was a Muslim from foreign lands and wanted to let me know of it. Unfortunately I encounter this behavior much too frequently and have since learned the best thing to do is avoid any confrontation by simply ignoring it. I attempted to walk on, but they followed close behind, taunting me. After they realized that racial slurs were getting them nowhere they decided to lay a heavy beating on me. Things were going rather badly until you both showed up to save me from a certain fate, thank you so much, I am in forever in your debt.” he added with a low bow.

“Think nothing of it good sir,” replied Watson. “It is we who thank you for your tolerance and apologize for the few of our racial group that hold such biased and twisted hatred towards others, it surly taints the majority of those who uphold society and its beliefs. In my opinion there is no place for bigotry, sexism or religious discrimination on this planet. We are all God’s children are we not, no matter by what name we call him? All brothers and sisters in this family we call humanity.”

“Well said Watson. A more profound sentiment could not have been spoken,” Holmes noted.

Hassan agreed with a nod. He stood taller afterwards, straighter, with a wide smile that framed his stark white teeth.

Afterwards, the Baker Street duo offered to escort him back to his ship in case the ruffians returned to finish what they had started.

On the way Holmes explained to their Muslim companion of their desire to cross the Channel that evening. Hassan replied that the ship he crewed is actually departing in an hour or so for Le Havre, France, and although it was not their original destination of Calais the duo aimed for, it was still on the other side of the Channel. Perhaps his captain would grant them a berth on the ship.

“He is a greedy man Mr. Holmes, but a decent man.” Hassan added. “I’m sure he would take you on for some form of payment. I will ask him to grant you passage.”

The trio then wandered off into the thickening mist.

Across The Channel

They soon arrived at a berthed cargo vessel, a twin stacked steamer by the name Aurora out of Cypress, carrying a full hold of hemp rope coils and fabric rolls destined for the European continent. Holmes and Watson were escorted up the gangplank and into the Captain’s quarters by Hassan and the few deckhands he had collected at the Sea Wolf pub.

“What ‘appened to you Hassan? Did ya walk into a wall again?” Bellowed the Captain with a hearty laugh when he noticed his crewman’s battered and bruised face. “Or was it dem rat bastards again as we see in most western ports? Always looking fo trouble with my exotic sailors those damn haters are!”

Captain Biggs was as large in voice as he was in physique. He stood about six foot, six inches tall and weighed at least 250 pounds. With scruffy black beard and multiple nautical themed tattoos he fit well the typical image of a ship captain. He was also doused in the popular cologne of the seaman: gin, and it wafted off him in waves.

After recounting his tale, and painting them as quite the heroes, Hassan convinced the somewhat shady Captain Biggs to take the Baker Street companions on board.

“As you were kind to my crewman Hassan ‘ere, comin’ to ‘is rescue one could say. I guess I got mind to return a favor to ya, for a modest price of course,” Biggs added with a wink. Hassan here will show you to yer cabin, per’aps you will meet me in the state room for a drink laters after we depart, we will discuss payment options then.”

And on that remark Holmes and Watson were led below deck to stow their belongings and freshen up, thankful of the luck that had befallen them in so easily gaining transport across the Channel.

A little less than an hour later the engines were started, secure lines cast off, and anchors drawn up as the Aurora departed into the misty night toward the coast of France only a few hours voyage away.

Shortly after, the detective and the doctor were enjoying a brandy and some tobacco in the state room with the Captain. The ship rose and sank with the light waves as Biggs recounted one of his many tall sea tales. All laughed and joked, the atmosphere was jovial and relaxed, and Holmes and Watson finally were able to rest after a very hectic day of running about London.

Later, while secured in one of the small personal berths on the ship, Holmes conveyed to Watson the contents of Harper’s journal as he had discovered so far: the Count, this Lebda fellow, had called upon Professor Harper to translate some ancient texts provided by him, as well as certain sections of the Necronomicon, notably rituals, and ceremonies on summation. There are very few copies of that tome in this world, so the proximity and ease of access afforded to Harper, as well as his background in occult studies, made him the perfect choice to do the groundwork.

The meticulous translation work shown in the journal proved it was no easy task, with many language systems seemingly incorporating from the one more ancient. The older language is obviously the root to the rest, and based on the history of those subsequent dialects, the original language is ancient indeed. Ruins, glyphs and symbols also needed to be identified and deciphered.

Some of the older geographic maps provided by the Count had been updated by Harper in respect to place names and topography. Ancient cities and towns, some now long wiped from the face of the earth, have been re-labeled, marked, or updated. The majority of which are situated in Germany, France, and Spain, with a few located on the British isles. Of more specific note the city of Bad Münster in Germany, just west of Frankfurt, had been mentioned several times and a red check mark placed besides.

The journal also contained crude drawings of an artifact of great interest, named the ‘Eye of the Watcher’ also referred to sometimes as the ‘Key’ or ‘Gate’. This seems to be the main focus of Harper’s research, as the location of this

‘Eye’ relic was a priority for Lebda, and Harper may have known its possible location.

According to Harper’s description, the ‘Eye’ is a circular gem with multiple facets, pitch black in color, and as dark as the void. It is noted though that on certain occasions the gem pulses with a strange light that glows and swirls within its center, the cause of this is uncertain, but it is possible this is related to some astronomical phenomenon. The gem itself is surrounded by a border of metallic material that runs around its circumference about four inches wide. Along this border area are multiple lines of ruins and symbols of obvious ancient origin, very similar to those found on some of Harper’s ancient maps and documents. A rough translation of this script is included with the drawing: “Behind the Eye the Watcher stares, on the threshold it waits.” And on the opposite face; “When the Eye returns to its Face, the Watcher will See once more. All it Sees it will take.”

“This is the item that Count Lebda seems to be concerned with Watson.” Holmes pointed out. “He has enlisted the aid of Professor Harper to narrow down the location of where this artifact may be so he can obtain it. Harper had extensive knowledge of these historic objects through his pagan studies, his knowledge of the Crusades and via access to the Necronomicon. I am sure that Lebda tried unsuccessfully to find the ‘Eye’ himself and failing on his own, he turned to Harper for aid. What the nature of this artifact is and what so-called abilities it holds are still unknown to me. Although reference to it was made a few times within that dread tome and other notes, its use is vague. It is mentioned in the Necronomicon that the ‘Eye’ possesses some dark powers and is a necessary element to fulfill certain occult ceremonies, I must agree and assume its use will be to facilitate some strange heathen ritual, although I do not understand the science behind it.”

“Perhaps science is not related Holmes. Maybe this is beyond our realm of knowledge, something alien and inexplicable.” Watson noted dryly.

“It is possible that you are correct in that statement and that no worldly rules apply, but I must remain steadfast that we will be able to solve this mystery using traditional methods. They have never failed me in the past and should suffice for the present.”

Although somewhat skeptical, the doctor kept faith in his friend’s incredible sleuthing abilities to pull them through. If anyone can succeed against insurmountable odds it was Sherlock Holmes.

The detective continued to expand on the journal’s contents as Watson listened attentively. They included vague notes concerning the actual ‘Watcher’ mentioned on the inscription, with associated names and descriptions of who or what may actually be this entity; Shub-Niggurath - ‘The black goat of the woods’, and Cthulhu - ‘A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings.’ are listed with question marks beside them, but a large red circle and a check mark most probably indicate that the name Cthuga – ‘An enormous burning mass continually varying in shape and consistency.’ is of great import, and may be the ‘Watcher’ in question or related to it in some way.

The quote, “That is not dead which can eternal lie. Yet with strange aeons even death may die.” Is written in the journal above the heading: RITUAL, under which is noted the stages of a complex pagan ritual, a listing of ceremonial chants in foreign tongues and a few notes on protection wards and the objects needed to create them (the velvet wrapped black charcoal Holmes pilfered earlier is listed).