Chapter 6
A week later
That same night, Yon returned home a little early and planned to spend some time with the detective. He knew things had been rocky between them lately, so he wanted to try and fix them. Or at least try to bury the hatchet. He bought a bottle of champagne and something good to eat. He hoped it would soften Sherlock. He walked into the living room, which was largely the same location as Sherlock, passing one of the homeless. He wrinkled his nose in the process. How he didn't like them. They were dirty, they smelled incredibly bad, and only God knew what diseases they had. They were like human rats. Sherlock was just adding something to the wall when the doctor came in.
„You're home early today,” Sherlock said sarcastically.
„Is there something wrong?” asked Yon.
„Not at all. Just pure curiosity. That's all,” he replied, going to get his coat.
„Heading somewhere?” he asked, trying not to show the disappointment in his voice.
„Where every Tuesday.”
„Oh, and isn't there a chance of inviting you for a glass of champagne instead?” he suggested.
„Shouldn't you save it for Mary?” he asked venomously.
„Come on. We're still friends, aren't we?”
„Friends? Is this how we've been all this time? Suit yourself,” he replied angrily, heading for the door.
„What's the big deal? You never showed any initiative!” he barred the exit.
„Maybe because you never planned to stay,” he countered.
„So it's my fault? You never admit to a mistake, do you?”
„You're the one who keeps telling me you don't have time, that you have to go to Mary's and that you're going to be moving for good soon.”
„I'm still here, aren't I? Come on, old boy. Do you really want to fight all the time? Shall we put this behind us like two normal adults?” he tried.
„They call me cold... but you? First, the holding hands. Then the kiss. And finally, a knife in the back. Excellent work, Watson,” and crossed the room. Yon followed. The words hurt his heart, but they also made him angry because they were absolutely true. But then again, he's been trying so hard all along.
„Maybe because I didn't know if you felt the same way. You never said anything to that,” he said.
„Then obviously we were both equally blind.”
„Probably,” he sighed, looking at the giant web forming on the wall.
„If my memory serves me right, you made it very clear to me last time that the Blackwood case was our last and that you're not going to help me any more.”
„Yes, but I'm still interested.”
„Save your interest for someone who cares. I won't be home today. You can attend to Mary,” he replied tartly, emphasizing expletive before taking the moment to slip out of the apartment. He locked the door behind him and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He felt as if his mind had been foggy all along, and only now were those dark clouds scattering.
He lit his pipe and started walking. He had no idea where he was headed. He wanted to wander through London, but he couldn't really distract himself. The pipe and watching the surroundings didn't help at all. So he decided to change. Something that will put him in a different mind at 100%. And he knew exactly where he was going to do it.
An hour later he was at the club where he had first left Watson a note suggesting a meeting. He stood inside the circular arena, with men cheering around him, and one particularly large man standing across from him. The man attempted to surprise Sherlock with a fake lunge and subsequently attempted to land a right hook. The detective evaded expertly, landing a harmless blow on his opponent that threw him off balance. The crowd cheered. All of which made him feel easily carried away by the mood and the adrenaline.
Sherlock looked around proudly and saw a familiar face over his shoulder. Not the face of someone he knew personally, but the face he had imprinted on his memory the first time he had seen the photograph. Thomas Sharpe himself was standing a few yards from the bar. He was talking to a well-dressed man and a bartender, who handed him a small note. The baronet examined the note, thanked them, then glanced the detective's way for a moment. And for that fleeting moment, their eyes met.
Holmes was distracted by his opponent, who spat on his shoulder to get his attention. The detective rolled his eyes, and in the few seconds he turned to look at him, he devised or rather deduced, the perfect strategy to defeat the ruffian. And as the icing on the cake, how to breaks his jaw, eliminating his ability to spit on someone else's shoulder.
Stunned, the Baronet watched the brief battle, which lasted barely two minutes, and smiled mysteriously. In all his life, he could say he'd only seen two men, including the one in this small arena, win a duel this quickly. And on top of that, this man didn't need as much muscle as the man did in his mind. He walked over to the bar, said something to the bartender, and gave the detective one last look with his mysterious smile before walking away.
As soon as the fight was over, Sherlock leapt over the fence that divided the arena from the rest of the establishment, trying to break through the disappointed men who had made the wrong bet to where the baronet had originally stood. Of course, his target was gone. He could only have foreseen it happening. He went over to the bartender's, to collect his share of the bets, even though the bartender handed him an extra bottle of Scotch.
„A gift from a gentleman,” he said dispassionately.
„Really? And could you, just between you and me, I don't know, tell me what was on that note you gave to that certain gentleman?” he asked, leaning against the corner of the bar.
„I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied, eyeing him. He could fight very well for such a midget. The bartender thought.
„And would you remember for half my bet?” he asked, splitting his earnings in half. The bartender took the money and hid it in his vest before removing a small business card from a drawer. The same paper he gave the baronet.
„I gave him this. He says he needs money for a machine. He plans to go to a meeting tomorrow. He also said he wanted to be among the first to go. That's all. Then he just watched the game. I tell you, he didn't take his eyes off you,” and handed him the note.
„You see, it wasn't all that hard. If anyone's looking for me, I'm upstairs,” he gulped from his bottle and went to the loft above the club, which no one but him went to. In fact, he was the only one, other than the bartender and Watson, who had a key from there. There he set about planning his next steps to uncover the mysterious baronet.
The following morning, Sherlock had been awake since 6:30 a.m. He spent all last night adjusting the silencer so he wouldn't go to the meeting empty-handed. He put on a better jacket and went to City Hall. There he waited an hour before opening. Subtly propped against a pillar where everyone simply overlooked him, but he himself had a perfect grasp of everything.
An hour later, the baronet arrived. He walked past the detective and stepped into a slowly forming line. As soon as he passed, Sherlock came out of his hiding place and stood behind Thomas.
„Hmm, I hope the council will help. I think they might be impressed. It's just a prototype...” he began to talk under his breath to himself, looking at the extra plans from the silencer on the gun. He spoke loud enough for the baronet to hear. He wanted to talk to him, but he also wanted it to be a casual conversation. There was no way this was going to look like an interrogation. And his plan, as usual, succeeded. The Baronet turned slightly at first to hear better, then turned to the detective entirely with a shy to nervous smile.
„Excuse me, if I may be curious, what can they help you with?" the baronet asked.
„Nothing interesting...” and looked at Thomas as if he hadn't planned the whole thing from the start. „I'd like to ask for a small loan. I hope they're interested. You know, I'm trying to invent an ingenious device that can muffle a gun. Foolish, isn't it?” he asked, a slight smile on his lips.
„Not at all,” he assured him. It's like he thinks it's completely stupid and he shouldn't even mention it in public.
„Really?” he asked with interest.
„Yes. Actually, I'm here for the same reason you are. Though I have nothing to do with guns,” he explained.
„And what kind of device is that? Unless it's secret.”
„No, not at all. At Allerdale Hall, where I live there is a clay mine which, until 1796, supplied the purest red clay. The one in liquid form is so dense and pliable that it can produce the most solid bricks and tiles. Over-exploitation over several years caused most of our deposits to collapse. That's why I invented this dirt collector,” he opened his briefcase and showed the detective a miniature of said the machine. „This machine pulls dirt up and drills deep. I'm sure this machine will revolutionize mining. But I don't have enough funding to finish it yet,” he said despondently.
Sherlock had to admit that the machine was very innovative. „I trust you will convince the council as well as you have just convinced me,” the detective said.
„I hope so,” he said, smiling the kind of charming smile that made Sherlock's breath come out of his mouth.
„Allerdale Hall, that's not too close,” he suggested.
„Not much. About an hour and a half to London. And if the weather's bad, it's almost impossible to get there.”
„That sounds unreal.”
„It is. But home is home. The only thing my parents left me and my sister,” he replied despondently.
„I'm sorry,” he said automatically.
„It's all right. Nothing that time can no longer solve.”
„Oh, and after this meeting do you go home, or do you get a taste of London?” he asked in a more cheerful tone.
„I'll stay here for a while. There's a ball here tonight that my sister and I are invited to and unfortunately that I can't refuse.”
„Unfortunately?” one eyebrow arched.
„Yes. You know, those things aren't for me. I'd rather go to my machine.”
„That's perfectly understandable. So I have,” he said.
„Really?” he said.
„Indeed,” he smiled. He had to admit that he and the baronet were very easy to talk to. Maybe Mrs Hudson was right to go out.
Thomas, meanwhile, looked back at the closed door, where a man had come out, red-faced with rage. He swallowed nervously. He wasn't liking this.
„It'll be all right. I'm quite sure you'll completely enchant them. Take a deep breath, keep your head up and show them with confidence what you're made of,” Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder and tried to relax him. For some unknown reason, he didn't like it when the baronet frowned or down. He felt the need to encourage him.
„You're right,” he said, pulling himself together and smiling gratefully at the detective. It seemed to Sherlock as if the Baronet's eyes had somehow sparkled, or a green flash had passed accurately, though it was probably an optical illusion.
„Wish me luck,” he told the detective before knocking on the door and walking regally into the room. There he was greeted by several older men. He cleared his throat, smiled confidently to himself, and, as Sherlock had predicted, cast a spell on them with his words. He didn't even have to try that hard. In the end, he was overjoyed at his meeting and wanted to share it with Sherlock. He went out into the corridor, the line was still all the way to the end of the room, but the man who had originally stood right behind him and incredibly motivated him was gone. He was slightly disappointed, though he was used to disappointment by now. He adjusted his jacket and left.