Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder (23 page)

“Get up,” they told me.

I rose to my feet slowly.

“Thank you,” I said looking upon my rescuer, or capture I could not be sure. They wore a cloth around their face and a low hat.

“Need to be more careful, Doctor,” the figure told me pulling the cloth down.

“Adler!” I said. “How did you find me?” She was disguised in men's clothing. She wore a hat to hide her long and beautiful hair.

“I followed you, in case you needed help. Silly of Holmes to send you alone, really.”

“Thank God you were here.”

“Do you still have your revolver?” I felt around, it had been lost int he creek.

“No, it's gone.”

“Here, take this,” Miss Adler handed me a new revolver.

“There they are!” cried someone in the distance.

“We need to run!” Miss Alder said.

I followed her lead and soon I saw the familiar sight of the stone bridge which covered the falls where we stood earlier. We slid down a steep hill and rolled into the open grass. My heart pounded as we ran across the stones, over the bridge, through the park, and to the Rose Inn. More shots were fired. I could hear the bullet colliding with the ground. I turned and fired back. Miss Adler called to me, but I told her to carry on. I returned fire and followed after her, but I couldn't see her. I came to the inn, but she was no where to be seen. I called out but there was no response. What was I to do, with Holmes somewhere unknown, Miss Adler missing and a pack of outlaws on my tail, this was it. I stood momentarily ponding these thoughts and trying to catch my breath before I continued running. Then a large carriage came out of no where and rattled to a halt beside, me nearly running me over. I turned, and as the door opened, I was heaved inside.

What Happened to Sherlock Holmes

My life was over, I thought. Marry would never forgive me for dying this way. She was nervous enough regarding my adventure to America, soon she'd learn this was my last adventure. I felt discouraged, I had run all that way, was nearly killed, only to be caught right outside my haven. The carriage moved at a rapid pace. The strong hands which pulled me inside were still wrestling with me as I fought back.

“Steady man! Steady!” someone cried. “Watson, steady!” This man knew my name. I stopped my frantic motions, and was relieved by who I saw inside the dark carriage.

“My God, Holmes!” I cried. “You could have simply told me you were in here rather than make me think I was being kidnapped!”

“We have little time to lose, my friend. I am sorry for the fright.” I looked around, but did not see Miss Adler.

“Where is Miss Adler?”

“Driving,” said Holmes. I looked out at the driver. It was Irene Adler.

“Holmes, where are we going? I have information that is most valuable! We cannot leave!” I stammered.

A bullet shattered the back window out of the carriage. The outlaws were still following!

“Woman! Lose them!” Holmes cried.

“Hold on!” she yelled back.

“Holmes, those men! One of them killed Norton! They are unloading their...”

“Opium supplies in a factory till the Society can be reestablished!” Holmes finished.

“How did you know?”

“We should worry about losing these men before we carry on with this conversation,” said Holmes as bullets pierced the walls.

Holmes took out his gun and fired upon the approaching outlaws. I reached for mine and I began to return fire.

Miss Adler had steady control of the carriage, and carefully guided the horses as we exchanged fire. The three remaining outlaws, however, they did not seem to slow down. In fact, they gained upon us increasingly. Holmes shot through the back window while I hung out the door. I rejoiced when Holmes managed to hit one of his targets and saw the man fall. My rejoicing was cut short, there was a bang and I felt a stinging pain in my upper arm and felt back.

“Watson!” cried Holmes. He turned and fired another round of bullets. “Got them!” Holmes then came and examined me. I was shot.

“It's only a flesh wound in the arm, Holmes; I'll live,” I assured him. I rose but felt my head spin.

He poked his head out the back window and fired another shot.

“The final one decided to back off,” Holmes said. He helped me take my jacket off and get a better look at my wound. My heart was pounding fiercely. He removed his tie and tied it tightly around my bloody arm. I winced as the pain shot up and down my arm. I felt myself begin to drift and my eyes closed.

***

I woke a couple of hours later. The sun had risen, but the carriage had not stopped. “How are you feeling, Doctor?” Miss Adler was now in the compartment, and Holmes drove the carriage.

I now saw fully what she wore. Dark tweed trousers with brown boots; a black waistcoat, that was evidently for a young man, but was somehow flattering on her; a cotton shirt; a black velvet jacket, and atop her head, a black stetson.

“You have been asleep some time.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Holmes saw to your wound and you passed out. Likely from exhaustion, he said.”

“I suppose that's right,” I agreed. “Where are we going? I need to tell Holmes what I saw.”

“We're getting a train soon and going further west to Nevada. All is leading there.”

“How is that?”

“The station is ahead. Let us board and we can all share information.”

When the three of us were comfortably sitting in a private compartment with some food and drink, I told Holmes and Miss Adler all that I had learnt.

“You must brace yourself, Miss Adler,” I instructed. “I overheard the outlaws, and it was admitted the one called Dog killed your husband.”

I could see Adler's face tense, her eyes lit with a concealed fire. “He may have done the deed, but he is not the man who ordered Norton killed.”

“Neither is Ivory,” said I.

“I know,” admitted Holmes.

“Forgive me Holmes, but what was the point in risking my life if you knew all this?”

“I didn't until last night. Both of us have had enlightening adventures,” said he. “You mentioned the name of the train which carried the opium was Pemberton Rail?”

“Correct.”

“Then we are most certainly on the right trail. The reason the name was familiar to you was because you saw it recently in this.” Holmes pulled out Norton's brown journal and opened it. I looked and there was written the name Pemberton Rail, with a series of numbers following.

“What are those numbers?” I asked.

“Bank details,” Miss Adler said.

“I believe it would do us all good for me to recount my night's ventures now that we are caught up on yours, Watson.”

“Please do,” said I.

“I found my way easily to the house of Homer Smith. It rests just near the tracks as the sheriff said. It was a substantially sized lodging. I walked up the path towards the front door, and heard someone call out to me asking me my business. I informed them that I was told that Mr Homer Smith was a provider of some of the best opium in the country, and that I was willing to pay a hefty sum if he were willing to make a deal. I was then told to stay in place, and had a gun aimed at my head, should I get any funny ideas. I waited near twenty minutes before lights began to come on within the house. A man walked out of the dark and escorted me inside. I sat in a large dining hall at a table. A glass of whiskey was offered, and I sipped it occasionally. After another ten minutes or so, a tall man with a round pale face, and beady black eyes walked in.

“‘Your name?' he asked.

“‘Altamont Jones,' said I.

“‘I hear you are looking to buy opium from me?'

“‘I am, Mr Smith.'

“‘What brought you here?'

“‘I overheard your name once. From one they call Ivory.'

“Homer Smith raised his eyebrow and tilted his head back. ‘You overheard from Ivory?'

“‘Yes, the man who runs The Society in New York. Our paths crossed some time ago; and when I found myself in the area, I recollected him telling me a Homer Smith supplied him with fine Opium.'

“‘Well, Al-ta-mont Jones,' Homer Smith said, ‘how much are you willing to pay if I did have some of the finest opium around?'

“‘Two thousand dollars for enough opium to last me a month.'

“‘Well, why didn't you just say so from the start?' he said with a smile . ‘Come on, let's go somewhere more comfortable.' We rose, and I followed him into a comfortable study. He called for one of his servants and asked them to prepare some samples of opium for me to test.

“‘I trust that our transaction will remain private and that there won't be any trouble with local authorities?' I asked.

“‘My good man, anyone who is anyone in this town is in my pocket. You have nothing to fear,' he informed me, smirking. Smith sat down at his desk and began sorting through papers. ‘I'll have some trials ready soon, but until then, shall we have a smoke? A cigar perhaps?' I agreed and walked over to his desk. It was littered with newspapers and letters both formal and informal. He offered me a cigar, clipped the end, and lit it. With it burning in my hand, I took a quick glance at his desk. I heard the door behind open, and to my surprise I saw Sheriff Flood walk in. ‘I own this town, Al-ta-mont Jones.' Smith said with confidence.

“‘I'm sorry, Mr Jones,' Sheriff Flood said, his rifle extended.

“‘Now, Al-ta-mont Jones, I hear you've come after me but have no warrant. I've also been told you are a Pinkerton. I don't like Pinkertons.'

“I turned my head towards Smith. ‘I am neither a Pinkerton nor American,' I began, dropping my fake accent. ‘I am Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective from London.' Both Smith and Sheriff Flood looked slightly confused. ‘I care little for what you do; what I want is information. I'm looking for a man called Ivory who is responsible for the death of a Mr Godfrey Norton. Ivory ran a prestigious opium den in New York City and received regular shipment of the substance from you.'

“‘Have a seat, sheriff,' Smith said then paused and looked at me. ‘Holmes was it?'

“The three of us sat; the atmosphere in the room was immensely thick.

“‘Ivory, I know him only by name.'

“‘How do you know him
only
by name?' I asked.

“‘We run in the same circles, you might say.'

“‘As I said, I am looking for him, and him alone. I will pay you for information and leave you be.'

“Smith and Sheriff Flood laughed. ‘I told the boss that Ivory was getting sloppy. He'll probably hang for this, but not by you, Mr Holmes,' Smith said with a chuckle. ‘Unfortunately I can't let you leave this room alive. You know me and you know of Ivory - anyone who gets this close dies, no questions asked.'

“‘I assure you the only person leaving this room alive will be me,' I said confidently. I heard the clicking of the sheriff's rifle as he aimed at my head.

“‘Is that so?' Sheriff Flood said.

“With a firm foothold on the floor, I pushed my chair back and grabbed ahold of the gun's barrel, tilting it down. In the jerk, he pulled the trigger and blew his own knee out. He dropped the gun, and I grabbed it. Homer Smith cried and fell back in his chair, scooting towards to wall. With Sheriff Flood squealing behind me, Smith began to plead for his life. ‘Please, please don't kill me! I'll tell you what you want!'

“‘I know all I need! I saw from the quick glance on your desk that you receive shipments from Pemberton Rail based in Carson City, Nevada. Unfortunately I was trying to rope you in and hand you over to the Sheriff. Thus I will take another avenue.' The study door opened. I fired a shot at the ground, and it quickly closed again. ‘If you come in, I will shoot Smith,' I called out to the men on the other side.

“‘Stay back, damn it!' Smith yelled. ‘Go! Just go! You have what you want. Pemberton will lead you to Ivory. I don't know who he is, never have. Pemberton and his gang is our only connection.'

“‘What gang?'

“‘The Burns Brothers Gang! They accompany the shipments!'

I heard the sound of Sheriff Flood fall onto the floor. When I turned back, Smith was reaching into his desk and pulling out a gun. Knowing mine was out of ammunition, I swung it, and the butt of the gun collided with Smith's hand holding his pistol. The weapon crashed to the floor. Smith yelled in pain and slammed both fists onto his desk.

“‘You've lost, Smith.'

“I realised another attack was imminent. I could see through the window behind Smith that one of his men was attempting to take aim at me from outside. I judged the distance between myself and the gunman and what possible reaction Smith would have if I approached. Hearing the sound of the gun go off, I dove to the right. Smith dove to the left. I heard the sound of glass shatter as the bullet broke through. I looked over, and Smith lay dead with a bullet in his head. I took up his fallen pistol, and saw the gunman running towards the house. I took aim and shot the man down. I looked out another window to the back garden. I saw a large barn and could hear the sound of stirring animals. I scooped up several of Smith's papers before I popped the window open and jumped out, running to the barn unscathed. There was a carriage inside, so I speedily harnessed two horses and cracked the whip. We bolted towards town. As the carriage charged through the yard, several shots were fired, but no damage was done.

Miss Adler had prepared a getaway for us in case we needed a quick getaway, an she was right,” Miss Adler looked at Holmes and smiled. “Besides, the sooner we get on the sooner we can find Ivory and end this, and Nevada is not a quick journey. Miss Adler lost you when you returned fire, so we waited in the carriage, and when we saw you outside the inn we darted out to retrieve you.”

“We're both lucky to be alive!” said I after hearing his remarkable tale.

“We've made significant headway in the case. All roads are leading to this Pemberton. It is no coincidence, either, that Pemberton Rail Co is in Nevada, the very place Norton picked up a taste for opium. All is leading to Carson City. I find these bank details most curious. I should like to spend more time with the journal and see what mysteries lie in wait.”

***

The journey to Carson City was void of excitement. Holmes spent hours poring over Norton's journal and gained few results, as there was a plethora of names but nothing to indicate who or what they belonged too. I was able to pass some time by re-bandaging my gunshot wound and making sure it was properly sterilised with some alcohol.

I took enjoyment as we journeyed through the great American west, watching the view from the window as the carriage climbed up hills, barrelled through forests, and chugged along the flat planes that stretched as far as the eye could see. There were, on occasion, glimpses of large bison as they grazed on vast open fields. I noticed though, the further west we travelled, the less civilised the world became. There was so much of this landmass yet to be claimed by anybody. So much was still wild and free and untouched by human hands.

I began to feel somewhat uneasy with just a quarter of our journey left. I found it hard to find solace being cooped up inside the train. Holmes seemed to take little notice as he kept himself busy, and Miss Adler slept the journey away. I did find pleasure in not being shot at. Seems between my time in Afghanistan and all my adventures with Sherlock Holmes, this adventure had more bullets racing towards me than the others' combined.

I was greatly relieved when the train finally rolled in to our station. The three of us stood on the open platform in Carson City, Holmes still wore his long frock coat and stetson. Miss Adler, though having changed clothes, was still disguised as a young man, and I pulled on another jacket and tossed aside the other which had been ripped and torn with bullet holes during our frantic escape. The air in Nevada was vastly different from that of Indiana. It was substantially cooler and far less humid. It was, by my account, a welcome change.