Holmes: The Kismet Trail

Chapter Seven

I sat with my life running through my mind as if I were flipping through photographs. When suddenly, my eyes came across a thick board. One light enough yet strong enough to be used as a height enhancer if anything. The next shipment-now making it four, cornered me as my feet and ankles were submerged in the dirt, dust, and grime. I remembered my lantern and the coil in the top along with what was wrapped around it. An idea arose in my head, but I would have to work fast and waste little time. Taking the coil wire from the lantern, I used the broken glass from the bulb to cut it and wrap it around the boards. An idea that approached me after thinking of my grandfather giving my father and I snowshoes. We used them all afternoon as we collected what he desired from the yards. I wondered if it worked the same with dirt. This dirt in particular was a thick mulch style brand. An aroma of dead nature but the strength of the life it once mimicked, I had great confidence that this would work. I finished one of the shoes in the time it took for another shipment and stepped on the pile to see my feet sink just hardly. Enough to get stuck but not to break. I then placed triple the amount of boards and found that it worked almost perfect. I tied the coil with the other wood and made it to the top between shipments. Even with my success in the past, never had I felt so ingenious or clever as this moment. I threw the shoes down the hole and ran away from the cemetery as I heard the wheels of the next shipment approach. I knew going to my apartment was an idiotic move so I decided there was one place Moriarty did not know about.

I stood outside the home of my dear former colleague and paced before answering. My hand balled into a fist and I knocked on the hard door a half a dozen times in repetitive pairs before the door came open and there was the face I came to loathe and love in the past handful of seconds. I lunged forward and hugged Watson as he placed his hands upon my shoulders and held me at a distance.

"Where have you been?" He asked as he held his breath.

"Moriarty has returned." I saw a light flicker behind his eyes, the same light he had when he would help me solve a case, and unfortunately the same light he had when he married his wife. As he welcomed me further into the home, I was greeted harshly by his wife who sneered at me as she held their wailing child in her arms. She was bouncing it up and down against her side and I found the notion odd.

"He has not stopped crying." She pleaded to Watson who had obviously not slept in a long period of time. To grant the time needed to discuss the plans with Watson, I decided to intervene.

"May I?" I asked as I looked to his wife. She looked to Watson who placed his hand on hers and nodded. She hesitantly handed over the child before I placed it near the fireplace. His wife jumped at me until she noticed the child was no longer crying.

"How-"

"He was trembling and the light from the candles and bulbs were hurting his eyes I assume. It was why he was squinting so dreadfully."

"I will stay here, you go discuss with Sherlock whatever you must..."

"Thank you my dear." He said as he kissed her forehead and Watson showed me into his office. I saw how it was spacious and the size of my apartment in a whole.

"Where was the girl who you were protecting?" His gaze drew long as if he expected a sad story.

"I am unsure where she is. I suppose Moriarty has her somewhere under close gaze.."

"Did he do this to you?" He asked as he looked at my clothing.

"Technically..." I said trying to make Watson grin.

Accomplishing my desired smirk, he had me stand as he sat behind his desk. I understood how he didn't want me to ruin his fancy cushioned chairs.

I explained to him the events of what happened before Watson heard something in the next room.

"Are you alright dear?"

"Yes." Her voice was quick. I knew them something was wrong.

"I dreadfully inform you that your wife is probably being held captive." I whispered. He raised from his seat before moving closer to me.

"How on Earth could you know?"

"Her voice. As if she has something pushing against her larynx, making her voice sound different. That, and her nervous wording. Quick, direct, lack of sweet name at the end." I cringed at the thought before he drew a gun from a drawer and I placed my hand over his.

"This is Moriarty's men. They are trained and not afraid of the reaper." I stressed as he placed his gun then toward the ground. He slowly nodded before I saw the shadows of footprints below the door. I motioned as he saw them as well. We then took our positions near the door. I requested it was best he go to his desk as if he did not suspect anything as I linger-expected to be buried alive by now before wielding the weapon in my hand. I pulled back the hammer and held my breath, having to master this moment at risk for Watson and myself...