Moriarty's Musician

The Game is On, Part 6

"Hello. I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. My name is– "

"Nicholas Byron." Sherlock's eyes roved over the young man at his door.

"Ah, yes." Nicholas's brows snapped together, surprised at the man's quick deduction. "Have we met before, sir?"

"No, but I knew it was only a matter of time before you came calling, Mr. Byron."

Nicholas smiled and nodded. "I'm here to ask for your help, Mr. Holmes. May I come in?"

Sherlock waved his hand as Nicholas entered the little flat. "Please make yourself comfortable. May I offer you some tea?" He pointed his guest to the chair that sat in the middle of the room as he headed for the kitchen.

Nicholas looked down at the hard chair positioned opposite the two comfortable armchairs. "No, thank you, Mr. Holmes."

He sat down as Sherlock bellowed from the kitchen. "Oh, come now, Mr. Byron, there's plenty here. I insist." Sherlock came out of the kitchen carrying a saucer with a little teacup perched on top. He handed it to his guest with a smile. "May I call you, Nicholas?"

"Yes, please do." Nicholas adjusted in his seat and smiled awkwardly, reaching for the saucer.

"Oh, Nicholas, would you mind taking the teacup so I can use the saucer again for my own cup? I have a terrible problem with shaking hands and my landlady has only left me with this last clean dish."

"Oh, yes, of course." Nicholas took the teacup with both hands and taking a sip, realized that the tea was barely warm.

Sherlock smiled as he watched him grimace at the stale tea. Nicholas looked up at Sherlock. "Ah, Mr. Holmes, I think I'll pass this time, but thank you for your offer."

Sherlock held out the saucer to him. "I apologize, Nicholas, if it isn't to your liking."

Nicholas set the teacup on the saucer, glad he didn't have to endure another sip.

Sherlock went to the kitchen momentarily then came back into the sitting room, flopping in his chair as he scanned his guest. "You're Annabelle Watson's library friend, isn't that right?"

Nicholas nodded, his eyes shining. "She's told you about me?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. "She was concerned about you."

Nicholas took a deep breath. "I met Annabelle as I was studying for my medical exams. She always seemed to be working, and I was always studying. I guess we couldn't help becoming close."

"Would you say you were good friends?"

Nicholas smiled stiffly as he looked at the detective. "Yes, Mr. Holmes, we were."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair as he watched Nicholas absently twisting the ring on his finger, a dreamy look appearing on his face.

"Annabelle was the only girl who didn't swoon over me. All the others would hang on every word I said." He shook his head and sighed. "I never knew what they wanted more, my money or my title."

"But not Annabelle." Sherlock prompted.

"She was never interested in those things, in fact, I don't think she even knew about my background."