Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Seventh Safeguard

Chapter 5 ~ Following the Threads

Cries of 'Harry! Harry!' rang out from the staircase.

"That doesn't sound like just a call anymore." I said. But Sherlock had already turned, looking after them.

He broke into a run, and and I followed; down the dusty corridor, up a rickety staircase, and into a cobwebby, cluttered old bedroom. Flat on his face on the floor lay Harry; his body rigid, his fists clenched as if in pain.

For a moment the room took on a tone of chaos. Miss Granger had dropped to her knees beside him, and was trying to revive him. Ron faced about and began threatening us, under the apparent belief that we had done something to his friend. Fortunately, there was no chance for the matter to come to blows and Miss Granger's remonstrance that this had nothing to do with us was needless, for Harry's fit left him very suddenly.

He was pale and sweating, but collected. My offer of assistance was declined, and he insisted quite rationally and persuasively that it was only a pain that came upon him now and again as a result of an old injury. Nerve damage, however severe, does not generally reduce the sufferer to such a state. If he had pulled himself together any less quickly, I would have been inclined to think him lacking in stoicism. But it was not likely to be epilepsy or some other form of seizure – it was clearly a location specific pain of extreme intensity. His gestures made the injury in question quite apparent. It was that old wound which had been so violently slashed across his brow.

He listened politely for a minute to my rather alarmed suggestions for his doctor, but he was clearly not very interested and didn't want to talk about it. Miss Granger, however, did. She was frantically whispering to him all the way down the stairs in spite of his protests. Some of it was even loud enough for the rest of us to hear. I wondered what she could mean by her adjurations to 'close' a 'connection', and thought perhaps that she was talking about meditative pain therapy.

Researching the artefacts of Ravenclaw was the first order of business that day. But someone had to stay here at the Black house in case 'Creature' returned with Mr. Fletcher who had stolen the locket – and that someone ought to be Harry, the master of the house. Sherlock and Miss Granger appeared to have appropriated the task of calling upon the Lovegoods. Miss Granger asked Ron to stay with Harry. Harry was being hunted; she thought that at least one other wizard should stay with him in case Snape did show up, especially since he was lending his invisibility cloak to her and Sherlock for the afternoon. Ron didn't like this much; and he scowled a bit at Sherlock, who seemed to be oblivious to the boy's jealousy. But Ron couldn't deny that those were the two to send if they couldn't all go. As for me, I was hardly needed at the Black house all day. And the envoy to the Lovegoods of Ravenclaw was going to teleport. Miss Granger was by far the best of the three at teleportation and thought that she could manage taking one person with her, since she had managed to carry quite a mass of goods before. But not two. Sherlock said that he would appreciate it if I came back sometime in the evening, suggesting that my help might be needed then.

This arrangement suited me very well, for I did have a job apart from helping Sherlock with his cases, and I needed to go see my wife and daughter. I would very much have liked to be able to tell Mary of this unbelievable underworld Sherlock had discovered. I wondered how long it would take to convince her I wasn't pulling her leg. She was always so fascinated by stories of the extraordinary, especially when they were true. But I had given my word that I would keep what I discovered in this house secret – even from her.

Then there was something of a row. It was not over Ron's irritation at Hermione Granger and Sherlock Holmes going to St. Ottery Catchpole together. It came about when Sherlock realized that Harry considered the matter of finding Fletcher adequately dealt with by sending a single person after him. Sherlock insisted that this would not do. Creature was not well acquainted with Fletcher. He wouldn't know his general haunts and hideouts or his companions. He did not have knowledgeable contacts to whom he could apply for information. We needed to network. Contact people who knew Fletcher. Contact the other members of 'the Order'. Contact family. There was time being wasted. Nobody needed to be told that we were looking for him because he stole a horcrux. We had a good, plain, straightforward, and completely true explanation ... Mundungus Fletcher had burgled Harry's house. That was all that needed to be said. Harry's friends and the Order would guess that Harry was staying here anyway. It was his house and the Order headquarters. Nothing would be being given away. ... But it took quite some time to convince Harry of this.