For All Our Sakes

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Holmes

Though I would never admit it to a soul, a selfish part of me was very glad to have Watson with me. As loath as I was to put my Boswell in any sort of danger, I was relieved that he did not allow me to do this alone, as I was not entirely sure that I could. I had not been to her rooms since a week after the investigation had finished, and then only for a few minutes to collect any of her things that I did not want sold. The only thing I had taken with me was a framed family photograph taken before our parents' deaths. I locked it in a drawer in my bedroom, and had not touched it since that day.

I gave my staunch companion a fleeting smile as we settled ourselves in the hansom, partly from sheer relief, and partly as my way of letting him know that he was appreciated. I think he understood.

In perhaps twenty minutes, we found ourselves standing outside the building, which looked rather what a man with Watson's romantic imagination would term "ghostly" in the moonlight. The tall brick building would have looked rather ominous even in broad daylight, what with the dark peeling paint on the door, and several boarded up windows, one of which had been smashed through, leaving a yawning opening into the blackness beyond. In strange contrast to our grim errand, I heard a group of drunken men, presumably near the public house down the street begin to treat any poor soul in the vicinity to a horrendously off-key rendition of some vaguely familiar old folk tune.

Ignoring the unpleasant serenade, I gazed up at the ominous house and took a deep breath. I was sure that this had to be done, but it was certainly not going to be easy.

Watson broke in on my thoughts.

Watson

"I assume this is our destination?" I said, staring uncertainly up at the very obviously abandoned building before us.

"Yes," Holmes succinctly replied.

"Do you suppose you could share with me the significance of this building, and why we had to come out here before morning?" I asked, only half hoping to get a straight answer.

"Well…I suppose I should tell you that this is where that fiend murdered my sister, and for a variety of reasons it has been abandoned since the crime," he answered, still gazing at the building before us.

I nodded, knowing not to expect any more information.

Holmes moved hesitantly to the door. I could see the reluctance in his unusually open expression, and the way he drew in a deep breath, as if to draw courage from the air around him, before stepping forward and opening the door.

It creaked on its hinges as it opened, adding to the eeriness of the whole situation. Here we were, two proper English gentlemen, entering a deserted house in the dead of night, just because Holmes had a feeling we would learn something here?! In addition, not only was this house uninhabited, the reason for its abandonment appeared to be the fact that a young lady had been brutally murdered here five years ago tomorrow. Not to mention the fact that this lady was none other than my dearest friend's sister!

Hardly cheerful thoughts.

The interior was dark, but there was enough moonlight for me to distinguish the walls with their peeling paper from the rest of the darkness, and with his superior vision, Holmes apparently had little or no difficulty seeing, as he had made no attempt to lift the panel hiding the light in the dark lantern he was carrying. He firmly grasped my wrist with his free hand, and led me down the pitch-dark hall and then up a flight of stairs that creaked and groaned loudly as we went, causing my heart to leap into my throat. I walked into a large cobweb, its disgusting sticky threads clinging to my face, much to my horror and disgust.