A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 4: Shan

Note: Transcript provided by Ariane Devere/ Callie Sullivan

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John sat on a chair regaining consciousness. Behind him, a fire burned in a dustbin. He grimaced in pain as the Opera Singer from circus show earlier entered through the tunnel in front of him. "A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket," She said as she circled around him. John winced as he turned his head to see Sarah sitting with a gag in her mouth, her eyes filled with terror. "A Chinese proverb, Mr.Holmes,"

"I... I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John looked at her, startled.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word it," The woman reached down and pulled open John's jacket, rummaging in the inside pocket. She took out his wallet and a couple of items. "A debit card, in the name of S. Holmes."

"That's not mine. He lent that to me."

"A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes,"

"Yeah, he gave me that to look after,"

"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, in the name of Holmes."

"Okay I realise what this looks like, but I'm not him."

"We heard it from your own mouth: 'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone'," The woman raised a small pistol and pointed it towards his head, grinning. "I am Shan. Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr.Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight." Shan lifted her other hand and cocked the pistol. John cringed back, turning his head away. Shan looked down at him with an ominous expression. John breathed out heavily as her finger tightened on the trigger. "It tells you that they're not really trying." She gave him a smug smile.

Shan sild a clip into the pistol before pointing it at John's head. "No blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr.Holmes, we would have done it by now. Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." Shan looked at her men who revealed a crossbow from under a sheet. "Everything in the West has its price and the price for her life," John turned towards Sarah in horror. "is information." The two men picked up Sarah's chair and carried her towards the crossbow. John began to appologise profusely. Sarah faced the arrow tip crying and tugging at the ropes that tied her to her chair. Shan glared at John, asking him for the hairpin once more. "The Empress pin valued at nine million pounds sterling. We already had a buyer in the West and one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr.Holmes, have been searching."

"Please," John began to beg. "Please, listen to me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."

"I need a volunteer from the audience! Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely." Sarah began to sob into her gag. Shan smiled and stabbed a knife into a sandbag hanging from the ceiling. "Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act." Shan placed a black delicate origami lotus into Sarah's lap. "You've seen this act before. How dull for you, you know how it ends."

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John tried to reason once again.

"I don't believe you," Shan replied.

"You should, you know," Sherlock said in the distance. Shan spun around as Sherlock's silhouette appeared in the tunnel. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Shan raised her pistol and aimed it towards him. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"