Enola Holmes- The Fox In The Henhouse

Chapter 19

George sleeps peacefully, while I sit and watch the night sky turn a bright grey. I didn't even attempt to sleep last night; how could I even begin to, when my head is filled with so many questions and uncertainties? But despite this, a calm washed over me that I can't explain. Maybe it's simply the knowledge that, one way or another, this will all be over soon.

I close my eyes and picture tranquillity...

I'm by the river, with Tewksbury. It was late in spring, and I had just solved the Case of the Cryptic Crinoline. Since my landlady could no longer provide me residence, I had been staying at Basilworth for a few days. I was trying to teach Tewksbury how to fight! He had initially insisted, stating that he wanted to learn how just in case he ever had to defend himself when I wasn't present. I think it's fair to say he regretted asking me pretty quickly. I was trying to teach him how to block, but when I went to hit him he completely panicked and dropped his guard. I didn't react quick enough, and sent him flying into the river. I will never forget how horrified his mother looked when we returned to the house soaked!!!

The peace is disturbed by the sound of someone coming up the stairs. I quickly lean forward and tug on George's arm until he wakes up, and gesture to the door to alert him. He sits up, eyes wide and darting between me and where the noises are coming from. Last night I had planned to fight the guards with all the strength I have left; even if I have little strength left. But looking at George now, I realise I can't do that. Partially because I want to be strong for him, letting him know that everything is going to be fine. And partially because I'm scared.

I grab onto the wall and hoist myself up, and I'm standing by the time they open the door. They hand me my crutches, and I begin to make my way out when George stands up.

'No you- you can't!' He hurls himself at the guards, throwing his fists about like a scared child.

'George!' I get his attention, holding his shoulder. He stops and looks at me, 'It's ok.' Tears come to my eyes, as I sadly smile at him. This is my goodbye. He sits back on the bed, scrunching his face up to stop himself from crying.

I hold my head up, and make my way downstairs. When I descend to the hallway I see a large empty crate and I realise that that is what they intend to transport me in. My stomach tightens, but I don't let this show and I keep walking.

They hold me, shackling my hands behind my back and placing the gag in my mouth. After they've finished, Lord Nigh emerges from the dining room.

'It has been a pleasure to have you staying with us.' I can't say anything, all I can do is narrow my eyes and show him the disgust I feel in my heart for him.

'I dare say this will be the last time I see you. I will be nearby of course, to ensure everything goes smoothly.'

The guards lift me into the crate, pushing my shoulders down to fit. I'm forced to lay on my back, with my hands behind me, looking up at the ceiling. Lord Night steps forward and comes into my view.

'Good bye, Miss Holmes.'

They place the top on and I hear them pounding in the nails to insure that it's secure. I hear them talk as they lift the crate, causing me to slide from one side to the other uncontrollably. One of the men carrying me makes a crass comment, and in a fit of outrage I kick the side he's holding as hard as I can. He swears and let's go of his side, causing the crate to roll and sending me flying. Despite how uncomfortable I am now because of this, I'm still satisfied with my action. If I die, I'm going down the same way I lived; annoying men.

I'm loaded onto the back of a cab, and for the next hour all I feel is the twists and turns and we drive into London. I'm able to track where we are based on the distance and directions we go in, and when we start to get nearer to the city I try to force open one of the sides; but to no avail.

I hear Big Ben's chimes ring throughout the city, letting everyone from the Lord's of Parliament, to the fishmongers and factory workers, that it's 9 o'clock. As the chimes fade to silence, the road beneath the cab grows evermore unstable, and I'm certain we must be close to the tunnels that will soon become my grave. The cab stops, and my crate is lifted out and carried down; the light that seeps through the cracks in the wood growing darker.

The crate is lowered to the ground, and after the men carrying it have finished placing the bomb, the top is cracked open and I'm lifted out. When they put me down, I land a kick in one of their stomach's, causing the man to bend over and grunt in pain. They retaliate by punching me in the right cheek.

They clip my shackles to a lock on the wall of the damp tunnel behind me in such an agonising way, that the slightest movement causes me to twist my elbow. Then, they leave me.

I'm so far below the surface that the only light source I have is the oil lamp they carry, and as they leave I'm plunged into the cold black. Even when there was light, there wasn't much to see. They had been mining out the area, so it's just giant slabs of stone with wooden support beams running across. When the bomb goes off, the beams will collapse and the Battersea Club will be engulfed by the ground. I'd be surprised if they even found my body within a month...

It took them about 40 minutes to carry me down here, so I would expect it to take someone about 20 minutes to walk, under 10 to run. I don't know how long I have until the time bomb detonates. I try to move my arms, try to wiggle out of the shackles, but pain shoots through my body as any movement threatens to break my arms.

Is this how I am to die? Helpless? Afraid?

Alone...