Sherlock Holmes in 2012: LORD OF DARKNESS RISING (15 page)

“But how? How is that possible?” he blurted to David’s amused face. “Did you bring it back?”

“Of course I did, my dear man. And it’s all yours for the keeping – that is until it will be used again.”

“Did you see Sherlock Holmes then? Did he visit the future as he said he would? Will he ever come back?”

David waved a dismissive hand in front of him. “Too many questions, Professor, too many questions and none of which will get you an answer.”

“But why? I have the right to know!”

“Ah! Don’t you start that again; you don’t have to know anything, but you have to keep watch on this capsule at all times – do you hear me?” David demanded, grabbing Wells by the lapels of his worn-out coat.

“I’ll do that, of course,” Wells agreed. “But when will you return?”

“
Please,
Professor!
No
more
questions,
” David yelled at his face. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, you know that?” He pushed him away roughly and stomped out of the house without another word.

Still shocked beyond words, but elated to see his time-machine back in his workshop, Wells climbed aboard the capsule and examined the control panel. He quickly inserted his trembling fingers beneath it and soon felt the switch he had been looking for. He pulled it toward him and waited for a fraction of a second for a little trap door to open. Inside the small enclosure there was a miniature recorder. Although rudimentary in its every aspect, this device was now going to reveal the dates at which the machine had landed. He took the recorder out of its hiding place, climbed out of the capsule, closed it and made his way back to his house.

As soon as he was sitting at his desk, he opened the recorder and examined the list of dates encrypted on the cylinder. The first was, of course, November 29, 2010.
Such
as
Miss
Adler
had
predicted,
he thought. The second date was a little questionable: August 2, 2010.
Strange!
But the third date was the one that sent Wells in a whirlwind of dreamlike imaginings: May 8, 2045. What was significant about that date, and what would Mr. Holmes be doing on that day? Wells was nothing short of puzzled.
Could
it
be
that
this
young
man
 
–
 
this
intruder
 
–
 
stole
the
machine
from
Mr.
Holmes?
But
if
that
were
the
case,
why
would
he
bring
it
back
here?
He
said
he
would
come
back
for
it
 
.
 
.
 
.
If
that
is
the
case,
Mr.
whoever
you
are,
I
shall
be
waiting
for
you,
Wells promised himself before returning to his gardening chores.

When David entered the old residence, he looked around him as if he had been absent from the premises for a long time – and indeed he had. He strode across the foyer and opened a door that led him directly into the study of the man he knew well, but who considered David as the underling that he always showed him to be.

“
What
are
you
doing
here
?” Professor Moriarty bellowed from his seat beside the fireplace. “I haven’t seen you for months and now you come in without knocking even.” He stood up to face David.

The latter’s stance was more imposing, more assertive than Moriarty had ever seen. “I’ve come to give you an opportunity,” David said, “which you might appreciate in due time.”

“What are you saying, boy?” Moriarty approached his uninvited guest menacingly.

David didn’t move and shoved his hands in his trousers’ pockets. “I’m not your ‘boy’, Professor, no. I’m no longer in your employ and I am not going to obey your orders anymore, nor am I going to answer your bidding.”

“I’ll have you thrown out on your arse, you… . You owe me!”

“No!” David rebuked, standing only inches from Moriarty’s face. “You are the one, Professor, who is going to pay for what I had to endure from you over the years.”

“
Endure,
you say?” Moriarty spat at David’s face. “I’ve always paid you well and offered you shelter and food when you had nothing. And this is how you intend to repay me?”

“
Enough
!” David shouted, stepping aside. “As I told you, I am here to offer you an opportunity – an opportunity that only comes to one in one’s lifetime. And when you hear it you will not refuse it or deny me the benefit of seeing you travel through time.”

Moriarty could only gawk at the man sitting on his sofa now. He was bright when it came to plan malevolent deeds, even brilliant one would have to say, but when it came to riddled proposition or convoluted speech, he was no match for David. “Could you be a little clearer, perhaps? What are you really suggesting?”

“Why don’t you sit down,” David said, pointing to the chair Moriarty had brutally abandoned when he came in, and himself taking a seat on the sofa. The professor backed into the chair, his eyes not leaving David’s. “Alright. Do you recall this mad professor – a teacher really – by the name of H.G. Wells?”

“You mean the one who constructed the time-machine that no one ever saw?”

“The one and the same, yes.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“Come, come, Professor, open your ears. Didn’t I just mention something about travelling through time?”

Suddenly, this ‘opportunity’ that David was offering seemed to dawn on him. “Are you saying that the time-machine is really here… , here in London?”

“Let’s say that if you find Wells, you’ll find the time-machine.”

“And when I do, what would you suggest I do with it?” a befuddled Moriarty asked.

“Don’t go daft on me, old man!” David retorted. “You have an enemy to chase, don’t you?” The professor nodded. “Well then, you go after him and when you find him you might be able to beat him at his own games of chasing terrorists all over the globe.”

Moriarty was far from grasping the meaning of what David was implying; talking about terrorists… , chasing his arch enemy across the globe… ? Had David gone mad? “I don’t see what you’re getting at, David,” Moriarty said sheepishly; admittedly out of his depth.

“Perhaps you should focus on 1999; a very interesting year, if I do say so myself.”

“Have you been there… , I mean have you travelled to that date then?” Moriarty had his gaze riveted on David.

The latter nodded. “And now that you know the machine is back in London, and available, I shall leave you… ,” David said, rising from the sofa.

“But, you can’t leave… ,” Moriarty strode after him. “You have to tell me where and how…”

“I have to tell you nothing, Professor. Remember, you dismissed me last year, and I intend to stay dismissed, my good sir!” With these words, David marched out of the old house.

Moriarty tried to catch up to him, but the young man was much faster, and out of reach in a moment.

Closing the front door and returning to his seat in the study, Moriarty plopped down into it and fixed his gaze to the lifeless hearth – the weather had been so clement of late, he had had no need for a fire. He had to devise a plan – one of his favourite pastimes – find the darn thing, and find Holmes. No one had seen him for months, but maybe – just maybe – in ‘time’ laid the reason for his absence.

Seeing the line drawing a picture of gloom on Mycroft’s face, when the latter re-entered the restaurant, Sherlock shot out of his chair and went to him under Sarah and Watson’s astonished glances.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked in a subdued but concerned voice when he came to Mycroft’s side. “Has she found it? What’s wrong?”

Mycroft shook his head and took his brother’s arm, leading him back to the table. “Not here,” he said. “Let’s go back to my suite,” he added, bending down to Watson’s ear.

Instinctively aware that some worrisome news had been the subject of Mycroft’s conversation, the father and daughter got up and followed Mycroft and Sherlock out of the restaurant.

“Is Mrs. Holmes okay, Daddy?” Sarah asked, pulling on her father’s sleeve and looking up at him, as they were walking toward the elevators.

“I don’t know, Darling,” Watson replied quietly. “We’ll find out when we get to Mr. Mycroft’s room.

“Did she find the time-machine?” Sarah insisted, such as a child would do when not obtaining a quick answer to its query.

Watson squeezed her hand. “We’ll soon know, Sarah. Just wait until Mr. Mycroft tells us, okay?” He looked down at his daughter and smiled at her reassuringly.

In the few days prior to their departure to separate destinations, Sarah and Irene had developed a more than friendly attachment to one another. Sarah had seen and felt a mother’s love and kindness reflected in Irene’s demeanour when they were together. Irene had given Sarah the protection and care her mother would never be able to give her anymore.

Sherlock had his arms crossed over his chest when the four of them were in the elevator. He kept his eyes alternatively focused on the floor numbers lighting up over the door one after the other and at the interiors’ panelling. The one thing all four of them had in common at this point was the anxiety painted across their faces.

When Mycroft closed the door of his suite and the four of them went to sit in the small lounge room, Mycroft said, “Irene… , Mrs. Holmes I mean, could not find the time-machine where you left it, Sherlock.” He looked at his brother inquiringly. “Did you move it, by any chance, after you and I went to see it in August?”

Sherlock averted his eyes from Mycroft’s accusing gaze. “As you know, Mycroft, I have not had any use for it since August, no.” He raised his head to his elder brother sitting across from him. “What did Irene say? That’s what I would prefer to hear. Has she told you what she was intending to do after discovering the capsule’s absence?”

Mycroft shook his head. “She hung up on me,” he said, bending his head.

“Ha-ha,” Sherlock burst out. “How typical of my dear wife!”

“But where would she go? That’s the question we should be asking, surely.”

“Elementary, my dear brother,” Sherlock replied a smirk on his face. “She’s gone to your Dr. Nebo…”

“Who’s Dr. Nebo,” Watson piped-up all of a sudden.

“Doctor Nebogipfel, Daddy,” Sarah replied quite unexpectedly, looking up at her father. “You know, the professor who first invented the time-machine… ?”

Everyone in the room was staring at the diminutive detective. “And where did you hear of his name, Darling?” Watson asked gently.

“But, Daddy, it’s all written in great-grand-papa’s note books, don’t you remember?”

Watson threw a knowing glance at his daughter. “Hum… , yes of course… , you’re right.” He turned to Sherlock. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Holmes, please do continue.”

Sherlock smiled at both father and daughter. “Quite alright, Watson. And you are correct, Sarah. Dr. Nebogipfel was the first to invent and construct the time-machine.” He glanced up at his brother. “I am sure she went to Dr. Nebo to take her capsule and follow David Penny back to our century.”

Mycroft frowned. “And how, pray tell, would you know this?”

“Again an elementary deduction. The only link we could establish between David Penny and anyone, whether in this century or the last, was between him and Professor Moriarty. I am then deducing that our time traveller is gone to find his old master to re-ignite their relationship, and lure me into a renewed chase in this century. This David Penny is more than a dangerous individual, Mycroft; he is a joker of the worst sort.”