Death Cloud by Andrew Lane

Author:Andrew Lane
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: detective, mystery, YA, Sherlock Holmes
ISBN: 9780330532709
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2010-06-04T03:45:23+00:00

After finishing and blotting the letter, he left it on the table in the hall at lunchtime, to be collected by a maid and delivered to the post office in Farnham. When he came down again for dinner the letter was gone. Mrs Eglantine was passing through the hall, her face appearing to float in the shadows, and she smiled mirthlessly at him. Had she seen the letter? Had she read it? Had it even made it as far as the post office, or had she destroyed it? Sherlock told himself that he was being foolish – what reasons did she have for doing that? – but Mycroft’s warning echoed in his head. She is no friend of the Holmes family.

Lying in his room, these thoughts kept running through his mind. The distant gong for dinner broke him out of a half-doze, and he headed down to the ground floor. Mrs Eglantine was just leaving the dining room. She glanced at him with a sneer on her lips, and walked away.

Sherlock didn’t feel hungry. He stared at the door for a few moments, trying to will himself to eat something just to keep his strength up, but he couldn’t face it. He turned round and began to head across to the library to see if he could find any books about bees or beekeeping.

Halfway across the hall, he noticed a letter on the silver platter on the side table. Had it not been there before, or had he just not noticed it? For a moment he thought it might be another letter from Mycroft, so he picked it up. His name was on the front, along with the address of the manor house, but it wasn’t Mycroft’s writing. It was more rounded. More . . . feminine. How could that be?

Sherlock looked around, half-convinced that he would find Mrs Eglantine standing in the shadows, watching, but the hall was empty apart from him. He took the letter, opened the front door and stood in the early evening sunlight but still in the doorway so that he couldn’t be accused of leaving the house.

There was a single sheet of paper inside. It was a pale lavender in colour. On it, below his name and address, was written:

Sherlock,

There is a fair being held on the meadow below the grounds. Meet me there tomorrow at nine o’clock in the morning – if you dare!

Come alone.

Virginia

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