Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess by Suzette Hollingsworth

Author:Suzette Hollingsworth [Hollingsworth, Suzette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 25347540
Publisher: Icicle Ridge Graphics
Published: 2015-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

15

“You are a wretchedly lazy girl, but with my genius we should be able to make something of you,” mused Sherlock.

“I don’t like it,” remarked Watson with so much emphasis that both turned to stare at him. “An endeavor in which a young woman must be trained in the lethal arts to survive is possibly the height of irresponsibility.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” she muttered. “I would be seriously concerned if Mr. Holmes weren’t asking me to risk my life in his employ.”

“It would be disturbingly lenient of him,” Watson muttered.

Sherlock considered her words before staring pointedly at her. “I assure you, Miss Hudson, I wish no harm to come to you and am taking every precaution to protect you. Please do pay attention!”

“He must have a soft spot for you, Miss Mirabella,” Dr. Watson winked, chuckling. “I’ve rarely seen him show a care about anyone.”

“To the contrary, I have no ‘soft spot’ for anyone, Watson,” Sherlock replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmmm, let’s see, someone comes to mind, who was it?” Watson brushed his moustache, pretending to recollect. “No, not her . . . Oh, now I recall. There was a Miss Irene Adler. Do you recall her, Holmes?”

“Miss Irene Adler?” Mirabella asked, suddenly very interested indeed. “Is it true, Dr. Watson? Who is she?”

“Only a world class deceiver and manipulator.” Watson chuckled.

“Are you quite serious, Dr. Watson?” Mirabella asked, utterly astonished. What on earth would Sherlock see in such a person?

“Yes it is very true, Miss Mirabella. The great Sherlock Holmes was found chained to a . . .” Dr. Watson cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment. “It was in a hotel. Let’s just say that our good friend was in a most compromising position.”

“Gasp!” Mirabella covered her mouth with her hand.

“Let us return to the facts at hand and dismiss idle gossip, if it would not trouble the two of you greatly.”

“Oh, I don’t think it can be classified as gossip: it’s in the police record.” Watson’s expression was serene.

“And who was the inspector? LeStrade,” noted Holmes. “I shall say no more on that subject.”

“Toby was on the case—and he is very good,” Watson considered, rubbing his chin.

“Yes, yes, I’ll give you that. But even Toby—the only one on LeStrade’s team with an ounce of sense—did not solve the case.”

“Who is Toby?” asked Mirabella, her curiosity escalating. “He must be very shrewd.”

“Remarkable talent for tracking,” Watson agreed appreciatively.

“Is Mr. Toby as clever as the great Sherlock Holmes?” Mirabella asked, taking every opportunity to tease Sherlock, a pleasure as rare as seeing a comet in the sky and ultimately as satisfying as one’s birthday dinner.

“Cleverer,” nodded Watson without hesitation. “And much more handsome.”

Sherlock shrugged, disinterested. “Toby is a handsome fellow, I’ll grant you that.”

“Oh. I should like to meet Toby,” murmured Mirabella.

“I forbid it. He has no personal ethics whatsoever,” pronounced Sherlock.

“Are you serious, Mr. Holmes?” Mirabella asked, truly curious now.

“Quite,” replied Sherlock. “All you need is a steak bone and Toby’s morals go out the door.”

Utterly perplexed, she turned to Dr.

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