Sherlock Holmes & the Ripper of Whitechapel by M. K. Wiseman

Author:M. K. Wiseman [Wiseman, M. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie Author Project

Mrs. Watson

Chapter 13

Mary.

My eyes refused to tear themselves from Watson’s note-book, and my legs forced me into the desk chair. I took advantage of my helplessness and thumbed back through the book a second time, now looking for any other dates with the same cryptic inscription. Three more selfsame notations leapt off the page—two from early July and one from far back in March. If there had been Ripper murders those nights, they had been overlooked.

Five and fifteen more. Threat, clue, and dark promise.

“Sherlock . . .”

“Say nothing to John about this.” I rose and faced her at last.

“And when he does come home? What shall I—?”

“Say nothing, do nothing that lets on what you now know. And I shall be doing the same.”

“Oh, but, Sherlock!”

“If you love him, you must. John’s liberty—nay, his life—may well depend upon your silence on this. All this, as well as your own happiness, hang upon him not suspecting that either you or I know of his deception these many months.” I turned and replaced the book within the desk. A quick application of my lock-picks secured the drawer.

I could still feel her eyes upon me, quietly pleading. Misgiving and fear each made their separate arguments. She said, “To lie to him. Does that not make my actions as terrible as his? Does one lie truly compel another?”

“I know you can do this.”

“I cannot.”

“I have known very few whose abilities to retain both nerve and wit under pressure rival your own, Mrs. Watson. John has that quality. I could never have permitted dear Watson—” My voice betrayed me and broke upon the name. “I could not have hoped for a better partner for my friend. And that alone has me certain that, if he lies to you, he has good reason and holds the best intents at heart. Let him live in the safety of that lie a little longer so that I may secure his freedom from it through my own methods. Again if you love him—”

“I do!”

“As do I.” With great effort I cut myself off from my emotions. A deep breath and I felt much more like myself. “Now. He cannot suspect. Let me be absolutely clear upon this point. He must not be made aware of your knowledge. In this way, I am certain he will continue going about his business. When he does, when he next claims to be staying with me at 221, then send me a telegram. Mrs. Hudson will not permit such a delicate communiqué to fall into the wrong hands. Summon me the second John repeats this deception.”

“I understand.”

“You are not alone in this, Mary. Remember that.”

“I know. And thank you, Sherlock. From both John and I—thank you.”

With Mary’s words in my heart and John’s damning dates within my note-book, I rode home to Baker Street. There I summoned the full force of my irregulars via Billy Wiggins. I explained the situation to him in couched terms: Watson was in trouble, pressed by some unseeable evil.

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