Sherlock Holmes by Cavan Scott

Author:Cavan Scott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A HOUSE CALL

The following morning Holmes suggested that we take the tube to Hampstead, saying that public transport would offer a better chance to spot anyone on our tail. Now I realised why he had omitted to share his suspicions with me the day before. It was all I could do not to glance furtively over my shoulder at every turn.

As it was, I was convinced that I spotted the same car pass us on three occasions.

“Head forward,” Holmes instructed as we descended to the platform. “Eyes ahead. You let me worry about our friends on the streets.”

“So we’re being followed again?”

“A bearded gentleman with a bowler and umbrella, a woman walking her dog and a fellow with a cloth cap.”

“A cloth cap?” My mind immediately threw up an image of the sadistic visitors to my surgery two days previously.

“Do not concern yourself, Watson. There wasn’t a bushy moustache in sight, and neither did he match the description of your bowtie-wearing assailant, Mr Burns.”

“Are any on the station now?”

Holmes made a show of consulting the train timetable.

“On the platform opposite. The lady’s canine companion seems to have slipped its leash. I do hope she is not too upset, although the way she is reading the latest edition of The Gentlewoman would indicate that she has not even noticed.”

Knowing full well that I shouldn’t, I turned to examine the opposite platform as nonchalantly as I could. There was the woman Holmes described, studying her periodical on a bench with an intensity I am sure I would have failed to notice had not my senses been heightened.

“I’m assuming she’s not alone,” I asked, careful not to turn as soon as I spotted her.

“No. Our friend in the bowler hat is at the end of the platform, although this time I suggest you trust me in the matter and avoid looking yourself.”

Casually swinging his umbrella, Holmes led me down the platform towards the exit, and I thought we were going to leave when a sudden rush of air from the tunnel’s entrance told me that a train was approaching. The train came to a halt and we stepped on board, Holmes whispering to me not to make myself comfortable. I knew immediately what he had planned. Checking that the individual wearing the bowler hat had also boarded a carriage, Holmes waited for the last moment before he grabbed the door and jumped from the already moving train. I followed suit, nearly losing my footing before chasing after him as he charged back up the stairs to the station entrance. I dared not glance back to see if bowler hat had followed us back out onto the platform, but spotted the woman who had been reading the magazine already outside the station. Holmes did not hesitate, even as a taxi rolled up beside us without being hailed and my friend opened the door.

“Holmes, this could be—”

“Get in, Watson.”

I did as he insisted and soon we were being whisked away down the street.

“Good morning, Doctor,” said the driver, touching a finger to his cap.

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