The Journey: Illustrated Edition (An Anna Kronberg Thriller) by Annelie Wendeberg

Author:Annelie Wendeberg [Wendeberg, Annelie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Annelie Wendeberg
Published: 2014-05-28T00:00:00+00:00

— fifteen —

Sherlock chewed his toast, his face hidden behind a most hilarious moustache, his energy sparkling through the dining hall, unnoticed by all other hotel guests. They muttered quietly, clinking silverware against china, eyes still bleary from the previous night’s entertainments.

His invitation for breakfast had arrived early in the morning when Garret was still sleeping and Barry prowled the neighbourhood with his dog. My stomach yowled as I sat down. A plate with fresh toast appeared from nowhere, a gloved hand attached, all with a neatly folded white kerchief, sharply pressed black jacket, and underneath a pair of polished black shoes that clacked as the waiter disappeared.

Sherlock poured me tea while I tried to staunch the hunger.

‘How is Watson?’ I asked.

‘The good chap recovered quickly. I dare say he suffered from a nervous twitch in his right arm.’

‘He punched you?’ My toast was forgotten for a moment.

He lifted his chin for me to inspect.

I squinted and detected the faintest bruise. ‘He must have been quite dazed, judging from the little damage he caused. And this was a straight punch.’ I pointed to the tip of his chin, or rather, moved my fist in that direction. ‘I can imagine that a swing gains more speed, hence, would result in a stronger impact and would have hit the side of your face.’ I paused for a moment, puzzled. ‘You allowed it?’

‘He deserved revenge. More toast?’

My plate was empty, so he offered what was on his side of the table. I reached out and stole his eggs and ham. ‘Thank you. Why do you want people to believe you are dead?’

‘Call it a holiday.’ He leaned back, brushing breadcrumbs off his lapel. ‘There are several things I’d like to do without anyone suspecting my being behind these actions. Only Moran has seen me survive. The few other men he told about it will only believe him as long as he’s trustworthy. I should think they’ll doubt his judgment soon enough. Watson has completed the final draft of his latest story. I read it. It’ll have a heartbreaking effect on the public. He’ll publish it as soon as possible. The news will spread like fire.’ The corners of his mouth twitched, eyes twinkled. ‘So, before I continue, tell me why you’ve already packed.’

I wondered how he knew, but decided to show nothing of my surprise and curiosity. I leaned back and observed him. The shine of expectation darkened; then he seemed to ready himself for verbal combat.

I yawned. ‘I plan to buy a small farm in Dymchurch and take my friends to a safe place. I saw an advertisement in the papers and sent Barry to inspect it. He says it’s pretty. I wired the owners to let them know that Garret will arrive with the money today at noon.’

Barry hadn’t believed his luck when I’d asked him if he’d like to take a look at a potential future home three hours from London. At his ripe age of twelve, he had never

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