A game most foul, p.18
A Game Most Foul, page 18
“The Sherlock Holmes Museum,” Percy repeated. “There’s an actual 221B Baker Street here in London that was turned into a museum. It was created using descriptions of Holmes’s and Watson’s flat in the stories. Or that’s what I’ve read, at least.”
“Uh-huh.” Suruthi rested her chin in her hand as she fixed Percy with a knowing look. “How much did your membership to this museum cost you?”
“I don’t have a membership, thank you,” Percy said frostily, but the tips of his ears had gone pink. “I’m just saying that it might be possible Holmes spends time around there, given that the museum literally looks like a Victorian residence, based on where he actually lived.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, recalling one specific moment from my earlier conversation with Holmes. “I got the impression he only tolerates at best the stories Watson apparently wrote, and he really doesn’t like it when you mention his, um, fondness for cocaine.”
“That’s fair,” Suruthi said.
Percy threw up his hands with a huff of exasperation. “Then what do you suggest, Jules?”
“It’s a bit of a long shot,” I said warningly, “but I do have an idea.”
***
It took about twenty-four hours after putting the silver coin roughly the size of a plum in the front window of Dreams of Antiquity before Holmes showed up. The coin was nestled in a plush red velvet case and glinted when the shop lights happened to hit it just right. I remembered having added it to the shop inventory the other day, after Adele’s assistant had a laughing fit over how garish it looked. It was exactly the kind of thing I thought would attract Holmes’s attention, and it sure enough did.
There had been some discouragement when I’d walked into Room 217 the next morning a full twenty minutes before class was supposed to begin and Watson, already seated at his desk, told me point-blank, “Sherlock is at home, resting. And I trust you understand now why I prefer to keep a close eye on him.”
To say that Watson was disappointed about yesterday’s events was putting it mildly, and in some ways, that was worse than him being angry. I couldn’t stand it when someone was disappointed in me.
I wanted to think that I understood. If Holmes had just been plowed over by a bicycle and recently jumped off a bridge into the Thames, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to his own personal safety. Given that he had seemingly walked away uninjured on both occasions, maybe that was valid. But combined with the fact that Holmes wandered and occasionally happened to believe he was living in a completely different time period, we couldn’t entirely rule out the potential for disaster lurking on the horizon.
Keeping Holmes locked away all day with an endless supply of junk food, cigarettes, and television didn’t seem like a better alternative—even if it did ensure Watson could keep an eye on him.
Theirs was undoubtedly a complicated relationship—incredibly codependent, if I were to go by what that one article from Suruthi said—and there had to be a lot more behind the scenes that we weren’t seeing. I also didn’t see why that should stop me from providing Holmes with some mental stimulation.
“I suppose this was your doing and not your aunt’s?” Holmes said as he removed a small magnifying lens from his pocket to inspect the coin.
After he’d shown up, I sent a quick SOS message to Percy and Suruthi, which was code for get down to the shop ASAP. Adele had seemed pleased when I’d offered to take William on a personal tour of the shop after my less-than-polite behavior the first time we’d met. It made the most sense to bring Holmes over to my favorite corner and let him ooh and ahh over the coin until Percy and Suruthi showed up.
“It might have been,” I said. “It worked though, didn’t it?”
“So it did.”
It was fascinating watching Holmes inspect every inch of the coin under the magnifying lens. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he seemed a little disappointed when he tucked the magnifying lens away and returned the coin to its case.
“Of course you would happen to know the going price for such an antique,” Holmes said, tapping a finger on the velvet case.
“There’s no charge,” I said quickly. “I’ll give it to you for free.”
Holmes didn’t seem surprised by the offer. “In exchange for what?”
“My friends need to get here before I can explain fully,” I said.
“Ah.” Holmes nodded, as if this were acceptable. “The young man with the spectacles and the young woman who owns a wardrobe comprised of hideous shades of neon, I presume.”
“Yep,” I said awkwardly. “They would be the ones. But this is about our missing classmate who I told you about the other day.”
Holmes didn’t answer, just sat himself on the floor directly in front of the typewriter on the table, and the magnifying lens soon made another appearance. I forgot to keep track of the time as Holmes proceeded to inspect every inch of the typewriter like he’d done with the coin. He didn’t seem as disappointed with the typewriter and kept studying it like it was one very fascinating specimen.
“I take it you collect typewriters as well as coins,” I said as Holmes began pressing down on the first row of keys.
“Well, what else is one to do when one cannot eat or sleep?” Holmes said with a click of his tongue. “I have spent several decades finding ways to occupy my time, and the refurbishment of typewriters is merely one of them.”
Percy and Holmes really were kindred spirits after all then.
“Hang on,” I said quickly. “If you can’t eat, what’s with the candy all the time?”
“Insanity, perhaps,” Holmes said thoughtfully, on cue pulling a piece of hard caramel candy from his pocket. He unwrapped it and popped the candy in his mouth. “I cannot taste anything, and I have not yet found any food that provides me with nourishment. I have run my own experiments, of course, but the only conclusion I have been able to reach is that I simply . . . exist. I can, and have, gone several weeks without food or drink of any kind, and it did not make one ounce of difference.”
“So the candy . . . ?”
“Habit,” Holmes said simply, pulling out another caramel. “But I suppose I don’t break the habit because I still hope that one day I will be able to enjoy eating a simple meal again.”
I considered telling Holmes that he was spot-on about the insanity bit; trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result was a pretty well-known definition of insanity. I’d also never thought I’d get upset over a few pieces of caramel candy.
“Maybe one day then,” I said, feeling lame.
“Of course,” Holmes went on, and I wondered if he was starting to speak more to himself than me. “Not all of us have similar struggles.”
The bitterness in Holmes’s voice was almost palpable, and it didn’t take much guesswork to figure out who he was hinting at.
“I guess Watson must spend more time writing instead of looking at coins or typewriters with you then,” I joked awkwardly.
Holmes was not amused. He looked ready to tell me as much when we heard a familiar voice coming around the corner.
“Sorry we’re late!” Suruthi said cheerily, joining us in the corner. “I had to drag Percy out of bed.”
“You did not,” Percy corrected, rolling his eyes. “I was only a few minutes behind schedule, Suruthi.”
“Either way, thank you for being here,” I said, getting to my feet. “Holmes and I were just—wait, what are you doing?”
Holmes was resting his head against the typewriter, tapping the return key again and again as he listened to the sound of the thing jamming.
I shrugged helplessly when Suruthi looked at me questioningly. I didn’t have a better explanation as to Holmes’s strange behavior any more than she did.
“Er, Holmes, sir?” Percy said tentatively, inching forward. “That’s really not a good idea. You might—”
“I might nothing,” Holmes said, standing so abruptly we all leapt backward. “I know how a typewriter works. Now, if you would be so kind as to explain why my presence here is necessary, I would be much obliged.”
“Go on then,” Suruthi said, flapping her hands at me. “This was your idea, Juliet.”
“Yes, I know, thank you,” I said, bristling at the use of my full name. “I’m getting to it.”
I let myself have about five seconds to be nervous and fret about Holmes’s reaction before I made our request.
“Like I told you the other day, Holmes, one of our classmates is missing.” It took some effort to ignore the burning urge to cry that was automatically creeping into my eyes. “It’s been almost two weeks now and the police don’t seem to have any leads. They think she maybe ran away, but I’m not buying it.”
Holmes mulled this over for a solid minute. He didn’t look disinterested, but he also didn’t look eager to hear more. “And I believe I have already asked this, but why should this matter concern me?”
Percy swooped in to answer before I could. “Because, sir, you’re the world’s only consulting detective and Jules thinks—okay, we think—that there’s more going on that we’re not seeing.”
“Undoubtedly there is,” Holmes remarked. “But again, I must ask why I—”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Suruthi said with an exasperated huff. “We need your help.”
Holmes arched a brow. “Oh? How so?”
“Now that you ask . . .” I reached behind the armchair to grab my bag and unzipped it, pulling out the lock picking kit still neatly tucked away in its case. “Given your track record, we figured you wouldn’t be opposed to doing some breaking and entering.”
Chapter 21
The Police Already Dusted for Fingerprints . . . Right?
Balcombe Residence Hall was only a few streets over from Chatham Hall in the miniscule section of London that made up Ashford College, but it felt like we were stepping into an entirely different world. For one, Balcombe had clearly been renovated in the last decade, whereas Chatham looked as if it had been virtually untouched since the Second World War.
If it had not been for the fact that I’d been here once before to do a manuscript brainstorming session with Ashley and Suruthi just before our first conferences with Watson, I would’ve had no idea where to go.
It didn’t feel right walking inside without Ashley leading the way up to her dorm, and that burning urge to cry was returning.
I’d been wondering if we would find yellow crime scene tape covering Ashley’s door, but everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d been here. The bronze emblem on the door announcing the dorm room as 3F was still there, along with the chips in the wood around the doorknob. I was tempted to put my ear to the door to listen, wondering if I’d be able to hear the sound of Ashley humming along with whatever she was listening to in her headphones.
“You okay, Jules?” Percy had been the one to nudge me instead of Suruthi, but they both looked concerned.
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard against the unexpected lump in my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll take that, thank you,” Holmes said, plucking the lock picking kit out of my hands the second I’d retrieved it from my bag.
He bent over by the door for a mere moment, and then the doorknob turned smoothly as he pushed open the door.
No one made any move to step inside.
There was still plenty of daylight, but the room seemed unnaturally dark, and there was some sort of draft emanating from inside that made it about ten degrees colder.
Percy cleared his throat a couple times before he said, somewhat shakily, “Well, ladies first.”
“Oh, come on then!”
Suruthi grabbed my hand and pulled me into the room alongside her.
“Do not touch anything,” Holmes stated, using his foot to swing the door shut. “If I am to be of any assistance, I must see things exactly as they are.”
“Can we turn on a light at least?” I asked. “It’s a bit dark in here.”
Right on cue, the lamp set on the small desk flickered on, casting a dim glow around the room.
“Don’t worry, I used the edges of my shirt to turn the light on,” Percy said when Holmes turned a scowl his way.
“As I said, do not touch anything,” Holmes repeated. “I also require complete silence in order to work.”
Suruthi snapped a salute. “Yessir.”
Percy, Suruthi, and I ended up standing shoulder to shoulder on the small rug in the middle of the room as Holmes got to work.
The room was rather nondescript; a small twin-sized bed against the wall, a desk, and an old wardrobe were the only pieces of furniture that had been provided by Ashford. There was a faint scent of mothballs and clean linen; otherwise, the place was empty.
Holmes went to the desk first, where we discovered each drawer was empty. The wardrobe was next, and I felt a jolt of excitement when I saw Ashley’s duffel bag on the bottom shelf, surrounded by what looked like a pile of dirty clothes.
“See?” I whispered, nudging Percy. “Wouldn’t someone who was planning on running away take their clothes with them?”
“Well, not necessarily,” Suruthi reasoned in hushed tones. “If someone had to leave in a hurry, they—”
“Silence.”
Holmes somehow managed to search through the wardrobe without disturbing any of its contents, then moved on to the bed, quickly searching underneath it on his hands and knees. With a surprising amount of strength I didn’t think him capable of, Holmes then lifted the mattress up with one hand to search beneath it.
“Alright, Holmes,” Suruthi said when he’d carefully put the mattress back in place. “Let’s hear it.”
“It?” Holmes said, rising to his feet.
“It, as in your deductions,” Suruthi explained. “What has that great big melon of yours come up with about Ashley?”
Holmes looked somewhat offended at Suruthi’s tone but answered anyway. “Nothing that would be of use, I fear. The occupant of this room is neat, but not overly so, and clearly is not intending on staying here a great deal of time, given the lack of personal items.” He wandered over to the desk again and ran his fingers over the scarred wood.
“Okay . . .” I crossed my arms, stuffing my balled-up fists in my armpits. “So, can you tell us if Ashley did run away? Or if she’s planning on coming back?”
“I wonder if you might be exaggerating my capabilities, young lady. I am not a clairvoyant,” Holmes said tersely. “If you intended for me to tell you where your classmate has gone, I am afraid that I cannot. Why she left I also do not know.”
There was an interesting feeling taking hold over me listening to Holmes speak. Obviously I knew Holmes couldn’t tell the future, but he was all about the past, wasn’t he? There had to be something here he could use to tell us about Ashley or give us some clue about what she’d been planning—like maybe packing a smaller bag to run away.
“However.”
My gaze snapped to Holmes at his sudden change of tone. “What? What is it?”
He was leaning across the desk now, peering down into the sliver of space between the wall. “If you were to ask me if I thought the young lady had planned to return, my answer would be yes.”
“Wait, Holmes, what are you—”
It didn’t seem to take much effort on Holmes’s part to move the desk away from the wall. He stepped around it and bent down to grab what looked a small book with a dirty purple cover. Holmes flipped open the cover and I saw that rather than a book, Holmes was holding an iPad.
“Aged I may be, but I am not unaware today’s youth live their lives bound to these cursed devices,” Holmes said, thrusting the iPad at Percy. “If this young lady is similar to the rest of your peers, then I would hazard to say she would have taken this device with her, would she not?”
I inspected the iPad when Percy passed it to me after he had the chance to look at it himself.
“What d’you reckon, Jules?” Percy asked me.
“I think . . . Holmes might not be entirely wrong,” I said, carefully considering my response. “This tablet is small enough Ashley could’ve put it in her purse. If she was going to run off, I bet she would have taken this with her. I know it’s how she writes sometimes.”
“Then how did the police happen to completely miss it?” Suruthi pointed out. She took the iPad next, trying to turn it on but with no luck.
“If they had been looking properly, they would’ve seen that cord,” Holmes answered, motioning to what looked like a charging cable on the floor. “It appeared to have been threaded up the back of the desk in order to utilize the outlet behind it.”
“So, for clarification,” Suruthi said, crouching down to plug the charging cord into the iPad. “You’re saying the police just weren’t trying hard enough.”
“Or apparently looking in the right places,” I added.
Holmes shook his head with a short tsk. “That is certainly a possibility. The police are often out of their depth. That much has not changed a great deal over the last century or so, in my experience. It would not surprise me if that were also the case in regard to your classmate.”
Suruthi set the tablet on the desk, and we had to wait a few minutes for it to turn back on with the battery having been completely drained. When the screen flickered to life, we were met with the picture of a dog with wiry brown fur wearing a red checkered tie on the lock screen.
“Cute,” Suruthi said. “Any idea what the passcode is for this thing?”
“Oh,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well, we’re going to have to proceed carefully,” Percy said seriously. “Too many attempts using the wrong passcode and the device will lock itself.”
“Yes, I know that, thank you!” Suruthi snapped impatiently. “If we could just—”
Suruthi’s voice broke off when the iPad started ringing with an incoming video call. No one moved an inch as we all stared in horror at the name “Grams <3” flashing across the screen.
Suruthi shoved the iPad at me in a panic and I answered the video call without taking the time to consider how this would affect the other person on the line when they realized Ashley wouldn’t be the one picking up the call.
