Sherlock Holmes in 2012: LORD OF DARKNESS RISING (18 page)

Still in London and a day or so before Moriarty landed in New York, Mohammad had directed one of his technicians in that city to find Dr. Nebo’s capsule and examine the possibility of networking its computer with the time machine he presumed was now in 1891 in London. It took more than the technician’s brain to accomplish the task, but once the geeks had figured out how they could re-capture Sherlock’s time machine; the networking provided an opportunity to grab the capsule as soon as it would land in the States.

“Your time machine is back, Mr. Holmes,” Dr. Bahareth said to Sherlock as soon as one of his techies had called him with the news. “But tell me, how did you know it would come back to New York?”

“Simple, Doctor. Fascination is the answer.”

“Fascination? What do you mean by that?”

“In 1891, New York was part of the “New World” – a land born out of progress and daring ideas – the people of that era were fascinated by it. They wanted to know what they had lost a century earlier. Therefore, fascination would be the reason for anyone landing in New York.”

“The only thing we can’t tell is who took the machine and the year it landed.”

“I could perhaps help you with the first part of your query, Doctor,” Sherlock said, smiling. “I have little doubt that you only need looking at three people.”

“Three? Why three? I would have thought your David Penny was the one who had brought back the machine…”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, I agree he is one of the three people who could have brought the time machine back, but I would be more inclined to think that either Professor Moriarty or Mr. Wells would have travelled to New York.”

“And who would be your favourite?” Mohammad asked as if speaking of a race horse.

“The professor is my bet, Doctor.”

“Why?”

“Again, elementary. If David Penny was in cahoots with our professor in the past century, as I suspect they were, David may have given him the opportunity to continue the chase in the 21
^st
century.”

“But why then not land in 2010 or even on today’s date?”

“Ah-ah, very good question, Doctor, but one you may not be able to answer unless you knew Professor Moriarty as well as I did. You see, the man is impulsive and if David Penny wanted to raise the ante in this game, he probably told our professor to go searching for me on a date other than the one in which I am living at the moment.”

Mohammad pondered Sherlock’s deduction for a moment before he said, “There is one thing that appeared missing from the capsule we recovered…”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Sherlock asked.

“The dating recorder.”

“You mean the dates of my landing were recorded?” Sherlock blurted, suddenly agitated.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Holmes,” Mohammad said somewhat ruefully, realizing the implication of the discovery. If Professor Moriarty was really chasing Holmes through time, and knew his landing dates, he may have landed on November 29, 2010 as Holmes did in the first instance.

“But there again,” Holmes went on, “If our David Penny is as cunning as I expect he is, and given that he was aware of the approximate date of my landing, he would not have revealed that information to the professor.”

Both men were sitting in one of the lounges of the hotel and relaxing – if that could ever be said of Sherlock – in front of a cup of tea. Irene had arrived from Washington two nights ago and had taken Sarah on a shopping spree at Harrods that afternoon.

When both came bouncing into the lounge, arms dropping under the strain of shopping bags, Sherlock’s face met her gaze with a broad grin. Standing up, he said, “Now, my dear, have you forgotten that we have only one wardrobe in Wellington?”

Irene sat down and so did Sherlock and Mohammad, and replied, “These are not for us alone, Sherlock”—she nodded at the bags beside her chair—“they are for Sarah. This poor child had only two dresses and her school uniforms. We couldn’t let her go on to become the best advisor in town dressed in rags, now could we?”

Sarah burst out in a string of giggles at the tease and went to sit beside Mohammad – the two of them having developed a very interesting friendship in the short time since they had met.

“You must see my new shoes,” she said, pulling a pair of patent leather shoes out of one of the bags. “See, Mr. Mohammad, they look beautiful don’t they?”

“I’ll say, they are,” Mohammad exclaimed, taking one of the shoes in his hand. “You are a very lucky young lady, indeed.”

“I know I am. And Daddy will be so pleased – he hates when I ask him to go shopping, you know?”

All the while, Sherlock was observing the wondrous child with untold admiration. For the little contact he had with children when he lived in London, he could never appreciate children for their intellect, astuteness or their capacity for learning. Most children were street urchins, as far as he could tell at the time. But now, Sarah had opened his eyes to the freshness of mind and the innocence of children.

“Talking of Doctor Watson,” Mohammad said, looking at Irene, “We have just learned that the time machine is back and we were able to re-capture it as soon as it landed in New York.”

“New York? How extraordinary,” Irene said in surprise. “I would have thought Professor Moriarty would have returned to London in this century – not New York.”

“What made you say that, Mrs. Holmes?” Mohammad asked.

“Well… .” Irene shook her head. “I’ve known the professor for some time, you understand, and he is not an adventurous person. He’d rather stay home and direct operations from
his
comfort
zone
 – as you call such a thing these days.”

“And why would you assume that it was Moriarty who brought the capsule back?” Sherlock asked.

“Elementary, my dear Sherlock”—Irene batted an eyelash teasingly—“Presumably David Penny took the machine back to Professor Wells – where else could he have stored it?” She shrugged. “And then he advised Moriarty of the capsule’s availability, tempting him into travelling to the future and chasing you down once more.”

Sherlock smiled and turned his face to Mohammad. “As I told you, Doctor, my wife’s often equal my powers of deduction.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Holmes.”

“And when is Daddy coming back, Mr. Mohammad?” Sarah piped up suddenly. She had asked the same question ever since Watson had left for Washington not only to assist Mohammad’s experts in re-capturing the time-machine but to give his lecture at the CIA.

“He should be back by the end of the week,” Mycroft offered, walking in on the little gathering. He plopped down in a seat across from Sherlock and added, “So, any news?”

“They’ve got the time-machine back, Mr. Mycroft, and Mrs. Holmes got me a new pair of shoes,” Sarah burst out, extracting the shoes out of the bag once again.

“Thank goodness for that,” Mycroft answered, looking at the shoes. “Those are very nice, Sarah… , and do you have the dress to go with such elegant footwear?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Mycroft, Mrs. Holmes has done all the shopping – we went to Harrods, you know. And we went to try on all these beautiful dresses, but there were only two that I liked, and Mrs. Holmes bought them for me.”

“I see,” Mycroft replied, smiling down gently at the little jewel of a girl. Then turning his gaze to Mohammad, he asked, “How was the capsule recovered then?”

“As you know, Mr. Minister, we were able to network the system of the two machines and while doing so, we managed to take over the guiding system of the lost machine and guide it back to Dr. Nebo’s premises as soon as it landed in New York.”

Same as Irene, Mycroft was surprised to hear of the landing site. “What would the blighter be doing in New York?”

“If you’re talking about David Penny, the answer is nothing,” Sherlock put in. “He’s not in New York – of that I’m sure.”

Taken aback, Mycroft’s eyes travelled from one to the other. “Who then?”

“Moriarty,” Irene answered.

“Good God! Do you mean the devil is back – back in this century?”

“Now, now, don’t get your knickers in a knot,” Sherlock interposed, chuckling. “We are not sure of the date at which he landed…”

“And why would you not know that?”

“It’s complicated, Mr. Minister, but the dating recorder was missing from the machine we recovered, so we have no idea as to when the capsule landed.”

“Now I need a drink!” Mycroft exclaimed, visibly irritated to say the least.

“Could I have an orange juice, please,” Sarah asked Irene with a broad smile on her lips.

“Of course, you may, but let the grown-ups order their refreshments first, alright?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Holmes,” Sarah replied, shrinking to the back in her seat.

Later that evening, in Washington, Watson was sitting across Agent Weisberg at the issue of his first day of lectures.

“Okay, Dr. Watson, I heard everything you told me about Sherlock Holmes and his latest adventure through time using the time-machine. And if I am to believe an ounce of this story, you’re telling me that we could foil terrorists’ games just by listening to his rambling deductions?”

“Not
his
rambling deductions, Agent Weisberg, but the deductions of a whole team of experts. Dr. Bahareth is the one you should talk to, if you want today’s answers to issues that have plagued your agencies here and abroad since nine-eleven or ever since Desert Storm.”

“But then how does Sherlock Holmes come into all this?”

“He is the brain, Agent Weisberg. The brain that will guide the arms and legs of what ever operation you would wish to conduct with his assistance.”

“I see. You mean we should employ him as a consultant?”

“Yes, same as you do me and Dr. Bahareth.”

“But you do realize, of course, that fighting terrorism here and abroad is a matter of national security, and I don’t think the NSA will be too thrilled with the idea of employing Sherlock Holmes’s ghost to solve our problems.”

“I’m sorry, Agent Weisberg, but why should you call him a ghost? You have already identified him as a New Zealander, and a descendant of the Holmes family. There is no need to justify the identity that you have created for him, I should think.”

“That’s just it, Doctor Watson – we have
created
his identity and the NSA would soon discover the fact. And then what do you propose we do when they find out?”

“My suggestion is that Mr. and Mrs. Holmes return to Wellington as soon as practicable and that you (or the NSA) follow Dr. Bahareth’s plans when ever required.”

“You mean we keep Mr. Holmes under wraps and address only Dr. Bahareth with ours or the NSA’s requests?”

Watson nodded emphatically. “If it’s a ghost that you chose to employ, let Mr. Holmes be that person. The one no one knows.”

“Have you talked to the minister about this?”

“Not yet, no. But if we are in agreement and the NSA is ready to unveil some of their problems to Dr. Bahareth by the time I leave Washington, I’m sure the minister will only be too pleased to follow suit.”

With these conclusive words, Agent Weisberg got to his feet. “I better get home,” he said, “before my wife sends an APB to find me.” He chuckled.

“I’ll keep you informed, Agent Weisberg,” Watson said, rising from his chair and walking out of the hotel lounge with his guest.

“And I’ll do the same,” Weisberg concluded, striding in the direction of the front door.

Professor Moriarty’s first night in New York was not the most pleasant. He had sold two of his coins for a mere $500 and was now stretching on the bed of a cheap hotel. He had canvassed the more expensive places around Manhattan earlier that day, but soon realized that his $500 wouldn’t see him through the week. In any event, he had found a decent suit and coat in one of the department stores, and had dined in some restaurant near his hotel and was then wondering how he was going to survive when his coins would run out.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he grumbled, dragging himself out of bed.

“Chamber maid,” the female voice answered from the other side of the door.

“At this hour?” he queried, looking through the peephole. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Go away!” he yelled.

“But, sir… .”

“Nothing doing, miss,” he said loudly, “I don’t require your services until morning, do you hear me?”

When the knocking became louder and more insistent, Moriarty grabbed his sack of gold, quickly shoved it between the mattress and the box-spring of the bed, lay down and called out, “Okay, okay, come in then, if you insist.”

His knowledge of the criminal mind had helped him in many circumstances before tonight, and he knew the person behind the door was up to no good.

The door burst open; two masked men came in, one of them brandishing a small gun, and demanded that he gave them his wallet. Seemingly scared out of his mind, and hiding under the comforter, Moriarty pointed to the nearby desk. The wallet was there along with his old watch.