Read Online The Falling Curtain (The Assassination of Sherlock Holmes Book 3) by Craig Janacek - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Craig Janacek
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“Perhaps this contains some critical clue,” said I, stooping to pick it up.
He glanced at it with some interest. “Let me see it first, Watson.”
I handed it over and he inspected it closely, even going so far as to sniff it multiple times. “I can see no signs that it has been tampered with. If they introduced a poison, then they must have infiltrated the messenger offices. I think, on the whole, the odds suggest that you can safely open it, though it is likely just a message from your concerned wife.”
I was barely listening to him, however, for the enclosed message was unusual in the extreme. I little knew what it meant, but I thought that perhaps Holmes might see some hopeful sign therein. Before I could speak, Holmes snapped. “Out with it, Watson! What is so interesting? Your face is an open book!”
TRAFALGAR SQUARE, Westminster, Nov. 30th.
Re Forgery
Dr. Watson –
I write to inform you that I promptly followed your advice and took Le Jeune Fille to the University for a painstakingly complete analysis. I am most dismayed that your suspicions were correct and the painting that we have proudly displayed for some measure of the last eighteen years is indeed fraudulent. Although the paint and canvas are of an appropriate age, Jean-Baptiste Greuze was not in the habit of painting over landscapes of prior German Romantics, no matter how minor, as we discovered when the painting was subjected to the rays of Mr. Röntgen. I pray that this information is of some minor assistance in any investigations conducted by yourself and Mr. Holmes.
Yours sincerely,
Joshua Goldfield
Holmes read this with growing excitement, and suddenly sprang out of his chair. His inexorable eyes gleamed out of his haggard face. I could now read in them a set purpose to devote his life to the quest, until the men who had already been harmed should be avenged, and until no further danger awaited any of us at the hands of Mortlock. “You are absolutely right, Watson. We have been passive for far too long. Now that we know the name of our enemy, it is time to take the fight to him.”
“We know the name of our enemy?” I asked with some confusion.
“Oh, yes.”
§
However, Holmes would say no more at the moment. He informed me that he would need to go out for a short while in order to perform the few tasks that would be required to prepare for the coming battle. Upon his return we would be decamping from the luxury of the Langham. He instructed me to rest my shoulder as much as possible while we still maintained our comfortable quarters, and to not let anyone through the door until Shinwell Johnson arrived.
He smiled at my question regarding the necessity of this action. “Shinwell is a blunt instrument, of course, Watson. But he is as loyal as he is intimidating. He will ensure your safety while I am occupied. It is a temporary measure only until you have regained some use of your arm and are able to defend yourself. Do not take it as any denigration of your use, Watson. In fact, without your little visit to the National Gallery, we might still be in the dark.”
The rest of the day was quiet, with only the arrival of Mr. Johnson, some packages, and a light supper to break the monotony. Nevertheless, the rest did wonders for my shoulder, which admittedly had hardly felt up to the task of waging war against the forces of Mortlock. By the time Holmes returned, however, a series of hot packs applied by the surprisingly solicitous Mr. Johnson had me feeling, if not normal, at least upon my way towards being whole again.
Holmes did not identify our group’s destination, but before he led our way out of the hotel, he gave Johnson and I a series of instructions. “We can be certain, gentlemen, that our adversary has already deduced our current location. As we are retreating to a new base of operations – whose location I would for the time being prefer remains a secret – we must ensure that they do not follow us
He glanced at it with some interest. “Let me see it first, Watson.”
I handed it over and he inspected it closely, even going so far as to sniff it multiple times. “I can see no signs that it has been tampered with. If they introduced a poison, then they must have infiltrated the messenger offices. I think, on the whole, the odds suggest that you can safely open it, though it is likely just a message from your concerned wife.”
I was barely listening to him, however, for the enclosed message was unusual in the extreme. I little knew what it meant, but I thought that perhaps Holmes might see some hopeful sign therein. Before I could speak, Holmes snapped. “Out with it, Watson! What is so interesting? Your face is an open book!”
TRAFALGAR SQUARE, Westminster, Nov. 30th.
Re Forgery
Dr. Watson –
I write to inform you that I promptly followed your advice and took Le Jeune Fille to the University for a painstakingly complete analysis. I am most dismayed that your suspicions were correct and the painting that we have proudly displayed for some measure of the last eighteen years is indeed fraudulent. Although the paint and canvas are of an appropriate age, Jean-Baptiste Greuze was not in the habit of painting over landscapes of prior German Romantics, no matter how minor, as we discovered when the painting was subjected to the rays of Mr. Röntgen. I pray that this information is of some minor assistance in any investigations conducted by yourself and Mr. Holmes.
Yours sincerely,
Joshua Goldfield
Holmes read this with growing excitement, and suddenly sprang out of his chair. His inexorable eyes gleamed out of his haggard face. I could now read in them a set purpose to devote his life to the quest, until the men who had already been harmed should be avenged, and until no further danger awaited any of us at the hands of Mortlock. “You are absolutely right, Watson. We have been passive for far too long. Now that we know the name of our enemy, it is time to take the fight to him.”
“We know the name of our enemy?” I asked with some confusion.
“Oh, yes.”
§
However, Holmes would say no more at the moment. He informed me that he would need to go out for a short while in order to perform the few tasks that would be required to prepare for the coming battle. Upon his return we would be decamping from the luxury of the Langham. He instructed me to rest my shoulder as much as possible while we still maintained our comfortable quarters, and to not let anyone through the door until Shinwell Johnson arrived.
He smiled at my question regarding the necessity of this action. “Shinwell is a blunt instrument, of course, Watson. But he is as loyal as he is intimidating. He will ensure your safety while I am occupied. It is a temporary measure only until you have regained some use of your arm and are able to defend yourself. Do not take it as any denigration of your use, Watson. In fact, without your little visit to the National Gallery, we might still be in the dark.”
The rest of the day was quiet, with only the arrival of Mr. Johnson, some packages, and a light supper to break the monotony. Nevertheless, the rest did wonders for my shoulder, which admittedly had hardly felt up to the task of waging war against the forces of Mortlock. By the time Holmes returned, however, a series of hot packs applied by the surprisingly solicitous Mr. Johnson had me feeling, if not normal, at least upon my way towards being whole again.
Holmes did not identify our group’s destination, but before he led our way out of the hotel, he gave Johnson and I a series of instructions. “We can be certain, gentlemen, that our adversary has already deduced our current location. As we are retreating to a new base of operations – whose location I would for the time being prefer remains a secret – we must ensure that they do not follow us
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