We arrived at our destination, and Sir Locke got out, and I heard him request for the cabbie to wait with me in the carriage until he returned, promising him double the fare for the job if he did. So I stayed in the carriage, smiling a little as I’d heard him call me his associate, instead of just his maid, and watched out the window as he went into the barracks.
I sat there, people watching for a while. It was mostly soldiers and other military people and such, but there were a few families that met their sons, and then headed out. Suddenly, I saw someone who appeared to be a soldier, but in normal civilian clothing, walk quickly out of the barracks, and then pace outside, this way and that, acting extremely suspiciously. After not five minutes of him pacing back and forth, I saw him look around, then casually walk away, and hide in the shadows just to the side of the door as Sir Locke exited. Thinking that this behavior was odd, I climbed out of the carriage to meet my employer.
Sir Locke tipped his hat at me, “Dr. Watson.”
“Sir, I don’t know if this is relevant, but that young man, just in the shadows of the door over there, has been behaving awfully suspiciously after you went in.” I told him, nodding in the young man’s direction.
Apparently, the young man had apparently seen the tip of my head in his direction, and bolted. Sir Locke immediately shot off, dashing away more quickly than I could have guessed him capable of. I ran after him as quickly as I could, lifting my skirts so that I could run more easily after him through the streets, though that ended quickly, on my part, as my old injury started acting up. But thankfully, I soon saw Sir Locke carting the young man back, frog marching him back to the carriage.
Out of breath and limping dreadfully, I trailed along, and we all climbed into the carriage, the young man protesting and squirming all the while, saying, “I ain’t done nothing!”
“Haven’t! And that remains to be seen.” Sir Locke said as he forced the young man, who looked maybe two years my junior, into the carriage. I sat across from them, and watched how Sir Locke conducted himself, now that he had someone suspicious in his custody.
The young man fell into a sulking silence as we made our way back to Cooke Street. Sir Locke all but hauled the young man into his home, but then let go of his arm once the door was shut, and safely locked, behind us. “Now doctor,” he said to me, heading towards the stairs, “would you bring tea up for this young man here? And some coffee for me?”
“And perhaps some biscuits or cake?” I asked, taking off my hat and coat and hanging them on their respective pegs.
Sir Locke nodded approvingly, “I think that’s in order.”
“I’ll bring it up right away, sir.”
“Thank you.” He said. The young man, who was now oddly quiet and behaved, simply looked dumbfounded as Sir Locke led him up to his study, apparently not having expected to be treated with such kindness.
Mrs. Hudson and I quickly got the tea and coffee ready, as well as both biscuits and cakes, and I took the snacks upstairs on a tray, not bothering to knock before I went in. It was pretty messy, but I realized that it was a comfortable sort of messy that came from being a place that was well lived in.
The desk was littered with various papers and containers, as well as a couple of tables full of scientific equipment, and there was even a skull on the mantelpiece, which I made a mental note to get rid of, lest he scare any clients off.
There was a door on the far end of the room, which I assumed led to his personal quarters, although a folded blanket and some pillows on a sofa led me to believe that it was often used as a bed as well. The young man was sitting on one of the couches, a low coffee table in front of him, with the other sofa on the opposing side, and one armchair flanking both their sides. “Tea and coffee, as you requested. I wasn’t sure which you preferred, so I brought biscuits and cake for the both of you.” Sir Locke was standing in front of one of two large windows that both opened up onto a balcony that overlooked Cooke Street. Indeed, his thin, straight figure cut a rather fine, dashing image against the light that streamed brightly in from the window, but only for a split second, because he quickly turned and was suddenly himself again, the strange private detective who was my employer. “I’ll be off then.” I said.
“Stay, Watson, you might be needed.” was his quick reply.
“Oh, yes sir.” I blinked, and then sat down in one of the armchairs.
“Alright then.” Sir Locke said, coming and sitting on the couch next to the chair I was occupying. The detective motioned at the tea tray that I’d brought up, sighing exasperatedly, “Come, come, have tea or coffee, both of you. If I’m going to try to be cordial, you might as well at least attempt to benefit from it in some way!”
His comment amused me, and I stood, “I’ll pour it, after all, I am your maid, sir. Tea?” I asked the young man.
“Yes, miss.” He nodded, now seeming a little befuddled at the situation in which he found himself, though a little more relaxed than he had been previously.
“We’ll start with your name.” Sir Locke said as I poured the tea and handed it to the young man.
“Thomas Letter.” Thomas replied.
“Well, Thomas Letter, you have a secret, I can see that much. So out with it.” He accepted the cup of coffee that I’d poured for him, and I noticed that his fingers were rough with callous, and the thought occurred to me that he probably hadn’t always been a detective. I poured myself a cup of tea, and sat quietly in my seat, wanting to observe the exchange that was playing out in front of me, and hoping that I wouldn’t somehow make myself a nuisance.
“I don’t have a secret.” Thomas said stubbornly.
“Of course you do. Everyone does.” Sir Locke said, raising his eyebrows.
“Even you?” the young Mr. Letters countered.
Sir Locke only smiled a little, and replied, “If I did, it would be a sinister one, I can assure you. At any rate, if you won’t tell me, I’ll be forced to figure it out without your help.” He sighed, “Let’s see, you have two dogs. Small ones, I should think…and that you were stationed in the desert, like the good Doctor here. You have a little sister, who doesn’t approve of the woman that you’re currently seeing, your father died when you were seven from consumption, you’re currently living on Green Street right next to the bakery that you’re working at, though you’re considering going to work in the coal mines because that’s better pay, though your mother doesn’t want you to because it’s dangerous, and-“
Thomas interrupted with a cry, “Fine, fine! I’ll answer your questions!”
“What caused your old squad mate, Alexander Weatherbee, to get himself killed with Sand Tribe poison here in Averah rather than in the desert?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The young man sighed, his shoulders wilting a little. “I guess since someone died…”
“His family deserves to know what happened to him, Thomas.” I said quietly.
Thomas nodded, “You’re right. I…well, I don’t know how to start. We’re taught loyalty to our country, in the army…but after everything that I’ve seen, being loyal to this country seems like the last thing that I should do, or could do.”
“How so?” Sir Locke asked, sounding interested.
“Well, Weatherbee and I were in the same squad, right?”
“Yes, and now that he’s died, you no longer are.” Sir Locke said in a long-suffering sort of tone.
“No, I mean, yes, I was there visiting my army friends today, but not because I’m still in the army myself. I was relieved of duty early, not quite a dishonorable discharge, but it was communicated to me that it was as good as one.”
“What did you get kicked out for?”
Thomas was quiet for a little while. “You see, we were holed up in a deserted Sand Tribe camp that we’d raided one very, very dark night out there in the scorching desert.”
“What happened?” Sir Locke asked quietly.
“Some Sand Tribe warriors found us and attacked, and we fought back, as is natural.” He paused, “We drove ‘em back, but one of them was wounded, and couldn’t get away, so we took him prisoner.” Thomas was quiet again, as if his words were weighing heavily in his mind. “We had lost many of our own men…Our commanding officer kind of snapped, and…and decided that we were going to…to get information from him. And when he didn’t talk when we used the typical interrogation methods, he turned to…to…”
“Unconventional methods of investigation?” Sir Locke asked, his face was grave, and seemingly sent in stone, the lines that had appeared on his forehead aging him a little. The thought that Sir Locke looked too old to be actually a human magician, suddenly fluttered to my mind at a most inconvenient moment, as my employer looked perhaps thirty, which was older than when human magicians typically stopped aging.
Thomas’ voice drew me away from my completely irrelevant thoughts, “Yes…it was torture, sir. I…I am ashamed to say that I…I did as I was told…but Alex, he was the only one who didn’t. He refused to take part. Our officer in command wasn’t too happy about that, put him on latrine duty until the end of his career, basically, for disobeying orders…but Alex had the right idea…I wish I’d been half the man that he was, and not taken part.”
“So why did Weatherbee have to die?” Sir Locke asked.
Thomas shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t have any proof that it was our CO that killed him, but…but he took the poison that our prisoner had, as a bit of a souvenir, after the prisoner died…Anyways, just before I was relieved of duty, Alex pulled me aside one night, while everyone else was at the mess hall, and told me that he was no better than the rest of us, and that because he was silent about what we’d done, it made him just as guilty as if he’d taken part in the torture as well…because all it takes for evil men to prevail is for a good man to do nothing, which is how he put it…Somehow or another, someone else found out that Alex was planning on reporting our entire squad to the military police, to have them brought up on charges of cruelty towards a prisoner or war, and that I was going to act as a witness because I felt so bad about it, and not two weeks later, I get kicked out, and Weatherbee is dead.”
“A conspiracy, how intriguing.” Sir Locke said after a few moments of thought.
“It’s a bit more than that, sir.” I said quietly. “It’s conspiracy to murder. How many of your former squad mates were involved?”
“I don’t know.” Thomas shook his head, “But I would reckon that none of them would be able to kill anyone that they knew…except for Captain Miller…he’s cruel enough. He was in charge of our unit, and was the one that tortured the prisoner to his death. He could have killed Alex on his own…and he’s the one that had the poison.”
“Well, that’s a case solved.” Sir Locke said in a quiet voice.
“It solves nothing, Sir Locke, Alexander Weatherbee’s murderer is still free.” I frowned.
“Oh I know that. I’m going to send a message to my brother, he’s in a position that he would be able to interfere where the police can’t, you see, given that it involves the military. In the meantime, Doctor, I want you to send a message to the Inspector, communicating what we’ve discovered, he’ll be glad to hear that there really are no Sand Tribe warriors infiltrating the city.”
“The police?” Thomas said, tensing, suddenly afraid.
“You won’t be in trouble. In fact, you’re free to go.” Sir Locke said, standing and opening the door for him.
“I am?” The young man seemed flabbergasted.
“You’ve lost a friend, I think that’s punishment enough.” Sir Locke said in a quiet voice. Mrs. Hudson had been right, he did have a heart after all…it was refreshing to see.
Looking considerably relieved, Thomas stood just inside the door, looking back at Sir Locke and myself, “I…I think I’m going to go see Mrs. Weatherbee, and tell her what happened, apologize for this.”
“You’re not the one who killed him.” I said in a quiet voice.
“It feels like it sometimes.” The young soldier said in a strangled voice, looking a little haunted as he turned and left.
Sir Locke stood at the open door for a few more moments. Then he closed it quietly, and took the spot that Thomas had so recently vacated.
“You do have a heart, sir.” I said softly, noting that he seemed almost sad.
My employer didn’t bat an eye, but retorted with “Well of course, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be alive.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn’t help but smile. “As a doctor, I’m well aware of that, but you know what I meant.”
His face settled in a frown, “Whoever said I hadn’t one?”
“Mrs. Hudson said that some people would say you didn’t have one, but you do. I think she’s probably right.”
“Why’s that?”
“You struggle with people, that much I’m certain of, but you wouldn’t help solve crimes if you didn’t at least care a little about people.”
“Who’s to say I don’t just like the challenge in solving a good mystery?” he asked, sounding a little weary. “I live on the excitement. My mind stagnates with boredom…”
Something in me was disappointed by his response, that he couldn’t find it in himself to admit that he cared about people. I’d seen his concern for humanity written in his face, but he couldn’t admit it that he did, for whatever reason. Perhaps he saw caring as a weakness
“It’s not as if caring for people is a bad thing, sir.” I told him, shaking my head a little at him.
“Then we differ on that opinion. Sentiment is a weakness, clouds your judgment…impedes logic.” The detective’s tone was somewhat cold.
I was a little taken aback by his response. “Then I’ll choose everyday to have my judgment clouded every day, as well as my logic impeded, as long as it means that I get to care about people.”
“Well, I couldn’t expect you to agree with me on every point and condition, you are a woman, after all.” His tone was sarcastic, but a little sharp, and certainly degrading.
I stood quickly, angered by this comment. I was typically slow to anger, but he had touched a rather raw nerve. “I suppose you don’t need me on any more cases, then, since my judgment is clouded and logic impeded because I am a woman. I’ll just go and play maid while dreaming of being allowed to practice as an actual doctor someday, if it suits you, sir.” I snapped, and then headed towards the door as a flash of surprise passed over his face.
Sir Locke jumped to his feet. “Watson-” I could almost hear an apology in his voice. Almost.
I whirled about, facing him, angry. “Oh go on, mock me, everyone else has. I’ve proven myself time and time again, but you all still mock me!” I cried, tears coming to my eyes. Then I stormed from the room, still angry, and went to my room, threw myself on the bed and sulked, because I was a grown woman, and doing so was my choice. It was perhaps a childish choice, but I didn’t care at that moment.
After a while, I ran myself a hot bath, then soaked in it and cried a little more, but only a little because I was so used to such comments…I just hadn’t been expecting it from him, as he’d seemed almost forward thinking, calling me Dr. Watson and all of that, but I’d touched a nerve for him, I suppose, though not purposely, and he had lashed out in a way that he knew would touch a nerve for me. That was rather cruel, but people did have the tendency to be cruel to one another for no reason in particular.
After getting out of the bath, I put on my bathrobe and nightdress, and then lay down in my massive, comfortable bed, and fell fast asleep.