Doctor Who_ All-Consuming Fire - Andy Lane [33]
Holmes, aware of the fragility of his position, attempted to extricate himself from the widening scrap. It was no use. He managed to fight his way to the fringes of the crowd, his knowledge of baritsu proving less effective than a good underarm punch to the groin, but a flailing hand caught his cheek just as he thought he was clear. He felt a tearing sensation as something ripped.
His false whiskers.
'E's wearing a sham 'tash!' somebody shouted.
'E must be a rozzer!' someone else cried.
Holmes looked around. The fight was frozen, with everybody looking at him. The rat-faced man was drawing a thin flensing knife.
'Hold him,' the man said. 'If he's a rozzer we'll find out what he's doing here, then we'll cut out his lights.'
Holmes could see several outcomes, most of them unpleasant. He briefly debated yelling out to Mr Jitter for help, but the man was unpredictable at the best of times and might not wish to acknowledge his connection with Holmes. Instead, he elbowed the nearest men aside and raced away. The crowd had thinned somewhat, and Holmes found he could easily avoid or outdistance his pursuers. His heart pounded. The stalls and the scenery blurred as he ran. The sounds of the chase diminished behind him.
'Set the dogs on him!' yelled a distant voice.
A great shout went up behind him, and, with a cold heart, Holmes could just make out the baying of the bulldogs. He increased his pace. His heart pounded in time with his legs. Hackney Downs station shimmered remotely in the distance, like a memory of childhood. Sweat trickled into his eyes, burning and blurring his vision. He shook his head, spraying the water away, but failed to see a tree root which emerged from the ground like an old, gnarled worm, and stumbled.
Behind him: a rapid pattering.
He turned and faced approaching nemesis.
The lead bulldog was less than fifty yards away, well ahead of the pursuing crowd. Its companion, the one with the scarred nose, was not far behind.
He took a deep breath, and waited.
The first dog approached in a blood-dappled blur and launched itself without hesitation at his throat. He braced himself, and caught its forelegs in mid-air. Its teeth gnashed widly a few scant inches away from his face.
Foam spattered across his eyes. He jerked the dog's legs apart. The dog shrieked as both shoulder joints dislocated with a terrible ripping sound.
Holmes threw the carcass away as the second dog skidded to a halt before him. He started to back slowly away. Knowing that if he turned his back, the dog would fasten itself upon his calf muscles, he picked up a stone and threw it with unerring accuracy at the dog's mutilated nose. It howled, and retreated.
The crowd was only a few hundred yards away, and most of them were carrying staves ripped from the arena fence.
Holmes a deep breath, and ran.
'And that's how I come to be sitting here this evening,' Holmes said lightly.
'It was exceedingly fortunate that the train was just pulling out of the station as I ran on to the platform. I ensconced myself safely in first class and waved at the hunters as they poured onto the platform. Apart from a slight contretemps with a guard who challenged me for sitting in a first class compartment with a third class ticket, the journey home was most pleasant.'
He took a contented puff at his pipe.
'Still, if there's one thing that today's escapade taught me, it's that the guards on the Library door were not paid to look the other way. We must look elsewhere for an explanation for the theft, Watson.'
'But Holmes...'
'And I wish I knew what that creature fighting the dogs was. I have the strangest feeling that this case might hinge upon that knowledge.'
I trailed off into an amazed silence. No matter how long I lived, I would never get Holmes's measure.
Chapter 5
In which Holmes and Watson receive a summons they cannot ignore, and are vouchsafed some secrets.