The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [124]
“Not completely.”
“You are doing well, Russell. It becomes easier as time passes.”
“That is precisely what I am afraid of, Holmes,” I whispered. “How long before the part becomes so natural that it is no longer a part? How am I to maintain my objectivity, to watch for signs that the op-ponent is opening herself up, if I become the part?”
“When the time comes, you will do it. I have faith in you, Russ.”
His easy words brought me an element of stability, calm within the storm. “I am glad you have faith in me, Holmes,” I said drily. “I bow to your superior experience.”
I could feel his smile through the door.
“I shall send you messages from time to time while you are up at Oxford. Obvious ones, for the most part, though if I have the oppor-tunity to send a secure one, I shall do so. You, of course, will write oc-casionally to Mrs. Hudson when she returns from Australia, and she will leave the letters lying about pointedly.”
“You think it will be safe to allow her to return to Sussex?”
“I do not know how I should keep her away. Mycroft had practi-cally to kidnap her to get her on the ship in the first place; Mrs. Hud-son is a very determined woman. No, we shall simply have to take on one or two extra servants. Mycroft’s agents, of course.”
“Poor Mrs. Hudson. She’ll be so upset when she finds we’ve quarrelled.”
“Yes. But Mycroft will be a safe liaison. There’s no hiding anything from Mycroft. I fear our alienation will also cause considerable pain to Dr. Watson. I can only hope it will not wind on for too many months.”
“You think it could go on so long?” Oh, God.
“I believe our foe is a careful and patient individual. She will not act precipitously.”
“You are right. As usual.”
“Your aunt will be pleased, I fear. Your farm, of course, will necessi-tate the occasional trip to Sussex.”
“No doubt it will.” I thought for a moment. “Holmes, an automo-bile might come of considerable use in this adventure. However, I can no longer borrow money from Mrs. Hudson, and I doubt that my aunt would approve the expenditure. My allowance goes up this year, but not enough for that.”
“I think Mycroft should be of help there, in persuading your trustees and the University offices that an automobile is a necessary item. You may even come to my farm once or twice, in attempts at reconciliation.”
“Which will, of course, fail.”
“Of course.” I imagined the quick smile flitting across his features. “This is a good trap we’re constructing, Russell, strong and simple. It only needs patience, patience and alertness to the prey’s movements. We will catch her, Russell. She’s no match for us. Go to sleep now.”
“I believe I will. Thank you, Holmes.”
I did go to bed, and eventually to sleep, but in the still hours that are neither night nor morning the Dream came for me, with a greater force than it had had in years. I came up from it to find myself hud-dled on the floor with my arms over my head, a shriek of complete hopelessness and terror echoing off the walls. All the old symptoms washed over me: cold, copious sweat, sour vomit in the back of my throat, heart bursting, lungs heaving. Then the door was flung open and Holmes was kneeling beside me with his strong hands on my shoulders.
“Russell, what is it?”
“Go away, go away, leave me alone.” My voice was harsh and hurt my throat. I stood up and nearly fell, and his hands helped me to my bed. I sat with my head in my hands, pushing the dream back into its box, my body slowing. Over the pounding in my veins I was peripher-ally aware that Holmes was still beside me, tying the belt of his dress-ing gown, smoothing his hair back from his temples with both hands, and drilling the back of my skull with his gaze. Eventually he left off and went out of the room, but he did not close the door, and was back after a minute with a glass in one hand and his tobacco pouch in the other. He held out the glass.
“Drink this.”