The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [114]
"Sherlock?" He thought of the flask, the initials on it. He had known that face… "Mycroft's brother? I thought he was dead."
Irene shook her head, and a warm, genuine smile lifted her face. "He never was, you see. It was a bluff. He was exchanged for a simulacrum of himself, a crude copy, incapable of thought but–"
"But looking identical?"
She smiled again. "He had help from across the Channel. He thought it would be safe to be dead for a while."
"And you didn't know?" He remembered the frozen corpse he had seen at Guy's Hospital. No wonder no doctor could bring him back to life. Or was even that a lie, and no doctor had ever been consulted?
Pain erased the smile. "No. But it was necessary. No one could know. It would not have been safe, for either of us."
"What was he doing?" Orphan said. "And why did he drug me?" He couldn't help a petulant note entering his voice, and Irene smiled. "It was for your own good," she said. "You weren't safe on the street, and at least here you were out of trouble. I came as soon as I could."
"But I was going to stay with Tom," Orphan said. "He's just around the corner."
"Your friend Tom Thumb?" Irene said. "He's gone. A lot's changed, Orphan. Too much has changed. And the Nell Gwynne is now a lizard boys' hangout. You would have been dead as soon as you knocked on the door."
"What happened?" Orphan said. He felt hollow. "And where's Tom?"
Irene shrugged. "Gone to ground. Joined the Glorious Revolution. Maybe, if he has any sense, gone back to Vespuccia." She stopped talking and reached into her pocket, returning with a set of keys. "We need to get you out of here. Your friend too. I was told he would be here."
"Told? By who?" He spoke more sharply than he intended and she glanced at him, but didn't answer. Instead she unlocked the door to the cell and moved on to the other's. The other rose, looking at them blearily. It struck Orphan again how unwell he looked. There was a haunted look in his eyes. "It's talking to me," he said. "It wants me to…" and he fell silent.
"Orphan?" Irene Adler said.
"Yes?" the answer was doubled.
Irene drew in breath. "Which one of you…" she said, and didn't finish.
Orphan was the first to speak. The other merely stared at his feet. Orphan said, "This is William."
"William."
"Yes."
The other raised his head, looked at Orphan. For a moment it almost seemed like he was smiling. "William," he said. "Yes…"
"I don't understand…" Irene said.
Orphan shrugged. "Neither do I."
Irene stared at them for another moment, then shook her head. "This can wait," she said. "We need to go. Come."
They followed Irene down the row of cells. She did not go back up the stairs but, on reaching the door at the other end, unlocked it and ushered them through, and into a narrow corridor. "There's only a skeleton crew left," she said. "It's rather chaotic out there now. Still, I'd rather we didn't meet anyone at the station."
They didn't. They left the police station by a back door and found themselves outside, on Agar Street. "Where are we going?"
"Not far."
Waning daylight outside. In the distance, breaking the eerie silence, the sound of sporadic gunfire. "What happened?" Orphan said again. He felt numb. Was it all his fault?
"Revolution," Irene said shortly.
"Who?" Orphan said.
Irene shrugged. "Who knows? There are so many factions right now and they're all fighting each other. Your friend Mrs Beeton's in one. Sherlock's brother's his own faction of one, as always. The lizard boys – who can tell? And they say Moriarty is wounded. The government is weak…"
So Moriarty wasn't dead. Orphan was glad for that. He said, "And what faction are you with?"
Irene shook her head. "I'm on the side of order," she said.
They joined the Strand at the bottom of Agar Street. There were people there now, a multitude of them, and for a moment Orphan felt fearful: he was no