Young Sherlock Holmes_ Death Cloud - Andrew Lane [38]
Sherlock nibbled a bit off the edge of the crust. It was salty, buttery and thick. He took another bite, managing to scoop up some of the pinkish meat and transparent jelly inside. The meat was tasty, studded with bits of fruit – prunes, perhaps? Whatever it was, the combination was incredible.
He handed the pie back. ‘I already had some apple and cheese,’ he explained. ‘You finish this.’
‘You said you had a thought.’
‘I need to get to Guildford.’
‘Take a good few hours on the bike,’ Matty said, still scanning the crowd.
Sherlock thought back to his trip from Deepdene School for Boys to Farnham, passing through Guildford and then Aldershot on the way. He didn’t particularly relish the thought of cycling all the way to Guildford and then all the way back again, and he wasn’t sure he could do it in a day – and find an expert to talk to about poisons and diseases as well.
He sighed. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘It was a stupid idea.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Matty replied. ‘There are other ways of getting to Guildford.’
‘I can’t ride, and I haven’t got a horse.’
‘What about the train?’
‘I’d rather do it without leaving a trail – without anyone knowing. Mrs Eglantine seems to be friendly with the stationmaster – I don’t want her knowing what I do all the time.’
Mrs Eglantine is no friend of the family. The words from Mycroft’s letter suddenly floated across his mind, causing him to shiver.
‘There’s another way,’ Matty said cautiously.
‘What’s that?’
‘The Wey.’
‘What way?’
‘No, the Wey. The River Wey. Runs from here to Guildford.’
Sherlock considered the thought for a moment. ‘We’d need a boat.’ And then, before Matty could say anything, he exclaimed, ‘And you’ve got one – a narrowboat, at least!’
‘And a horse to pull it.’
‘How long would it take?’
Matty considered for a moment. ‘Prob’ly as long as cycling, but it’s a lot less effort. I don’t think we can do it today. You could meet me at sunrise tomorrow, and we could spend the day on the water, but that wouldn’t give you much time in Guildford.’
‘What about if we start before dawn?’ Sherlock asked.
Matty glanced curiously at him. ‘Won’t your aunt and uncle worry?’
Sherlock’s mind was whirring away like a grandfather clock about to strike. ‘I can go back for dinner, then tell them I’m going to bed. I can sneak out of the house later, when it’s dark and everyone’s gone to sleep – I’m sure of it. Nobody ever checks on me. And I can leave a note in the dining room saying that I’ve got up before breakfast and gone out with Amyus Crowe. They won’t find it until the morning. It’ll work!’
‘The river loops close to your uncle’s house,’ Matty said. ‘I can draw you a map and meet you there. We can be in Guildford for morning, and back before sunset.’
Quickly, Matty scratched a map on a scrap of wood that he pulled from the crate he was sitting on, using a sharp stone from the ground. Sherlock suspected that the boy couldn’t read or write, but his map was perfect and nearly to scale. Sherlock could visualize exactly where they would meet.
‘I need you to do something,’ Sherlock said.
‘What?’
‘Ask around. See if you can find out about the man who died – the man whose house you were standing outside. Find out what he did.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What he did for a job. Where he earned his money. I’ve got a feeling that might be important.’
Matty nodded. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said, ‘but nobody usually tells kids anything.’
After that, everything went smoothly. Sherlock rode back to Holmes Manor and arrived just as the family was sitting down for lunch. He tried to think through his plan, testing each step for resilience against unexpected events and checking the details for flaws, but he found that his thoughts kept shifting around to Virginia Crowe. He couldn’t get the shape of her face,