Young Sherlock Holmes_ Death Cloud - Andrew Lane [66]
‘You look as if you’ve been in the wars, Sherlock,’ his aunt said during dessert – the closest she’d ever got to asking him a direct question.
‘I . . . fell down,’ he said, aware of the stinging cuts on his face and ears. ‘I’m not used to riding a bike.’
It seemed to satisfy her, and she went back to murmuring to herself, continuing her perpetual monologue.
As soon as was polite, Sherlock broke away and headed for his room. He had intended to read for a while and then perhaps write some of the day’s events down in a journal so that he didn’t forget them, but as soon as his body hit the bed he found it difficult to keep his eyes open, and within moments he was asleep, still fully dressed.
He woke once when it was dark outside and owls were hooting somewhere in the distance. He slipped his clothes off and slid beneath the rough sheet. He fell into a deep sleep like someone diving into a dark and mysterious lake.
The next day dawned bright and sharp. Amyus Crowe was standing downstairs in the hall when Sherlock descended for breakfast. He was wearing a white linen suit and a broad-brimmed hat.
We’re going to London,’he boomed when he saw Sherlock. ‘I have to go on business, and your uncle has given me permission to take you with me. It’ll be an education. We’ll see some art galleries, and I’ll teach you some of the history associated with that great city.’
‘Is Virginia going too?’ Sherlock asked without thinking, and immediately wished that he could pull the words back out of the air, but Crowe just grinned, his eyes twinkling. ‘Why, yes,’ he said. ‘I could hardly leave her alone in the countryside now, could I? What kind of father would that make me?’
‘Why London?’ Sherlock asked more quietly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘That’s where the convoy of carts was heading,’ Crowe replied equally quietly. ‘I suspect he has another house there somewhere.’
With a barely audible rustle of her skirt, Mrs Eglantine stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall. ‘You should eat your breakfast before I have to clear the table, young Master Sherlock,’ she said, her voice laden with just enough dislike to be audible but not enough for Sherlock to take any active offence.
‘Thank you,’ he said, then turned back to Crowe. ‘Are we leaving straight away?’
‘Get some victuals inside you,’ Crowe answered. ‘You may need them. Pack a small bag for two days away. I’ll wait in the carriage outside.’ He turned to Mrs Eglantine and removed his hat with an exaggerated flourish. ‘Ma’am,’ he said, and left.
Sherlock ate his breakfast as fast as he could, barely tasting it. London! He was going to London! And if he was really lucky he might be able to see Mycroft while he was there!
Amyus Crowe was waiting in a four-wheeler carriage outside the Manor House. Virginia was sitting beside him. She looked uncomfortable, either because of the frilly dress and bonnet that she was wearing or because she was cooped up inside the carriage rather than being outside in the open air.
‘You look nice,’ Sherlock said as he sat opposite her and as the driver stacked his bag up with the rest. She scowled at him.
The clatter of wheels on gravel as the cart pulled off covered her reply, but Sherlock wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it anyway.
When they got to Farnham station, Matty was waiting for them. Amyus Crowe smiled at him. ‘You got my message, then?’
‘Got woken up by the bloke delivering it. How did you know where my boat was moored?’
‘It’s my business to know where everything is. My business and my particular pleasure too. Fancy a journey, youngster?’
‘I ain’t got no change of clothes or nothing,’ Matty said.
‘We’ll buy you whatever you need in London. Now, let’s get our tickets.’
Crowe bought four tickets to London, second class, and the party descended to the station platform while the driver