Young Sherlock Holmes_ Fire Storm - Andrew Lane [39]
It was a rabbit’s head, the severed neck covered in blood.
‘A rabbit’s head in a rabbit hole,’ Matty commented drily. ‘Ain’t that an unexpected turn of events? Are you trying to tell me that a fox took Mr Crowe and Virginia away?’
‘You see,’ Sherlock replied, ‘but you do not understand. Look at the neck.’
Matty considered it, then nodded in understanding. ‘It’s been sliced off with a sharp blade, not bitten through or ripped off.’ He thought for a moment. ‘This must be the head that goes with the body we found back at the cottage. Even so – it could have been taken off a kitchen table by a fox or a stoat and just . . . left here.’
‘I don’t think so. An animal, if it had stolen this thing, would have eaten some of it. There would be teeth marks. As it is, it looks like someone has just cut it off and put it straight in this hole.’
Matty turned his attention from Sherlock back to the rabbit’s head. ‘Pretty fresh,’ he admitted. ‘Probably less than a day old.’
‘It’s a message,’ Sherlock said thoughtfully, ‘but the question is, what kind of message is it?’ He paused for a moment. ‘No,’ he went on, ‘the real question is, are there any more messages apart from this one?’
Matty looked around and sighed. ‘You mean we have to finish searching the field?’
‘We do. Just because we find one thing, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other things to find.’
‘I was afraid you might say that.’
Leaving the bloodied head where it was, Sherlock and Matty continued their search, combing through the grass for anything that might have been left or dropped. It was another three-quarters of an hour before they found themselves searching along the far fence.
‘Nothing?’ Matty asked as they walked back to the cottage.
‘Nothing,’ Sherlock agreed. ‘Either it’s the rabbit head, or there’s nothing here.’
Matty looked over to where they’d left the head. ‘I can’t see how there can be a message there, unless Mr Crowe’s written it on a small piece of paper and shoved it in the thing’s mouth. That would just be sick.’
‘It’s not the head itself,’ Sherlock replied, ‘or, at least, I don’t think it is. It’s more likely to be something to do with its placement, or just its existence. I don’t think Mr Crowe had time to do anything complicated, like write a note. He just had time to make some pinholes in the wall pointing out here, and then throw the head into a hole.’
‘He had time to catch and kill a rabbit,’ Matty pointed out.
‘I think it was already there. I think he probably caught it earlier and was preparing it for a meal – taking the head off, gutting it and skinning it. I think that something happened to make him want to leave, and after clearing out the cottage of everything he and Virginia owned he only had a few moments to come up with a message.’
Matty sighed in frustration. ‘Yeah, but what is it? I think he had more faith in us than was warranted.’
‘A rabbit’s head in a hole,’ Sherlock mused, trying to provoke some movement in his head, some sudden revelation that might only occur if he kept on repeating the obvious.
‘Burrow,’ Matty murmured as they entered the cottage.
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s a burrow, not a hole. Rabbits have burrows, foxes have dens and badgers have setts. You’re normally the one who likes to get words right – you need to learn these things.’
‘A rabbit’s head in a burrow,’ Sherlock corrected. That elusive thought in his head finally started running. ‘A head in a burrow. Matty, you’re a genius!’
‘I am?’ the boy said, surprised.
‘Well, technically you’re not a genius, but you have an amazing ability to bring out the genius in others. It’s so obvious!’
‘It is?’
‘Remember when you’d been kidnapped by Duke Balthassar’s men and taken to New York, and we tracked you down?’
Matty nodded, mystified.
‘Do you remember when I found you in that building? You tried to get me to understand that they were taking you on the train line to Pennsylvania?’
Matty smiled. ‘Yeah, that was clever, wasn’t it?’
‘You mimed using a pen, then touched the windowsill, then pointed to a weather vane on a nearby building.