Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [27]
Sherlock turned away so that Mycroft would not see the sudden glistening of his eyes.
Oblivious to the exchange between the two brothers, Crowe had levered himself up out of the tight chair and lumbered towards the door of the cottage. ‘Ginnie!’ he yelled, opening the door. ‘I have need of you!’ He stood there for a moment, until he was sure that she was on her way, then he came back and stood beside the chair.
Virginia Crowe appeared in the doorway. She glanced at Sherlock, and smiled. As usual, he was struck by the sheer amount of colour about her – the redness of her hair, the brown tan on her skin, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and the violet shade of her eyes. She made other girls look like black and white drawings.
‘Yes, Father?’
‘Got an errand for you. I need you to ride over an’ fetch the Arnatt boy from his boat. Tell him I need to ask him a few questions about today. Tell him he ain’t in trouble, but I need his help.’
She nodded. ‘You want me to bring him back on Sandia?’
‘Quicker that way. The horse can take both your weights. He’s a small lad.’
‘But scrappy,’ Sherlock added in Matty’s defence.
‘Of that I have no doubt,’ Crowe said. He looked over at Virginia. ‘Be fast, now.’
She glanced again at Sherlock, looking as if she wanted to say something, maybe ask him if he wanted to go with her, but instead she turned and left. Within a few moments Sherlock heard the high whinny of Virginia’s horse welcoming her, the jangle of reins and the diminishing sound of hoofs on hard earth.
Crowe and Mycroft got back to discussing ways of getting across the Atlantic Ocean faster than the four Americans. It all seemed to depend on which ship they took and which port they sailed from. Some ships were faster than others. Sherlock picked up from the discussion that some of the newer ships didn’t just rely on wind and sails to take them across the sea but supplemented that with powerful steam engines driving massive wheels, like those of a water mill, which had wooden paddles spaced around their circumference. The motion of the paddles against the water, powered by the steam engines, would push against the water and move the ship forward, even if there wasn’t any wind. Was there anywhere the steam engine could not go, any problem it could not solve? What would come next, he wondered – carts and carriages driven by steam filling the roads and taking men from London to Liverpool in a few hours? And perhaps even further – could man one day reach the moon using steam-driven craft?
Shaking his head to dislodge these incredible thoughts, he returned to listening to Mycroft and Amyus Crowe discussing politics, travel and revolution.
The talk went on, and Sherlock found himself fading in and out of it. The politics was above his head, although every now and then Crowe would bring it down to earth with an example of the number of people who died at a particular place or time, or how a particular town had been razed to the ground to make a point.
Eventually, he heard the rapid drumbeat of approaching hoofs. He went to the door, ready to welcome Virginia and Matty.
Outside, in the early evening light, he could see Sandia – Virginia’s horse – approaching. The dark mass on its back had to be Virginia and Matty, and for a moment Sherlock found himself jealous of Matty’s closeness to her. Only for a moment, though.
As Sandia got closer the dark mass on her back resolved into one figure rather than two. It was Virginia, and she pulled Sandia to a halt just beside Sherlock. Her eyes were wild, and her hair had been pulled by the wind into a tangled mass.
‘Where’s Matty?’ Sherlock asked.
She jumped down from the horse’s back and pushed past him, running into the cottage. Sherlock followed.
‘They’ve taken Matty!’ she cried.
‘What do you mean?’ Mycroft said, rising from the table.
‘I got to the narrowboat, and I got him to come with