The Mass: Part 2

“What’s wrong?” She gasped; the dear woman was out of breath. “Mr. Holmes!” She shrieked when noticing his frame upon the floor. His teeth had begun to chatter.

“Help me move him to the fire.” With great difficulty, we moved his shivering body to the fireplace. “Boil some water Mrs. Hudson, fill a container with a lid, and wrap it in a towel as fast as you can.”

“Yes doctor.”

I had never witnessed my friend react this way to anything. He had an iron clad constitution for the most part. I have seen mental fatigue in him but this. This was a different animal. I rushed into his room removing the covers from his bed and used them to wrap him.

Mrs. Hudson soon returned with a glass jar so heavy she could barely carry the thing.

I placed the jar under the covers carefully as not to burn him. Though as hard as he was convulsing it was possible he would get burnt anyway.

It was nigh, dark before Holmes woke. His voice weak, “Watson?”

“I am here old man.”

“The package? What else is there?”

“Are you sure you want me to open it now?”

He moaned instead of answered. There came a knock at the door. I quickly turned down all the lights except the one at the table. When I opened the door, I was shocked to find Inspector Hopkins. “Inspector?”

“Doctor,” he spoke removing his hat. “I was hoping to find Mr. Holmes at home.”

“He has been detained.” Was the best answer I could provide. Not too far from the truth. “Will you have a seat?” I showed him to the table; his back to the fireplace and Holmes.

“Something on your mind, Inspector?”

“Yes,” he took a deep breath, “a great deal of confusion, to be frank doctor. I sent a gentleman over here today to see Mr. Holmes.”

I interjected, “about a missing person?”

“Yes,” Hopkins looked relieved, and then his expression turned. “He stated Mr. Holmes threw him out rather offensively.”

I figured at this point the truth was far better than a lie. “Not physically.”

“Doctor, I simply cease to understand why? The gentleman’s case is old but is one that the police force will be unable to assist.”

“Inspector, Mr. Holmes is ill.”

“Ill?”

“Quiet so.” I watched the Inspector for a moment as he thought about what I had stated.

He rose from the table. “Please ask him to send me a telegraph when his health improves.”

“Indeed.” I walked with him to the door.

Inspector Hopkins put on his hat and left.

I collected the entire parcel from the table, turned up the gas, and sat in the floor near Holmes. The old wound I had received when I was in the Army reminded me that it was still around.

“Thank you.” Holmes’ voice was a whisper.

“For what?”

“Sending him away.”

“My pleasure.” I smiled. “Now, to this box.” I picked it up and examined it. “Second box is much like the first. Wrapped in thick brown paper and glued.” I took great care in opening it; making sure not to tear the paper unnecessarily. “There is a large envelope and another parcel.” I looked at my friend for a moment. He appeared to be asleep but I knew better. “There are no markings on the envelope. It too has been glued.” I retrieved a letter opener from the desk taking the upmost care in opening it. “Holmes,” I gasped. “It is a small fortune.”

“How much?”

I shook the contents onto the floor and counted L25,525.

“That is a healthy sum.”

I folded the notes placing them back into the envelope. About that time, Mrs. Hudson appeared with a new container of hot water.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes sighed. “You are a dear.”

She blushed slightly, “it was the doctor’s idea.”

“Thank you,” he paused. “Both.”

The Snake

There was a knock at the door. We had been so busy with our mystery that we heard not the bell.

“Come,” Holmes scolded.

It was Mrs. Hudson, “a gentleman here to see you sir.”

Holmes ran to his room, reappearing with a coat, and threw it on the table; then turned to the window, “show him up.”

A very well dressed man came in, taking off his hat. There were stripes of gray throughout his hair and the hair around his ears had started to grizzle.

My first impression of the man was a snake: a giant gray snake that was lurking in the shadows waiting to squeeze his next victim. He created in my bones a chill. I quickly composed myself, “come in.” I greeted the man as he walked into the room. “I am Doctor Watson; my friend and colleague Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Sit.” I showed him to the sofa. “How can we be of service?”

“Well gentleman, I am here to seek your assistance finding someone.”

“Missing persons is a matter for the police.” Holmes spoke from the window.

“I did all that,” replied our guest.

“And?” Asked I.

“Nothing sir; not a trace. I gave them a full account of my story with the hopes that they will get back to me as quickly as possible.”

I looked over at Holmes. He remained quiet still with his back to us staring out the window. “Tell us your tale.” I finally asked the chap. Not quite sure what to do since I was getting no direction from Holmes in making a decision in the matter.

“There is not much to tell.” His manner was much uninvolved; there was no inflection in his voice.

“Get out.” Holmes spoke in a low agitated voice that astonished me.

“I beg your pardon.” Our guest looked confused. “I have heard you can be rude at times. But sir, this is appalling.”

Holmes’ voice remained the same, “get out.”

“Well I never.” Our guest collected his hat and left.

I turned to Holmes just in time to watch him melt to the floor. “Holmes!” He was shaking violently. “Holmes?” I ran to the door. “Mrs. Hudson! Come quickly.”