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“He was a very keen mathematician himself and was able to coax the professor from his rooms and get him to visit sites of engineering interest with him. James came to enjoy conversing with someone who had a mathematical mind like his own.

“He spoke often of Charles and will, of course, go to him to take sanctuary in mathematical conversation.”

Holmes had already decided that the professor would know of our intention to reach Paris and we felt growing unease at the possibility of being followed.

We had booked in our luggage for Paris but disembarked from the Continental express at Canterbury to throw any pursuers off the scent. We traversed across country to Newhaven where Jude went to purchase essentials for the journey ahead.

I was left alone with Holmes for the first time since leaving London.

Unlike Watson and his gift of silence, I could not constrain my urge to communicate. But his uneasiness with general conversation made Holmes’ company quite difficult at times, especially now as he was focused on his pursuit of Moriarty while being acutely uncomfortable about the relationship developing between us.

“What are your feelings for me?” I asked, as we walked along the wind-battered Newhaven beach.

He looked out to sea in silence.

“I don’t understand you,” I continued, pressing for an answer. “I experienced the desire you felt for me and I know it was real, but there is a distance between us.”

I paused to brush curls from my face. “I admit we are mismatched. I’m much younger than you are, from a very different background, and you’ve made a career out of banging up people like me. I’m even married to your biggest enemy.”

I breathed in heavily savouring the crisp sea air. “But, I want to be with you. I need to know that you want the same. I need to know that you won’t let me down.”

“That couple, do you observe the tensions between them?” Holmes asked as a lady and gentleman walked towards us. “Her ardour for him is beyond question but his own motives for attachment are far more questionable.”

“How is this relevant? Look at me when you speak, answer my questions.”

“She is dressed in finery, clearly a lady of comfortable means whereas his clothes betray a different circumstance. Observe the inferior fabric, the slight fraying of his jacket at the elbow, the absence of gloves.”

As the couple walked past us Holmes turned to watch them then continued to walk backwards observing their progression.

“Ah! Just as I thought, he has the hands of a labourer. See how tightly she grips his arm, pulls him close to her? What else can she gain from such a match if not the requiting of genuine affection? But he cares not for her, only the wealth she can bestow.”

“How do you know that he doesn’t care for her? You are so judgemental.”

“Not judgement, observation.”

“How can you observe his feelings?”

“Because of the breeze.”

“What?”

“If he cared for her, he would be walking closest to the

sea to shelter her.” Now, he paused slightly, and turned back to face me. “As I am with you.”

We spent a few days at Newhaven before boarding a boat to Dieppe, from where we began our journey across France. How pleasurable to imagine the disappointment among the professor’s men when our luggage arrived in Paris without us.

Chapter Eleven

Narbonne was beautiful in the bright early-morning sunshine. The canal de la Robine shone like a silver ribbon snaking through the centre of the town flecked by the little boats travelling its length towards the great Aude river.

I stood on the balcony of our hotel room as the city woke.

The streets began to bustle and a delicious smell of fresh baking scented the air. It was all so much cleaner and brighter than London.

I leant on the balcony railings wearing only a shirt and smoking jacket, savouring the view. It was almost a month since we had left London, but felt like so much longer.

Holmes had returned with the newspapers which he was now devouring as he drank coffee.

Still leaning against the railings, I turned and watched him intently, his long agile fingers rustling through the pages while putting his intermediate level of French comprehension to the test.

Sunlight streamed across the bed highlighting his strong angular face. His hair flopped casually and his long slender frame stretched out lazily. He was wearing only his dark trousers and a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. I admired him passionately and truly considered him to be the most handsome man I had ever seen.

We were having a delicious, frenetic affair. There was no time for being proper about things, no need for pointless moral restraint. It was too late to resist each other, we had already completely surrendered.

I walked back into the bedroom, cast aside the smoking jacket and climbed onto the bed disturbing the papers.

“Do you not think you are distracting me enough at the moment?” Holmes grumbled, pulling out a paper from under me.

I snatched it from him and threw all of them to the floor.

“You truly will be the end of me,” Holmes exclaimed, smiling.

At last relaxed in my company, he was slowly becoming comfortable with, and accepting of, his desires and emotions.

We made love in the glow of the sunlight just as we had done many times before. I felt utterly beguiled and infatuated.

Later, as we sat on the balcony, Holmes suddenly rose and looked into the street below.

“Our visitor approaches,” he informed me and I stood to join him.

“Which one?” I asked, wondering how he could pick from the throng which one was intending to visit us.

“This is hardly a salubrious part of the city and our distinguished guest is most prominent against the crowd of peasants and merchants. See the gentleman with the gold ball atop his cane, the gold watch chain and expensive suit? Now he stops to look up at the buildings, searching for our hotel. Indeed, he has found us. I must go to the foyer to meet him at once.”

We had waited several weeks to meet Ribot. We already knew that Moriarty was in France but didn’t know his intentions. We hoped this man would help us to find out before it was too late.

Jude had a room just across the landing. He knocked my door and waited until I ushered him in.

Travelling had suited him well. He had a healthy glow about him and the French cuisine had left him looking plump and contented. I think it was a relief for him no longer to be living from the proceeds of crime but instead chasing after a villain.

He had even learnt a little French and enjoyed showing off his new-found skills, particularly as he knew how this irritated me. I was far too arrogant to even try speaking a different language when English words spoken loudly with a pointed finger usually made my wishes known.

“You look really well Jude, really happy.”

“Merci beaucoup Mademoiselle.”

“Oh for God’s sake.”

I threw a pillow at him in mock disgust.

“Where’s Holmes?”

“With Ribot. He’s finally here. I can’t help feeling that the end is in sight now.”

We both sat out on the balcony, allowing ourselves to day-dream that soon we would be free of the man who had dominated our lives for such a long time.

As the hours slipped by and Holmes did not return, I started to worry.

Then there was a knock on the door and a member of the hotel staff handed me an envelope. I closed the door behind him and already my heart started to feel heavy. Before even reading the note, I knew Holmes had gone on without me.

I passed the envelope to Jude. As he carefully opened it a gentleman’s ring fell to the floor. I recognised it instantly as one Holmes often wore; it was presented to him as a gift from a grateful client. Jude read the contents of the note to me:

“Ribot will take me to where the professor is staying and we shall work together to protect France from whatever evil he intends. I will, hopefully, procure the necessary evidence to bring him to justice. I cannot allow you to go where I must, Ribot has arranged somewhere safe for you both. Go there and wait for me. SH.”

Money and an address accompanied the note.

I lay that night in the bed we had shared with the ring on a chain around my neck. How strange it was to feel both loved and abandoned at the same time. I had to find Holmes, whatever the risk, and end this nightmare together.

The professor was my husband; I needed to be part of his downfall to close a bitter and twisted episode in my life. I knew Charles de Freycinet was in Paris and that Moriarty was with him and so resolved to go there.

The next morning I begged Jude to go to the safe house and wait for my return. He refused, of course, and we set off for Paris with Holmes’ money and Jude’s limited French vocabulary.

I had no plan and Jude was shocked to discover that I intended to make one up as we went along.

“Well”, he exclaimed, “love has clearly had a most detrimental effect on your ability to reason. No wonder Holmes has avoided it for all these years.”

I knew he was right, this was preposterous, charging off across France in order to turn up at the prime minister’s office and request an audience.

“You come up with a brilliant idea then. You tell me how two English thieves with very little money, no resources, no local knowledge and little understanding of this stupid language, can bring to justice a brilliant criminal mastermind who is a guest of the prime minister no less!”

Jude sat in silence for a while, gazing from the carriage window. I watched his countenance and knew then that he was in love with the country. I wondered sadly if I would be returning to London alone.

Jude laid out the latest edition of Le Figaro across his knee and hunted through the pages.

“Perhaps something in the paper will help.”

“All nonsense to me,” I said.

He rolled his eyes then let out an elated cry and began to translate the front page article as best as he could.

“Charles de Freycinet has been taken ill; he’s in Broussais hospital in Paris, ninety-six Rue Didot. Something sudden, can’t understand the rest.”

I was flooded with a sudden sense of urgency and panic.

“Oh Jude, what if this is Moriarty’s doing? Must be, I’m sure of it. He really doesn’t have an ounce of sentiment in that decrepit old body. Perhaps Freycinet knows the truth, perhaps Holmes told him everything. Then Holmes is in great danger too. We must get to Paris as soon as possible before Holmes and Freycinet both end up dead.”

I willed the train to go ever faster as I digested this new information. Surely it could not be a coincidence that the prime minister had been admitted to hospital while the professor was enjoying his hospitality?

The professor was isolated now; an ill, fragile man with crippling mental afflictions and without his wife to be his ambassador. Who would be skilful and trustworthy enough to do his bidding and wipe the drool from his mouth as he lay convulsing on the floor? His powers were weakening, I could sense it. But we had to reach Freycinet quickly.

Jude raised a further question.

“Why is Freycinet in hospital anyway? Don’t rich people have private doctors on hand?”

I sat back in my seat trying to process all the information. I watched through the window as the beautiful countryside slowly gave way to a primitive little town, our steam engine chugging along powerfully pulling it’s carriages through the absorbing landscape.

I wished that I had travelled more. There was so much I didn’t know about the world. The Moriarty empire did stretch beyond England to many countries, and associates lurked in various foreign territories but to me it was just numbers on balance sheets, names on paper. I’d not been further than the city of my birth.

Then I remembered all the places where Moriarty had associates.

“France! Of course! Oh I’ve been so foolish Jude. We had business in France remember? Not much, but we used the services of a poisoner. Do you remember? The murder of the guard at the Lourve? The jewel theft from that high-ranking official involving the murder of his private secretary? We used a Parisian poisoner. What was he called Jude? Come on, think, what was his name?”

“Doctor something, oh can’t remember, what was it now?”

Finally the crucial point dawned upon me compelling me to rise from my seat and exclaim my recall with gusto.

“Doctor Marcus Morgan, a consultant at Broussais University Hospital in Paris. Double check the article again, was that the hospital he’s been taken to?”

“The very same. We’ve got our man.”

“Well then, there really is no time to lose!”

After arriving at Gare de Lyon in the early hours we set out to find the hospital fearing that we might be too late. I had corresponded with Morgan but never met him and had no idea what he looked like.

“Well, obviously the Prime Minister will be heavily guarded. The only way to get close is in disguise, a doctor and nurse I suppose,” Jude said. “It’s a big place, doubt they all know each other. I’m sure a few new faces won’t be questioned.”

So, as we had done many times before, we ambushed two innocent people, knocked them unconscious and stole their clothes. Different city, same old tactics.

I dressed quickly in the nurse’s uniform and Jude pulled on the doctor’s expensive suit and white coat.

“The only way to do this convincingly is to be completely confident,” I stated, though both of us felt too weary to have any confidence in our own abilities.

However, we both dug deep into our reserves of energy and strode into the hospital as if we owned it.

A group of nurses were conversing at the end of the corridor with a doctor who they referred to as Doctor Picard. After the nurses had left, Jude bounded up to him.

“Ah, Dr Picard! Ou est Monsieur Freycinet s’il vous plait?”

Doctor Picard looked curiously at Jude, clearly a little embarrassed that this unfamiliar doctor knew his name. There was an awkward pause. Finally Doctor Picard spoke.

“Avec le docteur Menses et le docteur Anglais, Watson.”

I was standing a little way back from them, and though Jude kept his composure perfectly, I span around and gasped.

“Watson!”

Doctor Picard looked my way inquisitively. “Pardon,” I exclaimed, and started fiddling with equipment on a trolley.

“Merci beaucoup,” said Jude confidently, as Doctor Picard thankfully walked away.

He gave me an exasperated look.

“I told you to keep quiet, you never listen do you Red?” said Jude, smiling slightly and shaking his head.

Jude stopped a shy-looking nurse who was scurrying along the corridor.

“Excusez-moi Mademoiselle? Ou est docteur Menses, s’il vous plait?”

She blushed slightly. The doctors usually ignored her or were abrupt. They certainly didn’t smile sweetly and say please. She gave him directions to Doctor Menses’ private rooms - and he understood just enough to get us there.

As we approached, walking towards us was none other than Sherlock Holmes accompanied by Monsieur Ribot.