第 23 页

The man struck him across the face, opening up his skin. I walked in just in time to stop him striking again. Both men froze and looked at me in surprise.

“Red, no! please, just run away, don’t get involved please,” pleaded Watson, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes as blood ran down his face.

“So, you think we are callous, but here you are doctor, wife barely cold, indulging in a whore!”

The man with the gun leered at me, looking my body up and down. He left Watson and walked towards me. I remained still and silent, waiting.

“Look at this!” he shouted to his colleague, who had returned to searching for the jewellery. “Doctor Watson’s whore.”

He put his hand against my cheek, letting it slowly slide down my face and neck towards my cleavage. The other man abandoned his search for gems and also approached me. The first one slid his hand inside my shirt and felt the swell of my breast, his hand cold and rough.

“Perhaps we could take you as payment instead?” he said, as he began to undo the buttons of my shirt, placing the barrel of his gun against my forehead, forcing me against the door which slammed shut.

The sound brought Watson to his senses and to my relief he reached beside him, pulled open a drawer and took out his revolver. The bailiffs were too distracted by me to notice. I remained still as hands continued to explore me. The pressure of the gun against my head relaxed and the man forced his mouth upon mine. Now was my chance.

I bit into the lip of my attacker and felt blood run into my mouth.

His partner raised his gun to fire but Watson swiftly and with impressive accuracy sent a shot into his arm, causing him to drop his weapon. I buried my elbow into the chest of my assailant. As he bent over in pain I brought my arm down onto his back. I grabbed the gun from his hand and sent him spinning across the room with a kick to the stomach. I shot him in the leg to ensure his compliance. Watson had taken hold of the other man’s gun and I hit him over the head with mine, causing him to fall unconscious.

I heard footsteps up the stairs and knew the shots had alerted the other two bailiffs. I signalled for Watson to get against the wall so that we could surprise them when they ran into the room. I saw how his hands were shaking and I felt strangely protective.

I flew at the first man with uncontrolled ferocity, kicking and punching, until I had him out on the landing and pushed him down the stairs. The other saw our weapons and meekly surrendered.

The next hour passed quickly. I let two of the bailiffs run free once they had brought the furniture back into the house. Watson found some rope and we bound the others. He fell into silence and looked so ashamed that I could not bring myself to question him about how this situation had arisen.

I knelt down closely to the bailiff with a bullet in his leg.

“You made a mistake tonight, so did your boss,” I sneered at him. “Go back and tell him to expect his money, everything Doctor Watson owes, in the next few days but if he ever tries something like this again I’ll find him and kill him.”

A punch hard in the face reinforced my message.

By now, Watson was in shock and did whatever I instructed. He went out to find a cab and sent it on its way with our luckless bailiffs to the address of Freddie Granger, the man responsible for our evening’s entertainment. I told the driver Freddie would settle his fare.

Back in the house, I found Watson downing a large glass of brandy.

He was standing beside the fire holding the mantelpiece for support. I walked over to him feeling a mixture of curiosity and compassion. It was touching that despite his own troubles he had cared about my situation. I realised that I had completely underestimated him.

I put my hand on his shoulder but he shook it away in embarrassment and sat upon the settee, placing his empty glass by his feet and sinking his face into his hands. I felt an unexpected affinity with him. We were both alone in the world, both grieving for someone we loved.

I sat beside him.

“Watson, with all the mistakes I have made in my life, believe me, I am the last person you should be embarrassed in front of. And besides, I thought we were supposed to be friends.”

Upon hearing my words, Watson raised his head and looked towards me with such a broken, bereft expression that I could not help but open my arms to him.

He fell into my embrace and cried. Who else could possibly understand what he had been through? How could he tell his gentleman friends that he was in terrible debt?

There in my arms, Watson had his lowest moment. Just like the one I had shared with him in Switzerland when I lost my child.

Gradually the cries lessened and I felt his body relax against my own. I gripped his shoulders and looked into his gentle, pained eyes.

“Do you know what the best thing is about reaching your lowest point? From here onwards you can only rise.”

I lifted my hand to touch his face and managed a warm smile. I resolved to turn this moment into a life-changing one for both of us. I decided it was time to begin again.

A few brandies later, Watson was composed enough to explain the circumstances which had brought him to this bleak point in his life.

His medical business had never been particularly successful, not for a lack of medical skills, but rather a distinct lack of business acumen. Leaving to travel across Europe with Holmes had been seriously detrimental both to his finances and business. He had closed the surgery in order to take the trip passing on what few patients he had to a fellow doctor. They had not returned.

Soon after arriving back in London, Watson’s wife fell dangerously ill and needed his full-time care. Without income, he used what little savings he had to purchase expensive medication to ease her pain. Unknown to his wife, the rent on their home had not been paid for some time and when the landlord, Freddie Granger, realised the situation, he saw it as a great opportunity to take advantage. He lent Watson money at a very high interest rate which Watson happily took with no thoughts beyond making his wife’s last days as comfortable as possible.

Now the loan was long overdue and we both knew Freddie would not give up easily on his money. I looked at Watson’s tear-stained face and resolved to let a good man take a victory for a change.

I grabbed his hand.

“Look at me. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“Then you have nothing to fear. Go to bed and sleep, you have a funeral to face tomorrow.”

He did as I asked, exhausted and still shaken but visibly calmer for unburdening himself.

Watson woke the following morning after a surprisingly deep sleep and felt more rested than he had in a long time. He pulled on his dressing gown and felt a sudden sadness as he noticed how quiet the house was. He had risen late and expected to hear the comforting sounds of someone else in the house, but all was silent.

He rushed to the guest room hoping that perhaps I was still asleep but his heart sank when he looked in and saw the bed had not been slept in. The friend he thought he had found must have slipped away during the night and returned to some other life despite his trust in her.

He walked into the kitchen to boil some water for tea feeling a flicker of hope that I might be in there but the room was empty. He decided against tea in preference to something stronger and walked into the sitting room in pursuit of alcoholic refreshment.

As he walked into the room, he gasped to see me slumped across the desk, a tangled mass of wild hair, snoring deeply on top of a pile of paperwork and accounts books. He startled me from slumber and I automatically reached for the revolver I had kept beside me all night. I sprang to my feet feeling slightly disorientated, readied the Webley and pointed it straight at his head.

“Don’t shoot!” he cried, throwing up his hands in surrender. “It’s me, what on earth are you doing?”

I put down the gun and let out a huge yawn.

I was wearing a pair of his long socks that I had found stuffed down the side of the settee cushions and the shirt he had dressed me in the previous afternoon. I decided that it was not appropriate to wear the clothes of his departed wife anymore.

“Have you been up all night? What on earth were you doing at my desk?”

“Tea first,” I insisted, heading off to the kitchen.

“Clearly you dismissed the maid,” I remarked, lifting a pile of dirty crockery from the sink.

I made tea and led my bemused friend back to the sitting room to explain how I had spent the night.

“I was trying to sort out your accounts and I think I’ve managed to ascertain roughly how much you owe and what you need to get the business started again.”

He regarded my work with amazement, neat piles of receipts, lists of medical supplies, invoices and rows of calculations.

I showed how he had been overcharged for drugs he didn’t need as he still had unused supplies stored away.

“By mismanaging your stock, you’ve lost money.”

He sighed heavily and slumped against the arm of the settee.

“Have I really been that inept? I am so ashamed.”

He ran a nervous hand through his unruly crop of hair.

“Look, you heal people, make them better. All I have ever done is break people down. There’s no shame in being more interested in people than numbers.”

“I have made such a mess of things; I can never repay all this.” He shook the paper with all his debts writen on at me in agitation.

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“But I can see no way out. I am most grateful for what you have done, I am humbled by your abilities but it is my responsibility to rectify this. I’m sorry, I brought you here hoping that you would be safe and that I could help in some way, but clearly I can’t even look after myself.”

“Wallowing about things achieves nothing. Now, please trust me, go and get ready for the funeral. Think nothing of all this now, only thoughts of the one you love and all you shared together. Go and say goodbye.”

I set off from the house as soon as Watson left, not entirely sure why I wanted to help him. It wasn’t all that long ago when I had disliked him immensely and dismissed him as a judgemental, uptight bore.

My hansom pulled up in the lane that ran behind the houses in Baker Street. Being there again provoked a chill through my body. I hoped Mrs Hudson was not home; I couldn’t let anyone stand in the way of my final burglary. At least this time I was taking what was rightfully mine but I still felt uneasy.

I stood by the high gate at the bottom of the yard and took a deep breath.

I dashed into the yard, broke the window in the back door and reached in to undo the bolt. I heard a scream. Mrs Hudson was in the kitchen and I ran past her heading up the stairs to Holmes’ old rooms.

I had brought Watson’s service revolver with me and fired a shot into the lock of Holmes’ bureau. I opened it and took out my solitaire diamond ring and wedding ring.

Mrs Hudson was in the room now shouting and I heard other footsteps coming up the stairs. I was cornered and did not relish using the revolver again, least of all to hurt anyone. This was my chance to start life over again and I could not resort to sins of the past. I ran to the window and looked down to Baker Street below. It was fairly quiet with no sign of the police. I threw up the sash, climbed onto the ledge, and jumped. To my eternal surprise, I landed on my feet and ran as fast as I could from 221B, from Baker Street and from a life of mistakes.

I arrived at the churchyard to see the solitary figure of Doctor John H Watson standing beside a freshly-filled grave. The autumn sky was a glorious orange smeared with fluffy clouds. A light breeze rustled through the trees sending showers of dead leaves to the ground. Mrs Watson’s grave was beside a huge oak tree.

I walked slowly towards Watson, the two of us survivors still standing while those we loved had fallen.

I put my hand on his arm and his blue-grey eyes turned to me sadly.

“Let’s go home,” I whispered.

We left the graveyard in silence and headed back to his house where a pile of bank notes sat upon his desk waiting for him to take up the challenge of a fresh start.

“Where has this come from? There are hundreds of pounds here! Where did you get this?” Watson asked upon seeing the money as we entered the study.

“Do you think I stole it?”

“No! Of course not, but where is it from?”

“Simple. I pawned my rings.”

His face collapsed into complete shock when the realisation sank in.

“But surely they were worth much more than this?”

“I know, I’ve never seen such a happy pawn broker.”

I poured myself a drink. “I didn’t want to profit from them. I simply pawned them for just enough to pay your debts and start the surgery again. The money is yours.”

Watson was overwhelmed. He stammered and his mouth gaped as he looked at all the money.

“But I can’t possibly accept; the money should be yours not mine. Besides, I do not wish to profit from crime either. I am deeply touched by your gesture but I cannot accept.”

I had expected this reluctance but would not give in.

“You won’t be profiting. The profit will come from the income you make once you start to practice again. With my help you will make more than you ever thought possible. All you have to do is play to your strengths. Just heal the sick. I will do the rest. I will manage the accounts, ordering stock and supplies, keeping records and general business matters.

“I ask nothing in return except a roof over my head and a little food until we earn enough for me to draw a modest income from the business myself. And a little friendship wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I don’t know what to say. Not all that long ago you despised me.”

“And you despised me! But here we both are, all the same. I’m willing to start again if you are. Was Holmes right when he told me that there were many unexplored possibilities about you? Let’s find out, let’s heal together, if you’ll take the challenge.”

Watson reached out and gathered the notes into his hand. He paused slightly and then handed them to me. My heart sank.

“Well, if you’re going to be the accountant, then you’ll be needing this,” he said, smiling broadly.

That night we sat in front of the fire drinking to absent friends and loved ones. I swore a little too much, blasphemed a little too easily and was clearly a very different person compared to my new companion, but felt unexpectedly at ease. I wondered what Jude would make of it. He had been my only friend up until now but surely he would not want me to be friendless without him?

I was quite poor, powerless and without possessions, except my neck chain carrying the ring Holmes had given me, but I was safe and free. I had survived against all odds and had been given an opportunity to start afresh.

The next day Watson rose late as usual. He pulled on his dressing gown and descended the stairs to be assailed by an unfamiliar smell.