The Devil's Chord

Chapter Twenty Three

Sherlock ground his teeth together. He understood the importance of not leaving Miss Walker unattended, but it was driving him mad that he couldn't continue on with the case.

"What if I went on my own? I could question him and be back before she awakens. You could keep me apprised of her condition in the meantime."

John shook his head. "You said our killer is willing to do whatever it takes. If it is Neil Henley, you'll have no idea what to expect from him, especially if he believes you've got him cornered. He already killed Rebecca and nearly ran over Vivian. He's dangerous."

Sherlock shot him a dark look. "Don't forget, I'm dangerous too. I managed just fine on my own before you came along."

John gave him a deceptively placid look. "No, you didn't. And the answer is still no."

He let loose a frustrated sound and paced the hall, then stopped short. "What if I found someone to care for Miss Walker in our absence?"

John's eyes narrowed. "You mean, hire someone?"

He considered his next words carefully. "No, more like request a favor."

"Allowing a stranger to monitor her could violate her privacy."

He was well aware that her medical condition needed to be kept from her employer. "If the person was trustworthy, what then?"

John folded his arms, expression exasperated. "I'll tell you what, if you can find a skilled and trustworthy physician who is willing to supervise her for a few hours, then I'll consider it. But I refuse to leave her with anyone who doesn't meet my specifications. Vivian is vulnerable right now, and she's our responsibility."

"Agreed."

John's unconcerned face told him that his friend doubted his ability to come up with a suitable candidate in such a short time frame. John was in for a big surprise. That is, if the man in question was still alive.

"I need to check on Vivian," John said. "If she's sedated enough, we'll need to get her in the tub as soon as possible."

"I'll be there in a moment."

John nodded and went into the library.

He retrieved his mobile and dialed Doctor Nigel Reed.

A familiar gruff voice answered. "Who is it?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

The old man's tone warmed considerably. "Sherlock Holmes! My goodness. It's been quite some time, lad."

"Yes, it has." Twenty years at least. "Are you still doing house calls? I'm at Brackenwood."

A sputtering laugh came through the speaker. "House calls? I've been retired for ten years."

"I don't suppose you'd make an exception?"

There was a pause. "Have you got yourself into a scrape, lad?"

"Not this time. I've a guest in need of medical supervision."

"It's not a murderer, is it? I don't treat murderers."

He smirked. "No, Doctor Reed, she's not a murderer."

"She?" His tone grew intrigued. "Now, now. Tell me, lad. Is she pretty?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you come over and find out for yourself?"

"How long will you need me for?"

"Three hours tops."

"Well, well. I suppose an old gent like me could find it in his heart to provide company for a damsel in distress."