The Forgotten Niece of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 26

“Wait a moment, so you’re telling us that an Irishman is in Her Majesty’s Secret Service?” Watson asks, leaning forward on the edge of seat. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Luke replied, leaning back in his seat and nonchalantly, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to elbows. His lip is still bleeding, but I do not point it out. 

“Did you write that note?” I said, a little surprised at the strength in my voice. 

“Depends,” he replied. 

“On what?” I counter.

“Whether you were scared enough to give the note straight to Mister Holmes, here,”

“How did you know it was me who was given the note?”

“I didn’t, you just confirmed it, I apologise for my runner scaring you like that-”

“I didn’t say I was scared!”

“You didn’t deny it either.”

I had no response to this. This Irishman, this Luke O’Donovan, was young and had too much confidence. He smirked at my silence. 

“Anyway,” Sherlock said and cleared his throat. “After working out your little code, which I felt to be a little quaint by the way, I just simply had to see what you were made of. I apologise for the gag as well, simple precautions I’m sure you understand. You called myself, remember?”

Luke’s smirk still holds, but raises his eyebrows in response.

 “What is it that you want?” Jack asks, standing behind one of the settees. 

“That is a very good question, but not one of which you are privy to the knowledge of. It is, after all, Sherlock Holmes here who I have been instructed to find-”

“Ah yes, I do love it when they assume that I will agree to help them!” Sherlock smiles gleefully, with a smug tone of voice of which he does not try very hard to conceal. 

 Luke laughs without humour. “I don’t think you quite understand, Mister Holmes, you’d be throwing away your country to a madman.”

“Oh, and here’s me assuming that the Irish would not mind at all the downfall of England,” John speaks up, and all eyes are on him.  

There is an uncomfortable silence as no-one makes conversation; the doctor’s suspicions put us all on edge and even though we know nothing about this Irishman, he doesn’t seem totally pleased with the doctor’s prejudice. He doesn’t say so, but he doesn’t need to. 

Finch clears his throat a little and everyone’s eyes are on him. He looked sheepish. “Well, why are you here exactly?” He looks down, as I can see Luke staring blatantly at him. 

Luke breaks the stare and looks to the diming embers there, a smirk on his face as he knows of the uncomfort that he has caused. 

“I understand that you’ve recently encountered the murders of five men-”

“Yes? And what does that matter?” Watson’s voice is sharp and defensive, “those men, they have no-”

“Nothing in common? Nothing at all? No social connections, class, geographical location?”

“Your point is?” Watson’s eyebrows raised, not masking the way he said it with venom.

“I think you already know my point, Doctor,”

“I don’t think I do actually-”

“Then you’re a lot more foolish than I first thought.”