The Devil's Chord

Chapter Nine

John pressed his face against the window and stared at the large house. He sometimes forgot Sherlock came from a wealthy family. The detective refused to touch his inheritance, though he’d never said why. Perhaps he wanted to succeed on his own or refused the money out of spite. God knew Sherlock and his brother didn’t exactly have the best relationship.

“It’s big,” he said.

“Is it? My father had it built for my mother.”

“That’s nice.” Maybe Sherlock’s family wasn’t as dysfunctional as he’d thought.

“He chose this area due to the dense overgrowth of poisonous ferns.”

“Right.” Never mind then. “We should get Miss Walker inside.”

Sherlock turned the engine off and looked over his shoulder at him. “I’ll need to input the security code first. We don’t want to alarm Mycroft, although it’s a good chance he already knows we’re here.”

Leaving the slumbering woman in the car, John followed Sherlock to the front door. Built into the metal handle was a keypad with a blinking red light.

Sherlock stared at it for a long moment.

“Don’t you know the code?” John asked.

“No. Brackenwood has become Mycroft’s little vacation home. He’d choke on his cake if he knew we were here. I just need a minute to figure it out.”

The tune ‘God Save the Queen’ filled the air.

Great. They were buggered. John half expected lasers or gouts of flame to shoot from the front door.

Sherlock answered his mobile. “Hello, brother dear. Yes, John and I thought it would be fun to take a trip to the countryside. Get some fresh air, enjoy the scenery, perhaps investigate a mysterious death, the usual. Yes, there’s a woman passed out in the car.”

John’s mouth fell open. His gaze darted from the doorway to the dark interior of the parked Bentley. How on earth? He looked up at the side of the building, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. If there were high-tech cameras anywhere, they were well-hidden.

Sherlock shook his head, eyes rolling upwards. “Yes, she’s involved with the case, but I assure you she won’t be any trouble. No, we won’t ruin your antique furniture or the carpet. Now, may I have the code?”

There was a pause, then Sherlock snickered. “How very patriotic of you.” He hung up.

Sherlock entered '1837' and the light switched from red to green. A clunking sound indicated a heavy deadbolt had slid free. The door swung open and lights came on revealing an entryway with soft, white carpet.

“What’s so funny about 1837?” John asked.

“It’s the year Queen Victoria ascended the throne and moved into Buckingham Palace.”

John chuckled. “He really is the Queen, isn’t he?”

“Perhaps I’ll send him a glittery pink tiara for Christmas.”

“And I’ll get him ‘Pretty Pretty Princess’. Harriet used to love playing that game when we were kids.”

Sherlock grinned. “Excellent. We’ll just need to figure out a way to sneak the package past his government minions.”

Instead of going around to the back of the car, Sherlock popped open the bonnet of the Bentley. He handed John his lit torch. “Hold this.”

John complied, pointing the beam of light at the engine. Sherlock disconnected the battery from the vehicle and lifted it out. He hid it beneath the back seat of the car.