Sherlock Holmes- A Study in Blood

Chapter 12

He took a deep breath and sighed, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings.   He shut his eyes and just listened.   A carriage made it's way down Miller Street.   A rat scurried past the door along the wall to his left.  A woman spoke in hushed tones to her husband three floors up in the building on the other side of the street.  His own heartbeat thrummed in his ears.   And... a child crying!  The sobs of a little girl floated through the air and struck him like a bolt of lightning.  His eyes snapped open and he took off running again, following the sound until he reached yet another alleyway a few blocks down, where Mary was curled up against the wall.  He sighed in relief.  "Mary!" he called, his voice much weaker than he had expected it to be.

She looked up and gasped when she saw her dear uncle.  "Homes!" she cried, stretching her arms out to him.  He scooped her up and dried her tears with his handkerchief.  She hugged his neck tightly.

"Are you alright?"

"Mean boys took me," she pouted.

"I know, dearest," he said, kissing her cheek.  "Did they hurt you?"

Mary shook her head no.  His mind was set relatively at ease for the moment, especially knowing Watson would still give her a full examination once they got back to Baker Street.  "Come.  Let's go find your father, eh?"

The little girl nodded, laying her head down on his shoulder.

*~*~*

It had been two hours since the start of their search, and Watson had still seen no sign of his daughter or her captors on London's practically empty streets.  He leaned against a building, pulling at his hair in desperation, and blinking back the tears that were blurring his vision.  "Oh Lord," he begged, praying harder than he ever had in his entire life, "please, please don't take her from me.   I cannot lose her too.  I can't..."

"Papa!" a little voice squealed, nearly ripping Watson's heart out of his chest.  With a heavy sob, Watson's eyes flew open, only to see his daughter come running as fast as her little legs would carry her towards him.

"Mary!" he gasped, ignoring the ache in his leg and running to her, falling to his knees before his princess.  "Oh darling," he sobbed, holding her tightly against his chest.  "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Mary nodded and buried her face in his shirt.

Watson kissed her head and sighed.  "Thank you, Lord!"

Holmes came around the corner to see Mary in her father's arms.  He smiled.  Thank God they had found Watson.  He knew his friend never would have given up searching for his daughter.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Holmes saw that he was not the only witness to the touching scene.   Another man lurked in the shadows, darting off when he saw Holmes staring at him.  Holmes took off running after the man he believed to be involved somehow with Mary's kidnapping.  "Holmes?" Watson called after him as he ran by, but the detective did not slow his pace.  "Holmes!"

Darting this way and that, dodging the few people of London who were still awake, all the while following the man, Holmes ran as fast as his legs would carry him.  His breaths were quick, his heart beat even quicker, and the muscles in his legs burned with each long stride.  But he kept going until he ducked behind a building.  The man was gone.  Completely gone.  All that was left was a note pinned to the wall.

"Dear Mr. Holmes,

It seems you were not the only one to survive the great fall.  I am glad to see though, that you have done something useful with your life.  Whoever would have guessed that Sherlock Holmes would be helping to raise a child?  And such a lovely child too.  If I were you, I would keep a better eye on her, Mr. Holmes.  I should hate for anything to happen to sweet little Mary.

Yours, Professor J. Moriarty

P. S.  She bears a striking resemblance to her late mother, don't you think?"

With trembling hands, Holmes folded up the note and shoved it deep into his coat pocket.  Although his mind was reeling, he forced himself not to think about the horrid contents and the oh-so-very-kindly worded threat it contained.  For now, Mary was safe.  For now, that was all that mattered.  He returned to where he had left Watson and Mary, but instead met them halfway and joined them in their return to Baker Street.  "What in God's name was that all about?" the doctor asked in hushed but serious tones, for his daughter was sound asleep in his arms.

Holmes put on his best front and said casually, "What was what all about?"

"That!" Watson whispered, quite irritated that they would have to go through this yet again.  Would Holmes ever just give him a straight answer?

Noticing how tightly Watson held Mary in his arms, and recalling the nearly mind numbing fear they both endured upon discovering the child's abduction, Holmes vowed then and there he would kill James Moriarty once and for all.  He gave Watson a tight smile, no more than a twitch of his lips.  "Nothing to worry yourself about, Mother Hen."