Sherlock Holmes and the Red Maverick

Chapter 11- Withholding Evidence

Holmes sighed and straightened himself in his chair. "It appears we are too late. They sold the factories abilities to the business men in Europe already and the jobs are already going over to the other countries. From this occurrence, I think it is only logical to deduce that they have us figured.  They know we are on their trail and have acted accordingly. I suppose the next part of their plan will be taking effect soon. Which unfortunately your dearest...friend did not divulge any information on."

Sherlock glared at me for some time before setting his lips and leaning back when the waiter came round to take our order. We arranged what food we wanted with the waiter and when he left Holmes leaned forward again and watched me with piercing eyes. His face set in anger and those once deep and almost soft eyes were protruding and showed a certain hardness that I had not seen before. 

He raised his eyebrow at me pointedly."Do you have any suggestions, Cameo, as to our next move?"

I pursed my lips and drew the letter from my cousin from my pocket. I set it on the table and Sherlock glared harder at it and then me. His nostrils flaring in rage. He swiped it off the table and ripped the contents out of the bottom. The paper the letter was written on came out accompanied by 5 orange pips as per usual and a pair of identical gold cufflings. 

Sherlock caught the other items in his palm and slammed them down on the table as he read the letter. He giggled madly and slammed the paper down on the table too. Glaring up at me as the waiter set down the food with a concerned look upon his countenance. He backed away leaving me with the enraged Holmes and John who had put a cautious hand between the two of us. Although from watching Sherlock's boxing matches I knew it would make no difference and the thought did not comfort me. I was sure that the pulsing white fist his hand had morphed into would make contact with my face at any time.

Instead, his voice came out in a low, angry whisper. "Why would you withhold this evidence from my view and how long have you done it?"

"I didnt read it before you did." I defended in a high pitched voice that was unfamiliar to me. 

"How long have you had it?" His voice raised

"As we ran from the fire aboard Johnny's ship the man who brushed past me and pushed me into the wall handed me this." I said, my own voice rising with anger "That is why I started back towards him, but then the fire engulfed him. I with held it because it is in my dead cousins handwriting. To tell you the truth, this entire time that we were on the Greek's ship I was trying to figure out how it was possible."

"Fool," Holmes commented as he sat back in his chair angrily "Forged."

"No," I shook my head, anger rising in my chest. "That is impossible. My cousin was afraid of being forged. He burnt everything he hand wrote after it had served its purpose. He would barely use anything but a type writer."

"Then perhaps he isnt really dead." Sherlock stated nonchalantly 

"Or perhaps he left this for me before he died." I added "Both are probable answers. What does the letter contained. I do think I ought to know considering it was addressed to me."

"It explains the events we just participated in." He said, his voice dripping with irritation. "The plan the Pope explained to you is explained on that page there. Admittedly the information it holds is now incidental, however that is no excuse for the fact that you kept this from my sight. Your excuse is that  you wanted to try your hand at my methods to figure what it contained and why you had it. There could have been some piece of information in there that meant life or death. Or more important information!"

"Your right," I nodded, attempting to calm him down. "I apologize. It is lucky that the only information it held was of no importance anymore. I apologize sincerely."

Sherlock took a deep steadying breath as he leaned back in his chair. Inhaling through his still quivering nostril as he eyed me angrily. In an instant he seemed to have calmed himself and his eyes were no longer hard and angry. They were the soft ones that I recalled from before, although sharp and quick, as fit his personality. 

He nodded his head rigidly. "Its alright. I understand that you admire my methods and wanted to test them for yourself. I apologize, in turn, for being so harsh on you. However, in the future, do not with hold evidence from me again. Is that understood?"

I nodded and a smiled spread across his face. As if he were trying to comfort me. We began to eat our food and over our meal we attempted to discuss lighter subjects, but admittedly our minds all wondered back to the same place. 

"So what do we do?" I asked helplessly, separating us from our surface conversation that we had barely been participating in.

"I suggest we cut the head off the snake." John interjected 

"By what means?" Sherlock leaned forward over his now empty plate.

"In my opinion, I think it wise to return to Italy and attack the assassins. They already know we are after them. So why wouldnt we really, truly go after them? Take down their door with force and...well, hope that gets us somewhere."

"That seems dangerous and reckless," Sherlock said seriously, an impish smile slowly peeked onto his lips "I love it."