Sherlock Holmes and the Red Maverick

Chapter 18- Refuge

It was a few days before we reached the shores of Greece and beached the ship. We had all agreed that the less we had to do with the public, or civilization at all, the better. I led the was tramping through the sparse trees that came with this Mediterranean climate. It wasnt long before Watson was carting around the majority of our clothing items in the messenger bag hanging around his neck as we tramped continually through the vegetation. 

I looked around anxiously for the first marking on the tree trunks, knowing the the house wasnt far from here and that I could get us lost in this seemingly never ending green haze. Though I found the first mark on the tree's trunk and hope rose inside me. I could find our way there now without a doubt. I pushed on with determination, not concerning myself with the leaves that smacked my face or the sweat drenched me ceaselessly. 

Suddenly the trees parted and allowed us to look upon the vast house my good friend had built with his own hands. It was a single story home crafted with brown stucco, so as to blend with the trees. You wouldnt know you were upon the house until you were upon it. And here we stood. I reached a hand up and wiped the heavy layer of sweat from my brow and tromped onto the cut grass toward our new home. 

We walked around the front of the property to the front door and knocked. I stood waiting anxiously and as I heard foot steps approach a smile spread onto my face. I had missed my friend dearly and I could see that this would be a happy reunion, despite recent events.

The heavy oak door swung inward and there he stood, bold as brass and confident as ever. His features twisted in confusion and then slowly upward into a smile. He held his strong arms wide open welcoming an embrace and he pulled me close to him. I smiled as I wrapped my arms around my old friend.

"How long has it been?" His deep voice thundered, thick with his accent.

"Too long." I grinned as I pulled away. "I do hate to visit you on such terms as these."

His face turned grim and then he waved his hand.

"You didnt think I would believe you killed the Pope would you?" He scoffed and held his door open to allow my other two companions in. "You are a dark hearted criminal when you have to be, but even you would not do something so heinous. There is only one who would stoop so low."

"So you have your own suspicions then?" I asked lightly as we stood in his grand drawing room

"It is never suspicion with me, you know me better than that, Cameo." He smiled and I returned it. I enjoyed the way my name sounded on his voice. His eyes turned to my companions and I startled.

"Oh forgive me," I waved my hand. "Im being terribly rude. Allow me to introduce my companions; Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his good friend John Watson. Sherlock, John, this is Coriandor; my old friend."

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance," John stuck his hand out and Coriandor shook it. 

"And you as well, Mr.Watson." Coriandor replied and stuck his hand out to Holmes. Sherlock hesitated, just a moment, not enough for anyone else but me and Watson to catch. But his own hand thrust out and he shook Coriandor's great meaty hand. 

"Thank you for welcoming us into your home." Sherlock smiled at Coriandor.

"Friends of Cameo are friends of mine." Coriandor replied genially.

Sherlock steadied his gaze on Coriandor's thick frame as he lead us into the depths of his home. My eyes bounced from my friend to Holmes as he watched him like a cat stalking its prey. His unwavering stare could be unnerving, didnt he know that? Something told me he did. 

I reached out and bumped his shoulder. His quick eyes spun my way, allowing him to fix his glare on me. I pursed my lips and raised my eye brows at his behavior. He read my meaning and straightened his back, clasped his hands behind himself and watched the ceiling pass above him as we walked along.