The Forgotten Niece of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 15

“Right, listen carefully; we’ve only got thirty seconds at the maximum! Finch, Emily, go north,” Jack said, pointing down narrow lane that probably lead to another maze of alleyways which spread across London.

“Kate, you’re with me, going down through the tunnel of the bakery,” giving her a nod as she already headed to the trap door, lifting the heavy door with the handle, using both hands.

“Liz, Skit,” he ordered, grabbing our attention, “meet us by ‘ome, just head-” glancing down briefly at the up coming policemen who were getting dangerously close. “Just run anywhere,” his voice hushed. “Scarper!” He cried and we all automatically spilt from each other.

Skit was running ahead of me and faster than I would have liked, it was hard to keep up with him, and his sprint was fast. “Skit!” I tried to shout, but my throat was burning with the sudden dash, and my voice was surely drowned out by the shouts behind me. I glanced back and a copper was right on our tales, he was clasping his silly helmet and his bushy moustache was ruffled, his face getting red.

Skit had obviously heard the heavy footsteps behind us and dived into a series of alleyways, I tried to follow him, just catching sight of his heel, or his hat in a crowd, but it was hard to be sure that it was him. 

“Oi! Stop!” The policeman’s voice was barely several meters away from me now, soon he would catch me, and I would be in serious trouble, after all, I had had a run-in with the police before, there was obviously going to be some of them that recognised me.

Abandoning Jack’s orders of going in pairs, I broke off from what I thought was Skit’s route and urged myself to move faster, quickly cutting in a slim alley. Just as I emerged, a policeman stood in my path.

“Well, well, well…what do we have ‘ere then? You and the rest of your delinquents have been causing us a bit of trouble…” He sneered at me, and was smug that he had caught one of the delinquents.

I took a few steps back, my back hitting against the wall.

“Oh, trying to give us the slip again, well, we’ll see about that!” He then lurched forward, trying to grab one of my shoulders. I hastily ducked under his flaying arms and ran straight ahead slinking in and out of the alleyways.

I just checked to look behind me to see if the policeman was following, but as I turned my head forward I slammed into someone and fell, hitting the ground hard on my backside.

Flicking the hair that was in my eyes aside, I saw that stood in front of me was a shiny pair of polished black boots. Looking up further, a tall but broad and bulky policeman stood over me, a haughty smile on lips.

“Right,” he said bending down, and grabbing his fat hand around the top of my arm and forcefully pulling me up, he heaved me up harshly, and it felt as if my shoulder was being ripped from its socket, I cried in agony.

“Shut your mouth!” He said with a thick cockney accent. “Your lot ‘ave been giving us trouble for a while now, but not anymore! C’mon missy! You’re not the only little ‘orror we’ve caught.”

This beast made my blood boil, if only he knew. My mother had told be that Sherlock was called upon by the Police when something had stumped them, and he would always outwit them and find the problem was not in the case, but in the Police force themselves; from losing and destroying vital evidence, to catching the wrong individual who caused the crime.

“Wipe that look off your face you little brat!” He sneered, I only smiled, and my whole body was tingling with a new sense of rebellion. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I muttered darkly under my breath.