The Classified Dossier: Sherlock Holmes and Count Dracula(90)
But once that communication had been sent, Holmes’s energy seemed to be spent and he fell back into a foul funk. Even when Kitty Winter and Somersby arrived, he left Baker Street in silence and entered the cab with Miss Winter and Somersby without a word of greeting. He continued to stare sullenly out the window, while I explained that we had had a setback unrelated to our current mission, for Holmes had not even told Miss Winter or Somersby about the existence of Dracula or his possible intervention.
It was a sombre and dreary drive through the rain to the Victoria train station. Kitty Winter was agitated to the extreme, since the train station represented the greatest exposure to human society she’d had in months. It was all Somersby could do to convince her that she would not be found out and staked by one of the porters before we ever got on board.
Fortunately, the heavy rain minimalized our contact with others and gave us cover from the daylight as well as an excuse to cover our heads and faces. It approached the level of farce, with me verbally prodding Holmes to get him out of the cab and Somersby physically guiding Miss Winter in an equally overt manner. I paid the cabbie, purchased the tickets, and made arrangements with the porters for our luggage, all while herding our eclectic little flock up into the train. Despite not needing to breathe anymore, I gave a sigh of relief once I’d gotten everybody safe in the compartment of the passenger car. Holmes settled into the corner without a word and stared morosely out of the soot-stained window.
It was only after the train had chuff-chuffed its cumbersome and weighty way out of the station and built up a full head of steam that he finally broke his silence.
“There is more danger here than you realize, I think,” Holmes said suddenly. “I really am not doing any of you favours by bringing you along on this excursion. Moriarty has been ahead of us all the way and there is every likelihood that he will anticipate our coming, as he has anticipated everything else, and be waiting for us.”
“If Moriarty has prepared a trap for us,” I said, “then all the more reason for us to be along, for you shall need our help.”
Holmes’s smile was heartfelt, but also a little sad. “Good old Watson,” he said. “The transformation really has not changed you at all. It is quite as remarkable as any little talent I may possess for the detection of crimes. Perhaps more so, if I am not quite mistaken.” He was still lounging with his head pressed back against the compartment wall, but his eyes shifted to the other two on the bench across from us. “And you?”
Somersby looked uncertain but Kitty Winter did not hesitate. “This Moriarty fellow seems cut from the same cloth as Baron Gruner was, to hear you tell it.” She straightened her hat, a small lavender concoction that had seen far better days. It was clear that, like me, the fatigue that weighed on both of us always during the daylight hours was no trivial burden. Her eyes were sunken hollows, but a fierce passion burned in them, too. “By cripes!” she said. “The Gruners of the world have had their way with the rest of us for far too long, if you ask me. I’m yours to the end, Mr Holmes.”
“Well,” Somersby said, looking over at Miss Winter uncertainly. “I’m in, too, then, if the rest of you are. It wouldn’t be… uh… manly to give in to trepidation now, would it?” The movement of the train jostled him and he sat up straighter and looked back and forth from Holmes and I as if looking for confirmation, or perhaps a possible escape. A small smile tinged the fierce look on Miss Winter’s face, but she turned it slightly away from her companion by pretending to look out the train window and so he did not see.
“Indeed,” Holmes said dryly. “What are we, as men, to do but press on regardless of the danger. Quite right.” He, too, sat up straight, making a visible effort to throw off some of the gloom that had overtaken him.
“Where, precisely, in Gravesend, are we going?” Somersby asked Holmes.
“We shall start in the docks and the warehouse districts,” said Holmes, “looking for signs.”
“Signs?” I asked.
“Well,” Holmes said, “it is rather too much to hope that Moriarty will be clumsy enough to leave us a trail of bloody corpses, freshly turned earth, or victims stumbling around with holes in their necks and far-fetched stories. However, I am assured by Holly that several sailors have gone missing in this area, so it may be that the Baker Street Irregulars will turn up something in the streets, bars and taverns of Gravesend, but I have instructed them to concentrate on the areas a short distance away from the docks, since that is where the greatest danger lies. The places directly adjacent to the docks will be our assignment. It may be that Moriarty and his forces still remain on the ship that brought them. I should much prefer to locate their ship or other den while the sun is still up, but we shall be under the same burdens as Moriarty’s forces, since half of our search party will be struggling with the torpor, so it is just as well that each of you has a human companion that can assist you.
“What is far more likely,” Holmes continued, “is that we shall have to wait for nightfall for their increased activity to reveal them.”
“But, Holmes,” I said, “might not Moriarty have made arrangements? Shipments of pig’s blood waiting for them, or crates to transport them during the day? Human servants could handle these arrangements. Why should they have to reveal themselves at all?”
“They shouldn’t have to,” Holmes said. “If Moriarty has full control of his forces, then we play a losing hand. He has superior numbers and the cunning to hide them until they can strike with the fullest effect at a place of his choosing. We can only dog his trail and hope that he makes a mistake that we shall be able to capitalize on.”