Not in Blood, but in Blood ch6 FINAL
Title:The Adventure of the Forgotten Birthday
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1725
Summary: the adventure ends with a bang
Warning: I told him to put the gun down, but did he listen?
The Nine Unknown is a secret group charged with protecting harmful info
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The temperature had fallen below zero degrees Celsius when, for the second time in as many days, I found myself tucked under a tree, covered in blankets, waiting for some dangerous deuce to appear. Holmes, instead of stationing himself in a tree, sat with a single blanket wrapped around him alongside me. “You reacted so viciously at the camp,” there had been a smug smile on his face as he said that earlier in the day, “and I most certainly do not desire you to shoot the villain before I am done with him!”
When a clock tower in the distance tolled its bells for midnight, a hansom pulled into the park. Holmes shifted forward as Jacobs, the oldest of the group, twitched nervously when the cab stopped in front of the assembled men. “Did you get the item?” The man didn’t exit the cab, but allowed the shadows disguise his facial features.
“No sir,” Jacobs shuffled backwards as the door of the hansom sprung open.
"You fool!" the voice was gravelly, as if his throat had been injured at some point, or perhaps he was concealing his true voice. I glanced to Holmes, whose eyes were trained on the carriage instead of the exchange. "If I or my employer is found out, your families will be the ones to pay!"
"Please, understand,” the elder man pleaded, “the husband saw Bill leave, we couldn’t stay!” The malefactor seized Jacobs by his stiff collar, and pulled him forward.
“We expected a satisfactory performance for our money,” the voice was no longer gravelly, but smooth, proving it had been a disguise, “but, instead we receive a very mediocre one!”
“We’re no’ really assassins!” exclaimed the third, Joel.
“If,” the criminal hissed, “the box isn’t in our possession by tomorrow, you will see what crossing The Unknown Nine gets you.” The man got back in and directed the driver to leave. As the carriage maneuvered back around, Holmes made his move, secreting himself onto the back of the hansom, as he’d done a score of times, and motioned to me to follow. Holmes, forgive me for saying this old boy, is a bit scrawny, where I am a good deal heavier. When I leaped after my deductive friend, I was not, in the least, sure that adding my weight to the back wouldn’t alert the wretch inside to our presence, but the back axle was very stable and did not budge.
Holmes put a digit to his lips, as if he would need to tell me silence was of the up most importance. “Back to Burly Drive,” had come the voice, and the cart picked up speed. The path was bumpy, which jolted my leg. I fortified myself against the pain and, an instant later, felt Holmes’ hand against my shoulder. Before I could make my thanks, Holmes slid from the axle gracefully to the cobbled street. I attempted the same maneuver, but botched the landing, and ended up planted firmly on my rear.
“Watson?”
“I’m fine, Holmes, I just couldn’t keep my feet.” From behind us, I discerned a carriage coming up the lane.
“Ah!” my companion exclaimed, “That will be Lestrade!”
“Holmes!” I cried, “How could you have known we’d be deposited on this lane?”
“Quite simple, my dear friend!” a dogcart rounded the curb, and I could see the inspector’s silhouette in the driver’s seat, “Our shadowed felon, based on the meeting point in the park, had only one place to go, and the direction he entered from only confirmed that; Burly Lane. Now, their final destination, of course, was just ascertained.” I have, many times, been struck by Holmes’ ability to link together details that the escape an orthodox mortal’s mind, and in this instance, there was no difference. Lestrade was upon us in an instant, halting the cart not an hair's breath away from us.
"Where now, Mr. Holmes?"
"Burly Drive, Inspector! Quickly!" with that, the cart was off in a flash, “Are you aware of what, or who, the Nine Unknown are, Watson?”
“Not in the least, Holmes,” I replied dryly, “I assume that’s why they’re unknown.” A laugh escaped Holmes.
“Indeed, my friend! They are charged with protecting and creating knowledge that, in the wrong hands, could end the world as we know it.”
“What kind of knowledge, Mr. Holmes?”
“Well, that would be the secret. But worry not! I doubt we are dealing with that particular clandestine society.” It was after the superior smirk seceded from my friend’s face that Burly Drive did appear. Only one house resided there, a rather conspicuous place with its dark parapets and gothic edges.
"You're sure it's this place, Mr. Holmes?"
"Indeed. Why, do you doubt me inspector?"
"Well, this is the residence of Lord Ackley."
"Are you quite certain?" I cried.
"Aye, I was here only the other day!" Holmes' eyes were trained on the dwelling, as if scrutinizing the very stones and mortar.
"Do you have your pistol, Watson?"
"Of course, Holmes." I removed the aforementioned item from my pocket to be assured of the fact that I had, indeed, reloaded my revolver before arriving at the park.
"Then let us advance!" We three approached the front door, which, indeed, surprised me. Holmes was more of a back-door man when it came to dangerous encounters.
“What’s our plan?” I asked.
“Corner and confront, my dear Watson. Not the safest plan, I see your reluctance, but he will break easily.”
“How could you know that?”
“All will be revealed.” a moment later, the door was opened by one of Lord Ackley’s valets. Holmes just brushed past the boy, whose face was a mask of shock at the detective’s audacity. “Come along!” Lestrade and I stepped in, handing our hats and coats to the servant, whose mouth was still slack. Holmes had bounded half way up the stairs before the attendant regained himself, and ran into the hall.
“Now, hold on a minute, sir! You can’t go up there!”
“This will only take a moment!”
“Sir!”
“Jason, what are you doing down there?” came Ackley’s voice from above Holmes’ head.
“I tried to stop them, my lord!” Jason ascended the steps after Holmes.
“Stop whom, boy?”
“That would be us!”
“Mr. Holmes? To what do I owe this pleasure at so late an hour?” there was censure in the lord’s voice.
“Yes, I do realize it’s late,” said he, moving into the study at the top of the stairs. The manservant almost collapsed at the haughtiness that was exhibited by my friend, “but I do believe the case of your deceased daughter can be disentangled in but a few moments.” there must have been something significant on Holmes’ face, for a second later, Lord Ackley’s face became ashen.
“Of-of course, let’s have a drink. Evening, Lestrade.”
“Morning, I believe.” The lord nodded, and shut his study door.
“What have you found out.”
“That you had your own daughter killed.” Holmes’ voice was stoic.
“I did no such thing! You can’t prove any of it!” Holmes wasn’t listening, but began to circle Lord Ackley.
“You almost had me believing you had hired someone as a middle man in this business, but why would a middle man, who is hired to conceal the identity of the employer, come back to the administrator’s house? It would be a very foolish move.” Ackley moved to speak, but Holmes pressed on, “This is further established by the makeup that you couldn’t quite get off your neck and your damp collar. You were just at Allestree park, threatening the assassins that you’d hired to retrieve something from your daughter.” Ackley’s back was to us. “I assume you tried to get it back by civil means, but were turned away. Why is that?”
“I suppose I could tell you,” he practically growled, and spun around, “for you’re going to die.” For the second time in two days, a villain leveled a gun on the man whom I considered my best friend, and for the second time, my hand flashed to my gun. Holmes’ hand joined mine, communicating silently that I shouldn’t draw my weapon, not yet. “Mary had found out what had happened to her mother, and had a letter written, along with a box of effects to prove my guilt.”
“Elizabeth died of tuberculosis!” exclaimed Lestrade, who looked near tears at the betrayal of his friend.
“Ney, you incompetent inspector, I poisoned her!” a strangled cry escaped Lestrade, perhaps at the thought of standing by a man that killed his own wife. “When Mary threatened to call you, you fool,” he snarled, “she had to die, just as you do!” Ackley was going to pull the trigger, I could see it in his eyes, and I couldn’t let my friends die. I shouldered Holmes out of the way as the guns fired in consonance, and we fell the same way. I felt the bullet rip into my bad shoulder, I saw a bullet pass though Ackley’s head, and I heard Holmes’ shout of fear and anger. And then there was nothing.
~~~~~~~~
The first time my shoulder was wounded, I could catch bits and pieces of what went on , but this time, I was pushed so far down into a painless slumber. When I finally struggled to consciousness, I saw Holmes, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson sleeping in chairs by my bed. I shifted my shoulder to judge the damage, and was surprised to find that the pain was minimal. As usual, Holmes perceived the small change, and jolted awake.
“Watson? You’re awake!” His cry roused the others, after which I was smothered by joy. Later that night, after Lestrade had thanked myself and Holmes, and Mrs. Hudson had fluffed my pillow for the twelfth time before leaving, Holmes was still by my side.
“Shouldn’t you go back to Baker Street and rest, Holmes?” He shook his head ‘no’.
“You’re my brother, John, not in blood, but in bond,” in his eyes, I could see more emotion than had ever been there before, “Thank you for your friendship,”
“No, Sherlock,” my voice was choked with awe, “brothers need no thanks.”
The end.
A/n notice holmes switches the wording of The nine Unknown from what Ackley said in the park.
The families that were threatened were never in danger, but the assassins knew of the none unknown, and thought they were.
I feel, since Ackley killed his wife, he'd want some sort of attention beyond the norm for his daughter's death. He just didnt expect holmes to be that good. poor fool!
I FINISHED SOMETHING!!!!!! 0o the world has ended
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1725
Summary: the adventure ends with a bang
Warning: I told him to put the gun down, but did he listen?
The Nine Unknown is a secret group charged with protecting harmful info
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The temperature had fallen below zero degrees Celsius when, for the second time in as many days, I found myself tucked under a tree, covered in blankets, waiting for some dangerous deuce to appear. Holmes, instead of stationing himself in a tree, sat with a single blanket wrapped around him alongside me. “You reacted so viciously at the camp,” there had been a smug smile on his face as he said that earlier in the day, “and I most certainly do not desire you to shoot the villain before I am done with him!”
When a clock tower in the distance tolled its bells for midnight, a hansom pulled into the park. Holmes shifted forward as Jacobs, the oldest of the group, twitched nervously when the cab stopped in front of the assembled men. “Did you get the item?” The man didn’t exit the cab, but allowed the shadows disguise his facial features.
“No sir,” Jacobs shuffled backwards as the door of the hansom sprung open.
"You fool!" the voice was gravelly, as if his throat had been injured at some point, or perhaps he was concealing his true voice. I glanced to Holmes, whose eyes were trained on the carriage instead of the exchange. "If I or my employer is found out, your families will be the ones to pay!"
"Please, understand,” the elder man pleaded, “the husband saw Bill leave, we couldn’t stay!” The malefactor seized Jacobs by his stiff collar, and pulled him forward.
“We expected a satisfactory performance for our money,” the voice was no longer gravelly, but smooth, proving it had been a disguise, “but, instead we receive a very mediocre one!”
“We’re no’ really assassins!” exclaimed the third, Joel.
“If,” the criminal hissed, “the box isn’t in our possession by tomorrow, you will see what crossing The Unknown Nine gets you.” The man got back in and directed the driver to leave. As the carriage maneuvered back around, Holmes made his move, secreting himself onto the back of the hansom, as he’d done a score of times, and motioned to me to follow. Holmes, forgive me for saying this old boy, is a bit scrawny, where I am a good deal heavier. When I leaped after my deductive friend, I was not, in the least, sure that adding my weight to the back wouldn’t alert the wretch inside to our presence, but the back axle was very stable and did not budge.
Holmes put a digit to his lips, as if he would need to tell me silence was of the up most importance. “Back to Burly Drive,” had come the voice, and the cart picked up speed. The path was bumpy, which jolted my leg. I fortified myself against the pain and, an instant later, felt Holmes’ hand against my shoulder. Before I could make my thanks, Holmes slid from the axle gracefully to the cobbled street. I attempted the same maneuver, but botched the landing, and ended up planted firmly on my rear.
“Watson?”
“I’m fine, Holmes, I just couldn’t keep my feet.” From behind us, I discerned a carriage coming up the lane.
“Ah!” my companion exclaimed, “That will be Lestrade!”
“Holmes!” I cried, “How could you have known we’d be deposited on this lane?”
“Quite simple, my dear friend!” a dogcart rounded the curb, and I could see the inspector’s silhouette in the driver’s seat, “Our shadowed felon, based on the meeting point in the park, had only one place to go, and the direction he entered from only confirmed that; Burly Lane. Now, their final destination, of course, was just ascertained.” I have, many times, been struck by Holmes’ ability to link together details that the escape an orthodox mortal’s mind, and in this instance, there was no difference. Lestrade was upon us in an instant, halting the cart not an hair's breath away from us.
"Where now, Mr. Holmes?"
"Burly Drive, Inspector! Quickly!" with that, the cart was off in a flash, “Are you aware of what, or who, the Nine Unknown are, Watson?”
“Not in the least, Holmes,” I replied dryly, “I assume that’s why they’re unknown.” A laugh escaped Holmes.
“Indeed, my friend! They are charged with protecting and creating knowledge that, in the wrong hands, could end the world as we know it.”
“What kind of knowledge, Mr. Holmes?”
“Well, that would be the secret. But worry not! I doubt we are dealing with that particular clandestine society.” It was after the superior smirk seceded from my friend’s face that Burly Drive did appear. Only one house resided there, a rather conspicuous place with its dark parapets and gothic edges.
"You're sure it's this place, Mr. Holmes?"
"Indeed. Why, do you doubt me inspector?"
"Well, this is the residence of Lord Ackley."
"Are you quite certain?" I cried.
"Aye, I was here only the other day!" Holmes' eyes were trained on the dwelling, as if scrutinizing the very stones and mortar.
"Do you have your pistol, Watson?"
"Of course, Holmes." I removed the aforementioned item from my pocket to be assured of the fact that I had, indeed, reloaded my revolver before arriving at the park.
"Then let us advance!" We three approached the front door, which, indeed, surprised me. Holmes was more of a back-door man when it came to dangerous encounters.
“What’s our plan?” I asked.
“Corner and confront, my dear Watson. Not the safest plan, I see your reluctance, but he will break easily.”
“How could you know that?”
“All will be revealed.” a moment later, the door was opened by one of Lord Ackley’s valets. Holmes just brushed past the boy, whose face was a mask of shock at the detective’s audacity. “Come along!” Lestrade and I stepped in, handing our hats and coats to the servant, whose mouth was still slack. Holmes had bounded half way up the stairs before the attendant regained himself, and ran into the hall.
“Now, hold on a minute, sir! You can’t go up there!”
“This will only take a moment!”
“Sir!”
“Jason, what are you doing down there?” came Ackley’s voice from above Holmes’ head.
“I tried to stop them, my lord!” Jason ascended the steps after Holmes.
“Stop whom, boy?”
“That would be us!”
“Mr. Holmes? To what do I owe this pleasure at so late an hour?” there was censure in the lord’s voice.
“Yes, I do realize it’s late,” said he, moving into the study at the top of the stairs. The manservant almost collapsed at the haughtiness that was exhibited by my friend, “but I do believe the case of your deceased daughter can be disentangled in but a few moments.” there must have been something significant on Holmes’ face, for a second later, Lord Ackley’s face became ashen.
“Of-of course, let’s have a drink. Evening, Lestrade.”
“Morning, I believe.” The lord nodded, and shut his study door.
“What have you found out.”
“That you had your own daughter killed.” Holmes’ voice was stoic.
“I did no such thing! You can’t prove any of it!” Holmes wasn’t listening, but began to circle Lord Ackley.
“You almost had me believing you had hired someone as a middle man in this business, but why would a middle man, who is hired to conceal the identity of the employer, come back to the administrator’s house? It would be a very foolish move.” Ackley moved to speak, but Holmes pressed on, “This is further established by the makeup that you couldn’t quite get off your neck and your damp collar. You were just at Allestree park, threatening the assassins that you’d hired to retrieve something from your daughter.” Ackley’s back was to us. “I assume you tried to get it back by civil means, but were turned away. Why is that?”
“I suppose I could tell you,” he practically growled, and spun around, “for you’re going to die.” For the second time in two days, a villain leveled a gun on the man whom I considered my best friend, and for the second time, my hand flashed to my gun. Holmes’ hand joined mine, communicating silently that I shouldn’t draw my weapon, not yet. “Mary had found out what had happened to her mother, and had a letter written, along with a box of effects to prove my guilt.”
“Elizabeth died of tuberculosis!” exclaimed Lestrade, who looked near tears at the betrayal of his friend.
“Ney, you incompetent inspector, I poisoned her!” a strangled cry escaped Lestrade, perhaps at the thought of standing by a man that killed his own wife. “When Mary threatened to call you, you fool,” he snarled, “she had to die, just as you do!” Ackley was going to pull the trigger, I could see it in his eyes, and I couldn’t let my friends die. I shouldered Holmes out of the way as the guns fired in consonance, and we fell the same way. I felt the bullet rip into my bad shoulder, I saw a bullet pass though Ackley’s head, and I heard Holmes’ shout of fear and anger. And then there was nothing.
~~~~~~~~
The first time my shoulder was wounded, I could catch bits and pieces of what went on , but this time, I was pushed so far down into a painless slumber. When I finally struggled to consciousness, I saw Holmes, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson sleeping in chairs by my bed. I shifted my shoulder to judge the damage, and was surprised to find that the pain was minimal. As usual, Holmes perceived the small change, and jolted awake.
“Watson? You’re awake!” His cry roused the others, after which I was smothered by joy. Later that night, after Lestrade had thanked myself and Holmes, and Mrs. Hudson had fluffed my pillow for the twelfth time before leaving, Holmes was still by my side.
“Shouldn’t you go back to Baker Street and rest, Holmes?” He shook his head ‘no’.
“You’re my brother, John, not in blood, but in bond,” in his eyes, I could see more emotion than had ever been there before, “Thank you for your friendship,”
“No, Sherlock,” my voice was choked with awe, “brothers need no thanks.”
The end.
A/n notice holmes switches the wording of The nine Unknown from what Ackley said in the park.
The families that were threatened were never in danger, but the assassins knew of the none unknown, and thought they were.
I feel, since Ackley killed his wife, he'd want some sort of attention beyond the norm for his daughter's death. He just didnt expect holmes to be that good. poor fool!
I FINISHED SOMETHING!!!!!! 0o the world has ended