Free The Secret Fiend by Shane Peacock Page B

the way to the hatter’s shop. They do just what they were instructed to do, but no attack occurs. The girls stop at the hatter’s door and turn back to Sherlock. Louise smiles shyly at him.
    “I’m glad, really,” says Beatrice. “You should not be doing this alone.”
    “I would have been fine. I was well prepared. I should have him in custody by now.”
    “Would you like to come in? Father won’t be ’ome for an hour.”
    “There’s no need.”
    “But –”
    “I must be getting back.”
    Louise looks at Beatrice, disappointed for her.
    “Don’t you two ever walk home this late again; if you absolutely must, ask a gentleman to accompany you.”
    “Thank you, Sherlock.”
    “Yes, thank you, Master ’olmes,” adds Louise.
    The boy stomps away from the shop, head down, upset at this missed opportunity. He was sure it would work.
    He is so intent on his thoughts that he almost misses it. He passes a short alleyway where a dark figure has its back turned to the street, struggling with something. Sherlock walks by, but then stops.
Did he imagine it?
The fog has started to settle in. He turns and peeks around the corner. There is indeed a figure there in the mist, tall and muscular, glancing out toward the street every now and then, as if he is doing something secretive. It takes a moment for Sherlock to realize what he is up to.
    He is putting on a costume. It is black and green. It has wings.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT
    P erhaps the easiest thing to do would be to jump the fiend as he leaves the alleyway, unprepared for an assault and unaware that he has been spotted. But as a burgeoning detective, Sherlock has a bad feeling about that. Something doesn’t make sense here. Crew, near the top of the Irregulars’ chain of command due to his unspeakable talents – trained by the incomparable Malefactor, shouldn’t be making blunders. And yet, he has allowed himself to be spotted, to have his back to potential enemies. Malefactor would know of the report on the front page of
The Times
, and would assume that the Force might be on alert, that citizens were watching their neighborhoods carefully. And yet, here is Crew, visible and vulnerable, changing into his costume.
    It’s a trap
, thinks Sherlock. Malefactor is likely nearby with his other weasels. They could kill him right now, while he is alone in a poor area with no one to observe his body being dumped into the Thames. Holmes backs away, presses him self against the clammy wall of a building, his breath evident in short, nervous bursts in the cool early-March evening. There are no gas lamps; they have expertlydrawn him here. Malefactor, the genius, had considered what Sherlock would do, and had been dead right. The boy looks up to the roof of the buildings. He can’t see anyone else … yet.
    The costumed figure emerges from the alley. Holmes has a clear view of it now. It is definitely big and powerful, about Crew’s size. It wears black boots with thick heels, a cape that gives the appearance of wings, dark ears sticking up in black hair, and something like claws on its gloved hands. It looks like the devil.
    Sherlock lets it move away, but keeps it in sight. He glances back, forward, up.
Still no one else.
The night is nearly silent, only the distant sounds of ships’ horns on the river can be heard.
    The boy moves forward, cautious, sticking to the foot pavement, almost glued to the walls. The Jack is virtually retracing Sherlock’s steps. The figure not only walks back up the street he just came from, but turns at the corner he turned at, turns at the next one too, then stops and looks down the next road … at the hatter’s shop!
    The area is somewhat open – a small, dirty square with a water pump at the center. Sherlock must be careful. But when the fiend walks straight toward the shop and then right up to the door, the boy has to set aside his caution.
What does Crew want with Beatrice? Or is it Louise? Or does he indeed want me? Is this the best