Free The Collected Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in Japan by Ben Stevens Page B

to the victorious fighter –
    ‘That’s enough now, Figg – that’s enough…’
    But, really, my attentions were fully upon the man lying on the ground. He was tougher than I thought. His eyelids fluttered open, and after a moment he attempted to rise, mumbling something about wanting to resume the fight.
    ‘You’ve been beaten, man,’ I told him sternly, so that he understood there was no point in trying to continue. ‘Now be still.’
    He obeyed me – I think he realized his legs wouldn’t even support him, if he attempted to stand – and I performed a brief examination of him. He was fortunate: he’d not even a broken jaw, which I was certain he’d sustained from the Brawler’s final blow. Otherwise there was some superficial bruising already beginning to show itself on the face, but nothing of any real importance.
    ‘Such a shame, seeing two fellow Englishmen brawling like this,’ I told Plummer, as I helped him to sit upright. He was breathing heavily, his eyes narrowed with pain.
    ‘I’ll see that bastard in hell yet,’ he murmured.
    ‘Look,’ I said in a fierce whisper, so that only he could hear. ‘What is the matter here? Heaven knows there’s been bad blood between you and Figg ever since you arrived on this island – and for what reason, eh? You two knew each other somewhere before, I’m guessing? In Devonshire, would seem to be the smart guess, since you both have the accent of that region!’
    But Plummer only stubbornly shook his head, refusing to say anything more. Before I could persist in my questioning (for I can be quite tenacious, when the mood takes me), I became aware of a commotion coming from behind me.
    I turned my head, and there was Figg pointing at Holmes, who’d had no choice but to observe the altercation which had just taken place.
    ‘So that’s him, is it? The one there’re those stories about? Well, I’ve not read ‘em, but still I’ve heard he’s quite a boxer. So if this here Mister Sherlock Holmes is half the man they say he is, let him meet me now – bare-knuckle!’
    ‘That’s enough, Figg!’ said the Captain harshly; but the effect upon Holmes was instant. In a couple of moments, he removed his shirt, exposing a lean, sinewy body that was obviously exceptionally strong.
    ‘Good, good; let’s fight, man!’ called out the Brawler, his blood doubtless still ‘up’ from his previous fight.   
    I glanced at the Captain, and as he moved to stop these proceedings, his expression suddenly changed. I realized that he – a fighting man when he’d been in his youth, after all – indeed wished to see this fight. And as his guest had just accepted the challenge…
    Without saying a word, Holmes advanced, coming up to scratch, and the two men who were about to fight touched knuckles before again stepping back, briefly sizing each other up. Holmes was – slightly – the taller man, while Figg certainly had the advantage in weight and general size. The mocking sneer was quite gone from Figg’s face, while Holmes’s hawlike face was impassive.
    In Holmes’s eyes, however, there seemed to lie a dislike for the Brawler, based upon what he had just seen – the quick, brutal and indeed almost callous defeat of James Plummer. I thought that Holmes (by all accounts an honorable man) considered Figg to be little more than a bully – although it is possible that I am merely indulging in supposition here.
    And then the fight began…
    This time, Figg took the offensive, marching forwards while throwing a series of fast, hard blows. Holmes took these on his arms – in the manner favored by the Brawler himself – and then shot a hard left straight through Figg’s guard and onto that square chin.
    Figg staggered slightly; as square as his chin was, seemingly capable of taking most blows, I had no doubt that Holmes’s fist had struck with the force of a small mallet. But still the Brawler did not go down. With a roar, he again stepped forwards, his massive