Free Young Sherlock Holmes: Fire Storm by Andrew Lane

safe.
    Just as he was about to look away, he saw a head peeping out from behind one of the vats. It was Matty. From his position, Matty couldn’t see the man with the hooked pole, but if he moved forward a few feet he would be in the man’s line of sight. Sherlock desperately willed Matty to look his way, but his friend seemed to be nerving himself up to run back to the steps.
    Sherlock was preparing himself to make some noise that would attract Matty’s attention when the boy looked up at him. Sherlock gestured to him to stay where he was. Matty shook his head. Sherlock nodded towards the place where the worker was standing and made a walking movement with his fingers. Matty nodded in understanding.
    Sherlock stared over at the worker again. He had lit his cigarette and was strolling forward, hooked pole held over his shoulder like a rifle. Another few steps and, if he looked to his left, he would see Matty.
    Sherlock didn’t know what to do. If he attracted the man’s attention away from Matty, then he would expose himself, but he couldn’t let Matty be discovered.
    Someone shouted from the other side of the vats. It sounded as if it might have been the worker who had argued with Josh Harkness. ‘We got a leak!’ he shouted. ‘You know the drill! Marky – get some sheets to mop up the stuff. Nicholson – you and me need to caulk that hole with some hemp quick and then nail a patch across it!’
    The man with the pole ran to help. Sherlock beckoned Matty, who raced across to the steps. Sherlock ran to join him.
    ‘You start hauling the boxes out,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the chute.’
    Matty disappeared back into the storeroom and Sherlock quickly moved to where the wooden chute was leaning up against the railings. It was heavier than it looked, and it took all his strength to manhandle it back to the storeroom and then from the railing to the edge of the nearest vat.
    By the time Sherlock was ready Matty had stacked four boxes. While he went back for more, Sherlock took the boxes one at a time and pushed them down the chute. The angle wasn’t steep enough to allow the boxes to slide by themselves, but Sherlock found that he could use the second box to push the first, and then the third box to push the other two. In less than a minute he had all four boxes on the chute, and he was straining against the last one, trying to get all four to move.
    The first box was teetering over the vat now. Sherlock took a step back and then ran forward, hitting the last box in the same way he’d tackled players on the rugby field at Deepdene School. The box jerked forward, transmitting its force down the line to the first one, which tumbled into the vat.
    Too soon for congratulations. As Matty kept delivering the boxes, Sherlock kept stacking them on to the chute and ramming them forward. Box after box tumbled into the vat. Sherlock could see them floating in the poisonous, noxious mixture before it filled them up and they sank. Hopefully into oblivion.
    On the other side of the vats he could hear raised voices and the sound of hammering.
    The work fell into a repetitive routine. Pick up box. Put box on chute. Push box as hard as possible. Pick up another box. His muscles ached with the strain.
    Eventually he became aware that Matty was standing beside him, helping push the boxes. ‘Last ones,’ Matty said. He looked exhausted. Dust coated his hair and his face.
    ‘What the . . . ?’ a voice shouted.
    Sherlock looked down into the centre of the room. Josh Harkness was staring up at the two boys. His face was a mask of outraged disbelief.
    ‘Quick,’ Sherlock said. ‘Let’s get the last boxes in there!’
    ‘I saved the lightest for last,’ Matty said. ‘You can probably throw them.’
    He was right. Sherlock picked up the box marked Y and, balancing himself like a shot-putter, launched it towards the vat.
    ‘Oi!’ Harkness yelled. ‘Stop that!’
    The box hit the edge, and for a moment Sherlock thought it was