Free Sherlock Holmes and the Queen of Diamonds by Steve Hayes, David Whitehead

suggesting a duel, Mr Howard – I would rather not.’
    Howard had been suggesting no such thing, of course, but now that the idea had been proposed he quickly rose to the bait. ‘Why not? Afraid you’ll lose?’
    ‘On the contrary,’ said Holmes. ‘But as a guest of the countess …’
    ‘Don’t let that stop you.’
    ‘Very well,’ Holmes said. He crossed to the wall, took down a matching sabre and slashed the air with it a few times. He then turned back to Howard, who was already removing his coat and shoulder holsters.
    ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Elaina said hastily.
    ‘Neither do I,’ said Watson. ‘As much as anything else it’s wildly irresponsible. No matter how careful you try to be, one or both of you is bound to sustain an injury.’
    Holmes arched an eyebrow at Howard. ‘What do you say? Shall we call it off?’
    ‘Not a chance.’ Howard cut the air with his sabre. ‘I’m real curious to see how this pans out.’
    ‘My sentiments exactly,’ said Holmes. He quickly removed his jacket and passed it to Watson before bringing his blade up to salute his opponent.
    ‘ En garde !’
    He and Howard circled each other, sabres extended, steel gleaming like liquid mercury in the gaslights. Watson wet his lips and felt his fingers digging anxiously into the material of Holmes’s jacket. 
    Then Howard lunged forward, thinking to end the matter quickly and decisively. Holmes back-stepped, parried deftly and with a ring of steel Howard’s blade slipped from his own. Howard himself stumbled forward, off balance, but caught himself quickly and leapt back to avoid a thrust from Holmes. He used his own blade to knock Holmes’s aside, then moved in fast with a series of thrusts and swipes. But he lacked the finesse that Holmes displayed so ably, and as his temper warmed he lost even that small degree of ability and became instead a charging bull.
    Holmes parried and countered, matching his opponent move for move, almost as if he knew in advance what Howard intended to do next.
    They danced back and forth across the armoury, never losing eye contact. Then Howard lunged forward again and Holmes executed a deceptively simple twisting movement with his blade. It slid along the length of Howard’s sabre and with another flick the American’s sword flew from his grasp to land with a clatter on the flagstone floor.
    Elaina gasped. ‘There, it’s done,’ she said. ‘And I declare Holmes the w—’
    Neither man paid her any attention. Holmes stood back and indicated that the Missourian should pick the blade up again. Howard did so, this time with murder in his eyes.
    Again they faced each other. All of Holmes’s needling had finally brought about the desired effect; Howard’s temper, quick even at the best of times, had at last boiled over, while Holmes appeared to be as cool and collected as ever.
    Howard leapt in. Steel clashed against steel. Howard lunged but Holmes sidestepped, eluding the other’s sword. Again and again Howard hacked at Holmes, and in the end Holmes was forced to retreat under such a determined advance.
    Elaina quickly stepped forward before Watson could restrain her and yelled: ‘ That’s enough, do you hear me ?’
    But her voice was drowned by the clashing ring of blade on blade. Holmes felt a wall at his back and knew he could retreat no further. Howard saw it as well, and heedless of the consequences brought his blade down in a sweeping overhead blow. Holmes dropped to a crouch before his opponent and the tip of Howard’s blade ripped down the stone wall, splashing sparks from its tip.
    Then, abruptly, Howard froze.
    The tip of Holmes’s sword was just touching the soft flesh beneath his chin. One thrust and it would be all over for the man from Missouri.
    ‘Do you concede?’ asked Holmes.
    ‘Never.’
    ‘Then must we continue the match until one or the other of us is injured or worse?’
    Elaina rushed in close, Watson following. ‘My God, what’re you