Free Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse by Stephanie Osborn

who blinked back in confusion.
    “My dear Leigh,” he informed her, “while I am gratified to see you and your father again after all this time, I am here to work, not to reminisce or to ‘catch us up.’ I am a part of this expedition team, and I am expected to—and shall—participate in solving the problem of locating Pharaoh Ka-Sekhen’s tomb. This is why I came.”
    “I’ll take you for a walk later, Leigh, perhaps during the siesta period, if it isn’t too hot,” Phillips offered. “But Holmes is right. We need to work for now.”
    “I want to walk with SHERRY,” Leighton demanded. “I see you all the time, Landers. I haven’t seen Sherry in years.”
    “I am busy right now, Leigh,” Holmes reiterated. “I need to familiarise myself with the terrain, if I am to be of any use in helping determine where the tomb is.”
    “But—”
    “Go back to your tent, Leighton,” a mildly irked Whitesell ordered his daughter, “if you aren’t interested in the work. You brought a small trunk of books, needlework, and the like, to include a whole collection of those blasted penny dreadfuls 29 that Phillips got you started on; I’m sure you can find something to keep yourself occupied for the day.”
    A disconsolate and vexed Leighton wandered out of the artefact tent en route to her own tent, as the men began to pore over the maps.
    * * *
    Leighton, more than a little impatient, was already waiting in the “mess tent,” as Watson tended to term it, when the men arrived from the artefact tent after the luncheon bell was rung. They all took their assigned seats, and Abraam began to pour the wine. A perspiring Watson showed up moments later, having apparently jogged from the tent he shared with Holmes.
    “So sorry to be late,” he panted, hurrying to his seat. “I’ve been hauling equipment all over, and tying off tarpaulins, and the like. I’m afraid I lost track of the time. Then, when the gong rang, I had to finish what I was doing before I could come, or it would all have fallen down.”
    “Well, Doctor, how is the medical department coming along, then?” Whitesell asked, as the meal was served. “It sounds as if you’ve been quite busy, though I’ve no idea at what.”
    “Decently enough, I suppose,” Watson replied, digging in hungrily. “Yes, I have been very busy. I have my emergency kit unpacked and more or less deployed, though it is rather crowded in the tent now. I did have the idea to see your quartermaster about matters of a large tarpaulin, cord, and tent pegs, in order to create a kind of lean-to shanty onto the side of the tent in which Holmes and I are staying, where I may place two cots and some tables for equipment,” he noted. “At least until the proper hospital is found.”
    “Capital notion, my dear Watson,” Holmes offered. “That should ease the crowding a bit, and allow for a place for any long-term patients to lie close by where you may readily tend them, without our being required to vacate our own beds, or for you to trek over half the camp.”
    “Precisely, Holmes,” Watson said, then downed an entire glass of water at a go.
    “I think the good doctor is tired, thirsty, and hungry, after a morning’s hot, hard work,” Beaumont noted with a friendly smile, as one of the servants came up and refilled Watson’s water goblet, only for him to dive back into it. “How far along are you, Dr. Watson?” Watson had to come up for air to reply.
    “I have the tarpaulin, the cording, the tent pegs, some folding cots and tables,” Watson told him, “and I know where I want everything, and I even have the canvas attached to the side of the tent, but I still need to drive the tent pegs and string it all up properly, then position the tables and such like underneath.”
    “What about your staff?” Phillips wondered.
    “I sent them to help Lord Trenthume and the quartermaster search for the hospital pavilion,” Watson explained. “Besides, two of the three are women,