Sherlock Holmes - The Stuff of Nightmares Read Online Free Page B

Cauchemar is more than mere fancy, Mycroft,” said Holmes. “I am also of the view that his emergence into the public eye in the past few weeks is not unconnected with the bombings.”
    “Oh, is that so?”
    “Yes indeed,” said Holmes stoutly. “And, to that end, Baron Cauchemar is the avenue of investigation I intend to pursue.”
    “And you’re not prepared to accept that it’s pure happenstance, this fairytale creature appearing at the same time as a fresh wave of insurrectionist bombings hits the capital? At the very least coincidence?”
    “In as much as I’m innately suspicious of coincidences, no. To my mind, it seems more likely than not that the one set of extraordinary occurrences should in some way be related to the other. And if I am wrong, and if the existence of Baron Cauchemar is impossible, as you insist, then at least I will have eliminated that impossibility from my enquiries, leaving me one step closer to the truth, however improbable.”
    Mycroft’s chin sank into the fold of blubber that bulged out over his shirt collar.
    “If that is your choice, Sherlock, so be it,” he said in a sullen growl, fixing his watery grey eyes on his brother. “Go and chase your silly chimera. I will be in touch again in a couple of days’ time to see what progress you have made – which will be none, I’ll wager. Then, perhaps, you will change your mind and make the sensible decision to work directly for me after all.”
    “We shall see,” said Holmes. “Come, Watson! We’ve stayed long enough.”
    And so we left the silent Diogenes Club and an equally silent, and fuming, Mycroft.
    Outside in the street, removed from the club’s stifling confines, I once again remonstrated with my friend. “Holmes, should you not at the very least visit Waterloo Station? It is most unlike you to turn down the opportunity to inspect a crime scene. The terrorists might well have left clues.”
    “Did I say I was not going to look there?”
    “You did not say that you were. Come on, a little of your time. Set aside this Baron Cauchemar business for just one moment.”
    “I’m almost certain it would be pointless. Special Branch will have already trampled all over the place in their hobnailed boots, leaving little useful evidence for someone with a keener eye to detect.”
    “I would be in your debt if you would go,” I said. “You weren’t there. It was terrible. Those people – innocents – ripped to bits. And don’t forget how close I came to being one of the victims. Anything that can be done to bring us that bit nearer to finding the persons responsible...”
    I admit I was playing upon his sympathies. Some might even call it a kind of blackmail. Yet I felt I had a very personal stake in the matter.
    “Very well,” said Holmes. “Since you insist. I’ll warrant something may have survived Special Branch’s clodhopping vandalism.”
    He turned his feet in the direction of Waterloo with what seemed to be a show of great reluctance, yet I had the sneaking suspicion it had been his intention to survey the scene of the bombing all along, even without my cajoling. He just hadn’t wanted Mycroft to know this, not wishing to appear meekly subservient to his brother’s wishes. Whatever sibling rivalries had characterised the youthful years of the two Holmeses remained in force even in adulthood. I don’t believe there is a younger brother alive who would willingly be at his older brother’s beck and call, and Holmes, for all his genius and his detachment from the tidal pull of base emotions, was no exception to this rule.

CHAPTER FOUR
T HE A ROMA OF O VERRIPE B ANANAS
    Arriving at the station, we found a throng of onlookers clustered around the entrance, gawping and prurient. As with any disaster, it never took long for the news to spread and for spectators to come from far and wide, eager for a glimpse of other people’s tragedy.
    Holmes headed inside, I following with some reluctance. My memories of