Flight

Part I

by "Of Holmes, whom I loved"

I stood looking out the window from Lestrade's office with pipe clenched between my teeth. The results of the previous nights' search weighed heavily on my mind. The evidence presented on the slides of mud was fairly conclusive though a return trip to the park was necessary. I could see Russell's reflection in the window. She was seated at the desk and her head was resting on her folded arms. Her slow and steady breathing indicated that she was still asleep and I regretted having to wake her. She had several surprises with the past three days and she needed her rest. There was sufficient evidence at the opera hall on the previous evening that she was indeed tired.

When I saw her standing at the door of the department store waiting for the fourth cab, as per my instructions, she looked like any young lady should. I had become accustomed to seeing her in trousers and shirts that were anything but feminine. Yet, there she stood in a stunning evening gown looking for a comfortable cab to take her to our rendezvous. She was beautiful. These thoughts were immediately dismissed as inappropriate. Her frustration rose when she passed up the third comfortable cab that presented itself. When I arrived in an ancient cab that should have been decommissioned years ago, I saw her countenance fall even further. The doorman assisted her in placing her packages in the cab and handed her up. He had the expression of a protective father and I grinned inwardly. It is very true that young ladies should take more appropriate means of transportation. In this case though, she was in very good company.

Russell appeared tired and probably scared and I thought a little humour would lighten her mood. She did not agree. When I peered over the side to see her, I was slightly taken back by the revolver she had pointed at me. I resumed my position above and she continued her fuming inside. When we reached Covent Garden she alighted and I hastily changed my clothing in the limited privacy of the cab.

The evening was delightful and I felt that we needed some frivolity. The opera was beautiful. The soprano was in full control of her voice and the music wafted over us like waves. My companion relaxed significantly and I stole a brief glance at her. She had fallen into a light sleep and as she was not disturbing anyone and needed the rest, I let her be. I closed my eyes and the decrescendo of the music agreed with my feelings. The slowing of the tempo and the softness of the melody reached into me and I relaxed in its presence. I sighed contentedly and opened my eyes again when she stirred next to me. She was awake, if not fully alert. The melody continued soft and simple as I resumed my inward contemplation of its effects. I was completely tranquil and enjoyed the distraction from the events of the past week. I managed to ignore the twitching muscles in my healing back and the music did wonders to "sooth the savage beast" as it were.

At the intermission I escorted my companion to a quiet corner and we shared champagne and stories of detection, music, and the social activities of the cast. My companion was charming, though sleepy, and our conversation was diverting. Her emotions were evident by her facial expressions and I was wrenched back to reality by the thoughts of recent events. I briefly glanced around the room as a protective measure, much for her safety as my own. When the lights signalled the beginning of the second act, I escorted Russell back to our seats.

The second act had barely begun when I noticed that Russell had once again fallen asleep. She was using my shoulder as a pillow and my ear as a temporary hat stand. I tried to focus again on the soprano and the strains of Verdi, but my thoughts had flown elsewhere. I attributed this to the hat in my ear and the young lady to whom it belonged. I turned my head slightly and looked down at her. She looked so restful and at peace. She was lovely. These thoughts were an intrusion and I attempted to confine them. We were in public and as such, were in danger from this madman (at the time I had thought it was indeed a man we were running from). I doubted that he would act in such a public place, but the possibility was there. Russell felt so assured in my presence that she could sleep comfortably in public; she knew I would keep her from harm. I turned my attention back to the stage but my thoughts were still on my companion. I was her protector, her guardian; I was to keep her safe. She was, in effect, my ward. Perhaps not ward, she was after all eighteen and quite capable of looking after herself. Yet I felt responsible for keeping her safe. She needed me to protect her and keep her from danger. Protector, that was my role. Yes, a role that had no hint of impropriety.

After the opera we had a light supper and the conversation was like that during the intermission. We chatted of seemingly unimportant things and deliberately avoided the topic that begged our attention. It was deftly ignored by the light heartedness of our companionship. I was comfortable with this. No impropriety at all. She deserves someone closer to her own age, someone to grow old with her, not someone who is already there. I had convinced myself that she was not for me yet the feeling was still nagging at me like a child wanting attention. We left the restaurant and I took her arm in mine as we had an invigorating discussion and I was pleased that she understood the comparison between a fugue and myself. Yes, she is very observant and intelligent. She is what I have been missing since... No, there is to be no impropriety, we are teacher and student, mentor and protégée.

When we came around the corner I saw the constables and the milling around our cab. My thoughts were not of Russell, but of Billy. I must be slipping; they found us and attacked Billy. I slumped against the building and wondered aloud at how they tracked us. Not even Moriarty could do this. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were pulled from the well being of Billy back to the protecting of Russell. How could I protect her from this fiend who could track us better than the criminal mastermind himself?

It was these thoughts that flitted to the surface as I stood watching her sleep at the desk via the reflection in the window. She stirred, unconsciously aware that I was watching her, and awoke. She stretched and I could hear her bones crack. This was the second time in a week that Russell had spent the night in a chair and I lightly commented on the matter.

She glared at my appearance and bitterly replied, "I take it that your revolting good humour means that something from last night's exercise has pleased you?"

"On the contrary, my dear Russell, it has displeased me considerably. Vague suspicions flit about my mind, and not one of them pleases me." I was greatly distressed by what I had seen on the slides and a return to the park was in order. I made such a suggestion to Russell whereupon she commented that she would need more comfortable clothing to wear.

Taking in her rumpled evening gown and uncomfortable shoes, I nodded. "I'll ask if there's a matron who can help us." A knock came at the door followed by a young PC.

"Mr. Holmes, Inspector Lestrade asked me to tell you that there's a parcel for the young lady..."

I burst from the room and bounded down the stairs. How dare she attempt to harm her here? This is Scotland Yard, has this woman any scruples? I was furious at the pathetic attempt to harm us yet again and I was shouting orders to policemen as I found my way to the front desk. "Don't touch that parcel, don't touch it, get a bomb disposal man first, don't touch it." The young PC arrived with Russell. Lestrade was overseeing the men who were working on the package and I asked if the person who delivered was in custody. Apparently a young boy was asked to deliver it by a young "man" and was given a guinea to ensure its arrival. He was also promised a second guinea once the package was delivered. The poor lad expected this woman to send him the guinea. I turned my attention back to the bomb disposal squad and was mildly amused at the contents of the parcel. A piece of paper fell to the floor from among the clothing and was handed to me.

"Dear Miss Russell,

Knowing his limitations, I expect your companion will neglect to provide you with suitable clothing this morning. Please accept these with my compliments. You will find them quite comfortable.

- An Admirer"

I blinked at my disbelief and threw the note back to Lestrade. "Give this to your print man. Give the clothes to the laboratory, check them for foreign objects, corrosive powder, everything. Find out where they came from." I stole a glance at Russell in her rumpled evening gown and sour expression. "And, for the love of God, can someone please provide Miss Russell with suitable clothing so this case will not come to a complete standstill?" I was furious at the impertinence of this woman who thought I would not take care of a person in my care. I had been preparing to attend to the very matter of finding Russell appropriate clothing when her parcel arrived. I murmured, "This becomes intolerable," and I meant it. She had followed us to the theatre and ransacked the cab, chloroformed Billy, exploded a bomb in one of my hives, on Watson's porch and almost succeeded in one in Russell's lodgings in Oxford. She had scared both my companion and myself, and now she was suggesting that I was oblivious to the needs of my protégée;. This grew to be very upsetting and I was pondering these facts as we set off for the park in a police car. My fingers began tapping on my knee while thoughts were forming in my mind. I did not like them at all. At the park I made a brief examination of the ground and when I was satisfied that my initial deductions were indeed correct, I bundled the others back into the car and we returned to the station.

When we reached the station we were left alone in Lestrade's office. I crossed to his desk and relieved him of a cigarette. I lit it with a vesta, and thought about our next movements. She was pressuring us to leave, knowing that we would not. We would be forced into the open where she could play whatever games she chose. I shall not allow this woman dictate to me my movements. So I shall do what she wants and leave. We shall go to ground. We could easily hide for a few days at my brother's. We might also be able to hide for a minimal amount of time in one of my boltholes. A prior experiment had shown a stay for several days in a bolthole possible without serious inconvenience, but I believed Russell would object. I stared out the window watching the river traffic and the movements on the Embankment below. A steamer chugged its way up the river. A young mother was strolling across the bridge pushing a pram.

I had decided that Mycroft's was too obvious a place to hide, but I had decided to ask him for suggestions. When I had finished the cigarette I crushed it into the astray on the desk. I turned to Russell. "I must go out. I refuse to take any of these heavy-footed friends of yours with me. They will send the wildlife scurrying for cover. While I am away, draw up a list of necessities and give it to the matron. Clothing for two or three days, nothing formal. Men's or women's, as you like. You'd best add a few things for me as well - you know my sizes. It will save some time. I shall be back in a couple of hours."

She visibly angered at my statements and stood. "Holmes, you can't do this to me. You've told me nothing, you've consulted me not at all, just pushed me here and there and run roughshod over any plans I might have had and kept me in the dark as if I were Watson, and now you propose to go off and leave me with a shopping list."

I was moving toward the door, perfectly aware of her feelings on the matter. I was surprised that she was so upset, for she had seen the same things that I had and she must have deduced what I had and reached the same conclusions. She heard my mutterings in the park and if she was paying attention, she knew as well as I, what needed to be done. Russell had understood my comments on the fugue the previous evening and she was observant enough to know what I had decided. And now, here she was complaining because she felt like she was "in the dark."

She continued. "First you call me your associate, and then you start treating me like a maid. Even an apprentice deserves better than that. I'd like to know..."

It was at this moment that my plans changed dramatically. I heard the familiar slap of a gun and crash as the window shattered. I dove across the room at Russell. Please, dear God, don't let her be hurt. I grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face me.

"Are you hit?" She seemed to ignore my query and for a brief moment, I thought she was seriously injured and delirious.

"My God, was that..."

Rational thought returned and I demanded, "Russell, are you all right?"

"Yes, I think so."

I didn't hear the rest of her sentence for as soon as I was assured of her well being, I dashed down the stairs and into the street. The mother was standing on the bridge crossing the river and I approached her along with several policemen. She had no evidence of having fired the shot herself and had not seen see where it had come from. The imbecile police were asking if it might have been fired from the launch that was now speeding its way down the river and she said that the shot might have come from there. I knew better, and looked up to see Russell standing in the window. Good God, standing right in the line of fire, and completely unaware that the gunman may be contemplating another easy shot. No, the gunman was unlikely to fire again, I decided, and returned to the Yard.

Lestrade's office was now a flutter of activity and Russell had retreated to an office further down that same hall. I was pleased and relieved to see that it had no window. We definitely had to leave now and for more than a few days. We would leave this "sceptered isle" and retreat to ... the continent somewhere? I set my face so Russell would not try to argue, though I knew she would.

"I think you'd best change that order to clothing for several days, Russell. Stay away from windows, don't eat or drink anything you're not absolutely certain is safe, and keep your revolver with you." I would not be able to protect her for the next few hours, and while I was fairly sure of her safety at the Yard, I was taking no chances.

She became sarcastic; a rather annoying habit when one is trying to be serious. "Don't take sweets from strangers, you mean?"

"Precisely. I shall return in two or three hours. Be ready to leave when I get back."

"Holmes, you must at least..."

I knew that she would not stay willingly and I had to do something to make sure she stayed here where it was safe, that is to say safer than being out in the streets with me. "Russell," I said grasping her shoulders and looking into her eyes, "I am very sorry, but time is of the utmost urgency. You were going to say that I must tell you what is happening, and I shall." She should already know, I thought, I was quite garrulous in the park. "You wish to be consulted; I intend to do so. In fact, I intend to place a fair percentage of the decisions to be made into your increasingly competent hands." She is not my ward, I told myself as I continued. "But not just at this moment, Russell. Please, be satisfied with that." Then I did something that I knew would keep her from arguing and pacify her long enough so I could make my escape. I placed my hands on either side of her head, leant forward and lightly kissed her brow. She sat down, momentarily stunned by this minute act of affection, and I made my escape. But it wasn't just a trick to get her to stay, it was an act of affection and I was surprised at how I felt about it. I had convinced myself that she was in my protective care and yet that simple act of a brief kiss stirred something deep in me that I thought I had extinguished on her eighteenth birthday.

That night in January of 1918, after she had gone to bed, I passed her door and the thought occurred that she was no longer a child (as if she ever were). Russell was now a young lady, and I was uncomfortable with the feelings that she aroused in me, by her arrival in that green dress. As I stood outside her door, I was tempted to open it, but what would I say? I am nearly forty years her senior and she deserves someone younger, closer to her own age. I decided then that any affection between us would be no more than the affection between mentor and student.

Yet that simple kiss in that shabby Scotland Yard office brought those feelings up again, and I was unsure of what to do about them. She is in my protective care. I must ensure that she is safe. Any hints of impropriety between us could be disastrous.

I stepped out into the street and turned to go to Mycroft's. I was sure that he would know of somewhere on the continent where we could retreat for a while. Perhaps even a small case to pull our minds from what is happening here. The thoughts mulled over in my mind. There can be no affection between us. It would not work. But that kiss...