L. R. Spooner

When we arrived at the offices of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, Harker indeed went in alone, and Holmes and I remained outside. He took his cigarette case from his pocket and offered it to me. I removed two, lit them both, and handed one back to him along with the case.

“Now then, Watson,” he said presently, “what’s troubling you?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Holmes chuckled. “Do you wish for me to explain my deductions, or would you prefer to share it yourself?”

“Alright, alright.” I tapped the ash from the end of my cigarette onto the damp cobbles below. “You may scoff, for it isn’t logical in the least, but I have a feeling that all these events are building up to – well, I can’t be sure what, but it troubles me.”

“Do your instincts tell you so?”

“The Count is doing all this work with the boxes, Mr Renfield had his strange episode, there was that bat hanging about while we were talking the other night. And it is only a few days since we laid Miss Westenra properly to rest. I cannot help but think something else dreadful is going to happen soon.”

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“You care for her, hm? I see it in your eyes; as always, you have the most expressive face.”

“How can I not?” said I, “but I do feel a desire to – to look after her. I am sure every one of us feels the same. She is but twenty. I am old enough to be her father. I cannot help but want to protect her as though she were my own.”

My friend did not reply. I watched the mantelpiece clock pass two full minutes before he spoke again.

“I have never wished to have children,” he said slowly, “but if I had; if my child were dealt such a terrible hand by Fate, and had to endure so much suffering, then I believe I would go to the ends of the Earth to make it right.”

I looked up at him. “You never fathered children, it is true, but I fancy a certain Baker Street division of the detective police force might occupy a similar position in your heart.”

He chuckled, flushed with amusement. “I declare a touch in your favour, Watson.”

“Do you know,” I added, “she does remind me of you.”

“How so?”

“Her intelligence, mostly; the way she gathered and connected all those disparate pieces of communication to form a narrative we could follow. But there is something that she said yesterday morning, that if she found in herself any sign that she might harm someone she loves, she would end her own life.”

“And this reminds you of me?”