Young Sherlock Holmes: Fire Storm

Young Sherlock Holmes: Fire Storm

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 1445846624

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


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quickly and quietly raced out on to the wooden walkway and ran along it to the door from which Harkness had emerged moments before. Matty followed silently. He got to the door, quickly opened it and slipped inside, closing it behind him before the three men could re-emerge from behind the vats. Part of his mind, the emotional part, worried about how he was going to get out again, but the rest of it, the logical part, told him that if the men had disappeared once then the chances were that they

ramming them forward. Box after box tumbled into the vat. Sherlock could see them floating in the poisonous, noxious mixture before it filled them up and they sank. Hopefully into oblivion. On the other side of the vats he could hear raised voices and the sound of hammering. The work fell into a repetitive routine. Pick up box. Put box on chute. Push box as hard as possible. Pick up another box. His muscles ached with the strain. Eventually he became aware that Matty was standing beside him,

It was something simpler, more prosaic: a pink and red patch at the edge of his vision that refused to move. A face. Two blue eyes aimed unblinkingly at Sherlock. Without giving away the fact that he had noticed the watcher by moving his head suddenly, he tried to pick up whatever details he could, but the person’s body was partially hidden behind a pile of crates on a trolley. When he’d squeezed about as much information out of the scene as he could without making it obvious that he had

hillside as if it had grown there. The cottage was set back into a V-shaped notch where the canyon came to an abrupt end, and the ground in front of it was littered with rocks of different sizes that had fallen from the cliffs over the years. On either side, steep faces of rock rose up to the point where the hillside began again. If this was where Amyus Crowe was hiding, Sherlock approved of his choice. The only approach to the cottage was uphill, and from the front. To either side and at the

of animals, mounted on shield-like plaques. Most of them were stags with spread antlers, but there were also some wolves with their jaws open, exposing their teeth, and something that Sherlock could have sworn was a bear. He supposed he should be glad there weren’t any men’s heads on the wall. Ahead of him was a dais, and on the dais was a chair. It looked like it had been hewn by hand from a massive tree trunk. Sitting on the chair, lounging on it, as if he was a king in the centre of his

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