Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

I can expect an invitation to Cambridge any day now.’
    ‘I had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary,’ he said quietly.
    ‘I’ll move into 13 Tottenham Court Road tomorrow and will give up this place for a while,’ I said, waving my arm at my apartment, ‘but how will we communicate?’
    ‘You will put a vase or the like into the window of your room whenever you have information that you need to share, or when you are in danger. I will come as soon as I can.’
    ‘When I’m in danger? Well, that means that vase will be constantly in the windowsill, I guess,’ I noted sarcastically.
    ‘You know what I mean.’
    ‘If you say so. And how will you contact me when you need to? By simply walking into my rooms?’ I asked, and he nodded.
    ‘So you are tailing me? Because how the deuce will you know when that vase is in the window if not for someone seeing it?’
    ‘Yes, I’ll tail you.’
    ‘Holmes, did you tail me before?’ I asked crossly.
    ‘No, I didn’t’
    ‘How come you know where I live?’
    ‘I asked your Irish friend.’
    ‘Garret would have never told you.’
    ‘He didn’t need to tell me anything. I suggested to him to get clean clothes for you after the mugging and he led me to your place without his knowledge,’ Holmes stated happily. How very simple, I thought.
    ‘And why the deuce would you want to know my address?’
    ‘I was curious,’ he noted simply.
    ‘Next time just ask,’ I murmured.
    ‘You wouldn’t have told me.’
    ‘Probably not, no.’
    We were quiet for a long moment until Holmes grumbled, ‘I don’t like it that you throw yourself into the lion’s den.’
    ‘I don’t like it, either,’ I said quietly, trying to hide my fear. It probably didn’t work very well.
    ‘Holmes?’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I know who you are,’ I said softly. He didn’t reply, so I turned towards him. He was staring at the ceiling and at first glance seemed relaxed. But his face was too still and his hands were rigidly flat on the armrests. Whenever I got too close to him, be it physically or emotionally, he got uncomfortable. It had started immediately after the first time we met, and had got worse, as the distance he needed seemed to be getting greater every time we talked. He would disappear as soon as the crime was solved, I was certain. Surprised, I noticed the pain that accompanied the insight.
    ‘You don’t know me yet, but soon you will,’ I told him.
    Slowly, his face turned towards me, and I explained, ‘I will have to shed most of what I am to serve the lie. You may not recognise me any more, but whatever you’ll see is a part of me.’

Chapter Forteen

    And since you know you cannot see yourself,
    So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
    Will modestly discover to yourself
    That of yourself which you yet know not of.
    W. Shakespeare

    ~~~

    March, 1890
    The train took me to Cambridge, or what was left of me. My fears where tucked away safely, as was anything that was soft and would distract me from my goal. My shirt was starched and crisp, my black coat new from the tailor, and my brain sharpened. Wisps of steam flew past the window, occasionally clouding the view of the bleak countryside. The snow had melted two weeks ago, leaving a muddy black surface behind. No green had dared to hatch yet, while the freezing drizzle poured down from an ever-present blanket of grey clouds. One could almost get the impression that the sun would not return this year, but that suited my mood. I pushed that thought aside; moods were a luxury now that could tip the forced balance of my mind.
    This day was of greatest importance. I would give a presentation on tetanus and its cures to an audience of medical doctors from London and Cambridge. My goal was painted right in front of me – a scarlet bull’s eye only I could see and aim at. And I wouldn’t rest until my bolt had found its centre and blew it apart.
    The train arrived at Cambridge Railway Station. I walked to the next cab, my heels clicking on the cobblestones, the stick swinging back and forth, my hat pulled low over my face. The cabbie nodded at my order to be driven to Cambridge Medical School. Once inside the carriage, I closed my eyes, exhaled all remnants of tension, and sat as still as a statue.
    Precisely fourteen minutes later the cab stopped. I opened the door, and paid the driver without looking up at him. Turning, I saw Stark hurry across the street, waving one hand in greeting. He led me into the Great