“I know who Homer is.” Sherlock ran a hand through his floppy hair. He looked defeated. “I also hadn’t deduced Simson was the poet of yore. So you are his daughter?”
I nodded.
Sherlock rubbed his chin with one hand, while the other flew to his pocket. “Interesting.”
Morrie nudged me. “Mina, show him the algorithm.”
I pulled out my phone and touched the screen to pull up Morrie’s maps, flicking through to show Sherlock how we’d figured out how to track Dracula’s crimes. I pointed to the house in Lower Loxham with the red cross struck through it. “That’s where we went the other night. We managed to destroy one of his boxes of earth. Only forty-nine to go.”
Sherlock frowned as he jabbed at the screen with his fingers. A few moments later, he handed back the phone. I held it up to my face to peer at the screen. Eleven homes in London had bright red crosses etched through them.
“Thirty-eight to go.”
“Give me that.” Morrie snatched the phone from my hands. “What have you done?”
“Not half of what I’d have achieved if you were with me, lover.” Sherlock shrugged. “I thought I’d start in the city, since I know it best. I’ll be heading to Dartmoor next. I feel a certain pull to the place, and your device has suggested there may be a concentration of boxes in the area.”
“You… you’re still going to help us? Even though…”even though Morrie picked me.
Sherlock pulled something from his pocket and held it out to me. His face assumed his most impassive and judicious expression. “You forget, Mina. I’m stranded here now, and my mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work… give me the most monstrous villain that has ever walked the earth, and I shall be happy to pursue him until justice is done. It would be my greatest pleasure to work alongside you. As an equal in both brains and cunning. Also, I have this for you.”
I stared at the envelope in my hands. Doodles wrapped around the border and the paper had that rough, handmade look of it. My stomach plunged into my knees.
Another letter from my father.
I took the envelope, my fingers shaking. “Wh-where did you get this?”
“He gave it to me six months ago. He said that Dracula was closing in on him, and he needed to go into hiding, but I was to give this to his daughter. I asked him if I was to find his daughter, and he said she would find me.” Sherlock tipped his hat. “If that’s all, I’ll be off. I have a train to catch. I don’t want to miss my first day at my new job.”
And, with a last, lingering gaze at Morrie, Sherlock slunk into the shadows once more.
“What does he mean, new job?” I glared at Morrie. “Is he hunting Dracula’s dirt for us full-time?”
“Nope. He’s taking that on a freelance basis.” Morrie pulled me into his lap. “I used some of my contacts in the fake death business to set him up with new employment.”
“You haven’t sent Sherlock Holmes to the criminal underworld?”
Morrie laughed, running his hands over my hips until I squirmed in his lap, our chess game all but forgotten. “No way would I want that uptight goody-two-shoes ruining all my fun. No, he’s got a job with Kate’s insurance company as a fraud investigator. With Sherlock Holmes on the case, no one will be faking their death for financial gain in this country ever again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean your fake death business is shutting shop for good?”
“Not even close.” Morrie reached behind me to swipe his queen across the board, taking my knight with long fingers. “A tiger cannot change his stripes, and James Moriarty will forever be a rapscallion of the highest order.”
“Just the way I like him.” I brushed my lips on his. Morrie’s hand cupped my neck, pushing me against him to deepen the kiss.
“Now that we’ve dispensed with the secrets…” Morrie’s fingers crept under the hem of my skirt, skittering over my skin with a touch that lit a flame inside me.
“We’re not completely done with secrets yet.” I rocked backward to put some distance between us. From my pocket I drew out the velvet bag. “It’s time you told me about these.”
Morrie opened the velvet bag and tipped the jewels onto my fingers. “I thought even when your vision deteriorates, you’d appreciate the way these sparkle in the light. I hoped… they might be your light in dark places.”
“These are for me? Are they… ill-gotten?”
“I purchased these fair and square, with money I earned from my more legitimate enterprises.” Morrie’s smirk widened. “I didn’t want a single shred of your doubting morals to tarnish them. I was going to have them made into rings by that bloke in Crookshollow who makes fantasy armor. Flynn something-or-other.”
My breath hitched as I turned my hand, letting the jewels tumble through my fingers so their facets caught the light. A rare orange diamond that glistened with fire when turned in the light, just like Quoth’s eyes. A sapphire as cold and clear as ice for Morrie, and something deep and black and mesmerizing that might have been onyx for Heathcliff. And for me, a brilliant emerald – the facets dancing in the light and creating rainbow prisms across my skin.
“What were you going to do with them?” My throat closed up. I hardly dared to breathe.
