Sherlock Holmes and the lost tiger (6)

The streets of London were quiet the evening Lestrade came to collect me for Sir Hugo’s ball, with over half of Londoners believed to have fled the city and most of the remainder safely tucked up indoors, where no tiger could get to them.

 

However, the area around Sir Hugo’s house was positively crammed with carriages, wealthy socialites desperate to attend the big party of the season. Lestrade was unable to get his cab anywhere near to the entrance and we had to walk the last hundred yards.

 

Some had come without invitations, proffering their titles, letters from the king and even ‘A royal birthmark’ to prove their worth, but these were turned away by the unflappable doormen. However, when we got to the doors of Sir Hugo’s house we were nodded through, the guards not needing to check my invitation card. “Dr Watson, Inspector Lestrade, welcome, if you head straight through you will find a selection of canapés and drinks.”

 

“Have you been here before?” I asked Lestrade.

 

“No, I don’t get invited to places like this too often I’m afraid.”

 

“Then how did they recognise you. You’re not even on the invitation, it’s Dr Watson and one other.”

 

“Oh well, we’ll just have to live with the mystery. At least they didn’t mistake me for your wife.”

 

The Great Hall in which the ball was being held was huge and although several hundred guests had arrived already, it looked nearly empty. We circulated for a while before Lestrade recognised someone he knew. “I must leave you briefly Dr Watson, I spy the Chief Constable, I should say hello.”

 

Left alone I decided to explore the room. I saw no sign of Holmes so I wandered round and wondered where he was, what his plans were. I retained the optimistic belief that underneath the cannabis-fogged exterior he still had some underlying plan to foil the tiger plot.

 

There room was so vast there wasn’t one band playing music, but six, in different corners of the room, all playing different styles. In some corners of the room there was dancing, but mostly people were drinking and talking oblivious of the entertainment.

 

I recognised members of the Cabinet and senior fellows of the various medical Royal Colleges, as well as senior members of the military, newspaper magnates and even senior figures from the church. If the tiger were to swallow this place tonight that would be the end civilisation as we knew it.

 

After a circle of the room I re-encountered Lestrade. “Ah Watson,” he said. “Allow me to introduce my Chief Inspector,” I shook hands with an elderly man who seemed to find the effort of hand-shaking exhausting. I guessed that it had been many years since he pounded the streets, if indeed he ever had. 

 

“And this is the Minister for Tigers, Sir Reginald Reginald.”

 

“Pleased to meet you,” I said to a short, squat man with a moustache who pumped my hand excitedly.

 

“Watson, eh, I’ve read all about you. Is Holmes here?” Sir Reginal asked.

 

“I haven’t seen him,” I said. “It was Holmes who gave me the invitation, so I’m hoping to see him.”

“We really need him on board,” Sir Reginal said. “The public would be so reassured to know that Holmes was on the case. Frankly this tiger thing has me scratching me head.”

 

“I’ve done what I can to persuade him,” I said. “He seems to have other interests at the moment.”

 

“Well keep persevering,” the minister said, before moving on, to shake hands with another member of the great and the good. The Chief Inspector followed in his wake. “I should stay with the Chief Inspector,” Lestrade said. “I’ve found out more about his plans for expansion in the ten minutes here than in my entire career.”

 

I was left alone again. I decided, in Holmes’ absence, to explore the place as thoroughly as I could. There were a number of doors leading off from the main hall, but these were either manned by Sir Hugo’s staff or locked. However, I eventually found a door that was both unguarded and unlocked. Excited, I crept through the door, checking over my should to confirm that I had not been noticed. A few yards along the corridor I came to another door, which I tried. It was unlocked. Cautiously I and stepped inside, to find that it was already occupied.

 

“This is the ladies,” said a woman I didn’t recognise, “The gents is next door.”

 

“Ah Watson, there you are,” said Holmes as I returned to the Great Hall from my unintended visit to the toilets. He was with Lady Chivers and Sir Richard, but otherwise seemed very much his usual self, animated and on the hunt, rather than the soporific heap I had come to know recently. “Just in time, the game is afoot.”

 

“It is?” I said, genuinely surprised.

 

“That’s if you’re interested.”

 

“Of course I’m interested, Holmes. When have you ever known me otherwise?”

 

I followed Holmes and his friends to one of the doors I’d tried on my tour of the hall.

 

“I’ve tried that door, Holmes, it’s locked.”

 

“But did you try this, Watson?” he said, holding up a key.

 

“We’ll stay and keep watch,” Sir Richard said.

 

Holmes led the way through the door and paused at a set of stairs. “I’ve found the location of Sir Hugo’s bedroom,” he said, gesturing upwards.

 

“What’s the significance of that Holmes.”

 

“I can hardly break into his bedroom unless I know where it is, Watson.” So saying, Holmes began to climb the stairs.

 

I felt conflicting emotions, fear at the thought of Holmes turning to the other side of the law, but also hope, that Holmes was back on the case, that this whole friendship with Chivers and Sir Richard was merely a fabrication to enable Holmes access to the vital clue. Maybe the sole reason for the weeks spent smoking weed and socialising was to gain access to the key he was now holding.

 

“What are you hoping to find in the bedroom Holmes?” I asked. In our previous cases Holmes had, on many occasions, demonstrated his expertise at locating hiding places for secret papers, stolen gemstones and compromising photographs and letters.

 

“The tiger Watson. I’m assured that Sir Hugo keeps the tiger on his bed.”

 

Had Holmes gone mad. I have read accounts of over-indulgence in the cannabis plant causing mental disarray, but never believed this could occur in a mind so fine as that of Sherlock Holmes. Yet here he was talking of Sir Hugo keeping the tiger in his bedroom. On his bed no less.

 

Even if the tiger was in Sir Hugo’s bedroom, how did Holmes hope to catch it? How would we get it downstairs – a full grown tiger can weigh over 500 lbs. How would we escape with it, surely we would be noticed walking a tiger through the great hall in full view of thousands of guests.

 

We reached the door at the top of the stair. Holmes held out another key. “Stay here Watson, keep watch, if you hear or see anything give one sharp tap on the door, not too loud, rest assured I will be listening.”

 

I longed to join him, but realised that my role was crucial and could save him from the shame and infamy that being caught stealing would bring. It would the end of Holmes’ career. Besides, I didn’t want to witness the humiliating sight of Holmes searching for a non-existent tiger. I realised as I stood there that I no longer knew what to believe, was Holmes mad, or was this all just a fiction.

 

I expected to be waiting a long time, even for a searcher as expert as Holmes checking every possible hiding place is an arduous process, but he reappeared within seconds.

 

“Behold Watson, the tiger.”

 

So saying, Holmes held aloft a child’s cuddly toy tiger, about three feet in length, not counting the tail.

“What is this Holmes, some kind of joke?” I said, as I followed his rush down the stairs.

 

“Sir Richard bet me that I wouldn’t steal the tiger.”

 

“A dare! I said incredulously. This whole thing’s just a silly dare.”

 

“Not silly Watson. It’s won me ten guineas. If only all tigers were so easy to catch.”

 

Sir Richard was waiting at the door of the Great Hall with the ten guineas. He put the tiger in a canvas bag he had obviously brought specifically for the purpose.

 

I left the three of them giggling pathetically. In all my life I had never been so pleased to see Lestrade.