Brought to you by Novel 2 Ebook. Click to visit our website.
Holms pointed around him, barely visible in the gloom. “Anything. A slip of paper. A set of car keys. A pair of football boots. Anything that would prove a connection.”
I foraged ahead and as luck would have it my searching hands alighted on a piece of cloth. “By Jove, Holms, I've found something.”
Holms turned the beam of his torch towards me and revealed that I was holding a Man United shirt.
“This could be conclusive,” Holms intoned.
But as I turned the shirt round I revealed the name Montoya emblazoned across the shoulders. “Damn, it's the Spaniard's.”
“Some gift for the Consular staff, I imagine. Oh well, keep looking.”
“Shall we have the carpet up?” I asked.
“We don't have time,” Holms responded. “It would have helped if you'd brought a torch too.”
“I brought my revolver,” I replied.
“Let's hope we have no need to use it.”
“Haven't shot anybody in ages,” I recalled. “Not since the Chorlton baby kidnapping.”
Holms harrumphed. “I'll try not to remember that, You shot the baby, if I recall correctly.”
“Can't be blamed, Holms, blighter made a sudden, dangerous move for a weapon.”
“It was a rattle.”
“Could do a lot of damage,” I murmured, “ a baby rattle.”
“Oh, good heavens, Wilson, get on with it.”
“Can't. I need a pee, “ I complained.
“Oh, for heavens sake, why didn't you go before we set out?”
“Didn't need then.”
“You are an utter child, Wilson, and a disgrace to the honourable profession of detective's sidekick.”
I was hurt and didn’t mind letting my esteemed colleague know so. “I try my best.”
Holms was immediately contrite. “I'm sorry, old chap, didn't mean to be sharp with you. Listen, there's a waste paper bin behind that desk, you can go there.”
“Won't they suspect something in the morning?”
“We don't have many alternatives, we can't start searching for a lavatory for your convenience.”
Still on my knees I shuffled behind the desk and did my business. “Lucky I didn't need a number two, I suppose.”
“God forbid. Quiet! Do you hear that?”
“What? I don't hear anything.
“There is somebody else in this room. I can distinctly hear three different breathing patterns.”
“But who?”
“Quiet!”
“We should get out of here,” I hissed.