In the loving memory of the most adventurous , thrilling and creative writer ever born . From slipping my tongue while learning to speak his name, to be able to write a story based on his works somewhere in the middle maybe I learned a thing or two about literature. This work is solely and completely based on the storm that went up my mind palace while reading works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
“I never speak of what I believe , but always what I know”
“I certainly do not remember what or when changed my life from two wheel bicycle in the barn of open meadows to my nerves , 4 feet away from the wheels of something so indespicable , that I might never be able to find my way out of the nightmares. I have tried everything , literally everything. But the dreams are no metaphors doc. They are reality with just a minute till it all blows up. Reality just 4 feet away from my face and approaching fast , and I can hear none of it.”
“War affects us all Nat , some come back from , some never do , yet the latter are luckier, for atleast they die at once , but soldiers like you die all along. Are you having your medicines on time?”
“How’s it with the new work”
“You mean the Scotland Yard , well I have my first call today , up at Melbourne.”
“Well i guess that will bring some London in your lungs , why don’t you try a book , here “, and with the end of the conversation she gave me a paperback print in orange , with its cover torn at the edges , however still not taped to the back. Must have been one of her favourite giveaways. “The many remedies to a dying heart” ,was what it said in bold. However I didn’t have the vision on how different spectras can the sun bestow upon the mortal heads , untill I finally met the man in the cap, afterall its his story ,or shall I say their story.
“In 1829 we got to see the figure ,an image of what we called the Metropolitan Police Service. In 1842 some of the finest of us got to be called the Detectives.” The Deputy Commissioner rolled up a sleeve as he barged over the next line while walking up and down the cabin. “In 1854 when crime upheld the city in smoke we had our first Investigation Department. And finally in the name of god and by the efforts of Sir Vincent on 8th April 1878 , we got to be called the great Scotland Yard. Today we have some of the finest in this very room up from their own wars to join ours under the special force . I thereby declare the enactment of the ‘Vincent forces’ , under the direction of DSU William Jones , and DCI Natalia Watson. , ” And suddenly with the sound of the camera flash I was back to my senses at The Safari Adventure House , Camden Street near the Greek Church , which was both the crime scene and Houston to my present.
“Ok Natalia what have we got here?”, Said the unusually sunken voice as the man in black sat beside me .
“Well there’s no clear spectacles I can get out of it , victim’s name is David Brims , age 30 , resident of the states, was on a tour to london …”
“Nat this is a murder case we got here. Not sure about the front , but people , are not supposed to die here , specially foreigners . Cases like these , they fly up in the media like tennis balls. Give me some solid evidence , some reason I can fill the papers with , words I can yoddle infront of the cameras. “,with a tinker of aggression , lines on his pitch black forehead , the friction in his snow white beard and now it was pretty clear that Jones was not as easy as I once thought he was.
“The victim’s got a shade of violet on his throat and his lips are more crumbled than dried , which could be the evidence of cyanide ingested orally , and not forcibly. And..”
“So it’s a suicide you say”
“Well there’s more to it”
“No I believe I have had what I need, darling”
“Only if and buts were candy and nuts , we’ve had Christmas everyday”.
And now I was pretty clear that there was hardly any string in the rhythm of those men or even a teetsy bit of fresh air in the smoke of London breeze. With my hands wrapped and my muffler stripped I packed up and went afoot to Mornington’s.
I always wondered what made moon so crescent, and at once, I even made myself believe that it had something to do with the way you see it. And now after all the time when one would mock and laugh upon the innocence and absurdity of ones childhood , I was yet able to find some truth out of it.
In just a few minutes , while I was at Stop J , the bus arrived and I went mingles over my excellent timing . It was only later that the 12 year old toddler taught me how to check london bus timings on my smartphone. If it weren’t for my distance from the streets of London I would have been pretty ashamed to learn it from a kid even though I have a major in CS&E from MIT , however, I had been lucky ever since.
It was only in the middle of the journey that I noticed this person. 5’11” , face mostly hid under the grey-ish cap , with a thin text on its verge that said “Philosophers Property” . I don’t know why but everytime I tried to blend away my visions got cornered to him . There was a peculiar sound to him. His face was hardly visible , but I was sure I didn’t knew him and I got that from the small beard hairs that filled up most of his face. Although it wasn’t very much the era of beard but the black hue and the level 3 trim was quite a look. However it was the width of him that would catch one’s eye. His waist was so slim that one could actually say that the black cardigan he wore actually never touched the white to-fit t-shirt he wore inside. And on the strangemost note the guy wore boots from like 1887. However I was still dazzled about why was I so concerned about this guy’s layout even though , I had chapter 1 – The first aid to your heart right infront of me. Well afterall , now I atleast know that the book works , just not in an apparent way.
I finally got off at Mornington’s Crescent , after swiping my not so efficient American Express card on the pink reader , to give up some £1.75 that I will not at all regret.
While I was walking on the Hampstead Road in the peaking sunshine , right from the high scape houses , towards the subway station, I actually saw this guy again. This time he had a book in his hand. It might not have been my best days at rememberence , but I was pretty sure the guy never had a carry bag or anything neither was their any bookstore nearby. How the hell did he get a book?
With my lucky fortunes working in the favour of my curiosity , the guy actually traced his path to the subway station. Apparently it was the same slim concavity of his tender waist that aided him to walk so fast that I actually had to trottle in my pace.
It was getting harder and harder to keep my eye stuck in the heavy crowd , however it was his hat that kept me going .
Finally as I entered the station in the bustle my eyes like lost the track of everything , it must have been the lights and the glimmer that caught me in the dilemma of forgetting my purpose their. Finally after searching through the crowd I saw him entering one the tubes and it was to Tottenham and I had no wish to be lost in the lights again , but there was this red tailed satan named curiosity sitting on my shoulders that I couldn’t help. Finally I barged in the tube and as soon as the doors closed i started moving forward. I don’t know it was the colour of people or just the london fashion but all my memories of Afghanistan as if rushed into my brain with all the blood and it made me sick. For sometime I thought , I might give up.
“Ma’am you fine. You don’t look pink”
“I am fine, just tired”
“You can have my seat”
“Thank you , that’s very generous of you”, and I couldn’t stretch it anymore.So, I sat down took a deep breath but , it wasn’t quite helping as the infant besides me was crying his pitch best and I was nowhere fond of children. So ,as I moved up to give the man his seat back , he was gone . Must have moved forward .
Then with a light pause the tube stopped , it was my drop and I went for the station outlet and then again I saw him . This time he had the book but he had baloons too. As far as I remember he didn’t have baloons with him as he entered the train. Now this was a pinch in my shoes. How and where from , but of all why.
This time it was his tracks on road so it was quite easy actually go detective . In seconds we hit the Oxford street and were finally in the heart of London that too in dark . But yet again Oxford is never dark. Its the people here. The man took turns so jumbled that it was hard to see where he was planning to go. However after a few turns I was pretty sure he aimed for Primark place. Walking like blitzkrieg the guy stops suddenly. Maybe he saw me, I always maintained the minimum distance of stalking principles but it was as if he sensed my presence. I did as I was taught . I kept moving and finally surpassed him , but with a very slow pace. After some distance I drop my earrings , take a few steps , act surprised and then turn back to pick them up . He was gone. Vanished in thin ai , like wind took him away to some place where no one has ever been . It was like one of those magic shows where they get pufff in the middle of a street. Now I was a bit scared . I started walking afterall , there was no reason to stop or shall I say no one to stop for , because a guy just disappeared infront of my eyes and it was impossible. My senses suddenly went up for a MCD and I was pretry sure I wasn’t very hungry yet I popped in. I went through the counter ordered a 1 person meal and went to savage a corner for myself. There was one two-seater in the corner but there sat a guy on it. Wringling with my short and sinple haircut aback my ears , and with a what the hell! , I went for it.
“Umm , Is this one occupied!”
“Doesn’t look so!”
“Well may I?”
And with no more words against the eccentric outlook of the person I sat down.But as soon as I sat down I saw the person was quite familiar . He had a book in his hands there were baloons under the table and a cardigan and hat on the corner.
Giving no time to click and no air to surpass I reached for my hancuffs and locked him to the chair . As soon as I do so he looks at me , but rather than confused he actually sat there quite calmly , pretty much the reason why we got no attention, and then again got back to reading .
I was bumped by the whole scenario, and curiously waited for me to wake up. But neither was he some normal person , nor was it a dream.
“You sir, have been able to seek my attention on something seriously disturbing . You never had a book you entered the bus and there exists no store near Mornington’s . People don’t get balloons in the tube and definitely do not get vanished from the middle of the street , so either you tell me who are you or you are in some serious trouble” , I gave the warning as quiet as I could yet as strict as a poll.Yet all he gave is a goofy smile , and before I could say anything the order alarm beeps , I turn back , and as soon as I am back again , he’s gone. He’s vanished again. I couldn’t have been more scared , but bloody he did accept that challenge too and there was a book on the seat with the baloons tied up to the handcuffs with the lines written in black marker
Thanks for the book , I would have been bored without it.
And I sat there with my mouth open to watch to my horror the title of the book
The Many remedies to a Dying Heart.
At Baker street near the Park Road entry-
Their was always quite a crowd up in this part of the street , and why shouldn’t there be , afterall it was once home to one of the fonest detectives , no matter if he ever existed or not.
The door creaks open with a bell up on its other end that rings with every entrance.
“Welcome gentlemen , how may I help you with the warmth of the deepest corner of our heart , well why don’t I show you a trick”said the little girl dressed like 1890 maiden with a pack of cards in her hand.She shuffles it in the most extraordinary manner and then asks him to choose a card.
“Ok well yes I have made my choice”
“Well then you must not forget which one, alright”
“Fine ma’lady”, and he chuckles.
“And then she shuffles again and this time rains them down to the ground from a level below her waist , and pops one out.”
“Is this your card sir?, “, Asked her blushing red.
“Well yes ofcourse it is, the king of spades, why wouldn’t it be in a pack of cards where you can pick only one”, and he picks the deck up from card to see the other cards, which were all king of spades.
“The girl chuckles and laughes to a bubble , breaking Arnold to the goofy one he usually had.
“Syndia , is he here yet?”
“I believe he is Mr. Hudson”
And the old man is his seventies comes down the stairs with a brown army stick in his hands that said 6 th force RLC 1st Squadron.
“So you are the one for this job . I bilieve you are just as bright as your words were. You say you are a big fan of Arthur Conan Doyle , but this place is all Sherlock , where will you find your Arthur in it?”- said Mr. Hudson.
“If you rule out all that’s impossible then whatever left however improbable ,must be true, “, he paused and continued “there exists no Sherlock sir , there’s always an Arthur that decorates him with a hat and lights his pipe all long , without an Arthur , there is no Sherlock.”
“Indeed son , but yes , no need for sir and all the formalities , we all are comrades in the battle of life , call me Mr. Hudson” said he himself.
“Well as you may , so where do I start”
“Oh our little Miss Hudson will guide you to the way to your work, won’t she?”
“Ofcourse gentlemen , please proceed behind me , everything you see here is o..”she keeps saying and moving when suddenly the clocks start ticking to a greater noise , the breeze starts sizzing and the time slows doen and suddenly Arnold turns by his side to look at the corner and he sees a large man in a check coat and a round hat. But Arnold isn’t scared or worried , rather his face turns green when suddenly the keen voice breaks her out of it.
“Arnold , Arnold… Where do you think you are?, Cmmon we have loads to do , first of all we need to get to the groceries and I need to buy some stuff , do you mind giving me company”said the little Miss Hudson.
“Sure why not!”
And they move out the door when finally Arnold finds himself at the corner of the street with an history of 140 years. He was right infront of a green house with a nameplate that said
221 B Baker Street , Marylebone- The Sherlock Holmes Museum -Souvenirs, Books , Antiques and more
“We are here Arthur , we are home!”- said Arnold with a gentle but jolly sound as he sweeps his cardigan , brings over his hat and swifts with the wind.
***********Till next time********************