Becoming Holmes Read Online Free PDF Page B

high and rented for the day. He zeroes in on their eyes, their lips. He sees the latter moving slightly, rehearsing lines like actors. Sherlock turns to the street. Hansom cabs and carriages were lining the front of the building as the boy approached, but now he sees a half-dozen Bobbies moving vehicles from the area directly in front of the doors.
    Sherlock smiles. He has timed it perfectly. He knows what is about to happen. He must wait here for as long as it takes. The Governor of the Bank of England is about to arrive for the day. The great man will descend from his carriage in this very spot cleared by the police and will be deluged by requests for help from these businessmen. He will respond to none. But Sherlock Holmes, now moving into position, will see him, up close, even if just for a fleeting moment. He hopes that is all his developing powers will need.
    It happens as he suspected.
    Just as the minute arm on the big clock, which he can see inside the front doors of the bank, reaches six, Sir Ramsay Stonefield appears. But at first, that is all that goes according to plan. The very moment the ornate carriage arrives, the crowd of supplicants moves forward like hounds attempting to tree a fox. The Bobbies strain to hold them back, and Sherlock is caught in the midst of the mob, barely able to see his target. They shout out their needs.
    “Sir Ramsay, I have a business plan!”
    “I simply need a modest loan!”
    “Sir Ramsay, my relations are well placed!”
    But the Governor of the Bank of England magnificently ignores them. Every one-in-a-million opportunity falls on deaf ears. His liveried footman, dressed in red family colors and white stockings, leaps down from the back of their shining black conveyance and opens the door. The man himself descends from the carriage looking glum, as if he is already disgruntled with his day. He places his incredibly tall stovepipe top hat upon his head, runs his fingers down his golden chain to extricate his pocket watch from his pin-striped waistcoat, glances at it, and then snaps it shut.
    “Spot on, James!” he announces to his driver. “Now clear these citizens from my path!” He waves his walking stick at the Bobbies and then the crowd.
    Glimpsing him between heads and armpits and waving hats, Sherlock observes what he can. First, the accent:
London born, Mayfair or Knightsbridge, Oxford educated, Balliol College
. Clothes:
Savile Row tailor, ostentatious without boasting
. Age:
fifty-five or -six but looking ten years older
. Attitude:
Fastidious, meticulous, concerned about being on time and on schedule
. Expression:
Sad, preoccupied
. Sir Ramsay turns back to the carriage as if he has forgotten something. He asks his footman to open the door again. Sherlock can see a woman inside, about the great man’s age. Stonefield appears, for a moment, as if he might kiss her, but stops. He waves. She weakly waves back. And then, in a walk (and one’s gait speaks volumes) that is intended to be brisk but takes much effort to be so, he goes up the steps and indoors.
    Sherlock has learned a great deal. But the appearance of the Governor’s wife, obviously Lady Stonefield from thecut and material of her clothing, and curiously with him on his morning trip to work, has the potential to tell him much more. As the others race after the Governor, the boy rushes the other way, to the carriage, and purposely stumbles so as to land, face against the glass, just before the carriage departs. He sees the Governor’s wife, all alone, an expression of extreme sadness upon her face. Under her black bonnet, she stares out the other window, looking like the loneliest woman in the world.
    “Get away from there, you swine!” calls the footman from the carriage’s runners behind, about to leap down and manhandle Sherlock Holmes. The driver turns at the same instant and looks as though he wants to use his whip on the boy.
    “I beg your pardon, sirs!” cries Sherlock and jumps back. The