Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse by Stephanie Osborn Read Free Book Online Page B

unskilled labourers came up with something he had found, wondering if it were anything of import. And while I was studying the object and answering his question, I fear she got quite away from me and lost herself among the standing stones. By the time I caught sight of her again, she was clear on the other side of the structure, headed toward one of the dig fields, and I broke into a run, intent on fetching the young scamp back to her father, lest SHE fall in…”
    “But he didn’t realise that Da had started another pit on his side!” Leighton giggled. “I saw him run around one of the big—what are they called? The big standing stones with the cross-posts on top?”
    “Menhirs?” Phillips suggested. “Trilithons?”
    “Yes, those,” she agreed, her smile dimpling her cheeks quite adorably, Watson thought. “Trilithons. Sherry ran around one of the trilithons. And then he just… disappeared. One second he was there, and the next, he wasn’t!”
    “Heavens above,” Professor Whitesell murmured, “I remember that! I was at the bottom of the pit Holmes fell in, and I think I broke his fall!”
    “Yes!” Leighton giggled again; poor Holmes flushed deeper. “And you both came out simply all over clay mud!”
    The table burst into laughter; Watson noticed Holmes shifting uncomfortably, but unobtrusively, in his seat. When the others could catch their breaths, Nichols-Woodall asked, “Did you find anything? At Stonehenge, I mean. Fascinating place.”
    “Indeed,” Beaumont agreed.
    “Other than my sacroiliac, no,” Holmes grumbled, putting a hand to his back in remembrance.
    “Oh, we found what appeared to be a few ancient holes for stones no longer there, long since filled in. Most likely the stones that had been in them had been broken up and used in local construction in later eras. That sort of thing happens quite a lot in archaeology,” Whitesell said, dismissing the matter with a wave of his soup spoon. Watson noticed the sidelong glance the Professor had given Holmes, and suspected he was attempting to change the subject to avoid further embarrassing his former student. Meanwhile, the servers removed the remains of the first course, replacing it with the entrée brought straight from the kitchens on the far side of the encampment, a chicken and couscous dish redolent with cinnamon and cardamom. Following close behind, Abraam the sommelier poured a young, spicy sangiovese which proved to pair marvellously with the dish.
    “Aha! Not quite as observant as you made us think a bit ago, eh, Holmes?” Phillips jibed the detective, and Watson saw the graduate student throw a quick glance from the corner of his eye at the young woman sitting beside him. Mm, Watson decided, someone is jealous of the lady’s attentions. Holmes’ jaw tightened, but before he could reply, Whitesell did.
    “No, no!” the professor protested. “Behave yourself, Landers, and mind your manners. Sherlock—that is, Mr. Holmes—deserves our respect, and has more than earned it. It was not his fault, but young Leighton’s, for running off! In retrospect, it was probably mine, too; saddling a young, unmarried man such as Holmes was at the time, a man with little experience of children, with a fireball like Leighton, and then still expecting him to fulfil all his other duties? Think of it, Landers. Put yourself in that position! Holmes was, if I recall correctly, some couple of years younger than you are now; Leigh was perhaps all of ten years of age, if that, and a positive mischief just like her mother! How would YOU fare, in the circumstances?” Phillips’ eyes went wide, shooting to Holmes, and he winced just before the professor continued. “No, Holmes was already running when he rounded the stone, attempting to protect my recalcitrant young daughter over there from harm. I actually heard his grunt of recognition—just before he landed atop me! No, he saw, but it was too late to stop. I was only thankful that neither