The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Eighteen

"Hey!" A boyish shout, muffled in the fog, made me start.

My attacker turned to look. Something connected with his head and he stumbled back a few steps. A slim figure came darting through the fog. "Let's go," the boy said, as he curled his fingers around my wrist.

He barely slowed down, and I was jerked around. It took a second for me to realize this boy was rescuing me. My feet finally began to work, and the boy stopped dragging me. My attacker roared behind us, his words indistinct.

"Don't look back," the boy said. "Trust me."

I didn't seem to have any choice in the matter. We ran through the fog, but not in a straight line. The boy pushed me down one alley and then across a street. First a left turn and then a right.

If I'd been lost before, I was even more so now. Any light provided by gas lights was ghostly in the fog.

I was gasping for air by the time the boy slowed to a stop. "I think we lost him," he said, glancing around. Though what he expected to see in the fog, I had no idea. "I think we can wait here for a moment."

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slow my heart. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Wiggins. Hugh Wiggins." Wiggins? That name was familiar. "My uncle was the original Wiggins from Dr. Watson's stories," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he'd been questioned on that fact before. "He was the first leader of the Baker Street Irregulars."

He could have been lying but he had just saved my life. "Well, Hugh Wiggins, I suppose I should thank you."

"You can if you want," he said, indifferently. He shrugged his shoulders. "I was just doing my job."

"Mr Holmes asked you to keep an eye on the hotel and watch for trouble?"

"There have been four of us, taking turns at doing that," he said. He straightened up. "If you're ready, we need to keep moving. I expect there's other men out there searching for you." He looked me over. "Though I don't know what makes you so important. You're just a girl."

I hadn't had many interactions with boys before so I couldn't be sure if his disdain was natural for someone of his gender or if he was being insulting on purpose. "Does it matter?" I asked, straightening my shoulders. I was tall, but he was taller. "I want to go to Baker Street. Do you know how to get there?"

"Baker Street?" He repeated. "Weren't you at Baker Street this morning and Mr. Holmes decided you couldn't stay?"

So much had happened, it was hard to believe that I had woken up in 221 Baker Street that morning. "That's where I need to go," I said firmly. "Did you have a different idea?"

My question seemed to surprise him. "Well..." he said slowly. "No."

"Then, we go to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson will let me in."

"Mrs. Hudson?" he repeated in surprise. "I don't think so. She doesn't like anyone disrupting her life."

"Unless you have something more to offer, that's where we're going." To make my point, I started walking. A passing cab in the street made me jump, the sound eerie in the fog and otherwise empty street.The clip-clop of the horse shoes echoed and the wheels clattered.

"Alright, alright." Wiggins caught up to me and then passed me to take the lead. "If you're so set, follow me. You have no idea where you're going."

I stuck my tongue out at his back, but said nothing. He was right. I didn't know where I was, let alone how I could get to Baker Street. We walked in silence, which gave me too much time to think

It was alarming the shift that had happened. Before they had been content to kidnap me. Now they sought to kill me. Why? What had changed? Or had nothing changed at all? Perhaps my death was always their goal. What scandal could they cause if I were dead. Were they tired of waiting to get me away?