Chapter 2: Of Action and Reaction

Holmes sat, and thought. The more he thought, the more maudlin he became; eventually he emitted a deep sigh. Almost in resignation he opened a locked drawer in his oaken desk; with care he slid it open and unfastened the tin that lay within.

For a second he stared at the dried leaves, then as if motivated by some alien desire his left hand scooted across the leather desktop and snatched the oldest of his pipes. He needed clarity, ultimate focus, his friend was in danger. He, Ned Holmes, had to make the pieces in the jigsaw fit. Wherever he saw rhyme there must be reason.

Holmes filled and lit his pipe; he then took a mighty lungful of the thickly acrid smoke. He held it within him until the mood descended. Ignoring his need to breathe he puffed avidly on the pungent weed. His eyes glazed, but his body seemed vitalised, and gripping his pipe-stem in this mouth he rushed across to the far book shelf, rifling through the books. He retrieved a heavy, richly bound tome, and returned to his desk.

Coughing now, Ned opened the main desk drawer and retrieved the latest of his many note books. Quivering from both the drug and the anticipation, he fell back into his button-backed chair. For a second his eyes were glued to the Moroccan bound book, he mouthed the words 'The Practices and Code of the Illuminati'. In the next second he opened the book and scoured through its pages madly.

He found the passage and his crooked finger ran along the line, he mumbled it softly.

"Where possible our aims for society should be achieved through consent; but time is short and even the able are far too short- sighted. The Illuminati reserve the absolute right to further its plans by subversion, taking out the upper layers of control and using the elite to enforce our changes on the masses."

Ned pondered; he had seen many things that pointed to the Illuminati being true to their threat; this case fitted the pattern well. Now, if he could just find some of his contacts he may get to this Bellinger character ahead of Brighton. Holmes pawed through his note book enthusiastically. Just as he found the page, a knock came at the library door.

"Enter!"

The door opened and Nancy walked in, she approached Ned's desk. Ned frowned, and placed his hand across his neat writing. When he finally spoke it was tinged with annoyance.

"Yes, what is it girl? Can you not see, I am busy?"

Nancy held a hand in front of her mouth and coughed, "Beggin' pardon, Mr 'Olmes, but cook is leaving early today an' she wanted to know iffen you needed luncheon ... Or not?"

"Food?" Holmes asked.

"Yes sir, food, as you say." Nancy coughed, the fumes catching her throat once more.

"Now why would I want food when I am busy?" Ned raised a hand, and wafted it, as if trying to fan the girl back through the door, "Busy!"

"Yes sir, most sorry sir ... Should I..." Nancy did not finish her sentence Holmes's stare was enough to send her back whence she came.

Holmes sighed again, "Now if I can just get on, I'm sure I can find ... Ah yes, just as I thought..."

Nancy whistled as she returned to the Kitchen.

"Oh you sound 'appy me girl. What did 'is nibs 'ave to say?"

"Mr 'Olmes is busy," Nancy sneered, and feigned wafting her hand, "'E won't be takin' no luncheon. 'E's an odd 'un, for sure."

"Mr 'Olmes is our employer, and a good man, shame on you Nance!"

"I knows, you've worked for 'im a long time; but 'e gives me the shudders. I dread to think what 'e gets involved in. Let alone what 'e smokes"

"Now look 'ere Nance, none of your snoopin'. You hear? Anyways, I is off, I don't want to keep George waitin'."

"Oh, 'as he got summat 'ot for you then Dora?"

Dora laughed, "You are a cheeky mare, and you remember it is Cook when we is workin'. I'm off, so you keep your nose clean, my girl."

"Bye cook," Nancy called out; under her breath she added, "Give George one from me..."

Nancy giggled, reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out her latest acquisition. A leather-bound diary.The girl jumped at the sound of a loud slam from upstairs. Once she realised what it was, she regained her composure and laughed at her foolishness. She was alone in the house now...

Then she twirled around holding the diary in the air, "All alone, and with your secrets. Soon Nance will know all about Mr Ned 'Olmes."

Holmes continued on apace, he now approached Temple Bar; soon he would be ensconced in St Brides Library. Once he had the details he needed on the printing of the book he would move on. He may not really take to journalists too readily, but there was no better place than Fleet Street to confirm the latest in society scandal. He was certain the name Bellinger had some connotation to it, if he could just recall it. It was no good. The doings of polite society held little fascination to him other than when they collided with a case.

"Bellinger? Bellinger you say? Yes, there was something, a month or so back. Why is this of interest to you Ned, you are not working on one of Sherlock's cases are you?"

Holmes answered in a calm tone that hid his discomfort at the mention of his illustrious cousin's name, "No Scotty, I am working on one of my cases."

"Really, I doubt if it will involve the Bellinger's then. Old money, with no hint of scandal. Not likely to be mixed up in ... Well, how shall I put this? One of your cases!"

"Thank you for your authoritative opinion old bean. I'm sure this is a blind alley. Just being methodical."

"Of course. Ah, here we are..." Scotty held up a sheet of newsprint, "Society Wife Absconds During Grand Tour!"

"May I?" asked Holmes extending his hand.

"Naturally."

"Lady Florisa Bellinger vanished during a visit to Ingolstadt in Bavaria. Local sources..."

Holmes looked at Scotty with an intense expression, "Ingolstadt," he paused, "Of course!"

"What? Is this something I should know of?"

"No my friend, this is no tittle-tattle for your readers." Holmes smiled, "No, it is just the location of a society for the great and the good."

"Not a nest of abductors then?"

"Good lord. I would not have thought so, would you?"

"No, they sound unmentionably dull."

"Quite so, unlike the prospect of a flagon at the White Hart?"

"Oh, quite unlike ... I presume you will be buying Holmes?"

"Quite so." Holmes smiled.

At first Nancy had been disappointed, mostly due to the diary not belonging to Mr Holmes, and moreso due to the style of writing. The small tight script was florridly written in green ink. The style and colour combined to make it very difficult to decipher in the dim kitchen.

Still, being the determined kind she read on, even when it meant reading each sentence several times. She was certain that there must be some reference to Ned in it; his secrets would be hers.I mean, why else would he have it?

As she read she first became shocked by its revelations, and then absorbed. Time drifted by, and as it did the girl's arousal soared.

Eventually she untied her apron to gain access to the top buttons of her dress. They were soon undone, and her left hand started to stroke the rounded top of her right breast. Her right hand held the diary firmly until her other fingers reached a puckered nipple; at this point the diary fell to the floor, a disregarded prop.

Nancy crouched slightly and drew the hem of her skirt with its petticoats upwards. She folded her right arm to hold the linen high and wriggled her left hand through the gusset of her bloomers. She teased the tangle of hair she found there tenderly before plunging her urgent fingers into her warm folds. Her legs staggered sidewards freeing her hand and enabling her to push her fingers against the resilient nub. Nancy's hips started a slow bucking action in time to her questing fingers, and she groaned with a soft pleasure...