Sherlock Holmes: The Army of Doctor Moreau

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

By the time I had paid the driver and caught up with Holmes, he was halfway up the stairs, running towards Carruthers’ room.

“Would it not be easier just to meet him in the foyer?” I wondered aloud while catching my breath somewhere on the fifth floor.

“Come on, Watson!” Holmes called. “We haven’t time for you to dawdle!”

I made my increasingly breathless way along the corridor of the eighth floor, Holmes a short way ahead, knocking on Carruthers’ door.

“Gentlemen!” the explorer shouted on opening the door to greet us, seemingly unconcerned at the fact that he was wearing nothing but a hat and nightshirt. “How splendid to see you! Shall I order breakfast?”

We were forced to explain that it was four o’clock in the afternoon and that perhaps we would be better off taking tea.

“Ah …” He glanced at himself in the mirror and came to realise that perhaps all was not quite how it should be. “I’m afraid I’ve been scouring the city at night and have quite lost track of my own place in the scheme of things. Perhaps you should order for us and I shall join you in a few moments?”

We agreed that would be for the best and the pair of us made our way back downstairs.