Sherlock Holmes: The Army of Doctor Moreau

WATSON

The damned sky fell in on me and for a moment all was noise, pain and dust, then blackness as I passed out of consciousness.

The next thing I knew there was a pair of monstrous hands on my lapels, and I was being pulled out of the rubble.

“No,” said Kane, “not like that. That would be too easy.”

He threw me away from the collapsed ceiling, tossing me to the ground at the far end of the passageway.

My head was spinning and it was so hard to focus, I could feel blood washing the plaster away from my temple and cheek. I was no doubt concussed and would need several stitches. If I was lucky enough to get away with no more wounds that is, something that seemed incredibly unlikely given the attitude of the brute staring down at me.

“Father says we should be ourselves,” he said, “feed our animal side.” He snarled. “Very well. Run!”

I didn’t need telling twice, I got to my feet and, shakily, ran out of what was left of the passage and into the open warehouse.

All around was panic and screaming, some of the animals were cowering, some were running in circles. Not so Kane, Kane was in full control.

“Run, man!” he shouted, the words tapering into a howl like that of a wolf. “I wish to hunt!”

I looked around desperately for a weapon but could see nothing. I ran for the stairs that would lead me up to the main entrance, unknowingly passing right by Carruthers and Wiggins on the other side of the wall as they encouraged Mycroft and his security officers up from the underground entrance.

The stairs were hard going, my legs aching terribly as I forced them to move faster up each flight. Finally I was on the ground floor, and I made straight for the door.

Kane followed me outside, his feet pounding on the road as he chased me down the street. I risked a look over my shoulder and saw he had reverted even further. Dropping forward he was loping along on all fours, tongue lolling from between his teeth as he ran.

“Kill you!” he shouted, his voice even more of a canine howl now.

I ran towards the sound of traffic. As much as I didn’t want this thing to harm others I would stand a better chance of dealing with it myself if I could only get into the open.

I emerged close to the Euston Road, Kane at my heels.

“Kill you! Bite you! Suck your bones!” Kane lashed out at me with one of his massive hands and he caught me on the shoulder, sending me tumbling into the gutter.

He rose up and pounded his massive hands on his chest, howling up at the night sky.

I got to my feet, shuffling towards the main road.

“No,” he said, “no more run.”

He leapt for me and I managed to dart to one side, so he collided with a pair of bicycles chained up against a railing. He roared in frustration as the pedals and spokes dug into him. I kept running towards the main road, aware that I had bought myself maybe a few extra seconds, not much, but possibly enough.

I heard the wrenching of metal behind me, followed by a savage barking sound, and then that gallop of his fists bouncing off the road as he ran on all fours. I was scouring the ground as I ran, desperate to spot something I could use—my eyes alighted on the very thing. A dirty child’s ball left in the gutter. And with it a desperate idea!

The Euston Road was always busy with cabs and carts, trucks and coaches, all making their way to and from the station. Stopping at the junction, I turned to face Kane as he charged towards me.

“Kane!” I shouted, in my strongest, most authoritative voice, it was enough to give him pause. “Kane!” I shouted again, loud and firm. He looked at me, head cocked to one side. “Fetch,” I told him, tossing the ball over my shoulder and onto the busy road.

With a pitiful howl he chased past me and ran after the ball. That howl turned to a scream as an omnibus bore down on him, and Kane met with the lethal, grinding wheels of progress.