Entry 11

I lay on the sofa in the living room glancing around. All of the equipment Shirleigh had used earlier was still on the work desk and papers were lying on the ground that I hadn't noticed before Moriarty visited. I would have tidied up a bit and I would have cleaned the space now if it weren't for the dreadful anxiety pestering my mind.

It was just about seven in the evening and Shirleigh had not yet returned. I had taken a nap after Moriarty left in hopes that when I awoke, Shirleigh would be balled up in her thinking chair. Unfortunately, that was not the case and I began to grow extremely uneasy. Perhaps engaging myself in an activity would, in fact, calm my nerves.

Deciding that cleaning would be the best course of action to put my mind at ease, I got to my feet and gave the room a look over. Now that I had the motivation to tidy up, I could see multiple possibilities for reorganization and decluttering. However, I paused when I reached for the items on the worktable, remembering how Shirleigh didn't like her belongings to be touched. I decided to stick to the kitchen and the closets.

A cool breeze came through the window and I made my way over to close it. I placed my hands on the lower sash and gazed at the street below. Cars and trucks cruised along and other than the hum of their engines, all was quiet in the night. Starting to feel a bit drowsy, I stared lazily at a cab that turned the corner and heard one of its doors open and shut when it was out of sight. When I started to pull the window down, I froze when I heard Shirleigh's voice from outside.

I leaned over the sill and looked up and down the sidewalk. Then I realised that maybe the cab I saw had actually brought her here. I darted out of the flat and rushed down the stairs into the main foyer where Mr. Hudson was clearly doing his best to stay awake. It was at my abrupt appearance that he instantly became alert.

"Miss Watson," he said. "Is something wrong?"

I didn't reply or look in his direction. I darted to the front doors and flung them open. There before me, stood my flatmate looking worse for wear. Her face was damp with sweat and her suit was covered in dirt and soot. She gripped her upper arm which her tie had been wrapped around several times. Even though her eyes met mine, it took her a moment to realise I was standing before her. She gave a weak laugh as she stumbled forward.

"See, Watson?" She mumbled. "It was quite the perilous affair."

"What happened?" I asked, offering a shoulder for support.

"Shirleigh," Mr Hudson rushed from behind the desk and approached us. "What do you need?"

"You have... surgical knowledge, yes, Watson?" Shirleigh asked between staggered breaths.

"I- not much," I answered. "I was unable to start a residency-"

"No matter... I trust you..."

"I don't understand, what's wrong, what happened?"

"Gunshot wound, upper left arm..."

"Gunshot wound?" Mr. Hudson and I exclaimed in unison.

"Shirleigh, why don't you go to a hospital?" Mr. Hudson asked.

She shook her head.

I felt her body get weaker and a switch flipped in my mind. All anxiety and worry left me and an overflowing sense of duty and purpose took its place. I wrapped my arm around her waist and carefully assisted her up each step of the staircase. She was exhausted not only physically but mentally as well. Luckily, when I looked at her makeshift tourniquet, it didn't seem like there was too much blood loss, but I couldn't even imagine the pain she must be enduring.

When we reached the living room of our flat, she collapsed onto the sofa and snatched the tourniquet from around her arm. Her hands balled into fists and she exhibited much more agony than she had downstairs.

Remembering I had never actually closed the window I promptly did so and covered Shirleigh with a throw blanket that was draped over one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

"How are you feeling? I know you're in an immense amount of pain," I asked, making my way to the pantry to retrieve my medical supplies. "I need to know on a scale of one to ten so I know the best way to approach your procedure."

"Eleven."

I frowned. The distress in her voice was difficult not to notice and it pained me. As I gathered the necessary equipment I would need all of the knowledge from my time in medical school came flooding back to me even though I used very little of it save for the treatment of scrapes and the such. She refused to go to a hospital and if there was one key trait she had it was her stubbornness. I knew that if I insisted upon it, she would never give in and it would just be a waste of time. Therefore, she was counting on me. She said it herself, she trusted me.

"Do you have any allergies to specific medicines?" I inquired as I knelt beside her organising my tools.

She shook her head.

"Are you currently taking any medication?"

There was a brief pause.

"No."

"Alright," I cut the right sleeve of her suit jacket and dress shirt to make access to the wound easier. "I will have to sanitize the wound and apply a local anaesthetic. I will be using a sterile saline solution for cleaning your wound and the solution should not hurt. I will, however, have to rub the surrounding area as prevention. I will do my best to be gentle, but it will be the most hurt you will have to endure as the anaesthetic will numb the area so I can stitch the holes."

"... Plural?"

"Yes," I took this opportunity to proceed with the sanitation of the wound. "Luckily, for lack of a better word anyway, the bullet went clean through. We do not have to worry about removing it. There also does not appear to be any debris, so this will go smoothly."

She remained silent and I would glance up at her every few seconds to see how she was faring.

"Moriarty was here when I arrived," I said, providing some conversation to distract her. "We settled all of the usual affairs and engaged in nice conversation. She told me that you box from time to time."

"Did she now?" She said gritting her teeth as I cleaned around the bullet hole.

"I would love to watch you sometime," I continued. "If you wouldn't mind, that is."

I injected the local anaesthetic and turned to my equipment tray to retrieve my suturing tools. When I turned back, Shirleigh was staring at me with the most tranquil eyes. I was taken aback for a moment but sighed in relief that she seemed to be doing better.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her, threading the stitching needle.

"I feel... calmer..."

"I'm glad. I can't imagine how it must have felt when it happened."

"It certainly was not fun, I do not recommend it."

"Hm."

"I was hoping to make you laugh."

"I'm sorry?" I looked up into her eyes.

"You have been in complete focus ever since I came through those doors," she said, her attention fixated on something behind me. "This is the longest I have seen you go without smiling."

I froze.

"Wait," I said. "That was you trying to be funny?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say funny," she told me, turning her head away to look up at the ceiling. "It was an attempt to lighten the atmosphere."

I giggled to myself and Shirleigh echoed it.

"I would like to see your smile someday..." I mumbled. "Do you think you could sit in a chair for me? It would make it easier to get cleaner stitches."

Shirleigh sat up and I assisted her to one of the chairs at the living room table. I rested on my knees in front of her as I began stitching the forward-facing hole.

"I was thinking about perhaps going down to speak with the chief editor of the local paper tomorrow morning," I began. "There have been a lot of signs telling me to follow my heart recently and perhaps it's about time I started listening to them. My writing isn't as proficient as I would like it to be, but it is better to try than to have never tried at all, right?"

It was silent and I stole a glance at Shirleigh who had her eyes closed, but rather than the the usual concentrated expression that accompanied it, her face had a most relaxed and serene look on it.

"I'm listening," she said.

"There was also something else that I wanted to do before the accident in the islands," I continued. "It was this, actually. I wanted to become a surgeon. I spoke to Moriarty about it. But ever since I got sent back from the islands, I never really wanted anything to do with... this anymore. It's funny because whenever I see that you are hurt, I am overjoyed by the fact that I am able to help you. Moriarty said that I shouldn't push it away if it is calling out to me. Isn't it funny how others seem to know your path before you yourself realise it?"

I finished the front stitches and moved to the back. Shirleigh hummed in thought. It was a sound I had gotten used to and it often put my mind at ease.

After finishing up Shirleigh's stitches, I cleaned the living room of my equipment and prepared to head out to the pharmacy to pick up some pain relievers and antibiotics.

"Oh, before I forget, there was someone here earlier. They wanted me to give this to you," I handed her the paper I had received earlier as she rose from her seat. I made my way to the door and paused. "Do you need anything else while I'm out?" 

She shook her head silently. I watched her for a few moments before closing the door on my way out.

When I turned around, Mr Hudson was climbing the stairs, rubbing his forehead and looking rather distressed.

"Oh, Miss Watson," he looked up at me and gave a weak smile. "Some of the residents emerged from their rooms wondering what the commotion was about. It was not an easy feat easing their nerves."

I had never noticed before but underneath the lighting, one could make out grey strands of hair in the waves of golden ones.

"I often see you taking care of everyone around you," I said. "But are you taking care of yourself?"

The question appeared to catch him off guard as he opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself before he could do so. The light reflected off the lenses of his glasses as he lowered his head.

"It certainly is not easy," he began. "Juggling so many affairs at once. But if it means that I can be of assistance, then it is all worth it."

"Your well-being should also be a priority," I told him. "Please look after yourself. If you ever need anything, I am here for you just as you are here for me."

"Thank you, Miss Watson. Shirleigh, is she...?"

"She's alright," I reassured him. "I just finished the stitches. Fortunately, the bullet didn't damage any critical veins and went clean through her arm. It was honestly the best-case scenario, so the procedure was swift. I am about to head down to the pharmacy to gather some medicines for her. I shall return shortly."

I brushed past Mr Hudson to descend the stairs.

"Miss Watson."

"Hm?" I turned to look at Mr Hudson, his back facing me.

"Thank you. I honestly do not know what I would have done without you here. It feels as though, and I know this sounds strange, but it feels as if our paths were meant to cross."

"Mm," I acknowledged. "Funnily enough, I feel the same way."

»»————-　♔　————-««

When I returned, all of the lights were off, indicating that Mr Hudson had turned in for the night.

As I ascended the staircase, I heard the most beautiful melody coming from our flat and it reminded me of the first time I stepped foot into this building. I pushed open the door to see Shirleigh in her nightgown, seated in the window playing her violin. I had bought a replacement string for it a few days ago and was glad that she had restrung it so I could hear the pleasant notes again.

Her figure was illuminated by the street lamps outside and there was something especially ethereal about the scene. She ceased her performance when she noticed my presence and turned to face me.

"Beautiful..." I whispered.

Shirleigh's eyes widened and she lowered her head in what I assumed was bashfulness but I could never really decipher her emotions.

"Oh, I brought your medicine," I held up two different bottles. "These are your antibiotics, take them twice a day until you have taken them all. And these are your painkillers, take one every six hours as needed. How are you feeling?"

"After the chaos that occurred and the immense amount of hurt I went through, I strangely find myself in a state of serenity."

I nodded and sat on the sofa bringing my knees to my chest, a position that I often found Shirleigh in.

"Would you tell me what happened?" I asked.

"I suppose I should."

Shirleigh crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

"There is a seafood restaurant," she began. "Just a few blocks from the bistro we visited earlier today. La Lumaca di Mare is what it is called. Italian for 'The Sea Snail'."

"Like the snail whose blood was used at the crime scene?" I asked. "It's a little on the nose, don't you think?"

"Sometimes the best disguise is to hide in plain sight," she said. "I paid a visit to the restaurant knowing that if my suspicions were correct it would actually be a front for our mafia friends and would be extremely dangerous, therefore I could not bring you with me. I apologise but I could not risk you getting harmed. I snuck in through the rear entrance while the employees were occupied with the customers and just inside the back door, there was a staircase that led below the main dining area. There, underground, was something similar to an American speakeasy. Several people were conducting business. From what I heard, they illegally buy, sell, and trade various commodities such as drugs and jewels.

"I darted into a coat closet across from the staircase to remain out of sight but also still capable of eavesdropping. Two of them conversed just outside of the closet I stowed myself away in. One of them was undoubtedly our murderer. They spoke of how they were deceived by a doctor who sold them a counterfeit gem. One of them mentioned how the doctor would not fool anyone any longer. Which one carried out the act, I am unsure for chaos ensued when a shot was fired amidst a dispute. During my escape, one of them caught sight of me and left me with this wound.

"I could not go to a hospital because they would undoubtedly hold me for several days and I could not allow the culprits to escape during that time. If I had you tend to my injury instead, I would be able to venture out again as soon as possible."

"I don't understand..." I mumbled.

"Hm?"

"That doesn't tell us who murdered Miss Drebber."

"It was the doctor."

"But you said that one of the mobsters murdered the doctor?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"I told you why. It was the doctor who sold them a knockoff jewel."

"But we didn't see her body at the crime scene."

"Of course not," Shirleigh crossed her legs. "After finding out that the gem she sold was fake, and the people she had sold the fake jewel to were hunting for her head, Josephine Hope - the doctor - made a drastic decision to murder the jeweller who had duped her. Now a murderer and a woman wanted by the mafia, she, without a doubt, attempted to flee, but I believe it is safe to say that given the blood on the walls of her office, the hitman was successful in their mission."

"But how was Miss Drebber murdered? That still seems to be quite the mystery."

"On the contrary," Shirleigh said, holding a finger up to her temple. "The doctor had recently visited Italy and learned of the use of cone snail venom for intractable pain. She brought this knowledge with her back here to London and often used it in her practice. Of course, when she learned of its benefits she also learned of its risks. Cone snail venom is toxic and causes paralysis in animals and humans alike. When the jeweller sold her the stone, she undoubtedly told her of her toe pain and had planned to meet the doctor at a later date. Hope took this opportunity to seemingly cure the jeweller of her pain, but the same hole she used to drain the haematoma was the one used as an entry point for the venom that would kill Miss Drebber."

"He injected the snail venom via trephination..." I whispered aloud. "That's incredible..."

Shirleigh gazed out the window and drummed her fingers on the side table beside her.

"Even with you explaining it all to me, I still would have never been able to piece everything together like that. That is truly astonishing."

She shook her head to dismiss the idea.

"What now?" I wondered.

"We visit Gregson at the manor tomorrow morning as originally planned," she said, rising to her feet. "We will tell her of our findings and lead her to the culprits. The rest is out of my hands and into those of the police."

With that, Shirleigh placed her violin on the table and vanished into the bedroom hallway.