29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkcdhGi0sVb
The fog thickened as they approached the docks, the air carrying the briny scent of the Thames. Shadows seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally, adding an eerie atmosphere to the already tense night. The creak of wooden planks and the occasional splash of water broke the silence, making every sound seem magnified.
Holmes stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal Watson and Clara to halt. His sharp gaze scanned the labyrinth of crates, barrels, and moored ships ahead.
“Pier 17 is just ahead,” Holmes whispered, his voice barely audible. “We’ll need to tread carefully. If Kroft’s men are here, they won’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”
Watson tightened his grip on his revolver. “What’s the plan, Holmes? Sneak in, or confront them head-on?”
Holmes’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Neither. We observe first. Rushing in blind would be tantamount to suicide. Clara, stay close. If anything happens, you must remain hidden. Do you understand?”
Clara nodded, though the fear in her eyes was evident. “I understand. But we must hurry. Kroft’s men might move the ledgers if they suspect anything.”
Holmes led them forward, his steps silent against the uneven ground. They slipped between towering stacks of crates, their dark silhouettes blending into the night. As they neared Pier 17, the murmur of voices reached their ears, accompanied by the flicker of lantern light.
Holmes gestured for Watson and Clara to crouch behind a stack of barrels. Peering around the edge, he took in the scene. A group of six men stood near a large warehouse, their posture alert. They were armed, their weapons glinting faintly in the dim light. One of them appeared to be giving orders, his voice low but authoritative.
“That’s Henry Black,” Clara whispered, her voice trembling. “He’s one of Kroft’s enforcers. Ruthless and loyal. If he’s here, the ledgers must be inside.”
Holmes nodded, his mind racing. “We’ll need a diversion to draw them away from the warehouse. Watson, do you recall the time we dealt with the smugglers in Cornwall?”
Watson’s face lit with understanding. “The fire trick. Of course.”
Holmes’s eyes gleamed. “Precisely. There’s a stack of old fishing nets and barrels filled with oil near the far end of the pier. If we can set it alight, it should provide enough of a distraction.”
Clara looked worried. “But what if it attracts more men?”
“It’s a calculated risk,” Holmes replied. “But one we must take. Stay here until we return.”29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBrFVGL0Gi1
Holmes and Watson moved swiftly and silently, keeping to the shadows as they approached the pile of nets and barrels. Watson pulled out a box of matches, glancing at Holmes for confirmation.
“Wait until I’m in position,” Holmes instructed. “Once the fire takes hold, rejoin Clara and make sure she stays hidden.”
Watson nodded, his expression resolute. Holmes disappeared into the shadows, making his way back toward the warehouse. Moments later, Watson struck a match and touched it to the oil-soaked nets. The flames caught quickly, climbing higher and casting an orange glow that pierced the fog.
Shouts erupted from the direction of the warehouse as the men noticed the fire. Black barked orders, and four of the six men rushed toward the blaze, leaving only two to guard the building.
Holmes used the commotion to his advantage, slipping past the distracted guards and into the warehouse. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and damp. Stacks of crates and ledgers lined the walls, illuminated by a single hanging lantern.
His keen eyes scanned the room, searching for anything out of place. In the far corner, he spotted a locked cabinet—a heavy, iron-bound piece that seemed out of place among the simpler storage.
“Found you,” Holmes murmured.
He pulled a set of lockpicks from his pocket and began working on the cabinet. The lock was intricate, but not beyond his skill. Within moments, it clicked open, revealing several ledgers bound in black leather. Holmes’s fingers traced the spines, his mind already piecing together the significance of the contents.
“Holmes, hurry!” Watson’s urgent whisper broke through his focus. Holmes turned to see Watson and Clara at the warehouse entrance, their faces pale.
“What is it?” Holmes asked as he secured the ledgers in a satchel.
“More of Kroft’s men are arriving,” Watson replied. “We need to leave. Now.”
Holmes nodded, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. “Then let us not waste another moment.”
The trio slipped out of the warehouse, their movements quick and silent. The fire had grown, consuming the nets and barrels and drawing more of Kroft’s men to the pier. They used the chaos to their advantage, weaving through the maze of crates and slipping into the foggy streets.
As they put distance between themselves and the docks, Clara let out a shaky breath. “We did it. We have the ledgers.”
“Indeed,” Holmes said, his tone calm but determined. “But this is only the beginning. Kroft will not rest until he retrieves these, and we must ensure they reach the right hands.”
Watson glanced back toward the docks, his jaw set. “Then we’d best prepare for what’s to come. Kroft won’t go down without a fight.”
Holmes’s eyes gleamed with resolve as he looked ahead into the foggy night. “And neither will we, my dear Watson. The game is afoot.”
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