Tony Richards - The Astonishing Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in the Twenty-First Century

“I am aware of that.”

“And it is normally our policy to wipe the disks within twelve hours, to protect the privacy of the hotels’ guests. But there’s a disk we kept, from several nights ago.”

“I take it that there’s something on it?”

The manager’s gaze pinned itself to the floor.

“Ah … indeed.”

He barked an order at Sokua, who went hurrying off to a small filing cabinet at the far side of the room and returned holding a shiny silver disk. When he inserted it into a CD player, a different image flickered up onto the nearest screen.

Holmes immediately recognised the corridor that he was being shown from the style of numbering on the row of doors and from the bluish-grey paint on its walls. This was the Purple Cloud that he was looking at again, though from a remote distance this time. A logo at the bottom of the screen told him this scene had been recorded just three nights ago. Except the corridor was empty and quite static at the moment, and he waited for somebody to appear.

But when a figure did, it was not of the kind he had been expecting.

Yes, it was a human shape. And judging it against the nearest door, it had to be merely four feet tall. A child, then, in a place like this. But resembling no child that he had ever seen. He doubted anyone had gazed upon its like before.

It was a shape, and only that. Nothing more than a human outline, with no features contained within. A blank silhouette, then, except it was not dark. The thing was pale and very faint, so indistinct you almost had to squint to see it.

It wandered down the corridor, despite the fact that its legs were not moving, drifting past the camera lens before disappearing from view. Holmes had Sokua rewind the CD and then freeze the curious image.

“Could this be some technical fault, perhaps? A left-over image from an old recording?”

But the manager shook his head. “It is a brand new disk, and so that cannot be the case.”

Both of Holmes’ eyebrows lifted. He made Sokua run the disk again, but at a quarter of its normal speed. The great detective moved up so close to the screen his nose was almost touching it, studying every aspect of this curious apparition. Then he ushered Lieutenant Minoshi closer with a swift jerk of his finger.

“Observe its surface, would you? Can you see something that you did not before?”

The lieutenant adjusted her glasses and peered.

“It … is flickering slightly. I thought that it was flat before.”

“Exactly.” And Holmes nodded slowly. “It reminds me of a curious sight that I have witnessed several times on places like the Devon moors. Marsh gas, lit up by an inner glow.”

“Are you saying this is methane, Holmes-san?”

But Holmes responded, “No.”

And then he returned his attention to the office manager, who was watching the screen frozenly, his whole face darkened.

“Why did you not inform the police of this earlier, sir?”

The man’s gaze went down to his shoes once more. He tried to clear his throat.

“If word got out that we had recorded a ghost … a firm such as ours needs to have a certain image, if you understand my meaning, Mr Holmes.”

“You mean the gutter press would come pounding on your door, along with deluded halfwits from around the world. You’d be famous for perhaps a week, but your reputation would be ruined. Yes? Is that not so?”

The manager looked shamefaced when he nodded.

“I perfectly understand, and I have one last question,” Holmes told him, changing the subject with the swiftness of a racing driver shifting gears. “I can see nowhere in this room the control which moves the cameras inside the Purple Cloud hotel around.”

The man’s head came up at that remark, his expression transforming to one of mild bewilderment.

“There is no such control, Mr Holmes. No, all the cameras are static.”

Holmes thanked him and promptly left, with Haruko Minoshi trailing along after him.

“Where are we going now, Holmes-san?” she asked him when they hit the open street.

“Are there any clothing stores still open?” was his brisk response.

“Stores? But … yes, of course.”

“Then, lieutenant, we are going shopping.”

“Mr Holmes!” she was protesting half an hour later. And where had the honorific ‘ san’ – which did not mean ‘Mr’ but was simply an expression of respect – gone? “I do not see the need for this. It is not raining, neither is it snowing … obviously! Dressed like this, we are getting the most curious glances from our fellow pedestrians, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, I have,” Holmes told her, without looking round.

“It is most embarrassing, Holmes!”

“I’m sure.”

They were heading back towards the Purple Cloud, and doing it at such a brisk pace they were nearly jogging. Indeed, the lieutenant almost had to canter to keep up. Holmes’ gaze was fastened straight ahead, and he resembled some strange-looking bloodhound that was following a scent.

They finally reached the building, passing through its gloomy entrance till they reached the electronic door. Haruko produced her swipe-card and was moving it towards the slot when Holmes reached out and touched her wrist. He made her pause for almost a full minute, then he nodded and she let them in.

As they stepped into the lobby, the lieutenant asked him, “What exactly were you waiting for?”

All Sherlock did was mutter, “I’m not certain yet.”

That left her a touch slack-jawed.

At the far end of the lobby was the set of elevator doors. Except that one pair was already open, and that had not been the case the first time Holmes had come here. He eyed the empty cage slightly unhappily.

“Could we possibly take a stairway up?” he then asked his companion.

She was starting to stare at him as though she suspected he was losing his mind. Or perhaps this was some form of British eccentricity she’d not previously encountered?

“There’s a fire exit for each floor, but the management’s locked all the doors. And with a key, which I don’t have.” She raised her swipe-card once again. “I’m afraid it’s the lifts or nothing.”

Holmes looked fairly wary when he stepped inside, and his face tightened when the metal doors slid shut. But then – as the lift began to rise – he swept his gaze round his immediate surroundings.

It battened on the mirror fastened to the wall behind them.

“Ah, but here’s another of those flaws.”

Haruko Minoshi swivelled around too, and saw that he was perfectly correct. Circular, and the size of a penny piece, there was another indentation in the silvered glass.

“It could be a mistake by the factory that made them,” she suggested. “Maybe all the mirrors were delivered in this state.”

“No, they were not,” was Holmes reply. “I checked in several of the other rooms, remember? And there were no other marks. Furthermore, this mirror was not marked like this before.”

“You mean that it appeared while we were gone?”

“That is precisely what I’m saying.”

“Perhaps we were riding in another elevator?”

“I’m entirely sure that we were not.”

Haruko’s expression started getting rather flustered.

“What do you believe this is then, Holmes-san?”

“I believe it is an eye, lieutenant. We are being watched.”

“When we first stepped into the lobby downstairs,” he told her, “I distinctly saw a camera move. And yet the manager at Sutomocha assured us that could not be the case. I checked when we came back, and saw he was correct. The fastenings on the cameras ought not allow for movement.”

He looked distinctly relieved when the twin doors came back open, and stepped briskly out into the corridor with the lieutenant on his heels.