Читать книгу A Question of Time - Jamie Ashbird - Страница 7

‘Not so much the great detective now, ey?’

The speakers in Crackers pumped out The Temptations while the magic of the dark room was chased away by the harsh fluorescent lights. The patrons had gone from dancing to cowering from the man with the gun.

Sherlock, his hands up, exhaled sharply. ‘I’d heard you were an interesting case.’

‘You what?’

‘But here you are being quite obvious. Shame, really.’

‘I should gag you.’

‘Wise idea.’ Sherlock’s eyes flickered behind to a man in a plum corduroy suit crawling slowly toward them. A soldier? No civilian moved like that. Tanned, perhaps returned from Dhofar.

‘Bet you’d love that, you deviant. Why you dressed like a disco ball?’

‘I’m considering a career change to decorative ceiling ornament.’

Without taking his eyes off the gunman Sherlock watched the soldier move closer in his periphery. A quick glance and Sherlock saw his signal. Keep him busy.

‘Well? Are you going to gag me or tell me what it is you want?’

‘I want,’ the man barked out. But what he wanted remained a mystery as the soldier surged. He grabbed the gun, twisted the gunman’s arm back, and forced him to the floor.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Sherlock Holmes.’

‘John Watson.’

They shook hands, neither letting go. Eyes gleamed as polite smiles turned to beams.