A Trip to New London

Part 7

by Stacey (SST205 at aol.com)
5/16/02

Well, here it is! Can you believe it!?!?

Billy was lifted from the chair by the huge man that had brought him down, then carried into the next room. Upon Moriarty's command, the young scientist was untied, then chained to the wall.

He looked around. There wasn't much in the room, save some odd-looking gadgets strewn on a table. The walls were of stone.

"Like your decorating. Very Dark Age dungeon," Billy said, yanking at one of the shackles on his wrist.

Moriarty smirked. "Believe me, you will not be so coy once I am through with you."

He stepped forward and took Billy's jaw in his hand, forcing him to look up at him. "Now -- back to where we were. I'd like you to tell me how you got here and from what era you've come."

Billy looked straight into Moriarty's eyes, the green in his own almost glowing behind the blue. "Well, originally I'm from Chicago. My parents moved to a little town called Angel Grove when I was almost two."

Moriarty removed his hand from Billy's jaw and his eyes narrowed. "Very well."

He went to the table and picked up one of the gadgets. Bringing it back, Billy looked to see something that reminded him of a caulking gun.

"I shall ask you one last time. Who are you, from what era have you come, and how did you make it here from that one?"

The chained young man ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes fixed on the gadget in Moriarty's hands. Fear thou not, for I am with thee....

He looked his captor in the eye. "Sorry, I can't tell you that."

Professor Moriarty closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Tsk-tsk. Very well, if you insist."

Reaching up, he pulled down the sleeve of the coveralls Billy was wearing and exposed his arm. Placing the nozzle of the "gun" against Billy's bicep, Moriarty pulled the trigger.

There was a quick sensation of pain in Billy's arm, and for a moment he thought he felt something actually enter it. Afterward there was nothing.

He looked up into Moriarty's eyes. "Eh--am I supposed to be feeling something?"

Moriarty gazed at him with his eyes half-closed. The grimace on his face was sickening. "Ah, you will, young man, you will. The pellet which I injected into your body was created by my associate Fenwick. It is meant to eat the very nutrients out of your body. Of course, you are the first person it has ever been tried on. We do not know exactly what it will do--nor the antidote made for it-- should you become wise and decide to talk. Until then...."

He snapped his fingers. Like some sort of trained dog, the little deformed man called Fenwick came in with a rag. Moriarty took it, then stepped forward, stuffing it in the captive's mouth and tying a hard knot behind his head.

"Good night. I hope to speak to you again soon." Moriarty said, bowing. He turned on his heel and went out the door, motioning for Fenwick to follow. His lackey sneered at Billy a moment, then hurried out behind his master, closing the door behind him.

The room went dark.

Back at Baker Street, Kimberly's head was feeling much better. She had now moved from her place on the couch and was looking out the window onto Baker Street.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Mitchel?" Holmes asked.

The woman jumped a bit. She hadn't heard him behind her.

"Yes, sir--thank you."

"Watson just contacted me. He will soon be back."

He turned back to the Irregulars. "In the meantime, he sent me these."

He produced three copies of a sketch, which to Kimberly's amazement looked remarkably like Billy. It must have come from the sketch the compudroid had taken while she had described him.

The three young people moved over to where Kimberly and Holmes stood.

"I want you three to take a copy of this each and search for the lady's husband yourselves. However--" he eyed each of them pointedly--"--I want no unecessary heroics. Is that quite understood? "

Wiggins glanced at Deidre. "No problem, Mister Holmes."

Deidre looked down at Tennyson, then back up at Holmes. "Don't worry, sir."

The look in Tennyson's large eyes was one of pure innocence. "Whirrrr-beep!"

Holmes rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Very well. Be off with you, then."

The three young people turned and headed for the door. Wiggins opened it and let Tennyson and then Deidre out, then headed out himself, closing the door behind him.

Kimberly gazed at the door a moment. The three almost reminded her of herself and her friends when they were that age.

She turned to Mister Holmes. "Sir, do those three help you often?"

The detective grinned. "Yes, Mrs. Mitchel, when they can. My associate Inspector Lestrade has gotten upset with me about it now and again, but the Irregulars are quite capable."

Kimberly glanced at the door again, a slight grin coming to her face as well.

"Well, should we go all together, or split up?" Wiggins asked, walking down the front steps of 221.

Deidre thought a moment. "We'd cover more ground if we went separately."

Tennyson's blond head bobbed in agreement.

Wiggins' eyes were downcast, but he said, "Yeah, you're right."

"Okay, then." said Deidre in an athouritative tone. "I'll head this way, "

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. "What the--Tennyson??"

The youngest Irregular had already launched his hoverchair into the air and headed away from Baker Street.

Wiggins chuckled, and Deidre rolled her eyes. "Ooh, he's so--"

"Determined?" Wiggins finished. "Independent?"

"A bloody pain," Deidre answered sharply, glaring. "Now let's go."

She turned on her heel and headed down the street. After sighing deeply and looking in the direction Tennyson had gone, Wiggins turned his back to Deidre and went the other way.

On to part 8!

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