Young Sherlock Holmes: Fire Storm

advice – hold your nose whenever you pass by that place.’ He shook his head. ‘I heard a story about one of the blokes who worked in there. He was trying to mix the skins around in the big tank they have, using a long stick, but he overbalanced and fell in.’

Sherlock felt his eyes widen. ‘Fell into the . . . ?’

‘Exactly.’

‘What happened?’

‘He drowned.’

‘Drowned in . . . ?’

‘Yeah.’ He shuddered. ‘When I die I want to die quietly, in my sleep. Not drowning in a bath of—’

‘We’ve got to get in there,’ Sherlock said decisively.

‘What?’

‘I said, we’ve got to get in there.’

‘Are you mad?’

‘Josh Harkness went in there.’

‘Yes. I know. That was my point. Not only does that place smell worse than the wooden outhouse you rescued me from in that American railway station last year – which, by the way, smelled like someone had got stuck and died – but it’s also got inside it the most dangerous man within a hundred miles. There are times when I wonder about you, Sherlock.’

Sherlock sighed. ‘Look, I wish it wasn’t necessary, but he’s got some information about my family. He’s blackmailing my aunt and uncle. They’re nice people. They’ve never done anybody any harm, and they’ve looked after me and fed me for over a year now. I owe it to them to do something.’ He gazed down the street, feeling a grim expression settle across his face. ‘I’ve decided that I don’t like blackmailers.’

‘All right.’ Matty looked around. ‘Going through that door would be a waste of time. Harkness probably locked it behind him, and even if he didn’t we don’t know where it opens out. Might be right into a room full of people. There’s a broken window round the corner. We could probably get in that way.’

‘How come you know there’s a broken window round the corner?’

Matty looked at Sherlock with exasperation. ‘I know where all the broken windows in Farnham are – just in case I need them. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that people leave out on kitchen tables. Although in this case I decided never to use the window as soon as I found out what was in there and who owned it.’

Sherlock frowned. ‘I wonder why Harkness doesn’t get it repaired.’

Matty shrugged. ‘Maybe he knows that nobody in their right mind would ever burgle the place, knowing who he is, an’ all. Maybe it lets some fresh air inside. Lord knows, it needs a stiff breeze running through.’

Sherlock nodded, and led the way around the corner, walking along the street and past the closed door through which Harkness had entered the building. He deliberately didn’t look sideways just in case the door was open a crack and Harkness was looking out, watching for people following him. The confidence with which he’d walked away from the market suggested that he didn’t expect to be followed or didn’t care if he was, but Sherlock couldn’t take the chance. Maybe the man was trickier than he looked.

Sherlock’s skin crawled as he passed the door. He half expected it to spring open. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he left it behind him and reached the next corner.

Matty was right beside him. Together they turned into a deserted cobbled alley.

The wall of the tannery formed one side of the alley. Sherlock could see the window that Matty had mentioned. It was about eight feet off the ground, and the glass was cobwebby. The lower right-hand pane was missing.

The smell emanating from the hole in the window made Sherlock want to turn around and be sick. Instead, he deliberately clenched his stomach muscles and swallowed a couple of times. He couldn’t afford to let his body betray him. He had work to do.

He glanced at the window: too high for him to pull himself up, and the plaster of the wall looked as if it would crumble under his feet if he tried to get purchase against it. He had to think of another way to get through.

‘I’ll boost you up on my shoulders,’ he said to Matty. ‘You open the window and get in, then you’ll have to pull me up.’

‘Not going to work,’ Matty said firmly. ‘Take it from an expert at getting into buildings. I can get up and in the window, no problem, but I can’t take your weight for long enough to pull you in after me.’ He grimaced. ‘We’ll have to do it the other way round. I’ll bend over – you climb on my back, get in the window and pull me up and in.’

Sherlock’s gaze moved between the high window and Matty’s small form. He nodded reluctantly. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want to hurt you.’

Matty shrugged. ‘Stuff happens,’ he said casually. ‘But bruises and scratches heal. Frankly, if your boot in my face is the worst thing that happens to me today, I’ll be as happy as Larry.’

‘Who’s Larry?’ Sherlock asked.

Matty stared at him. ‘It’s just an expression,’ he said. ‘People say it all the time.’

‘I’ve never heard it.’

‘As I said, you should get out more. Mix with people.’ He smiled. ‘Now come on – you’re wasting time.’ He bent over, bracing his hands against his thighs. ‘Get up there quickly. You’re just as thin as you were when we first met, but I think you’ve put on some muscle in the meantime, and muscle is heavy.’

Before he could reconsider, Sherlock put his right knee on to Matty’s back and then brought his left foot up, boosting himself until he was standing upright. Matty grunted, but his back remained steady. Quickly Sherlock reached in through the hole in the window and felt around for the catch. He undid it, then, pulling his hand back, slid the window open. He jumped for the opening, feeling Matty move beneath his feet as he did so. Sherlock’s stomach caught against the window frame, and he wriggled inside. The wood scraped against his skin. Before he could fall to the floor, he caught himself and crouched, looking around.

He was in a small room that was empty of people but filled with boxes. Up against one wall was a wooden chute like a child’s slide, set on its end. The floor was about five feet below the edge of the windowsill – obviously built up a couple of feet from where the ground was. That made things easier. He lowered himself to the floorboards, turned and leaned out of the window. Matty was looking upward expectantly. When he saw Sherlock he extended his hand. Sherlock reached down and pulled him up. His friend was surprisingly heavy, and Sherlock felt the muscles in his back protesting, but he managed to haul the boy in through the window without causing himself permanent damage.

Together they moved past the boxes to where a door interrupted the wall. It was closed. Sherlock turned the knob and edged it open an inch.

Through the gap he saw a large room that occupied the centre of the building. A raised walkway ran around the edge of the room, with several doors leading off and a gap on the right that presumably led to the door to the street, but most of it was at the same level as the ground outside. In the middle of the room were four wooden vats, like the bottom halves of enormous barrels. Inside each one was a liquid. In two of the barrels the liquid was discoloured and lumpy, like soup, with bubbles rising slowly to the surface, but in the other two it was clearer, more like water.

The smell rising from the vats was so strong that Sherlock could swear he saw the air itself rippling above them.

‘I ain’t going to eat for a week now,’ Matty complained in a whisper.

‘Breathe through your nose,’ Sherlock suggested.

‘I am. What I need to do is breathe through my ears.’

There was no sign of Josh Harkness, but there were two other men in the room. They were moving from vat to vat, using wooden poles as long as their bodies to swirl the contents around. Each time they did so, the smell got momentarily worse.

‘I know those blokes,’ Matty said. ‘They go round town collecting cash for Harkness. They’re bad news.’

Sherlock looked at the various closed doors. One of them presumably sheltered Josh Harkness. He didn’t dare explore until he knew where the blackmailer was.

As the thought crossed his mind a door across the other side of the room opened and Harkness emerged. He wasn’t holding the letter any more.

‘Keep stirring them leathers,’ he yelled at the men by the vats. ‘That last batch came out patchy and baggy. I