Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse by Stephanie Osborn

arrange!”
    “I’ve no objection, of course, but why do you need me to play gooseberry?”
    “I don’t NEED you, per se ,” Holmes allowed. “It simply makes matters easier. If there is someone else about, a trusted friend, say, Leigh is less likely to become as demonstrative as she might, otherwise. She was always an affectionate child, and I shudder to think, if we were alone…”
    “But is she not a proper lady?” Watson asked, confused.
    “Oh, she is a lady, never doubt that,” Holmes vouched. “I did not mean to imply differently. But our previous relationship permits for a few more liberties than would otherwise be expected.”
    “How so?”
    A reminiscent smile spread across Holmes’ face at that.
    “She was an adventurous, precocious youngster, adorable in her own way,” he recalled. “And mischievous! The child Leigh delighted in pulling pranks. I had to watch my step around her, and no mistake! A very affectionate child, too—whenever I arrived at their house, I needs must brace myself against the hugs, or I risked being bowled over—you saw how she greeted me when we first arrived? Well, imagine that same greeting, hitting you about the knees! She fairly took the legs from under me once, shortly after I began working for the Professor. I landed on the floor like a thousand of brick, as the Americans say! She was intelligent, curious almost to a fault, and as devoted as any puppy. If she was around, I had a tiny, faithful shadow everywhere I went.” He sighed. “But evidently she—and the Professor—expect to pick up the relationship where it left off… and possibly expand upon it. And at her age now, that is… perilous waters.”
    “Waters you’d rather not plumb.”
    “Exactly.”
    Watson sighed irritably and heaved himself to his feet.
    “Well, grab your drawing pad and let us go, then,” he fussed. “Else she will come looking for you and overhear, and then we WILL have a situation.”
    Holmes caught up the pad, and they hastened back to the artefact tent, where Holmes managed to complete a rough sketch of the area’s topography before Leighton came looking for him for afternoon tea.
    * * *
    Watson considerately buffered Leighton’s affectionate nature from Holmes’ reserved sensibilities, managing to hide his own disconsolation from the young woman, though he had his serious doubts about whether Holmes was fooled. Others came and went, taking tea before returning to the dig, and soon Whitesell, Beaumont, Phillips, and Nichols-Woodall arrived to escort Holmes back to work. Leighton promptly excused herself, returning to her tent.
    Then Watson betook himself back to the tiny infirmary lean-to, alone.
    * * *
    As the group headed in the general direction of the artefact tent, the professor broke the silence.
    “I have it to understand you’ll be visiting us to-night, Holmes,” Whitesell said with a knowing grin. At the back of the group, Phillips blinked, then scowled.
    “Ah well, perhaps for a bit after dinner, Professor,” Holmes replied, drawing into himself and replacing his normal demeanour with an outward austerity, polite but reserved. Whitesell blinked at the sudden change. “Leighton wanted us all to have a nice long chat to find out what we’ve been doing in the last few years, so I suggested after-dinner drinks in your tent.” It wasn’t precisely a falsehood, but it was stretching the truth a bit; still, Holmes never batted an eyelash.
    “I… see,” Whitesell said, brows drawing together in thought. “Then I shall break out the tantalus 31 and have it at the ready.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    “Will,” Nichols-Woodall remarked at the door of the artefact tent, “after we perused the maps this morning, I’d like to suggest that perhaps it might behoove us to walk the site, and try to pick up some indications in the doing. In my experience, a bit of field work never hurt anything.”
    “Capital notion, old bean,” Whitesell agreed immediately. “I’m