The Revenge of the Mummy
by John Pirillo
Unknown to both Holmes and the Inspector, the terror they are tracking has already struck again. The Inspector, unable to take it anymore, stops short of leaping a longer jump this time. One he surely would have perished upon doing in his present fatigued condition.
Sherlock examined the other rooftop a long time, stooping, gathering things, sliding vials into his coat pocket, then looking elsewhere. Finally, he looked down the sides of the building, then stopped. He shook his head, then took a flying leap and landed near the Inspector, who had been sprawled on the rooftop, gasping for air.
"Really, Inspector, you do need to exercise more." Sherlock said, then went to the fire escape of that building and began descending."
He disappeared, much to the consternation of the beaten and frustrated Inspector, then reappeared. "Well, don't you want to know what I discovered?"
Sherlock disappeared again, then the Inspector got to his feet and almost tumbled down again. "I really do need to exercise more." He admitted softly.
"I heard that." Sherlock said from beneath the roof's edge.
"Drat those ears of his!" The Inspector cursed.
"I heard that too!" Sherlock said again.
This time the Inspector balled his hands into fists and headed for the fire escape. That detective would get no more ammunition from him to shoot him down.
"Remarkable!" Watson declared as he took samples of the woman's body. What remained that is. He looked up at Conan, who seemed a bit pale. "You all right?"
"And you are?" Conan blasted back.
Watson stood up, placing his last sample vial into his bag, then eyed the wall above the landing. "It would appear that our victim was attacked by the same monster that struck at the Theater last night."
"Apparently." Conan said, reluctant to give up the fight, but realizing it was no good. He eyed the glistening trail up the side of the buildng.
Watson reached up and took a sample, placed it into a new vial, bagged it then looked down the landing. Shook his head, then eyed the wall next to the landing. "It would appear that whatever it was decided that after consuming the woman, that it had other places to attend to."
Then he noticed a kind of deep scrape that ran parallel to the slime trail. He looked up again and saw that it proceeded from the rooftop.
He turned to Clive and Rick, who were both in their overcoats and shivering violently as the night breeze picked up Small flurries of snow were drifting down as well. "You say that this woman worked for you, am I right?"
"Did." Clive admitted sourly. He looked ready to throw up again, but stifled it, not wanting to appear too ungentlemanly or weak. "She was fifteen minutes late when we found this...her." He corrected himself. "On the landing."
Rick came forward. "Our reception went out about ten minutes before that according to the manager."
"Interesting." Watson declared.
Conan looked at Watson. "You good at climbing walls?"
"No, but I'm good at scaling a ladder."
"Gentlemen. I assume you have a roof entrance in your flat?"
"We do." Clive admitted, giving Watson an odd look. "Why would you need that?"
Watson didn't answer, he went into the radio station, looked up until he found the hatch to the roof towards the rear. "Fetch me a ladder. Would you please, old man?"
Clive nodded and went into a closet and came out with a step ladder and unfolded it beneath the hatch. Watson climbed to near the top, then eyed Conan. "A little support would be appreciated."
"Sorry." Conan apologized. His eyes had been on a picture of Lilly, before she had been murdered. "She was a beautiful woman."
Rick nodded. "Very. Now." He almost sobbed, then looked away.
Conan put a comforting hand on his shoulder, then a hand on the stepladder.
Watson shoved against the rooftop hatch and it squeaked a bit, but didn't give.
"Try this." Clive said, offering his broom.
Watson took it and struck the hatch. It broke free, and flipped open, revealing the snowy skies. As tiny fluffs of snow fell into his face, he examined the hatchway, then reached up and swung down an folding ladder. It dropped to the floor.
Watson dropped from the stepladder, then began climbing the new ladder, followed by Conan and the others. They reached the rooftop and snow was about an inch thick there. Immediately, their breaths began to silver the air with plumes of curls.
"Blimey, it's cold tonight!" Conan swore.
"Rick!" Clive hollered.
Rick ran over to where Clive was gaping at a chimney where a huge chunk of it was broken away and some wiring had fallen into the snow. Watson and Conan hurried over.
"What is it?" Watson asked, looking at the debris.
"Our broadcast antenna is missing." Rick answered.
"You look shocked. Whoever came down the side of the building, obviously broke it on the way across the rooftop."
"You don't understand." Rick explained. "The antenna weighs more than three men could carry."
Watson and Conan exchanged glances.
"You're sure of that?" Conan asked.
"Of course, I am!" Rick exploded. "Do you dare to accuse me of being ignorant of my own work?"
Clive put a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Easy, Rick, he's just doing his job." He turned to Conan and gave him a closer look. "You are just doing your job...wait, aren't you...?
Conan nodded. "Yes, and this man beside me is Watson."
"You blokes are more famous than Her Majesty." Clive crossed himself quickly and looked around to see if anyone else was listening. Just that moment a very bedraggled Inspector climbed up the ladder from inside and onto the roof. He was followed by several Constables.
"How is it that you beat me to his murder scene?" The Inspector demanded suspiciously.
Conan looked at the man. He didn't like him much. "Doing our job. Which it looks like you've been a bit lax on of late."
"Conan!" Watson warned.
Conan shrugged off Watson's advice. "We're all sick and tired of this foul play, just as you are, and if any one of us can make this better, we dratted well better and in a hurry. As the creature or man or whatever it is has now claimed three victims!"
The Inspector gave Conan a very, very cold glare, then turned to Watson. "You will, of course, share any samples you discovered?"
"You may be reassured."
The Inspector nods to his Constables and they climb off the roof. He starts to go until Watson stops him with a grip on his arm. "Yes?"
"Where' s Sherlock?"
"I don't know. He left me on a fire escape and I haven't seen him since."
Just that moment the sound of a weapon firing is heard. The Inspector rushes to the edge of the roof to see where the shot came from. Below in the street they see Sherlock with his weapon aimed at the rooftop opposing them.
They turn that way to look and in the deepest of shadows something hides there, its eyes are horrible looking and wrong!