My intention was to find Watson and Abberline without delay. If indeed Braithwaite's unfortunate demise was a purely singular event I needed to clear the matter from an ever complicating playing field. Much deeper events were afoot, Mycroft and Moriarty's involvement behoove deep contemplation and a clean slate was the utmost imperative.
The cabby stopped between two police black maria and awaited for me to alight. My immediate attention was drawn to the noticeably hostile crowd gathered in very close proximity.
"Professor asked me to drop you here Mr. H."
I offered the man a sovereign but his response was both surprising and illuminating.
"Already hired and recompensed for the day thank you sir. I will wait for your further instructions."
The mans muffler slipped a little as he spoke exposing just for a moment a very clean starched collar embellished with a red and blue striped tie. More interestingly was the tie pin emblazoned with a rather unique crest. A lion and unicorn supporting a shield enriched with the initial 'D'. A quick scan confirmed that the same crest had once proudly emblazoned the hansoms sides before being almost completely erased. Only the slightest outline was now discernible under the fresh black lacquer covering the panels. Refusing to allow further evidence of my indolent sibling's interest to distract me I proceeded to dissect the surroundings in detail.
"Rum turn of events Mr. H, two bodies this time!"
"Morning Lestrade, you seem to have been everywhere and touched everything as usual. Not one piece of evidence undisturbed!"
"I am nothing if not thorough in the pursuit of my duty Mr. H!"
As always the Inspector had adopted the appearance of a bookmaker rather than a detective, meticulously dressed in the rather novel lower middle class style adopted by lesser civil servants and non commissioned out of uniform officers.
"An excellent choice of hat Lestrade must have set you back a pretty penny or two."
"Fresh stock in the Army and Navy Mr. H. Took one look in the mirror and had no doubt. Two months salary but a man needs to be topped off correctly."
The silver grey derby certainly was striking. A little loose on the head for my liking, a man should wear the hat not vice versa I always believed. The slight indulgence of a pheasant cockade was a little tasteless.
"Fresh pomade and mustache wax too Lestrade. Bees-wax less I am much mistaken, with a hint of pine, very 'nouveau riche'."
I swear Lestrade puffed out like an inflating pig's bladder inside a Saville row tailored rugger ball. I am often sour it has been suggested, unnecessarily according to John, unwittingly per my own estimation. Perhaps I do not sugar coat simply for effect like some apothecaries prescriptive, but keeping the good side of law enforcement, Inspectors particularly had immense reward in both cooperation and access.
"You don't mind if I poke around a little Lestrade? Not that you will have missed a beat but just like to invest my own eyes."
"Be my guest Mr. H. No harm in a second opinion, even an amateur one like your self. Not that you haven't been remarkably helpful in the past when you funny little ways have struck on gold."
"Very decent of you to say Inspector, very obliged for the courtesy. Now don't let me keep you any longer with my unimportant jibber jabber. You be off about your official and vital duties. Yes indeed a very fine chapeau!"
The body contains approximately eight pints of blood. Two corpses a sum then of sixteen. The upstairs room of 137 Brick Lane had been literally painted red with a barbarity that defied comprehension. The eviscerated cadavers were hanging from hooks mounted either side of the single gas mantle, although whether for maximum light to perform the grizzly business or simply for effect was difficult to ascertain.
"I don't know quite what to make of it Holmes."
Doctor Delaney is without doubt a good surgeon, quite capable of the most advanced medical procedures of today but has little experience with the purely criminal.
"An unprecedented occurrence to western eyes beyond any doubt. Something quite beyond our every day European sensibilities."
"It's as if the poor souls were sliced into like ham hocks. Carved Holmes, repeatedly, for hours it would seem."
"Without the shadow of a doubt Delaney you are correct. The very skill in the matter is to make the effect last as long as possible. For hideous punishment it is and for a heinous offense without question."
"But the rummest thing there was no noise. The devils must have been in agony from the first incision, if one can call it that. Why didn't anyone hear a damned peep? Walls in these buildings are so thin you could hear a mouse fart through them."
"I would suggest you check their mouths. Probably a good deal of opiate powder therein."
"You have seen this before Holmes?"
"Not seen, no Delaney. Not witnessed personally, but I have read accounts that describe in some detail the events you here see played out. It is without question 'Lingchi', slow slicing, the slow accent of the mountain, the death of a thousand cuts. A punishment considered so severe that it is held over only for treason and patricide. In the hands of the skilled executioner such punishment might last many hours, in fact one tale tells of the victim surviving several days. The use of opium is well recorded. Some suggest it ensures the prisoner will not faint to fast, whilst others that it has quite the opposite effect and brings on a blessed stupefaction quickly."
"Chinese then you are saying Holmes. But why here man, it makes no sense."
Delaney was still mumbling as I left. No point feeding more information into his already frazzled mind, I had probably been too explicit as was. Without question some of my deductions would be passed to Lestrade and he would soon enough be banging at my door.
Fournier Street was crawling with traffic. The mÊlÃĐe caused by the events in Brick Lane had caused a major bottleneck and the crush of individuals and carts attempting to traverse between Whitechapel and Stepney had every spare Peeler on his toes running hither and thither. I managed to slide through the morass without being either felled outright or pick pocketed by the ever crowd present finger men. The junction with Commercial Street just ahead I darted into the protection of Itchy Park before there was a chance of my being spotted by either Watson or Abberline should they have need to raise their heads from the tankard of porter each would be imbibing happily in the Ten Bells.
Itchy Park was full, all seats taken and the overflow reclined on the flag stones between. The air was turgid with an atmosphere of gin fumes and unwashed bodies, an olfactory critique of the degradation spewed within this Church yard by an uncaring government and society. Christ Church rose above me in all its English Baroque splendor but was more far familiar to these poor wretches laying drunken within its shadow than to any of its intended gentrified parishioners.
"You needing something gov'ner?"
A young man, probably in his mid teens stepped into my path. He was dressed very sportingly for this locale and had a knowing twinkle in his eye that showed more worldly knowledge than was the general rule.
"I am looking for Jeremiah Flagstaff. You knows him?"
