Epilogue
It was exactly one year later. Sam and his father strolled slowly along Leith Walk. The madness of the Edinburgh Festival had finally subsided as the hours stretched themselves into darkness. Sam kept glancing at his watch. It was eight minutes to midnight and his excitement was steadily mounting. They reached the little square at Picardy Place and there was Sherlock, standing up on his plinth, his pipe gripped in one hand, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,’ said Dad.
Sam smiled. He indicated a wooden bench just a short distance from the statue and he and his dad took a seat. They sat there, staring up at the bronze detective. Sam had worked on Dad steadily throughout the year, reminding him, nagging him, telling him that he had to let him do this, it was the only thing he wanted, it would do instead of a birthday or a Christmas present. On August the second, come hell or high water, he had to be in Edinburgh.
‘I don’t know what you think is going to happen,’ insisted Dad.
‘Maybe nothing,’ said Sam. ‘Maybe we’ll just blink and then we’ll go back to the hotel.’
Over the year, Dad had somehow managed to convince himself that he’d been suffering from hallucinations in that moment when Sam had arrived with reinforcements; that what had happened in the cottage must have all been in his head. Because it was insane, when you thought about it. Statues didn’t move. Statues didn’t talk. And they certainly didn’t step through portals and vanish into thin air. Sam had allowed him to think whatever he wanted, but he’d still quietly insisted that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. This year’s holiday would have to be a trip to the Edinburgh Festival.
Sam glanced again at his watch. One minute to midnight. He didn’t know what he’d do if he just blinked and suddenly it was 12.01. He supposed he’d have to live with it, but he also knew that the disappointment would be absolutely crushing. He’d been anticipating this moment all year long. There was unfinished business here and he didn’t want to leave it that way.
The last few seconds ticked by and he held his breath.
‘What happens if…?’ Dad’s question was interrupted by the tolling of an iron bell, somewhere off in the distance. Sam waited for Dad to continue but he didn’t and when Sam looked at him, his saw that his father’s eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically.
‘Dad?’ Sam lifted a hand to shake his father’s shoulder but he didn’t wake. ‘Dad?’ He was sleeping very soundly.
Just then there was a clattering sound from the direction of the road and Sam lifted his head to look. Two tall spindly shapes were racing madly along the road, their metal hooves striking sparks in the gloom. Sam got up from the bench for a better look as they clattered on by, their cable tails lashing.
‘Dreaming Spires,’ he murmured.
‘The zoo,’ said a familiar voice in the air above him and he turned in surprise to look up at Sherlock. The bronze detective was smiling down at him. ‘They go to the zoo. I worked it out. It came to me quite suddenly in February. It was elementary. After all, where else would creatures go when they think they’re giraffes? They can’t make it all the way to Africa, can they?’
Sam grinned delightedly. ‘It worked,’ he said.
‘I’m here.’
‘Of course you are! Mind you, we still don’t really know why.’ Sherlock slipped the pipe into his pocket and clambered carefully down off his plinth. He had a bit of a stretch and then came closer. ‘You’re no longer suffering from amnesia so we can eliminate the Colonel’s theory. It must have been something that happened to your brain when you got that bump on the noggin. Something permanent, perhaps.’ He towered over Sam, smiling down at him. ‘So, how’s Ed?’ he asked.
‘He’s gone. I’m Sam Watson now.’
‘I appreciate that, but to some of us you’ll always be Ed Fest.’ Sherlock smiled, glanced over to the bench where Dad was still fast asleep. ‘So you managed to talk him into coming here. How has he been?’
‘Oh, he’s been okay. He’s back at work and everything. But he doesn’t really believe it all happened.’
Sherlock chuckled. ‘I can’t say I blame him. And how did everything go after I er… left?’
Sam shrugged. ‘It was complicated. The police didn’t really believe our story, but we stuck to it, like you told us to, even when some of the neighbours said they’d seen…’ He couldn’t help chuckling. ‘… statues going into the house.’
‘As if such a thing could happen!’
‘But it’s like I told them… once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’
Sherlock smiled. ‘You’re learning, my dear Watson… and I suspect you’ve been reading some of Sir Arthur’s stories.’
Sam grinned. ‘Yeah, I’ve read a few of them now. They’re really good.’
‘And what happened to Myles and his unsavoury crew?’
‘They went to jail. Myles was really called Tobias, by the way, and he worked for the same firm as my dad, just like you figured. Turned out he had all these gambling debts and he was trying to buy his way out of trouble.’
Sherlock nodded. ‘I thought it would be something like that,’ he said. ‘It all sounds depressingly typical.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked. ‘You’ve managed to be here for another Calling, so…’
‘I’d like to visit everyone,’ said Sam eagerly. ‘All my friends here, I mean. The Colonel, David Livingstone… even Mad Willy.’
‘Well, I’m perfectly happy to act as your guide,’ said Sherlock. ‘And I know James has been dying to ask you a few questions.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Sam. ‘I’m up for that.’ He glanced at his dad’s still form, sitting on the wooden bench. ‘Will he be okay?’ he asked.
‘Of course he will. We’ll have you back here at midnight, I’ll pop back on my plinth, and he’ll wake as soon as the bells chime. He’ll think he’s simply blinked.’ Sherlock thought for a moment. ‘It’s probably best if you pretend that’s all that happened to you too. Act disappointed. You can do that, can’t you?’
Sam nodded. ‘Sure. And…’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I was thinking… this time around, I wouldn’t mind calling at the Agon. I’d like to see what goes on there.’
Sherlock sighed. ‘Well, as it happens, I’m actually planning to attend the ceremony this year.’
Sam was surprised to hear this. ‘You are? But I thought you hated it.’
‘I do, rather, but this year’s a bit different. I’m being given some kind of… medal. For valour.’
‘Wow. How did you get that?’
‘By helping you, of course! Colonel Alexander put in a good word for me. Oh, you know these military types, they love handing out medals! Of course it was too late to organise anything for last year. But I was told by several statues what they had planned for me this time, just before I climbed back on my plinth. Apparently Sir Walter told everyone last year that he was planning to compose a heroic ballad about my adventures in Manchester.’ Sherlock made a face. ‘One has to be polite, but it sounds like an awful prospect.’
‘And what will Charlie have to say about it?’
‘Ah! Charlie can’t say very much at all,’ said Sherlock. ‘You see, when I got back last time, the Colonel was already telling people about the king’s dastardly attempts to have you silenced. It caused some bad feeling. Statues are supposed to stand by their word of honour, especially when they’re royalty. Apparently, at last year’s Agon there was a big scene when David Livingstone stood up and denounced the king in front of everyone! After that, there was a public vote and it was decided that Charles and Victoria should rule together in future, so that neither could embark on any action without the agreement of the other.’
‘Wow. That’s big,’ said Sam.
‘It is indeed.’ Sherlock smiled with evident pleasure. ‘It’s already been implemented. Of course, you will still need to keep an eye out for Charlie. He’ll doubtless blame you for his downfall and he’s not the sort to forget a slight easily. At the same time, he can’t do anything too obvious or he’ll bring even more disapproval down on his head. He’d need to be…’
‘Circumspect?’ suggested Sam and they both laughed.
‘Suffice to say, if Charlie isn’t very careful, Victoria could well be ruling the city alone by next year.’
‘Oh, we should visit her too,’ suggested Sam. ‘She was cool.’
‘Why not? She’s only a little way up the road. Why don’t we begin with her?’ Sherlock started walking and Sam fell into step alongside him. ‘She’ll doubtless be getting ready for her annual visit from Prince Albert, but I’m sure she’ll spare us a few moments.’
‘This time, I’ll have the whole twenty-four hours,’ said Sam, eagerly.
Sherlock nodded. ‘You know, we could think about making this a yearly event,’ he said. ‘Provided of course, you don’t lose the gift of staying awake when the bell chimes.’
‘Do you suppose it might wear off one day?’ asked Sam, worried by the thought. ‘Like, you know, when I’m older.’
‘I think the trick is to never stop believing,’ said Sherlock.
They continued on along the road. They’d only walked a short distance when Sam turned his head at the sound of frantic barking. Coming along the road behind them was a little bronze Skye Terrier with a bright golden nose.
‘Bobby!’ cried Sam.
‘Oh my giddy aunt,’ said Sherlock.
And the three of them walked on together.