Flatmates and Spies Vol.1: Flatmates and Spies, #1

By Cay Reet

These are the first three missions of Jamie Moriarty and Sherringford Holmes:

The Cannon Plans

With the prices for flats in London, it seems prudent to share rooms and rent. Yet, when you room with a man called 'Holmes', weird things can happen. Jamie Moriarty and Sherringford Holmes find themselves under pressure by the secret service. Yet, never try to intimidate a mastermind - unless you wish to employ him afterwards. Once members of the secret service, Jamie and Sherringford have to bring back plans for a new cannon design before they are sold.

The Chess Master

Jamie Moriarty and Sherringford Holmes have settled into their lives as spies for the secret service when they're given the task to take care of a Russian chess master on a visit to Britain. When they realize the chess master is barely a chess master, things get more interesting than expected. And when Jamie stumbles over the truth, only his Irish roots save his life. Will Jamie and Sherringford be able to stop a Fenian try on her Majesty's life?

The Scarlet Madam

Blackmail is a dirty business. Selling state secrets is no less dirty. When Jamie Moriarty and Sherringford Holmes are drawn into a mission which includes both, they are not only working under pressure to end this before all secrets are sold, they are also up against the freshly-returned Great Detective - and for Sherringford, this is a personal matter. Will Jamie and Sherringford complete the mission and beat the great Sherlock Holmes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cay Reet
• Release date: Nov 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201956608

Book preview

The Cannon Plans

One

It was around the time at which Dr. John H. Watson released the story he titled The Final Problem that I was having problems of my own, if less final ones. I was living in a crowded boarding house where most walls were rather new and thin, cramming more rooms into an old city house by breaking up the house’s well-sized original rooms. Since my work at that time often took me outside during the evening and the early night, the arrangement wasn’t a good one for me — the landlord refused to hand his lodgers latch keys and refused to open the doors for anyone returning later than ten o’clock in the evening, so whenever I had work, I had to stay out the whole night, which often was quite uncomfortable, especially in the colder and foggier seasons, as they come and go in London. Therefore, I was picking up the Times every morning in order to look into the flats for rent.

On the morning on which my life took a new turn, I had found a suitable-looking flat in the papers and made my way from the small inn where I took breakfast — with my boarding house not serving any — to the address mentioned in the paper. While not outright fashionable, the shabby genteel area would still be a step up from my current lodgings. A flat instead of a small room and a breakfast at home every day — not to mention the other meals — would also be a welcome change and might even spare me a few expenses.

As I arrived at the address, another man was leaving the house with a long face, which didn’t bode too well. Maybe the flat was taken already? I still went to the entrance door and rang the bell, refusing to give up before I had even tried.

A woman in her early forties opened the door for me, mustering me critically. You are here for the flat?

Yes, ma’am. I lifted my hat for a moment and bowed slightly.

Come in. There’s another gentleman still looking, but it can’t hurt for both of you to be inside and have a look.

I followed her into the house. Clearly, the flat on the ground floor was not what she was renting out — it was more likely to be her own flat —, but we took the narrow staircase up one floor, where she opened the door to the left of the stairs and waved me inside.

The sitting room, she intoned, although the room was definitely furnished as a sitting room, so no explanation was necessary.

Glancing out of the window was another man — the gentleman already looking at the flat, no doubt. He turned upon hearing her voice, his grey eyes focusing on me. I bowed slightly, but didn’t immediately introduce myself. Neither did he do so.

I’ll leave you gentlemen to look around, the woman said, turning and closing the door behind her.

I nodded to the man and took in the sitting room. As far as rooms go, it wasn’t bad — a little on the small side, but with good, sturdy furniture that didn’t look too shabby. Being a smaller room, it would also be easy to warm up with the fireplace during the winter, which was certainly good. Having grown up further north, I didn’t mind winters in London in general, but I did prefer a warm room when I came back from outside strolls or preparations for my work.

There’s two bedrooms here, the other man said, pointing to two doors at the back of the room. It seems a shame to leave one unused.

It does, I agreed. London has a dearth of bedrooms.

He sighed softly. I have to admit this is a little too expensive for me alone and I was on the verge of telling the landlady that I’m not interested, but with you coming in … could you imagine sharing the flat with me?

I mustered him for a moment. In addition to being grey-eyed, as already mentioned, he was tall and slender enough to be called thin by some, looking even taller than he was. His narrow face was dominated by a hawkish nose, but amiable and animated. His clothing was firmly rooted in the conservative, the dark suit and overcoat looking very much like those of every clerk in the city. I knew what he was seeing, of course, being quite aware of my own average height and lean build, my blond hair and dark eyes, and my rather forgettable face which was quite useful in my line of work. My clothing was a tad less conservative than his — I still prefer a splash of colour usually delivered by my waistcoat and always have —, but I certainly didn’t look like a wealthy man or a fob, either.

I keep unusual hours and am sometimes coming in rather late, apart from that I think I’m rather easy to live with, I informed him.

Well, I work in Whitehall, which is one reason why I’d like to rent this flat … I won’t have a long commute each morning and there is a bus stop not too far away.

Having noticed it as I arrived, I nodded to that. So you are away for most of the day while I will often be away in the evening, giving both of us rather unrestricted use of the sitting room in our spare time.

It seems like it. What do you say?

I wouldn’t mind, Mr. …?

He flushed slightly and his answer explained the flush well. Holmes … Sherringford Holmes. Your name is…?

Moriarty … Jamie Moriarty. No relations to the man dubbed the Napoleon of Crime. It was a necessary lie, yet I had never met my father, the professor, in my life. Perhaps a few years from then he would have been interested in me as a possible successor, but with his death in Switzerland a year earlier, it would never come to a meeting between us.

He relaxed a little. No relations to Sherlock Holmes, either. A smile appeared on his lips, lighting up his whole face. What a strange coincidence, though…

Yes, what a strange coincidence. Clearly, this Mr. Holmes was, indeed, an amiable man — and amiable people are usually easy to live with. I prided myself on being an easy person to share a flat with, too, so we should get on well together.

Shall we ask the landlady about it?

That would be wise, yes. She might not want to rent the flat to two people … despite the two bedrooms. Let me just take a quick look at them.

Both bedrooms were very similar — longish and narrow, having merely a bed, a wardrobe, a wash stand which also served as a chest of drawers, and a desk with a chair tucked under it —, but that was all I was really looking for, given I would have a sitting room to spend my time in.

Returning to the sitting room, I turned to my new flatmate-to-be. The bedrooms are functional, which is good enough for a room I only plan to sleep in. Yes, if you are prepared to run the risk of rooming with a man you haven’t met before, I am prepared to do the same.

Excellent! He still smiled brightly.

We went downstairs together, finding the landlady waiting for us. Well, gentlemen?

I would like to ask you a few more questions, I told her. First of all, since there’s two bedrooms in this flat, we would like to rent it together. Will that be possible?

She nodded curtly. Of course. Would be a waste to leave one bedroom empty, anyway.

Will latch keys be included?

Yes, you will receive a latch key each. I don’t want to have to run to the door or send a servant to the door whenever you arrive.

That was important for me, because it meant I would be able to return late without any fuss or anyone knowing about my comings and goings on some days.

What about meals? my future flatmate asked.

Meals are included in the rent, but I would like to know in advance when you’re not around for one of them, the landlady answered calmly.

That, too, was good news for me. I would be able to pay a higher rent if it included meals, since I was often in during the day and could take all my meals at home.

Mr. Holmes seemed to have similar thoughts. On most days, I should manage to come home for a quick lunch, so I’m glad I will have the chance to do so. On the days on which I can’t, I will certainly inform you.

So will I when I’m not going to take a meal at home, I added.

You will take the flat, then? the landlady asked, mustering us. I could certainly do worse with lodgers, you both seem rather amiable gentlemen to me.

We both nodded and said yes at the same time. That is how Mr. Holmes and I became flatmates.

* * *

We soon discovered that living together worked out well for us — Sherringford Holmes was out during the day, working as a clerk in Whitehall, and I was often out during the evening and the night, doing my own work. My work consisted of getting into offices and carefully copying new designs for machinery for my clients. Not legal, not even slightly, but well-paying and not overly dangerous. It also was a very good use of my drawing skills — and other, more unusual skill sets I had learned as a child and adolescent.

One evening two months later, while I was staying at home, Mrs. Smythe, our landlady, came up with a telegram for my flatmate.

He took it from her, studied it, and sighed, his usual affable mien falling from his face. Miss Smythe, I’m afraid I will have to pass on dinner tonight … unless you can make it a supper for me. My brother has requested a visit from me which I can’t refuse.

He went into his bedroom, dropping the telegram on a nearby casual table on the way. I’m not usually in the habit of spying on my flatmates, but in this case I was curious as to which kind of message would distress my amiable flatmate that much. There was just one line: Come to the club at once. What was more telling for me, was the signature which came with it: Mycroft. It seemed as if I hadn’t been the only person lying about their relationships the day we’d rented the rooms. Putting the telegram back precisely as I’d found it — easy for me after all those times I’d moved and replaced documents on other people’s desks —, I was back in my chair with my book by the time Mr. Holmes came back out.

He noticed the telegram and picked it up, pushing it in the pocket of his dark overcoat. I’ll better see what my brother wants…

Yes, that is wise. I nodded to him.

Once he had left, I rose from my seat, grabbed my coat and boots from my own room, and hurried down the stairs. In passing, I informed Mrs. Smythe that I would make things easier for her with the evening meal and come back in time for supper, too, so she wouldn’t have to prepare a meal twice, which made her quite happy.

Sherringford Holmes didn’t make for the bus stop, but then, we were about ten minutes by foot from the entrance to Whitehall, which made it possible for my flatmate to have lunch at home on most workdays. Instead, he made for a discreet entrance door with a discreet plaque next to it — the Diogenes Club. From all I could see, he was, indeed, related to Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Yet, from all I had heard about the family, and not just from Dr. Watson, he had to be the odd one out among them, given his usually amiable behaviour and missing eccentricities.

Should I call him out on this, though? I didn’t feel like I had the right to it, having lied about my own family as well. While my parents were never married, my father had recognized me as his son, which was why I bore his last name and not my mother’s. I was, for all intents and purposes, but for little money, if any, the son of Professor James Moriarty, known to the public, thanks to Dr. Watson, as the Napoleon of Crime. I was keeping a criminal lifestyle myself, copying vital information for my clients so they could use the same technical means as their competitors. Upon coming to London, I had sustained myself partially by pick-pocketing, another part of my unusual skill sets. This, however, wasn’t even the most serious secret I carried with me. Before I could come to a decision about this problem, it was taken from my hands by my flatmate storming out of the club, crossing the street, and almost walking into me.

His eyes widened as he recognized me. Mr. Moriarty … this is…

…awkward for sure, I finished his sentence. I should admit that I have read your telegram when you left it on the table … I was surprised by how much it changed your mood.

My brothers can certainly do that, he admitted. I have lied to you, as you have probably surmised already.

I have.

I am just tired of being compared to them … to Sherlock by anyone I meet, to Mycroft by all of my colleagues in Whitehall. I am, when all is said and done, the family idiot, after all.

Certainly that isn’t true! While Sherringford Holmes might not be as highly intelligent a man as his brothers, his intellect was well on the upper end of the regular range.

If you live with Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, he answered with a sad smile, it is.

Well, I haven’t been quite honest with you, either…

You are related to…?

Yes. I sighed. I have never met my father in my life, but it is true that he was Professor James Moriarty. My parents were not married, but he recognized me as his son and heir and so I bear his last name … and a variety of his forename, too. I came to London in the middle of the hullabaloo about his disappearance and the arrests of all of his henchmen, so I found it wise to deny any relations to him. Moriarty is, when all is said and done, not that unusual a name.

It is not, he admitted, neither is Holmes, so we can both simply deny our relationships with those we don’t wish to be related to. Suddenly, his face brightened again. Yet, it is a very strange coincidence that we should be sharing a flat, you and I.

His smile was rather infective and so I smiled as well. Yes, it is a very strange coincidence. I checked my watch. I told Mrs. Smythe I, too, would only be back for supper. What do you think about a drink and a little chat before we return to our rooms?

I like the idea. Very well, let me show you a pub I visit with my colleagues every now and then.

Lead the way…

Two

Four months afterwards, I came back from a short walk to find Sherringford — by then, we were on first-name terms — already at home, sitting in front of the fire and looking glum. Since he wasn’t a man for brown studies, that alarmed me.

What happened? Bad news from your brother? His health, perhaps?

He didn’t look up. Bad news, yes, but not from Mycroft. For Mycroft, rather. He sighed deeply, which was very much not a regular habit for him. Jamie, I’m out of employment.

Oh. I sat down in a chair close to him. Did you make a serious mistake?

He shook his head. No, it wasn’t anything I did or failed to do. The whole department I worked at has been closed, everyone has been let go … except for my superior, I’m sure they will find him some new post. Again, he sighed. I can already imagine what Mycroft will have to say about that … he arranged the position for me, as he’s been wont to do since I left college.

You’re going to miss this position?

No … it was boring and tedious work. Yet, it kept me employed and there was regular pay. There are a lot of bad things about the government which one can talk about all day, but they hand out payments in time … always.

Your brother will find you something again, I’m sure. Since Mycroft Holmes was of the opinion that his brother was too stupid to lead a life of his own, it was a legitimate guess.

Yes, without doubt. He sighed again. Sometimes I wish he would not.

How so?

The work is always boring and tedious, not challenging my intellect the slightest. I am good at copying letters and documents, no doubt, but that is far from all I can do.

You do have very good handwriting, I agreed, but it’s not the only skill you have.

It’s not … unless you ask my brother. I will be able to pay the rent for about two months, then I need to find new employment to stay … I’m sorry.

There is no reason to apologize. We will make it work and I’m sure you will find new employment in time.

Hopefully…

* * *

The very next afternoon, as I was returning from another walk, spying on a company I might have to visit at night one of these days, Mrs. Smythe stopped me on the way to the staircase.

There’s a horrible man with Mr. Holmes, she told me, a frown on her face. A horrible man! Rude and violent, too, I’m sure.

That worried me, naturally. Sherringford wasn’t the kind of man who would have rude and violent visitors, he was by far to personable for that. I walked upstairs and listened at the door for a moment. A loud, rough voice was coming from inside, but I couldn’t understand what it was saying. I pushed the door open and walked into the room. Sherringford was standing by the far wall, our unfriendly visitor standing toe to toe with him, but turning as he heard the door.

Go away! he bellowed in my direction.

I do have several different ‘airs’ to apply, if need be. When I’m moving among the more criminal, I let a bit of my father’s blood fuse with mine, a little suggestion of the Napoleon of Crime. This air I called up, letting it bleed into my stance, my glance, and my words as I addressed the man. I live here. It is you, I believe, who should go.

He turned and stepped up to me, trying to intimidate me with his taller and far broader frame. It didn’t work.

Leave, I told him, allowing a little more of my father’s ruthless blood to come to the forefront.

For a few seconds, he stared at me, but it was a stare of disbelief and budding fear. I doubt many people in his life ever gave him orders, unless they employed him — something I surely didn’t do. My icy look didn’t warm any, I studied him like a scientist might study a specimen and he realized that I wasn’t intimidated by him, quite the opposite, I was studying him to find his weaknesses to exploit them. Without another word, he walked past me and thundered down the stairs.

You were quite scary there… Sherringford commented, stepping away from the wall.

Well, that was what my father left me, I’m afraid. I found out a while ago that I can appear much more intimidating than I am by nature.

You certainly can, even I was intimidated and you didn’t aim that gaze at me.

I walked to the window and glanced outside — our visitor was walking towards Whitehall. Are you up for a hunt, Sherringford?

A hunt?

I want to see whom our visitor reports to. Are you game?

Yes, I am, but I need some time to get ready.

"I’ll