Stone Cold Read Free Page A

his logical thoughts and his ability to see through complex problems to the simple truths that lay within them into a full-time career – but as what?
Some kind of policeman? A secret agent, maybe, like the ones that obviously reported to his brother?
    He sighed. Life appeared to get more and more complicated the older he got.
    That thought led on naturally to thoughts of Virginia Crowe. He had, in the past, assumed that she and he would have some kind of life together, although he had never dared wonder at the nature
of that life. It had just seemed that she would always be there for him, and him for her. But she was in America now, engaged to be married to someone else, and her father – the man who had
taught Sherlock more in two years than he had learned in his entire life up to that point – was probably teaching someone else’s son. Life, it would appear, had other plans for
Sherlock.
    It would be nice, he reflected bitterly, if life could actually let him know what those plans were.
    The concert came to an end. The violinist took several curtain calls as the applause kept on coming. Stone was on his feet, clapping wildly. Sherlock joined in, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Thoughts of Oxford, and degrees, and banks, kept intruding.
    The two of them made their way out of the theatre, along with the rest of the audience. On the pavement, Stone turned to Sherlock and extended a hand. ‘Good night, Sherlock,’ he
said, and then added, ‘Don’t let your brother’s words discourage you. He may have his plans, but it’s your life to live. Go with your heart.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Sherlock replied, shaking Stone’s hand. ‘But wherever I end up, I hope you will seek me out there. I haven’t made many friends in my life, but I count you
as one of them.’
    Stone nodded. ‘And I you.’ He smiled. ‘I have friends in the Oxford area – well, to be completely honest, I have friends pretty much everywhere. Farnham was always just
somewhere to live while I carried out a job – a job that became something much more, I should point out. I could just as well live in Oxford as in Farnham – and, I have to say, the
chance to listen to, and play, good music is much better there. Do not be surprised if you bump into me sometime soon.’ He raised a hand to his head in a sketchy salute. ‘I will see you
again, Sherlock. Until then, be careful, and take care of yourself.’
    Stone vanished into the crowd, Sherlock turned away. He had only taken two steps when a voice beside him said, ‘What was all that about then?’
    It was Matty – Matthew Arnatt. Sherlock knew the voice without having to look.
    ‘It looked pretty serious,’ he went on. ‘It looked like a “goodbye and fare thee well”. You’re not off to China again, are you?’ Matty’s tone was
casual, but Sherlock could detect an undercurrent of unease in his friend’s voice. Matty had once told Sherlock that he had spent his life watching friends and family leave him. He had
resigned himself to being lonely all his days.
    ‘It’s Mycroft,’ Sherlock admitted without turning. ‘He’s got plans for me. He wants me to go to Oxford.’
    There was a moment’s silence. Sherlock didn’t dare look at Matty’s face. He and the boy had spent a lot of time together over the past few years, but that had been broken by
his unplanned visit to China. Although the two of them had grown close again since they had met up in Ireland, the more so after a few weeks in London, he wasn’t sure that Matty would want to
be uprooted again.
    He was surprised.
    ‘Oxford’s nice,’ Matty said. ‘You can get there by boat, all the way up the Thames, pretty much. Been there before, I have, an’ it’s very pleasant. Lots of
toffs leaving half-eaten food lying around on the grass by the river after they’ve ’ad a picnic, an’ lots of absent-minded lecturers doin’ the same. Rich pickings, for
someone like me. Even the swans there eat better than some of the