Long Title is Long Sweenlock 2

The Rather Nasty Business on Fleet Street or: The Story of Watson's Mustache Chapter 2

The next day, Toby Ragg arrived at our door near lunch-time, short of breath and carrying a grungy sack.  I imagined it to contain all of his earthly possessions.  Holmes beckoned him upstairs to interrogate him.
"An explanation is in order, young man."
"I'm dreadful sorry, Mr. 'olmes, sir.  But you see, I found new employment yesterday.  Signor Pirelli dismissed me from 'is service.  I've only now gone and got my things from 'is cart."  Ragg indicated his sack.  "Now I'm running errands for Mr. Todd."
"I hope that I am not the cause of your dismissal?" asked Holmes, prompting the boy to continue.  
"Oh no, sir!  Well you see, Signor took me along to Mr. Todd's establishment, seein' as 'ow 'e got 'is arse 'anded to 'im in the contest that morning.  'e went to pay off 'is wager.  Well, I waited downstairs in the pie shop wiv Mrs. Lovett.  She's an awful nice lady, she is.  Gave me two 'ole pies and even a glass of gin.  Well, Signor was taking quite a long while, and 'e still 'ad an appointment to get to.  When I went to remind 'im, Mr. Todd said that 'e'd already gone.  I went back downstairs to wait for 'im, and next thing I knew, I was fast asleep!  When I woke this morning, Mrs. Lovett told me that Signor had sent word that I's to stay and work for 'er now.  I don't mind 'elping out a good lady, but it was rather strange."
"Indeed."  said Holmes.  "Did you speak to Mr. Pirelli when you returned to his cart?"
"No sir.  'e weren't there.  Away on business, I expect."
"And I trust that you have no information regarding Johanna or the old woman."
"No sir, sorry sir.  But I did just spread the message to some of my friends from work 'ouse.  They'll get the word out and find 'em, sure as the world goes round the sun."  I fancied I saw Holmes' lips thin at the last comment, and had to conceal a grin.  
"I still expect you to report regularly, Toby.  I suspect that you will be busiest in the evenings, but come whenever you can manage.  Farewell for now."
Toby bowed to the both of us and left.  Holmes turned to me once he'd gone.
"Very suspicious.  Young Mr. Ragg has had quite a bit more that just a glass of gin, I'd say."
"What makes you say that?"
"He was quite hungover, my dear Watson.  You noticed how gaunt he was, and he showed clear signs of dehydration.  His heart rate was far to high, as evidenced by the pulse in his throat.  He also winced minutely when I raised my voice.  Yes, I'd say he had at least the whole bottle of gin, if not more."
"And what does that mean, other than Mrs. Lovett is not fit to raise children?
" Why would she give him that much to drink?  To blur his memory or judgment, perhaps.  Perhaps to keep him quiet and send him off to sleep.  And where did Pirelli go?  He's away on business quite often, for a simple scammer."
"I see your point." I said.  "But what does this have to do with anything?  Surely Signor Pirelli is not involved in Johanna's disappearance?"
"No, I can't see a connection.  Nonetheless, it is suspicious.  I think we'll need to keep a watch on Mr. Todd and the good Mrs. Lovett.  I'll have Toby give me reports on their activities, while he's at it."
Holmes sprang up and went to his bedroom.  A strange man emerged some time later.
"You've rather outdone yourself again, Holmes."  I remarked.  He had transformed himself into a street merchant, complete with full mustache and protruding belly.  He had a large case, which rattled when he moved.
"But you knew it was me."  he said.
"Only because you just came out of your room.  Did give me quite a start.  If you'd come in another way, I'd have told you that I wasn't interested in your wares and asked you to leave."  Holmes smiled, satisfied.  
"I'm off, Watson."
"Is there anything I can do?"  He considered for a moment.  
"Why don't you go down to 186 Fleet Street and get yourself a shave.  Scope out the establishment."
"Right you are.  When shall I expect you back?"
"Dinner, perhaps.  I will see you then."
I followed several minutes later and got a cab to Fleet Street.

The pie shop had certainly seen better days.  The paint was cracked on the sign, and no-one had bothered to wash the windows in some time.  As I approached from across the street, a familiar face exited the shop.
"Mr. Hope!"  I called.  The young man approached, looking scared out of his wits.
"What's happened, boy?"
"Mr. Todd, sir.  The barber who works above the pie shop.  He was stranded in Australia you see, and I brought him back to London.  He's my only friend in the world, but I fear that I've done something awful.  He's so terribly angry."
"What could you possibly have done?"
"I came in sir, like he told me I could, even though he had a customer.  I told him about Johanna being missing – I told him about her before, you see – and the customer was right angry.  I didn't recognize him at first with his face covered in shaving cream, but when he stood I could tell that it was Judge Turpin!  He stormed out, yelling something about the company that Mr. Todd keeps.  Before I could say another word, Mr. Todd was shouting at me.  He told me to get out, so I left in a hurry.  Now he and Mrs. Lovett are shouting upstairs.  I don't suggest going in there any time soon, Dr. Watson."
I was struck by this information.  I couldn't piece it together in my mind, but somehow all of these people seemed connected: Johanna, Judge Turpin, Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lovett, and Pirelli.  
"I had been coming to get a shave, but I suppose that I'll return later, if that's the case.  Wait until Mr. Holmes hears this!"
Anthony accompanied me back to Baker Street, where we lunched.  I had decided that it was best if he related his experience to Holmes, in case I missed a detail.  We spent the afternoon in idle conversation and several games of cards until my flatmate returned.  He had removed his false mustache, but still wore the stuffing on his belly.
"Was it Mr. Hope here that kept you from your duty, Watson?"
"I think I'll put it to Mr. Hope to relate the tale to you, Holmes."  Anthony told him of what had passed at the barber shop.
"Watson, you do, no doubt, see that there is a connection between several of the persons involved in this tale?"
"I do, but I don't see the meaning.  Perhaps you could enlighten us?"
"Perhaps..." mumbled Holmes, lost in thought.  "Where did Pirelli go..."  he whispered to himself.  I turned to Anthony.
"I'm sure that he'll figure it out.  In the meantime, why don't you leave this to us.  We'll keep you posted."
Anthony thanked us and took his leave.  I watched Holmes for some time, sitting in his chair and staring fixedly at the bullet holes in the wall.  I deemed it best not to disturb him, and got up to take a walk.
"Watson."  He called before I could get my coat.  "Turpin is responsible for Johanna's disappearance.  He somehow knew that they were going to elope, and sent her away.  Check in my files for any relations to the judge.  He may have sent her to the country, or even abroad to keep her away from Mr. Hope."
I walked to his desk and rummaged through the files.  
"There's nothing.  He never married, and the rest of his family is dead.  Johanna is his ward, adopted when she was a year old, and he hasn't many friends.  Spent most of his youth traveling."
Holmes stood, agitated.  
"Her whereabouts won't be that difficult.  With the likelihood that she is outside of London diminished, he's probably sent her to a mental asylum."
"A mental asylum."
"Yes, that is rather his style.  Always was a selfish man."  Holmes trailed off, pondering.
"Watson.  Where did Johanna live before she was adopted?"
I looked through the papers, but there was nothing.  She seemed to have sprung into existence on the day she was adopted.  I told Holmes this.
"Yes, that must be the connection.  We have to find out where she came from."
"But why is that important?  If you know where to find her-"
Holmes didn't answer.  He went to his room and didn't emerge for the rest of the night.