Mr. Hatter looked over to the man called James and chuckled heartily.
“I’m afraid he’s right, James.” He looked back at me. I was surprised to see that his grin was still present, “But, of course we were not intending for the package to ever reach the post office were we, Mr. Holmes? Well, what can we say? Well done, sir!”
I could not help but laugh.
“Surely you cannot be serious, sir.” I looked around the room in utter surprise, searching their faces for some clue that they were joking with me. “I demand to know what joke has been made at my expense and, additionally, I would like to know how you, sir, know my name.” I pointed an accusing finger at the back of the rough man’s head.
He stood and turned to face me,
“I assure you that there is no joke unless, of course, you’re referring to this: James, give me a hand, will you?”
Mr. Hatter’s face split into an uncontrollable grin as he raised his hand and bit his knuckle, oppressing bouts of laughter. The husky man burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles, doubled over and collapsed back into his chair. James scowled at him vehemently and turned his back to the scene. He returned to his former position next to the window and again began to nervously glance through the slit in the curtains. The muscled man in the chair was now practically rolling on the cushion as he tried to speak.
“No!... I’m quite… serious… I need… a hand with this!” He exclaimed between fits of hilarity. He reached back behind his head and began to pull at the back of his scalp. “Come, Matthew, a hand. And I knew your name because...as Mr. Hatter has said, we've been talking about you.” This man seemed to be extremely skilled in making others out to look foolish. Mr. Hatter composed himself enough to walk around the desk to the chair, grabbing the man’s scalp, he began to pull.
The skin on the strong man’s head began to stretch and I covered my mouth to suppress a gasp as I noticed that his eye sockets no longer matched up with his eyes! With one final tug his skin came completely free and underneath, I had to see it to believe it, was another head! This one was significantly smaller than the last and quite a bit younger. His jet black hair was a ruffled, sweaty mess and his chin and cheeks were covered in scruff. The man had an overall disheveled look about him as if he had not shaved nor showered for days. He smiled cheerfully at me, produced a small knife from his pocket and stabbed himself directly in the gut. I let out a scream of panic that was mixed with the laughter of this man and Mr. Hatter. There was a loud popping noise and the man before me slowly began to shrink right before my eyes until he was nothing but a new head swimming in a mess of over-sized clothes and, heaven have mercy, flabby skin!
With a smile and a shrug of his shoulders, a smaller man in a somewhat tattered suit stepped out of the larger man’s body and extended his arms as if completing some trick at a circus. I found that I could do nothing but stare as he stood there, smiling. Finally, after what seemed like ages, I was about to compose myself enough to find words.
“What is the meaning of all this?” I asked, still in a slight state of shock. The new man (for lack of better explanation) before me opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Mr. Hatter stepping forward.
“My dear friend,” he said, walking to my side and putting an arm around my shoulder, “you must forgive me, for I have failed to introduce you to our most important clients.” He pointed to the curious man by the chair, “This is Mr. Holmes. He… well, suffice it to say that he works just two blocks over on Baker Street. I believe that you have something that would interest Mr. Holmes, yes?” I looked at him quizzically, “I’m referring to the business card that was given to you by the stranger on the street. He took the package and gave you a card, did he not?”
I reached into my pocket and presented the card to Mr. Hatter,
“How did you -” Mr. Holmes dashed forward and snatched it out of my hands with a ‘Thank you!’
Mr. Hatter smiled, “Ah yes. I’m glad that is all sorted out. And this,” Mr. Hatter gestured to the man standing in the partial shadows by the window, “is Mr. Holmes’ new associate, Captain James H-“
“That is quite sufficient for my introduction, thank you.” The man in the corner jerked his head quickly as he interrupted, his dark eyes fixed on Mr. Hatter. Mr. Hatter simply smiled and continued; however there was something different about his voice.
“Well, suffice it to say that he-“
“I said that is quite enough.” Captain James’ voice was calm and powerful as he continued to stare at Mr. Hatter with his deep, dark eyes. His eyes could hardly be seen through his tangle of hair except for tiny specks of reflected light from the window. Mr. Hatter seemed to understand that he had gone too far. He smiled nervously around the room and cleared his throat loudly. For the very first time since knowing the man, I could tell that he was uncomfortable.
“The Captain has his own motives,” Mr. Hatter said, rather weakly, “what can I say?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shared a concerned look with Mr. Holmes.
I, being completely overwhelmed by the circumstances, stole a nervous glance at this Captain James fellow as he shuffled past the window, shoved his right forearm deeper into the front of his coat, and sat down on a creaky wooden chair against the back wall of the office. As he settled into the chair my eyes moved slowly to his right arm which had, almost imperceptibly, begun to twitch.
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