The Steampunk Detective by Darrell Pitt

man with a stuffed canary?”
    Miss Scarlet broke away from him.
    “No, Mr Doyle,” Jack said, a trifle annoyed. “You have not mentioned it.”
    “Oh,” Mr Doyle said. “I’ll have to tell you about it some time.” The detective seemed to stifle a grin as he peered down towards the river. “We are now drawing close. I will try to find a spot to land in a side lane.”
    The vessel drifted through the gently falling rain. Mr Doyle expertly guided the Lion’s Mane down a road running around the back of the warehouse. Finally it landed with a slight bump and the detective jumped out to leash the craft to an old horse pole. The others exited the ship and they huddled together in the mist for a moment. Rain cast a wet sheen across their features.
    “This is an enormous warehouse,” Mr Doyle said. “One of the largest I have seen on the waterfront.” He turned to Jack. “My boy, have you ever handled a firearm?”
    Bazookas! Jack thought. A gun.
    He suddenly imagined himself mowing down countless attackers, whilst saving Scarlet’s life and being forced to take control of the Lion’s Mane. Later they would float over London and upon taking Scarlet’s hand –.
    “Uh, Jack,” Mr Doyle interrupted his reverie.
    “No, sir.” The dream faded into reality. “But I’m more than happy to try.”
    “I think we may wait till you’ve taken a few lessons.” Mr Doyle turned to Scarlet. “I will not offer you a weapon, Miss Bell. A lady does not carry weapons.”
    “On the contrary, Mr Doyle.” Scarlet reached into her purse and produced a small handgun. “I am quite skilled in the use of a revolver.”
    “My dear,” Mr Doyle blustered. “A lady –.”
    “As I said before, Mr Doyle,” Scarlet said firmly. “I am a modern woman. You may even be shocked to learn I am in favour of women’s rights.”
    “A suffragette?” Mr Doyle uttered the word with a slight gasp of horror.
    Jack was not sure what a suffragette was. He thought it might have been a type of religion – a cross between Catholic and Church of England.
    “I believe women must have equal rights,” Scarlet said. “One day we will have the vote.”
    Mr Doyle took the prudent action that all men of wisdom throughout the ages have followed – he chose to remain silent. “Follow me. I spy a point of possible egress.”
    The warehouse was indeed large. High windows lined the tops of the walls surrounding the structure. The group walked the circumference of the warehouse until they reached a large pair of double doors with a smaller door at the front of the building. Mr Doyle immediately went to the small door. He produced a brass and copper contraption that looked vaguely like a revolver from his pocket. He started manipulating the lock.
    “Mr Doyle,” Jack said. “What are you doing?”
    “I’m breaking and entering,” Mr Doyle said calmly. “But it’s all for a good cause.”
    “So I have become a criminal,” Scarlet said, looking absolutely thrilled at the idea. “I shall have to give a dissertation at the next Ladies Alliance meeting.”
    Both Jack and Mr Doyle looked at her.
    She blushed. “On second thought, I may record it in my memoirs for publication after my demise.”
    They nodded.
    The lock clicked and the door swung open. Mr Doyle stuck his head through the gap and listened.
    “I don’t believe anyone is here,” he said. “But we had best proceed with caution.”
    They closed the door behind them. Jack could hear the gentle sound of rain pattering on the metal roof high above. The interior smelled of mould and rotting timbers. A loose covering of mulch and hay covered the floor. Breathing out through his mouth, Jack formed a cloud of fog. Huge timber shelves ran down both sides of the room stacked high with boxes. The crates only ended near the ceiling where the line of windows ringed the structure. They slowly walked down the centre aisle with the boxes towering above them.
    Mr Doyle finally chose a side alley