Colts, Crinolines, and Conspiracies

I have been napping since I returned home, and I must write this down before my memory is clouded by the laudanum. I had been working on some information related to the airship crash in Port Babbage this past weekend. The facts had been troubling me, and I decided to take a walk by the Imperial to see if anything had changed there, since it was the focus of many of the strange goings-on in town last year. As I walked along, I felt a presence there with me. I heard footfalls in the snow behind me, but there was no one there. I walked a bit further down the block, and felt the same presence as before. I turned to confront whatever it was, and then it happened. I was enveloped in a swirling cloud of intense electrical energy. I tried to get to my pistol which I had concealed under my skirt, but I was not able to pull it free of my petticoat. I felt my senses failing, so it was in desperation I ran back across the canal bridge and lept into a snowdrift. The fireball stopped, and I was left stunned and burnt lying on the ground. I shouted for help, and hoped that someone was nearby. To my great surprise I saw Doctor Watson appear with Miss Kaligawa and Mr Holmes close behind. I was able to get to my feet after a short time and we returned to their flat at the end of the street. I took a seat on the couch, and tried to clear my head from the pain as they treated the burns I had received. I tried to maintain my composure but the pain had started to set in and I found it hard to relax. It was shortly after this that I was greeted by a shout from out in the street. Apparently the fiend had set upon Holmes, so I mustered what strength I had left and went back outside. This time I was able to unholster my Colt. Holmes said that Moriarity had set upon him with the same lightning that he had attacked me with, but Holmes had managed to get off a shot. When he did so, the monster changed form, to that of a werewolf. He ran down the railroad tracks toward Bow Street, but he was not done. While we were talking, he circled back around and climbed to the top of the roof of the bakery. I did manage to get off a shot at him from the safety of a nearby doorway. The next part of the story defies imagination. Moriarity left down to the street and vanished into the very ground with a puff of red smoke. If someone would have told me this I would have thought them mad, but I saw it for myself.
The four of us walked over to the bakery, since I knew they would have a place to sit and some fresh tea. We had not been sitting long when Miss Trafalgar burst in and said that Mr Wirefly and Miss McMillan had been attacked in their residence. Holmes and Miss Kaligawa went with her to assist them, and Dr Watson sat with me at the bakery.
While we were there, we were visited by a man who introduced himself as Jesper Renfield. He had a strange interlocked VC on his lapel, much the same as the ones on the documents I found in the Captain's apartment. He was very interested in what had happened, and I got the sense he knew more than he was letting on. He seemed more interested in Dr Watson than me, and I asked him several questions, which he answered. He seemed to have a greater knowledge of Moriarity and the events related to the Eliot device, but was preoccupied with the body of Mr Norton and his demise. He left as abruptly as he came, with a brief exchange of pleasantries.
After a bit, I returned home to Maison Horta and laid down in my room. Apparently I made a bit of noise coming in and woke Beq while she slept downstairs. I did not have much time to tell her the full details of what had happened before young Myrtil and Master Will arrived to get Beq and take her over to Mr Wirefly's residence. I managed to get redressed and went their to find out what had happened.
Once we returned to the house, Beq insisted on redressing my burns. I drifted off there by the fire.
I had only involved myself in this matter in a cursory fashion, in that it was a puzzle that presented itself to me as a resident of New Babbage. Now it's personal.