Title Page

HOLMES AND WATSON: END PEACE

By

David Ruffle

Publisher Information

First edition published in 2012 by MX Publishing

335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive,

London, N11 3GX

www.mxpublishing.com

© Copyright 2012 David Ruffle

The right of David Ruffle to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and not of MX Publishing.

Cover layout and construction by www.staunch.com

Dedication

Dedicated to Duncan.......

......who left us far too soon.

Frontispiece

Over the last three to four years I have enjoyed writing the occasional short Holmesian pieces involving Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, particularly those that portray them in their later years. These range from Victorian/Edwardian Christmas pieces to those that involve in some way the deaths of these fine men.

There is something that appeals to me about viewing them in their old age with a lifetime of shared experiences and shared friendship. How would they have changed, if at all? Would they have mellowed?

I especially enjoy writing dialogue for Holmes and Watson and try as far as I am able to replicate the rhythm and pace of speech which Conan Doyle endowed his characters with and it’s that which gave me the idea of writing a Holmesian/Watsonian piece which would be dialogue and nothing but dialogue.

You have been warned!

In ‘His Last Bow’ set in 1914, Holmes implores Watson to, ‘Stand with me here upon the terrace for it may be the last quiet talk that we shall ever have’. Shortly afterwards, Holmes declares that Watson is the ‘one fixed point in a changing age’. And change it did. The horrors of the Great War swept away the last Edwardian high summer. The halcyon days would never return.

Here we are, fifteen years on and that terrace has given way to the quiet of a hospital room and the stillness of night. The dawn is fast approaching and time is short, but there will be time still for that ‘last quiet talk’.

David Ruffle March 2012.

Chapter 1

1929. A small hospital somewhere in Dorset. An ante-room off a dimly lit corridor. It is night and there is not even the smallest amount of light penetrating the room from the outside. In the room itself a dim light enables us to see a figure in a bed. The pipes, tubes and all the trappings we associate with keeping someone alive have been removed. The man, for it is a man, lies prone and still. Still, but not silent...

“Holmes!”

“Yes, Watson, I am here.”

“Sorry, I must have dropped off again. I cannot seem to stay awake at the moment. It is so good to see you though.”

“If you need to sleep, then you really must.”

“Is it really you, Holmes? The light is so bad in here and I thought...”

“Yes, my friend, it is me. It’s still night time and the illumination in here is not as it should be, but it is sufficient for our needs.”

“The dim light puts me in mind of our very first meeting in the depths of Barts, the lighting there was somewhat lacking although that did not prevent you making those, to my mind, startling deductions about me.”

“Ah, yes the first of those parlour tricks I was prone to inflicting on you. I came to be convinced that you were never as completely taken in as you claimed or indeed appeared to be to be.”

“Maybe in the later years I did catch on a little, Holmes, but not early on; I was every bit as baffled as I appeared I assure you. Was it fate that brought us together that day? I often wonder that.”

“I am no great believer in fate as you know. I am of the belief that we shape events rather than events shaping us. It was certainly fortuitous we met the way we did at that perfect time for both of us. But, truth be told, given the parlous state of my finances, I might easily have ended up sharing digs with virtually anyone although of course in that case I may have had to fend without a trusty chronicler.”

“I have to confess that I was a little wary of you initially. Stamford considered you a little eccentric to put it mildly, as did I until I finally realised what line of business you were in.”

“I hardly made matters easy for you with my secretive ways and even more secretive guests.”

“I was very puzzled by all the comings and goings. I formulated several scenarios which I thought may provide the solution, but failed miserably in my deductions, which of course became the pattern for my life with you.”

“You treat yourself too harshly I feel. You always had a tendency to elevate whatever gifts I possessed to the detriment of your own. And yes, I am well aware that I was impatient with you on far too many occasions; that was my way and I meant no harm to you by it nor did I mean at any time to devalue your friendship and assistance. But, tell me; would you do it all again, Watson, if the chance were to present itself?”

“Yes, certainly. I have never regretted throwing in my lot with you. My life was enriched in so many ways. I am convinced I would never have met any woman as wonderful as Mary had I not been involved in one of our cases, although I hesitate to use the word our.”

“Your use of the word is entirely valid, Watson. I felt quite keenly your absence when you were unavailable to assist me; when domestic bliss for instance took over your life.”

“Even now, Holmes, I believe you begrudge me the happiness I felt during my marriages; perhaps if you had experienced love yourself, your outlook would be different and more understanding.”

“I have felt love, Watson; it’s not the romantic love that you were prone to falling under the spell of, but something intense and equally binding.”

“Perhaps you may care to enlighten me at this late juncture in our lives. So much of your life still remains hidden from me.”

“I will consider doing so and I am well aware that I kept many secrets and aspects of my life from you, but I am what I am and who I am. My single mindedness has its roots in that childhood of mine that you know so little of and it has carried me forward from that day to this, but believe me Watson, you have seen more of what you may term the real me than any other living person and yes I do include Mycroft in that statement.”

“Then I feel privileged, Holmes and humbled too. It is uncanny, but I remember our adventures in so much detail; I linger and luxuriate in those memories and yet as to recent events my mind remains a fog which I cannot penetrate. I fear my reason is flying from me and my life is no longer mine to control. The thought scares me and yet I profess to be a courageous man.”

“You are a courageous man; I have encountered none braver in my life. Your fear of course is of the unknown. Put a man with a cudgel in front of you with mischief on his mind and there would be no question of your bravery, but the adversary you face now is an unexplored quantity and any man would, I believe, feel as you feel. If you feel the need to rest then please do so, I will be here when you wake.”

“I am tired admittedly, but equally I feel the need to talk, particularly as you have come all this way to see me.”

“If you are sure.”

“I am sure.”

“Good old Watson. Even at this late juncture you continue to play the game. You have so many qualities I admire; your patience for one.”

“My patience? Surely you possess that in greater abundance than I. Look at the time you would spend poring over your chemicals or cracking ciphers. That’s what I call patience. Although when the chase was on you could be as impatient as anyone.”

“Admittedly, but I was really referring to the patience you displayed towards me which was rarely reciprocated. As fellow lodgers go I must have been one of the worst imaginable. I believe I drove you to distraction on many occasions.”

“There were times, Holmes, when I could have gladly throttled you and smiled through the process. Firing bullets into the wall is hardly an action guaranteed to endear oneself to one’s fellow lodger, nor might I add, to our equally long-suffering landlady. Dear Mrs Hudson, it pained me that I was unable to attend her funeral, yet another example of my body letting me down.”

“She would have understood, my dear fellow. You were there in spirit and I was fortunate enough to say our goodbyes to her in person and I felt privileged to do so.”

“If anybody was driven to distraction, it would surely have been Mrs Hudson. Comings and goings at all hours. An endless array of ‘ne’er do wells’ ascending the stairs. Fisticuffs, gun play, fires in the room and tobacco smoke wreathing her sitting-room so thickly, you could cut it with knife. It’s a wonder we were not both given notice to quit so she could take in a couple of tame schoolmasters who surely would have given her a much quieter life.”

“Well, you are right in what you say, but I suspect that she warmed to us very quickly in spite of our eccentricities and idiosyncrasies. There was an unspoken mutual respect.”

“Our eccentricities and idiosyncrasies? And yet at times, you treated her appallingly in my opinion.”

“I have to concede that point to you. I was given to rashness of thought and action on far too many occasions, from this far remove I can see and admit that freely. A fundamental fault in my character, something I could not control? I don’t know, but I do know and also readily admit the hurt I did to you, Watson.”

“I did feel used by you, Holmes and I feel I was treated very shabbily at times. My extreme joy at your return from ‘death’ in 1894 was greatly tempered by my feeling of abandonment. Even now, I feel the gorge rising in me that you felt able to live your life as you wished for three years, travelling the world over, while I remained here convinced you were dead. Can you imagine how I felt? And yet, our friendship was to survive even that.”

“If I truly was the ‘great thinker’ that you portrayed me to be through your written word then I would have thought through my actions and treated you how a good friend should be treated, but I was both weak and selfish, manifestly so. So many times in that period I wanted to send you a message or a sign that I still lived, but I always stopped short of doing do.”

“I found your explanation that I might be prompted to some kind of rash action and your further statement that my talents do not lie in dissimulation rather insulting to one who always accorded you the greatest loyalty and respect. What did you think I might do? Take out full page advertisements in all the newspapers the length and breadth of the country, proclaiming you live? Run down the whole length of Baker Street shouting with delight? I know this is neither the time nor the place, but you should have trusted me far more than you did.”

“You are right of course, Watson. I should have put my trust in those qualities of yours that I admired the most. It has pained me all these years that I did not.”

“The past is the past, Holmes. It’s all we have now. So forgive me opening up an old wound.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I am the one who should be asking forgiveness of you.”

“As I said, this is not perhaps the time and place to look back on sorrowful occasions especially as there were so many high points in our friendship.”

“No regrets then, Watson?”

“On the whole, very few. Association with you brought me Mary as I have just said. It brought me excitement and a purpose to my life. And a literary career as unexpected as it was beneficial to both of us.”

“Oh yes, your writing!”

“I say now as I said then; despite your occasional, nay, more than occasional denigrations of my scribbling, I believe I did you full justice in the matter.”

“I don’t believe you ever took my chiding of your literary attempts to heart; if you had, you would surely have desisted from inflicting any more lurid tales on a gullible public who appeared to have a never-ending appetite for such adventures. I jest of course, Watson. I came to appreciate in time how much skill and no small ability had gone into writing up our adventures. I tried it for myself so I know!”

“I wish that I had been able to summon up enough energy, not to mention time, to put other cases before the public instead of which they will have to be satisfied with the tantalising mentions of unrecorded cases. Who knows, perhaps one day these notes of mine will be brought to life by other writers; perhaps of a more literary bent than me.”

“God forbid, Watson! I have already seen representations of myself on the London stage and in the cinema, which is more than enough recognition for me, I assure you! This fame and adulation does not sit easily with me.”

“And yet, Holmes I deduce that you are really quite flattered by this attention. You have a susceptibility to flattery which is at odds with other aspects of your character.”

“Well, perhaps there is something not entirely displeasing about it, Watson. Well deduced, but then you were always a lot more astute than you ever gave yourself credit for. By elevating my own humble powers you gave scant attention to your own abilities. Despite my occasional grumblings to the contrary, I was always aware of your keen, natural intelligence and the great help you offered me in the cases that we worked together.”

“I am gratified to hear you say so, Holmes... after all these years!”

“A touch. Watson! A distinct touch! You look sleepy again my friend. Am I tiring you?”

“A little. Would you mind if I napped for a few minutes?”

“No of course I would not mind. I am used to your naps, remember.”

“You’ll be here when I wake?”

“Yes, Watson, I will be here. Rest.”

Interlude

“Nurse Harrison what are you giggling at? You are in a hospital not at the gaieties.”

“Sorry, Matron. It’s just that Lucy was telling me about Mr Travers and how, when she went to give him a bed bath...”

“That will do! Nurse Pollett, if you were to pay the same attention to your nursing skills as you do the spreading of tittle-tattle and engaging in humour of the basest sort, then you might get somewhere.”

“Yes, Matron. Sorry, Matron.”

“Now, is everyone quiet and settled down in your section, Nurse Harrison?”

“Yes, Matron.”

“And yours, Nurse Pollett?”

“Yes, although that Dr Watson is talking in his sleep again, non-stop this time, rabbiting on about this and that.”

“That would be the morphine doing its job, Nurse. Is he comfortable enough?”

“He seems to be, Matron.”

“Thank you girls, now go about your duties... without giggling like hyenas please.”

“Yes, Matron”

“Stop getting me into trouble, Lucy.”

“You’re the one who was giggling! Anyway, like I was saying...”

Chapter 2

“Ah, the slumberer doth slumber no more.”

“Sorry, Holmes, I am just so infernally tired.”

“If you need to sleep, then you must, do not let my presence deter you.”

“I am willing myself to stay awake, Holmes. This conversation and unexpected visit of yours has gone some way to rejuvenating me although I know that effect must perforce be temporary.”

“Then my visit must be adjudged a success for that was the end I had in mind. Tell me, my friend when you think back over our long association, what cases spring to your mind as being of especial interest or have a special resonance for you?”

“My mind can’t help, but wander to the dreadful affair of the Giant Rat of Sumatra.”

“I see your sometimes frivolous nature has not left you. You know full well there was no such case; the title was a complete invention of yours to keep your faithful readers guessing. And, may I add, that was not the only one!”

“It worked, for there has been much interest expressed in many quarters about that particular problem. I have been asked many times about the details of the case and have been offered extraordinarily large sums of money to make the tale available to the public. Perhaps I should have taken the money offered and concocted a tale which would do credit to the lurid title.”

“I believe your innate honesty would have prevented you from doing so, but I do foresee that perhaps others will seek to take up ‘your’ pen and embellish such a fiction on the ever more undiscerning public. An action such as this would not surprise me at all.”

“I think there is some truth in what you say, Holmes. I am of the mind that at some time in the future we will only be seen as fictional characters.”

“I fear that is already the case, but we know where to apportion blame do we not? But my question to you has gone unanswered.”

“Amongst so many treasured memories I especially enjoy thinking back to the uniqueness of some of the cases you handled.”

“Whilst some cases admittedly had echoes of others; after all there is nothing new under the sun, the old wheel turns and the spoke comes up. But they were all unique in their way, each and every one of them.”

“From the comic to the tragic, it was all there. And then there was the occasional horror; I was not often fearful, but even I felt tremors of fear out on that bleak moor where the Baskerville hound roamed. Yet, the real reason I like to reflect on the case was the feeling of pride I had in myself that you saw fit to despatch me in your stead to report and investigate on your behalf. My subsequent discovery that you had been camping out on the moor did nothing to quell those feelings.”

“And a very good job you made of it too. A fairly simple case in the end of course; the age old story of greed and revenge. Even though it was such a run of the mill enquiry I profess I am amazed that it seems to be trumpeted to the world at large as one of my greatest triumphs. The power of the written word I suppose, Watson, your written word.”

“I was quite proud of that particular piece. I worked hard to create a certain atmosphere which would reflect those aspects of the moor that leant itself to such tales and legends, the gnarled, wind-blasted trees, the hidden valleys, the ancient Neolithic settlements. The reviews I received were actually rather good.”

“I have to say that if we are praising embellishment and sensationalism then yes, it was a fine piece of work.”

“Thank you, Holmes. Did any of my stories meet with your fullest approval?”

“They met with my limited approval and grudging admiration, but I still feel you missed the chance to record the extent that painstaking detective work can bring villains to book. The actual science of detection seemed to be entirely absent from your chronicles. I fear my deductions came out of the blue to many of your readers who no doubt saw me as some kind of wizard.”

“A view that did not greatly differ from how I saw you myself in the early days of our association. The depth of your deductions and the speed with which you elucidated them had me convinced that you would have been burnt at the stake in a bygone, less enlightened age. Yet, as time went by I was able to follow your deductions and on occasion offer up some of my own.”

“Yes, I recall they were often erroneous though. But, to be fair, not all... you always had the makings of a fine detective yourself, Watson.”

“Thank you again. I believe I made some useful deductions regarding Mr Henry Baker’s hat for instance and remember, I did so in a very few seconds whereas you had been examining it for quite a length of time.”

“Ah yes, that most singular and initially whimsical problem that chance dropped in our laps. The Countess of Morcar’s missing Blue Carbuncle. It certainly staved off the ennui of the Christmas period, bringing with it the return of the precious stone, the release from gaol of John Horner and a £500 present for the commissionaire, Peterson.”

“I thought the reward the Countess offered for the return of the stone was the sum of £1000.”

“Oh yes. I had forgotten the exact amount.”

“Holmes! You never forget anything. I have the notion that you pocketed the other £500. I never was a great believer in your protestations of ‘art for art’s sake’.”

“A man has to live, we had to live. It’s not as if you did not make some money yourself out of our association. Besides, there was the small matter of assisting you with the purchase of your practice and home in Queen Anne Street.”

“For which I was very grateful, rest assured. And you announcing to the Duke of Holdernesse that you were ‘a poor man’, what do you say about that?”

“I rendered a service to the Duke and he paid me as he would pay anyone who rendered him such a service. At the time I did consider myself a poor man... by comparison with him.”

“Not after his huge payment to you, Holmes, but I do not sit in judgment on you. I had my rewards too; financial, physical and spiritual. The Duke was indeed a worthy client in all respects.”

“As you know, Watson, a client’s standing was not of the slightest interest to me. What mattered were those cases that had sufficient strange and dramatic qualities which appealed to my imagination and challenged my ingenuity. If such problems came my way through the humblest of clients then I was happy to take their case on at the expense of more exalted clients.”

“I agree completely, my friend.”

“Yet, I seem to recall that when I mentioned to this to you, you instead labelled me capricious. Capricious! Me? I could accept the epithet ‘unworldly’ but not capricious. I believe it to more of a female trait, more suited to that species.”

“I stand by my usage of the word. And, Holmes you often displayed female traits to my mind. After all, I know you better than anyone and as you did a few minutes ago, I include your brother in that statement. How is Mycroft by the way?”

“Finally retired, although he recently assured me he is still called upon from time to time by this present government when they have a knotty, diplomatic problem they wish to be solved with the minimum of fuss.”

“He still makes London his home then?”

“Yes. Neither old age nor retirement will in any way impede or obstruct my brother’s lifestyle. His life runs on rails which trundle remorselessly between their three ports of call; Whitehall, the Diogenes Club and his Pall Mall lodgings. Mycroft is impervious to change.”

“Was he like that as a child?”

“To some extent, yes. He is of course, seven years older than me, so we did not exactly grow up or share a great deal of time together until I was in my mid-teens and he in his early twenties, when we shared some interests, or rather some interests were forced upon us by circumstances. He was extremely close to my father who was himself a man of narrow fields and interests. They spent their time in ganging up on me as if they resented my presence within the family. As if I was an intrusion.”

“How did your mother react to this?”

“We had a special bond and that helped to distance us from the antics of the other males in the household. My mother was a beautiful woman, Watson, tied to a domineering man. If Mycroft had been able to ally energy to his cerebral powers then he would have turned out to be a copy of my father in the smallest detail. I clung to my mother for dear life and she to me.”

“Did she ever consider leaving your father?”

“It was not an option or course of action she felt able to take. She was loyal to the concept of an ideal family and the fact that we were far from that did not sway her from what she saw as her duty, her matriarchal duty. My father, on the other hand, showed no such attention to duty.”

“It must have been an intolerable time for you, Holmes.”

“I feared what was to come when the time came for Mycroft to go up to Oxford. Would it bring about a change in my father’s attitude towards me? I thought it unlikely and I was to be proved right. Watson, do you need to rest once more?”

“Five minutes, maybe, just five minutes if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I understand only too well.”

Interlude

“Where’s the old battle-axe now, Lucy?”

“Out back with her cauldron, the old witch!”

“Let’s have a breather then. How’s your Mr Travers? Behaving himself now is he?”

“He’s quite sweet really and you can’t blame him for trying it on when you look as good as I do.”

“Lucy Pollett! Don’t you dare be so conceited! He would make a play for me you know, but he noticed my wedding ring.”

“No, Polly. He noticed me! You know it’s the truth. Men just gravitate towards me.”

“They must know lax morals when they see them.”

“Jealousy, Polly, it’s pure jealousy. Just because you’re tied up and bound to your old man doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy ourselves.”

“Yes, and we all know about you enjoying yourself, Lucy!”

“I have just looked in on Dr Watson again. Such a sad state of affairs, to think he’s got nothing left, but to talk to himself. Except it’s not even like normal talking to yourself; he is having a right old conversation in there with somebody in his head.”

“Are you sure you didn’t let a visitor stay behind, Lucy? The witch will come down hard on you.”

“No, of course not. A mouse could not hide in those rooms. Poor Dr Watson, Polly. Not a single visitor these last two months.”

“Come on, Lucy. Cheer up and go and put the kettle on. Let’s have a cuppa.”

“That’s your job isn’t it?”

“Mine?”

“Polly put the kettle on, we’ll all have tea.”

“Funny girl... and by the way-you can’t sing!”

Chapter 3

“What time is it, Holmes?”

“You could say it is both late and early, but in reality the time is of no importance.”

“I seem to have forgotten what we were talking about earlier; my brain feels as though it has turned to cotton wool. An old case was it?”

“Actually, we were discussing... yes, you are right, Watson, an old case it was.”

“Why did I get the impression just then that you were humouring me? Oh well... we certainly faced some dangers together, some more tangible than others. Some more deadly than others. That blessed swamp adder; Dr Roylott’s deadly gift to his stepdaughters.”

“It was a nerve-wracking time waiting there in the dark of Miss Stonor’s room for its presence to make itself known.”

“You at least had some notion of the nature of what was on its way. I, however was completely in the dark, quite literally of course”

“I did not feel at any time that we ourselves were in danger as long as we acted immediately and decisively.”

“Which, of course, you did in returning death to its originator.”

“As I have often said and indeed stated on that occasion; violence does in truth recoil upon the violent and the schemer falls into a pit he digs for another.”

“A shocking way to die though, Holmes.”

“It was a fate he entirely deserved, he had no compunctions about inflicting such an end on his victims who, after all, were his wards and as such should have been entitled to protection from their stepfather. So, I have to say that Dr Grimesby Roylott’s death has never been on my conscience at any time.”

“A life for a life, Holmes? Regardless of a seemingly just end, it has been an eternal struggle for my conscience. And what of Charles Augustus Milverton?”

“Now there was another evil man who filled me with a revulsion I had hardly known before or indeed since. A miserable man who inflicted misery on those he sought to squeeze of their cash. And if that cash was not forthcoming he thought nothing of ruining reputations and destroying marriages, in fact he delighted in it. As to his death, no, that is not and never has been on my conscience. A cruel man such as he can hardly have cause to complain when justice is meted out to him in such a fashion.”

“That having been said, Holmes, we could still have saved him and in due course he would have paid the penalty for his crimes.”

“The end result would have been to destroy that noble woman’s life completely; she who had suffered so much already. No, her bullets were the best end for him.”

“I remember so clearly your refusal to help Lestrade when he appeared in our sitting-room the following morning. If only he had obtained better descriptions of the two men seen fleeing from the house then we might well have landed up in the dock ourselves. Hampstead Heath seemed endless that night.”

“I’m sure that was the impression your readers would have had after reading your account of the matter. Your estimate of how far we ran that night was somewhat of an exaggeration, my friend.”

“Poetic licence cuts across all notions of time and space, Holmes. My readers came to expect a certain style in my work; rhythm, prose...”

“...and a lack of attention to detail!”

“As to that, there were details that I could not possibly add to those tales I chronicled. Dates had to be changed, identities hidden beneath pseudonyms, scandals to be avoided. At times, I felt I did not go far enough with this concealment policy; the more astute reader...”

“If such a creature existed.”

“...the more astute reader could have possibly pieced together sequences of events and obtained for themselves the identities of the various people involved.”

“If not this mythical astute reader, then certainly some of the principals involved.”

“But to do do full justice, at least in my eyes, to the recording of your investigations, then that was unavoidable. If it was not so, I might as well have been writing fiction.”

“At times it came perilously close to it, Watson!”

“I consider that a tribute and a compliment to my literary skills. Thank you, Holmes.”

“You know full well that was not my meaning. But I do feel able to compliment you, grudgingly maybe, but a compliment all the same.”

“I wonder what would happen if we could transport ourselves eighty or one hundred years into the future. How will we be remembered, if at all?”

“I dread to think given the stage and screen appearances we seem to have engendered already. But, it’s possible that we may live on only in dry text books detailing crimes of the period. To be a mere footnote in criminal history may end up being our lot. One hundred years is a long time for anyone to be remembered regardless of their achievements, particularly if those achievements were relatively minor. Or it may be as you intimated earlier, that we will be considered men of fiction rather than reality.”

“I agree. I, for instance have had trouble for some time remembering times, places and people that we encountered even from a relatively few years ago, although in spite of a certain fog obscuring my brain tonight, I feel my memories are at present coming back to me with a greater clarity than ever. They flit across my consciousness, shades of those long gone, gathering around me, jostling each other to gain a place in my memory. I see Jabez Wilson with his fiery red hair smiling down on me; always a jolly man in spite of what befell him.”

“Another case like that of the Blue Carbuncle which started off in a whimsical fashion, but turned into something darker and deeper. One of the paradoxes of life is that the simplest things can also be said to be the most complex. It is something we saw often is it not, Watson?”

“The affair at the Copper Beeches falls squarely into that category. The initial inquiry from Miss Violet Hunter, you were positive was the very nadir of your career, for now you were being consulted as to whether a young lady should take up a post of governess that she had been offered.”

“I believe I likened it to being called upon to recover lost lead pencils and giving advice to girls at boarding schools.”

“And yet you were impressed by Miss Hunter even before she detailed her problem to us. Your manner with her was most attentive and I am quite sure she was as charmed by you as you were with her.”

“She was a client and my manner was designed to put her at ease. My attentiveness was an outward sign of my impatience to hear her story. Watson, you always saw romance everywhere, being of a romantic nature yourself, but it was foolhardy of you to expect such a romantic streak to suddenly manifest itself in me.”

“I confess to feeling disappointed that you showed no further interest in her when she ceased to be the centre of one of your problems.”

“I recall you saying so at the time and also the fact that you inflicted your hopes and therefore your disappointment with your readers.”

“I just wish that you could have known the contentment and happiness that I felt during my happy marriages. No other feelings come quite so close for me.”

“My contentment lay in my work; my happiness lay in working out the most abstruse problems. Although I would be the first to concede that wedded bliss suited you entirely, it was not and could not have been for me.”

“Nor for your brother! I just find it odd, that’s all.”

“I see nothing odd about it. We had both seen an unhappy marriage in operation. Although we saw it from opposing viewpoints, we could both recognise the disintegration that went on in front of us. I am not saying that is the sole reason we never married or formed close relationships, but it is no doubt a factor.”

“I was fortunate in that my parents’ marriage was extremely happy and my brother, Henry was always the closest of companions, we spent all our time playing together. My parents always had time for us and we did so much together as a family. Often they would be very simple pastimes such as walking down country lanes and picking blackberries or mushroom collecting in the fields behind our house at dawn and then rushing back to the kitchen with our trophies and frying them up for breakfast.”

“You paint a very rosy picture, Watson. I do envy you those happy, precious memories. My lot in childhood was rather different, but it was all a long time ago now and it does no good to dwell on unhappy memories.”

“I sense that you do dwell on them more and more. When I woke up a few minutes ago and asked what we had been talking about, you fell in with my suggestion that old cases had been under discussion. In fact, it was your family life we had been discussing.”

“Yes, Watson. That is so. But I feared my revelations were perhaps too much for you.”

“Nonsense, there is no shame attached to having an unhappy home life, I am hardly likely to be shocked at such outpourings from you.”

“You may be, my friend, you may be.”

“I think your single-minded devotion to your profession derives from an incident or incidents in your youth. I have not often heard you speak of your family life, but when you have, you have rarely spoken with such vehemence. You can claim all you like that old Mr Trevor pointed out to you which profession you should follow, but I believe your mind was already firmly made up.”

“I feel even more keenly now, Watson that I underestimated your intelligence on far too many occasions. You have many remarkable characteristics which perhaps I should have placed more reliance on.”

“I had no great objection to being called a conductor of light if that is truly how you saw me, but I did have my own moments of luminosity.”

“Perhaps you should have heightened those instead of exaggerating my own modest skills.”

“Come now, Holmes. Modesty does not sit well on you and I know full well that you do not rank modesty among the virtues.”

“Underestimating one’s own worth is as bad in its way of exaggerating one’s powers. I think any imbalance in our relationship as perceived by others was due to your own modesty in putting me foremost in your accounts.”

“But, they were accounts of your investigations, your triumphs. I could hardly have not put you first. I was by way of being your biographer, your Boswell. It was not my place to elevate my own meagre accomplishments, it was always my intention to publicise your merits, not mine.”

“A worthy answer and one I would have expected from you. Your innate honesty and goodness has always shone through.”

“My upbringing instilled certain character traits in me which have never been diluted. I deplore the lack of common courtesy and plain, simple good manners which appear to have inflicted the modern generation.”

“Perhaps you really are the one fixed point in a changing age, more eminently suitable to represent a British jury than any man I have ever known.”

“I don’t claim to be better than anyone else, I have a very good reason for so thinking, but I seek to maintain a certain standard of civility in all my dealings and throughout my life I believe I have managed that in spite of a few lapses which can happen to anyone.”

“You had the advantage over me in that you lived your life on an even keel. Life bowled along quite merrily for you on the whole in spite of tragedy rearing its ugly head on occasion. My life has been one of extreme highs and depressive lows. My mood swings were unpredictable and my well-being must have been a matter of grave concern for you.”

“As both your friend and your physician, I was at times extremely concerned for you. Your habit of going without food and sleep for long periods during cases was a source of great worry for me and irritation too I must add. The damage you may have done to your body could have been irreparable.”

“Oh and I rather thought I thrived on it.”

“Probably because you paid the matter of your health no heed. It amazed me that you appeared not to have the faintest interest in your body’s needs.”

“The rest of me was a mere appendix compared with my brain.”

“Poppycock! What good could it have possibly have done you without the means to investigate, the wherewithal to test your theories. Far from thriving on your exertions, you occasionally buckled under them. I have never forgotten the sight of you lying on your sick bed in the Hotel Dulong in Lyons. Your body having given up completely on you and you cannot possibly deny it.”

“There were times admittedly when even my iron constitution failed me, but my recovery on those rare occasions was swift, aided in the time you speak of by you fortuitously taking me off to your old friend, Colonel Hayter. I assure you, Watson, my recuperation was all the quicker for having the trifling problem of the Reigate Squires to cast my eye over. I emerged from that little problem totally refreshed in mind and body.”

“Would that my constitution could be as strong as to prolong this conversation without the recourse to several naps. Forgive me, Holmes, I will close my eyes once more.”

Interlude

“Lovely cup of tea, Nurse Harrison. Perhaps catering is really your forte”

“Thank you, Matron. My catering skills stop with the making of tea so you are stuck with me.”

“Nurse Pollett, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Here we go...”

“I beg your pardon, Nurse!”

“Sorry, Matron.”

“I looked in earlier on Dr Watson and found the chair pulled up to his bedside. I do not agree with such familiarity; if you need to speak with the patient, please do so from a standing position.”

“I only touched the crummy chair once and that was to put it back under the window. I thought Mrs Drew had been in the room. She’s a nice old stick, unlike some here; I thought she might have been chatting with the doctor.”

“What nonsense you come up with, girl. Mrs Drew has not been on duty tonight. I’m watching you, Nurse Pollett, I’m watching you.”

“I’ve got my ticket; I’m not some silly probationer.”

“Then why do you act like one? Come on, don’t sulk... I say what I say to encourage you, you have the makings of a fine nurse.”

“I do?”

“Yes, Nurse Pollett, you do.”

“Thank you, Matron. Was Dr Watson still talking in his sleep when you looked in on him?”

“Yes, non-stop. Reliving his past while he can, I think. One more biscuit each then back to work, girls.”

“That last custard cream for me... Lucy Pollett!! That was mine!”

“Too slow, Polly... too slow.”

Chapter 4

“Still here, Holmes?”

“Yes, my friend for as long as I am needed. Have they been treating you well here?”

“The whole staff has been most attentive. I have been feeling so isolated, I seem to know nothing of what goes on in the outside world. I have not got the energy to read, so the newspapers that are brought to me lie unread until they are collected. Mrs Drew, the ward maid, is kind enough to read to me sometimes, often she will do so when she is not even on duty. I believe she has a soft spot for me.”

“Well, the fair sex was always your department, Watson. Women appear to fall for that natural charm, cultivated so artfully over the years.”

“Not Irene Adler, Holmes. She only had eyes for you, much to my chagrin.”

“Really, Watson, I consider it bad form to perpetuate that myth. Thanks to your insistence on calling her the woman, I fear I will be forever romantically linked to Mrs Irene Norton nee Adler.”

“I don’t believe I am to blame at all. I made it abundantly clear that you had no interest in her other than as a client, that you did not feel any emotion akin to love towards her. You can have no cause for complaint that I addressed her as the woman, it was after all how you described her yourself.”

“A sign of respect for her intellect, no more than that.”

“You also stated that she was the ‘daintiest thing under a bonnet’.”

“That was the view of the horsey men of Serpentine Mews, where all the men within the area had fallen under her spell.”

“May I also remind you that you described her as being a lovely woman with a face men would die for?”

“I cannot deny that they were my words, but I can see and recognise beauty without being moved to grandiose declarations of love. I noticed her beauty just as the King of Bohemia did, the difference was that he felt compelled to act and I did not.”

“The King was certainly a pompous fellow, I am not sure that we ever encountered anyone quite as vainglorious as he.”

“Yes he was, Watson. Miss Adler had a lucky escape. Be she his mistress or Queen, her life would have been constrained, claustrophobic and unrewarding.”

“Surely her life with Godfrey Norton would have been rather less exciting.”

“It was true love, it conquers all I am told... by you, chiefly!”

“Because it is true!”

“As ever, I will take your word on the subject. As to the world outside, Watson, for the most part it is depressing news all round; China and the Soviets engaged in hostilities, Palestinians and Jews at each other’s throats in Jerusalem and in Safed and the world heading for a depression like no other.”

“I am glad, then, that I have my memories instead. The world has never been the same for me since the Great War. At least, after hostilities on that scale no one would ever be mad enough to plunge the world back into the carnage and human wastage we saw then.”

“I would not be too sure, Watson. Mankind’s propensity for warring and destroying each other seems to know no bounds.”

“The destruction I saw first-hand during the Afghan campaign was more than enough for me. Is it naive of an old man to cling to the hope that all nations may yet learn to live in peace and harmony?”

“I fear it is, but it is a desire expressed by so many that perhaps one day it will come about.”

“Amen to that, Holmes. Tell me, do you have any contact with Scotland Yard these days?”

“I have outlived my usefulness to them. New techniques used in the detection of crime and for the processing of clues have rendered the days of the consulting detective redundant, particularly where major crime is concerned. Were I still to be in harness at the present time, than I really would be reduced to recovering lost lead pencils and locating missing cats named Tiddles.”

“Did many of the inspectors that we worked with continue to consult you in a private capacity? I know that some certainly did.”

“For a while, yes, but the visits dried up as they either claimed higher office or retired, or even worse of course in Lestrade’s case.”

“Such a shocking event. I never saw fit to lay the details before the public; it would have seemed somewhat prurient and intrusive to do so. Just imagine, one week from retirement and then ends up being knifed during a street brawl. The man wasn’t even on official duty, but when he saw trouble, he stepped in and was rewarded with a blade to the heart.”

“A sad end to a good man. He was the best of the Scotland Yarders in spite of his faults and I actually enjoyed the man’s company. Do you remember those evenings we three often spent together, smoking our pipes and discussing the news of the day and of course any cases which Lestrade may have been having difficulties with?”

“Yes I remember those evenings well, fine times indeed. I always had an image of Lestrade as a family man, a picture the man himself did nothing to dispel and yet there was no sign of any family at his funeral. The turnout of his colleagues was very impressive, but apart from those fellow officers there was nobody. He must have been a lonely man, no wonder he enjoyed the times in spent with us in our Baker Street sitting-room.”

“There had been a wife I found out some time afterwards. She had died in childbirth along with the child.”

“The poor man, Holmes.”

“Yes indeed, Watson.”

“Was there anyone’s career that you took the trouble to follow?”

“None especially, Watson. I picked up the odd pieces of news from the papers about the advancement of certain officers from time to time. I was gratified to see the rise of Tobias Gregson to Commissioner, a position he richly deserved... in the end.”

“I recall that Inspector Baynes was passed over for the position of Chief Constable of Surrey.”

“The bright-eyed, astute inspector. He was perhaps too wayward, too off-beat to even be considered chief constable material. And I could never see Baynes as being part of the hunting and golfing set, twin pastimes which appear to be compulsory for those in any form of high office. We are a nation which rewards, not on merit, but where you went to school or university and who you know. Social skills count for more than actual skills in this world.”

“Times may change, Holmes.”

“Undoubtedly so, but for the better or worse? That is the question.”

“A question we can never see answered.”

“Quite so.”

“I did once have high hopes for Athelney Jones. He acquitted himself quite reasonably regarding the problem of the Sholto’s which you invested with the title, The Sign of Four. I am sorry, my dear fellow, is this painful for you?”

“Not at all. I spend a great deal of time in reflecting on my first happy marriage and the circumstances that brought Mary into my life. I muse on her smile, her voice and the mystery which hung over her life. I lose myself in a reverie deliberating on the sequence of events which brought us closer together. She was... no... is the love of my life.”

“I know, my friend, I know. I always found her the most delightful of women, always accommodating when I made my frequent requests for your company and assistance.”

“In that regard, she was most long-suffering. Content to see me go off at a moment’s notice with barely any chastisement. She was the most popular of women and a true helpmeet to all who sought aid from her. Folks suffering from any form of grief came to Mary like birds to a lighthouse or moths to a flame. She was goodness personified and was taken from me all too soon.”

“Yes, but never forgotten by anyone who met her I am sure.”

“Love is as much a mystery to me as it is unfathomable for you. My love for Mary did not prevent me from marrying again. Did I take into my second marriage feelings of guilt that I had somehow betrayed Mary? Is that why I failed as a husband?”

“Do you think you failed?”

“It did not last, did it? There is no one to blame but me. My wife would hardly have taken solace in the arms of another if I had been treating her well. I should not have married again, it was selfish of me.”

“And yet the motives of women are inscrutable at the best of times and almost without exception, even the best of them are not to be trusted.”

“A somewhat narrow view, Holmes.”

“I stand by it nevertheless.”

“Would you maintain that stance if we were talking about your mother?”

“I place my mother above all others, she was truly the woman for me. She stands supreme in my memory as the embodiment of the female species.”

“And yet you have rarely spoken of her to me.”

“The subject is a most painful one for me.”

“How so, if as you say she stands supreme in your memory? Why do you not want to talk about her further? Are you determined to stay secretive to the end?”

“You do not know what you ask of me, you really don’t. I have no intention of hiding my past from you, but I must be allowed to reveal certain truths to you in my own time.”

“Very well, Holmes. I am not even sure how we came to broach the subject.”

“Athelney Jones, Watson, was the starting point. He was an able officer, but not quite to the forefront of Yard men.”

“You did have your favourites aside from Lestrade; Stanley Hopkins and Alec Macdonald received praise from you, casual, even grudging though it may have been.”

“Good old Mac! I always found most Aberdonians to be as dour and as granite-like as their home city, but Mac was the exception. He was optimistic, cheerful and possessed a willingness to learn that was to become the making of him. It came as no surprise to me that he rose to the front rank of his profession. Young Hopkins, apart from occasional lapses which seemed to be inbuilt among the detective class at Scotland Yard, was a most able officer and yet again, his promotion was well-earned.”

“I am pleased to see that you continued to keep an eye on their careers, it’s certainly more than you did with our clients.”

“Other than those of our clients who lived their life in the public eye, whose doings were thrust at us daily from the broadsheets, then no, Watson. The client was no more than a factor in the case; the problem itself was where I concentrated my energies and once a case was complete then other clients would come forth to replace those earlier ones, with their own puzzles and mysteries. I have no doubt, my dear fellow that you compiled copious scrapbooks on the triumphs and failures, rises and falls of anyone who darkened our door.”

“Nothing of the kind, Holmes. I stayed in touch with a few, admittedly.”

“Possibly just those of the female variety, perhaps?”

“Such a comment is unworthy of you and unfair.”

“Oh, do you think so? I hardly need to mention the missives from Grace Dunbar or the sprightly and perfumed, on her part, correspondence between yourself and Laura Lyons at the turn of the century!”

“How typical of you, Holmes, that you fail to mention any letters between myself and male clients.”

“Because... there were none. Admit it, Watson.”

“Well, you may have scored a point off me there. But I see no need to make it sound so tawdry.”

“Apologies, my friend that was not my intention.”

“Thank you, but I believe you did not notice my smile!”

“Good old Watson. I never did get your limits. But at one time you thought you had mine I recall.”

“I thought you may bring that up. It was in the early days of our friendship when I drew up the list you are no doubt referring to. On the whole I still feel I was fairly accurate with my reasoning.”

“Anyone reading that list would have assumed me to have far more by way of limits than possibilities or expectations. If you were to compile such a list now I wager it would be much changed.”

“You would lose your wager, Holmes. Apart from one or two minor alterations I would change nothing.”

“I have seen that look of triumph on your face before when you think you have bested me in something.”

“Which I have!”

“Hmm.”

“You know it is so... your ‘hmm’ counts for nothing.”

“A temporary setback, you know our verbal sparring has only ever had one winner.”

“Only because I was too frustrated with you to argue further.”

“Be that as it may, but on the whole, of course, we never really argued or had a falling out of any serious kind. You were indeed the ideal companion.”

“Our differences complemented our characters. Had we been alike I have no doubt whatsoever that our friendship would not have lasted as it has.”

“I am sure you are right, Watson. We recognised the faults we each possessed and sought not to gain any advantage by it. There was on my part, loyalty and respect although I grant you it may not always have appeared so.”

“I did know it and in spite of the lack of emotion which I know is part of the essence of you, I saw your heart too.”

“By the look in your eyes, I can tell you are thinking of the case of the three Garridebs and our brush with the aptly named Killer Evans.”

“You are right. Tell me, if Killer Evans had ended my life, would you really have killed him in cold blood?”

“Yes, there is no doubt about that.”

“You could hardly have claimed self-defence for your actions, Holmes.”

“It would not be relevant, for I would be the only one to tell the tale and the authorities would be left in no doubt as to the sequence of events. Your life, Watson, I held in higher esteem than that of a felon and on a personal note, if Evans had succeeded in taking your life, then in my eyes he would have forfeited his own. I never had any qualms about playing judge, jury and executioner.”

“I was moved then, as I am now, Thank you, my friend.”

“And do you know something?”

“What’s that?”

“Even allowing for your Hippocratic Oath, I believe that you would have done the same for me.”

“If I had not time to ponder on such an action... then I am sure you may be right. No, I know for a fact you are right.”

Interlude

“Lucy, do you fancy going to the flicks tomorrow night?”

“What’s on?”

“It’s called Broadway Melody, I think. A musical.”

“What good is that, we haven’t got sound yet at the Rialto have we? We would have to make up the songs and sing it ourselves or listen to old Miss Cunningham play her clapped out old organ.”

“Not if we go into Bournemouth, Lucy. To the Empire, they have sound now.”

“Actually, Polly I may have a date tomorrow.”

“Oh yes? Who with?”

“That new doctor in Paediatrics, Dr Jones... he looks so dreamy.”

“Good God, Lucy. He is an old man; he’s got to be thirty five if he’s a day!”

“Just shows, all men like me... I have a certain appeal you know.”

“Perhaps I could tag along, Bill is working and I don’t want to sit in by myself.”

“Three’s a crowd and I can’t see Elwyn wanting to share.”

“Oh, Elwyn is it? You’re a fast worker.”

“Actually... he is, Polly!”

“Oh well I will have to spend the evening alone. I’ll remember that when you need company, Lucy. Don’t come crawling to me then.”

“I won’t have to. I’m never stuck for company, Polly. That sponge is wet... don’t throw it... don’t... don’t... I’ll get you for that!”

“That’ll teach you. Matron will be on the warpath if we don’t watch it, I have to see to Mr Spriggs yet again, if only we had a ten gallon bed pan it would make my job a lot easier.”

“All my lot are snoring their heads off, apart from Dr Watson who’s talking his head off. Just fancy, hardly a peep out of him for weeks then off he goes chattering away to himself like he’s demented or something, poor old boy.”

“Lucy, I dare you to move his chair back to the bed and let Matron find it, that would wind her up.”

“No chance. Although... although.”

Chapter 5

“I was fortunate not to be a member of the official force in that I could act in a way that they could never countermand. There were crimes that we looked into in which the punishment of those that the law of the land may have decreed as guilty would have served no useful purpose.”

“Such as James Ryder, the Blue Carbuncle thief?”

“Indeed, Watson. I did not feel as though I was overstepping any boundaries by allowing him to go on his snivelling way. His own fear would always stop him from turning to crime again. He was not cut out for it save for maybe the odd petty crime and sending him to prison would never have altered that. Besides, as we have said already tonight; the Countess got her stone back, John Horner was freed to be re-united with his family and Peterson collected the reward.”

“Half the reward, Holmes, you pocketed the other half.”

“All Peterson did was find the goose and hence the stone. I did all the actual work in the matter. Did Peterson deduce so much from Henry Baker’s hat? No, I did. Did he go out in the freezing night air on the trail of the goose? No, I did. Did he run the villain down? No, I did.”

“I think you have made your point, although I seem to recall my presence too!”

“Yes, yes of course. As for Captain Croker, it was you yourself who acquitted him, Watson. Vox populi, vox dei.”

“Only in a manner of speaking. You were the judge as you so expressed it and the decision to free him was yours.”

“The fellow was no cold blooded killer; he had the light of decency in his eyes and I have no doubt that the judgment we pronounced upon him was only right and proper. Besides any other course of action may have disturbed the course of true love which would have been anathema to you my dear fellow both as an observer and a chronicler.”

“I assure you it would not have been a consideration had the circumstances been different, but the man rang true every time and impressed me very much. I did have my reservations regarding Ryder though. To me, the man deserved to be punished and in spite of what you say, sometimes punishment by incarceration is the only step to take.”

“Fortunately for Ryder, the decision regarding his fate was down to me.”

“As was that of James Wilder, the Duke of Holdernesse’s son and erstwhile secretary.”

“Ah, yes I recall we had a difference of opinion at the time, Watson in regard to my actions. I stand by the decision I took.”

“You used some very strong words to the Duke about his compounding a felony and aiding the escape of a murderer, yet surely you were just as guilty of that yourself in turning a blind eye to the crimes committed by Wilder and the Duke himself for that matter, especially as you were so adamant you would not lift a finger to help Hayes avoid the gallows for his killing of the German master, Heidegger. Wilder, by masterminding this venture was just as culpable even if he did not slay Heidegger himself.”

“Again, I have to ask you what good would have come of incarcerating young Wilder? What purpose would be served by it? Instead of which he may just have achieved something with his life out there in the colonies.”

“And he may not. Life is not always a bed of roses out there. I know that only too well”

“True, there is always that possibility, Watson.”

“When we spoke earlier of the size of the reward that the Duke of Holdernesse gave you, I did not mention that the whole transaction, if I may term it as such, left a bad taste in my mouth.”

“My answer remains the same; it was payment for services rendered.”

“I see it now as I saw it then; money given as a reward for silence. But, let’s agree not to argue the point further.”

“Yes, by all means. We do, I hope, respect each other’s point of view.”

“Yes, of course Holmes. I believe in redemption just as much as you.”

“I daresay you believe it to a greater degree; you always had the makings of a man of the cloth I felt, Watson.”

“I once considered it way back in my youth.”

“What changed your mind?”

“One or two events, but primarily the knowledge that my faith such as it was then could never be strong enough to sustain any kind of vocation. I did not believe as much as was necessary for me to do so. And my later actions only confirmed this to me.”

“The Church had a lucky escape I feel and I, in due course was the benefactor.”

“My faith dissipated and then went altogether for one reason or another. I have seen too much suffering in this world to have any kind of belief in a loving God.”

“My parents were staunch church goers. I should qualify that by saying that my father was the prime motivator in our regular attendance at the local church. We had a box pew and every Sunday we would be sitting there as a family on show to the entire congregation. To my father, that was all that mattered, that we could be seen to be taking our place amongst the flock. He wanted people to admire us, look up to us for our supposed faith and piety. He was a man who did everything for show. To us, my mother and me particularly, he showed his true colours. At that point I did not care whether I entered another church in my life.”

“But of course you did.”

“I attended a few times when I went up to University. It was expected of us to some extent and I had little choice, but to comply occasionally. It wasn’t so much the suffering I saw in the world that caused me to question the existence of a creator, but science itself that shone a light in me. The order in what we call creation has been explained by science and evolution. Although I would not decry or deny anyone their faith, it is apparent to me that God does not exist. Mankind being mortal has to believe there is more to life than his allotted three score years and ten and so has been busy for several thousands of years cultivating the need to worship a higher being who may be able to hand to him a life eternal in return for the little matter of unconditional yet wholly undeserved love.

“Undeserved?”

“Certainly. How else can we picture the God of the Old Testament, but as undeserving of any kind of love? Innocent men, women and children slaughtered in the name of this god and we are not talking about isolated cases here. The theme of the Old Testament is not love or faith, but fear; fear of punishment, fear of retribution for the most trivial of offences. What was it Voltaire said? Oh yes, ‘If God did not exist it would be necessary to invent him’. That is precisely what man did. We all have read how God is supposed to have created man in his image; nothing could be further from the truth, man created God in his image.”

“The instances from the Old Testament, Holmes? Are you perhaps thinking of Lot’s wife or the sad episode of Jepthah’s daughter?”

“Yes, amongst others. How can we equate a God of love with one who forces a man such as Jepthah to sacrifice his own daughter? For what? To prove a point? To test Jepthah’s faith? An act of cruelty, nothing more, nothing less. Add to that the wholesale destruction of peoples because they happened to worship another god and that cruelty is magnified a hundredfold.”

“But surely some of the tales are purely allegorical, morality stories that are not meant to be taken literally.”

“In effect then, you are saying that we all must decide for ourselves which sections of the Bible are actual events and further decide for ourselves where the word of God lies within these meandering, inconsistent writings. Regardless of the reality or otherwise of episodes described in the Bible, it remains the cornerstone of Christian faith and I say again, the god so described within its pages is no more deserving of one’s love than the Devil himself. God for me, Watson, remains a figure of speech only, with no more reality than your blessed Giant Rat of Sumatra!”

“For the most part I cannot argue with your reasoning, but all the same, when I observe order in the world I tend to ascribe it to a creator for how else would that perfect order and symmetry come about?”

“Mankind is conditioned to see such order because it is he himself who has brought order into the world. All manner of natural wonders seem to have a certain order to them, purely because we, as, constructors and designers believe there must be method in what we see, just as there is in the inventions that we have brought into being. We perforce look at it from our viewpoint so haphazardness becomes method, randomness becomes design.”

“Could you not say, however, that man’s willingness to see design in everything is because it was created within us and around us?”

“I must confess, Watson, I do not see it that way. Science has rendered the darkness we oft lived in to a state of bright illumination; many more discoveries still to come will answer any remaining questions about our origins. That of course will have the result of many questioning their faith, but I can only see that as a positive boon.”

“For some, faith is all they have, perhaps they may not care to have all their questions answered to the detriment of that faith.”

“Equally for some, no matter what logic may be brought to bear and what proofs positive abound regarding our coming into being and the beginnings of the universe, they will always seek to use their faith as a crutch to bolster their own lives. Men of science will always have their detractors and even persecutors. Religion will continue to be divisive and will forever cause bloodshed when differing factions clash. Were your parents of a religious bent?”

“They were staunch Presbyterians and never, ever wavered in their convictions. However, they were more enlightened than most in that they allowed my brother, Henry and me to exercise our own free will in whether we wished to conform to and embrace their beliefs. We both veered away from that form of religion, well, from all organised religion really, but we were fortunate that having such enlightened parents, it did not cause any kind of rift between us.”

“You do not feel your childhood suffered in any way because of your mother and father’s religious ways?”

“Not in the slightest, Holmes. My brother and I had a very happy upbringing, being in a religious household had no detrimental effect on us at all.”

“I envy you. Do you know, in many ways I have always envied you, Watson. You always looked at the world with a freshness that betrayed itself in every facet of your life. I, for my part, regarded the world with jaded eyes. I think of how you enjoyed the countryside, the moors, and the heath land and revelled in nature with a rare wonder whereas I would only dwell on that impunity with which crimes may be committed there. Committed and hidden from view. The profession I carved out for myself precluded such enjoyment of the simpler things such as pastoral delights and many other delights.”

“Yet, you often found yourself enraptured by music. I remember being astounded by your total delight in a concert given by Sarasate, particularly as it was in the midst of our looking into the Red-Headed League puzzle. Your ability to detach yourself from current cases often amazed me. My point is that you can hardly be said to have denied yourself all pleasures.”

“You are very astute my friend and you are right of course. I was generalising too much maybe.”

“Perhaps this position of consulting detective that you created for yourself was not the only course of action open to you. Your life and enjoyment of it may have been totally different had you chosen an alternative form of employment.”

“From your reading of my character all those years ago, my choices would have been somewhat limited. Astronomy would certainly have been denied to me! I believe I was destined to be what I became, the fates had conspired against me.”

“Not that you ever believed in fate, Holmes, of course.”

“Assuredly not, but whichever way you look at it, it had to be, and I would not wish it any other way.”

“Many villains would wish it so!”

“What complaints could they have? Those who live by the sword are apt to perish by the sword.”

Interlude

“Nurse Pollett... Nurse Pollett!”

“You’re in trouble, Lucy.”

“I’m always in trouble. God knows what I have done this time, left a thermometer in too long?”

“Ah, there you are. Nurse Harrison, there is no need for you to stay, I’m sure you can find something to do if you really try.”

“Yes, Matron.”

“I have just looked in on Dr Watson and once more I found his chair moved. Did I not have cause to reprimand you about that just a short while ago? Well?”

“Yes, but honestly Matron, I haven’t touched it.”

“I would mind it less, Nurse Pollett, if you could only bring yourself to be honest with me. Who are you blaming now; Mrs Drew on another nocturnal visit? The polished floors? An earthquake in the tropics?”

“Honest, I have not touched the bloody chair!”

“We will have no swearing in this hospital, Nurse. Please get on with your duties for the remainder of the night and while you do so perhaps you would like to consider your position here. That’s all, Nurse.”

***

“Lucy, I didn’t really think you would go through with it. You must have the devil in you tonight.”

“But, that’s just it, Polly, I didn’t.”

“Didn’t? But you must have done.”

“I swear...”

“Yes I heard!”

“No, listen to me Pol, when I went in there Dr Watson was still chatting away to himself and I just looked at him and left. I did not touch the chair.”

“Where was it?”

“I didn’t notice, but it must have been by the wall because that’s where the old witch put it. It’s a bit spooky, what with his condition and all.”

“Glad he’s on your round not mine!”

“Thanks, Polly, you’re all heart.”

Chapter 6

“Baker Street!”

“I beg your pardon, Watson?”

“Oh... sorry, Holmes I must have been dreaming. What did I say?”

“Baker Street.”

“Yes that was it, I was back home. It’s odd you know how I think of it as home when I actually spent so little time living there.”

“Perhaps you were at your happiest there?”

“Sorry, old man, I don’t believe I can claim that, given the wonderfully happy times when I was master of my own household, but obviously your presence here tonight has taken my sub-conscious back to those times when the game could be afoot at any moment and when clients danced merrily across the threshold with their vexatious problems and conundrums.”

“All human life was there, I think we can rightly say and some which appeared to be rather more or possibly you could say, less than human.”

“Who’d have thought that London could contain so much in the way of mystery and intrigue and that it would find its way to our door?”

“I, for one, Watson. In such a metropolis one should expect exactly what we saw, and remember that we barely scratched the surface of the peculiar or downright criminal enterprises that such a great city can provide for those who have a love of all that falls outside of the commonplace.”

“It was the ideal location and time for you.”

“Fortunately for me, but rather less fortunately for those who entered the sphere of my investigations.”

“I never did know whether your appearance in London was the result of a gradual process; working towards a base where you could operate profitably and be educated in your field at the same time or whether it was a deliberate move on your part.”

“Quite deliberate, Watson. I long had it in my mind, even before I went up to Oxford, that I would carve a niche for myself in living by my wits. It was so pronounced in me that my time at Oxford, in spite of the education it offered to me, I felt to be a waste of my time. The long walk home from the college to my digs in Kidlington was spent, not in assimilating what I may have gleaned that day from my tutors, but in theorising on my own experiments. I was very single minded, but that my dear Watson, will come as no surprise to you at all.”

“Not in the slightest, Holmes!”

“I was not a sociable fellow back then-“

“That does not surprise me either.”

“Thank you, Watson. I might occasionally join the other fellows at The Lamb and Flag for a restorative ale after a long day, but mostly they knew to leave me to my own devices. I did have friends after a fashion such as young Trevor, but I was not one of the ‘gang’ so to speak and I have no doubt they were all most relieved at that.”

“What on earth made you think that you would have the wherewithal to set up as a consulting detective? Would it not have been better to set up in Oxford where at least you were familiar with the city and its environs?”

“I did have a small success or two in that fair city long before my biographer came to glorify me. The Tarleton murders date from that period as does the peculiar and initially baffling case of Vamberry the Headington wine merchant, but these minor triumphs needled the official force there and I realised my future would lie elsewhere.”

“Montague Street in fact. Even then, Bloomsbury was a quite fashionable place to live. Your rooms would not have come cheap.”

“As I say, I did have some money which came to me after the deaths of my parents, although Mycroft as the elder son had the lion’s share. The sale of the family house realised very little by way of hard cash for my father had run up huge debts through his gambling and philandering ways. When those debts had been cleared, the pot was very nearly empty. So I found myself in my rooms in Montague Street, twiddling my thumbs, frittering away what little money I still possessed on the necessities of living; funds were running extraordinarily low, to some extent Oxford had seen to that.”

“You came into this small inheritance before you went to Oxford?”

“Yes. My parents were both dead some time before that. Mycroft was in charge of my portion until I came of age, in effect my guardian. But, as I was saying, I spent an inordinate amount of time in the British Museum, not so much for what I could learn within its hallowed portals, but for the fact it was much warmer there than in my rooms.”

“Hence, your need for new digs plus someone to share the cost of such digs with you.”

“Indeed, Watson. There were the odd cases that came my way, that of Reginald Musgrave and the age old ritual of Hurlstone for instance. As bright as I may have shone in that case, as in a few others, there was to be no great financial reward forthcoming. I spent a great deal of my time in perambulations of London, getting to know its nooks and crannies intimately. The city became a friend to me and I reckoned I knew every inch of it. I believe as a cabbie I would have risen to the top of that profession such was my knowledge of the city’s byways, lanes, squares and alleyways.”

“I was always in awe of your encyclopaedic knowledge of London.”

“It was a hard earned knowledge, blisters and worn out shoe-leather testified to that.”

“Was your early work as a consulting detective your only source of income at that time?”

“I supplemented it occasionally with the odd bout as a prize fighter; my lanky frame somewhat belied my strength and skill, meaning I was able to pick up the odd few shillings in prize money as a result. Occasionally there were greater financial rewards that came my way from grateful clients; my recovery of the opal tiara when acting for Mrs Farintosh brought with it a few pounds to add to my dwindling coffers, but it was transient because for the most part, that money was owed elsewhere and disappeared as fast as it came into my possession. Mortimer Maberley, one of my early clients, was kind enough to offer up as his reward for my assistance, tokens which could be exchanged for square meals at Willoughby’s in Great Russell Street.”

“They were hard times for you, Holmes. Could you not have appealed to your brother for help?”

“My pride would not allow it and besides our relationship was still strained, markedly more so than when you first met Mycroft. He had his own life and was making his way in government circles where they recognised his genius and omniscience. We were so far apart in those days that he never once came to Montague Street and I never set foot in his Pall Mall lodgings.”

“You were truly alone then?”

“Yes, Watson. My only contact with my fellow human beings was through prize fighting, where the contact was of course extremely physical or through my researches at the British Museum where the contact was slight and of course entirely cerebral. Other than that I was quite a solitary animal given to huge bouts of introspection and, you may be surprised to hear it, long periods of self-doubt.”

“I am not as surprised as you may imagine. I was always fully aware of your contradictory nature. Your precision and concentration of thought was often balanced with a restlessness and impatience. Your emotionless state that often bordered on cold-bloodedness was at odds with the nervousness and excitability I saw sometimes manifested in you.”

“I am hardly alone in displaying such a contradictory nature, Watson.”

“True, but it was very marked to my eyes because of whom and what you are. The failures, as you saw it in others, were often mirrored in you; sometimes I doubt that you were even aware of it. You decried haughtiness in others yet you were often contemptuous of those you perceived as mental inferiors. In fact I always thought your most obvious weakness was your impatience with less alert intelligences than your own, although having said that, you did have a remarkable ability to put clients at their ease, particularly the more humble clients.”

“The exalted clients we encountered were too puffed up with their own pride; they had no need to have their egos massaged further. The humbler clients as you describe them, were more in need of reassurance and very often their stories had to be coaxed from them, little by little.”

“I suppose you could say that in essence you were all things to all people.”

“I endeavoured to be so. I am glad that you see me as having succeeded.”

“In essence, Holmes, in essence!”

“I had noted the word, Watson, and allow me to use it also. In essence, my professional life was not exactly going how I had envisioned it. The income situation was grim to put it mildly and my daily life was solitary and fast becoming tiresome and commonplace, which I abhorred. My only other pursuits were visits to local theatres, they being the only ones I could afford to visit. The stagecraft of the actors fascinated me, the way they could submerge their own personalities under the makeup they applied, the tricks they used to gain or lose height. I inveigled myself into various dressing rooms to watch these processes at close quarters.”

“Did the opportunity present itself to actually put some of the skills you learned to legitimate use? By that, I mean, did you take to the boards yourself?”

“The Hampstead players recognised my talent and gave me ample opportunities to employ it. I graduated from small roles such as ‘third guard’ or ‘constable’ to roles more suited to my wonderfully dynamic range-“

“Was it beyond them I wonder to assign parts to you which reflected your modesty!?”

“I must admit I have always failed to see why any importance is attached to modesty.”

“Perhaps because it goes some way to making a fellow just a dash more likeable.”

“An intriguing and yet debatable point. I have never ranked modesty as one of the virtues and I see little point in devaluing any gifts I possess in order to appear likeable. I am a logician, Watson and logic dictates that everything be seen as it is. Equally so, I never seek to exaggerate my gifts either.”

“I beg your pardon, Holmes?”

“I had no need to; I had my Boswell to do that for me. You can hardly blame me that if at times you were too effusive in your praise.”

“Tell me, what were these roles that you graduated to, that made such good use of your acting skills?”

“Chief amongst them was the role of Malvolio.”

“Ah, Twelfth Night, I should have guessed.”

“I received a very favourable review in the ‘Gazette’.”

“I have no doubt at all that you remember it word for word.”

“As it happens, I do. ‘The performance of Mr William Escott as Malvolio was a delight; this young performer captured every nuance of the character and lit up the stage with his energy and brilliance. Mark my words; this man will go a long way.’ One of my earliest uses for that particular pseudonym.”

“Reserved for the stage and courtships?”

“Reserved for when necessity dictated its usage, Watson. That wasn’t my only success on the stage although I say so myself and I quickly realised how much acting and the art of disguise would play a part in my professional life. I had occasion to resort to such skills in my career as you know and by far the best way to successfully act a part is to be it.”

“And without exception, you fooled me every time.”

“This was always enormously gratifying for me, because if my closest friend could not penetrate my disguise than I could be confident no one else would.”

”It may be that I was just easily fooled. There were many times I felt very slow on the uptake.”

“Once again, Watson, you do yourself an injustice. You are more astute than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thank you, Holmes. Were you at your lowest ebb when you met me?”

“Professionally, no, but in many other ways, yes. I had cases to work on, hence the test you saw me so enthusiastically involved in at Barts and my reaction to having my theory proved, but as I have said, my finances were by then in a perilous condition and were likely to remain so unless I took action to reduce my expenditure. Our meeting when we did was fortuitous in the extreme and the subsequent move to Baker Street brought with it a surge in clients and cases. I am no great believer in fate, yet even I could be persuaded to think that events were moving in response to some grand celestial plan.”

“In spite of our differences of character or perhaps because of them, our friendship blossomed too.”

“Most assuredly, Watson. And almost before I was even aware of it, your accounts of my cases began to appear to a long suffering public.”

“But, none without your specific approval.”

“Approval of their publication yes, not their singularly unscientific content depending somewhat on a meretricious effect.”

“Despite your disdain, Holmes, my writing brought you considerable fame and ever more clients.”

“Including some that are best forgotten along with their trivial problems that they were under the illusion I would be glad to look into. If I possessed and were to be using at that time, the most powerful microscope on earth, I would not have been able to locate my interest in some of their puzzles. All the same, my workload was never without those cases that promised and delivered so much by way of escape from the dreary commonplace of existence.”

“In the early days of your career how did Scotland Yard view you?”

“Oh, as an upstart and a meddler which was an understandable reaction. The first investigation I offered my assistance on was the strange, but ultimately simple case, known to the world at large as the Andriacco affair, that took place in Deptford in ’79. Lestrade was the official in charge of the case and when an idea as to its solution came to me whilst reading the reports in the newspapers, I went to Deptford immediately to delineate my theory to the inspector.”

“I imagine you were greeted with a good deal of derision.”

“Initially, yes, but once I had proved that my version of the events had to be the correct one, I was taken a little more seriously. I was never to be welcomed with open arms, but a working relationship with some of their ablest officers grew slowly, but surely. Lestrade of course, gained the credit for bringing the miscreant to heel and from that point on he became a regular visitor when he was out of his depth, which was a fairly regular occurrence of course.”

“Having the ear of officials at Scotland Yard must have paid dividends; doors previously closed to you now became open and you could be said to have authority on your side.”

“It did not make a pennyworth of difference to me or my work that others perceived me as having authority on my side owing to my connection with the official police force. Indeed, sometimes it was a hindrance in that some people were reluctant to be completely honest with me for fear their words would be written down and used against them. But, on the whole, yes the association was worthwhile.”

“They were doing the best they could, those officers we had dealings with.”

“Yes, but for the most part they lacked a certain amount of imagination which is essential to detective work.”

“But they did not have your encyclopaedic knowledge of crime history to draw upon.”

“Yet, there is no reason that they could not have acquired such knowledge for themselves.”

“They did have the small matters of earning a living, bringing up families and sleeping to consider. Besides, if they had all acquired this knowledge and learned how to apply it, what kind of position would that have put you in? Your powers would have been negated and all those great cases you solved would have been triumphs for Scotland Yard instead.”

“As you often did, Watson, you have grasped the truth with your pertinacious insight. I have been indebted to you so often, my friend.”

“Thank you. Do my hands look as they should do you, Holmes?”

“Yes, they appear to be so, why?”

“Pins and needles in them, it’s making me think that the skin of my hands is in constant motion. Damn! I will just close my eyes again, to gather my thoughts, Holmes.”

“Of course, my friend.”

Interlude

“How’s your Spriggs fellow, Polly?”

“Still sprigging!”

“Someone should sort him out.”

“Oh, he’s harmless enough, Lucy.”

“He’s a man... he is far from harmless.”

“Oh shush now, he must be ninety!”

“Still a man. I know these things, I am a nurse.”

“Not for long if you carry on the way you are.”

“Well I won’t care either way when Elwyn whisks me away to marry him.”

“If his wife will let him without breaking your legs first!”

“Oh, you can be so catty, Polly Harrison! And jealousy will get you nowhere; it never does for old married women.”

“I am happy as I am thanks, why don’t you go and see to your Mr Travers. You are more likely to see action with him than with the dishy doctor!”

“Can’t help having S.A. can I darling? If you know what that is of course.”

“Know and have it, more than you ever will. Right, duty calls, Lucy, have fun with Mr Travers.”

“I will go and look in on Dr Watson again. I think he may slip away from us tonight and I would like to think he knows that someone is near.”

Chapter 7

“This is such a long night, Holmes. It is still night, yes?”

“Yes it is. How are the pins and needles?”

“Everywhere now, but the blessed pain I have been suffering with has all but disappeared. May we talk some more?”

“Yes, Watson, nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

“Tell me, for I have often wondered, how long were you aware of the presence of Moriarty?”

“I had my suspicions that there was a great orchestrator at work long before I mentioned the man to you. He was an elusive shadow in those days, a will-of-the-wisp who constantly evaded my clutches. I could not even put a name to the man, yet I knew there was someone there who was the great organiser of crime in London, the controlling brain. For years I tracked him through often the smallest of crimes, but all of them bearing a certain hallmark. The Silvertown robbery, the scandal at the Tankerville club, the despoiling of national treasures at the British Museum, the Bishopsgate jewellery theft, the bogus laundry affair; all these disparate crimes bore the signs of having one man behind them and I was determined to devote much of my energy into finding out just who that man was.”

“The task must have been exceedingly onerous.”

“It was a long, slow process in which for every step forward I fell back an equal amount. Occasionally, I was given great hope by information which came to me through that network of informers that you became only too familiar with, only for those hopes to be dashed. There were times that I cursed my caseload for I could not devote enough time to what I saw as the most important case I would ever handle.”

“I only got to know of Moriarty shortly before the events that I chronicled as ‘The Final Problem’, but for how long then had you been chasing this shadowy, elusive figure?”

“For a good few years. It took me some time to observe the pattern, but when I recognised there was a power at work in the background and once I had got the measure of this unknown adversary then I was able to identify those cases where he had unwittingly left his mark.”

“You once said to me that you recognised Moriarty’s work in undetected crimes. If these crimes were undetected then it begs the question, how did you detect them?”

“Perhaps I should have said instead, crimes that were not investigated fully. Although I detected such crimes from the singular autograph left upon them by their author, I was not always in a position to investigate these matters myself. I noted their ripple effect, the disturbances on the surface that would always point me to their origin. Slowly, but surely I began to make inroads into his organisation. There were the odd minions who, although petrified of the Professor, were more frightened of me and the weight of the law that I could bring to bear on them. By using such felons I was able to gain an insight as to how Moriarty worked and how he ruled his kingdom absolutely. It still took another two years before I was able to put a name to this figure. The surprise was great when I realised I knew the man.”

“You knew Moriarty? This is something new to me. How did you know him?”

“Before Mycroft went up to Oxford my father brought in a mathematics coach to assist my brother. For a period of two months he came to the house regularly to teach Mycroft the more rarefied branches of mathematics.”

“He taught you too?”

“Nay, my father would not see fit to spend any extra money on my education. Mycroft was the chosen one and it was he who received the special attention of Professor James Moriarty. In fact when Mycroft went to Oxford he ran into the professor again, for he held a post at Oxford for a while until a scandal forced him to seek new pastures.”

“I can imagine what a great shock that must have been for you. Did you bring this to the attention of Mycroft? That his former mathematics coach was a criminal mastermind?”

“In a manner of speaking. That is to say, I apprised my brother of some aspects of Moriarty’s subsequent career, but Mycroft was already supremely aware of Moriarty’s tawdry line of work.”

“How so?”

“My brother and Moriarty had stayed in touch and although Mycroft was not fully aware of just how large a criminal organisation Moriarty presided over he knew that his old tutor operated outside of the law. This meant that to Mycroft and therefore the government, Moriarty had his uses.”

“He was employed by them? Surely not, Holmes!”

“I can assure you he was.”

“As what?”

“As someone they could trust to do some of their dirty work for them, someone who would keep their secrets secret... at the right price of course.”

“Precisely what kind of work are we talking about?”

“Anything from petty theft to political assassinations.”

“Good God, Holmes, I am amazed.”

“Standard practice for many governments I am afraid. In the case of Moriarty it did go some way to explaining how my efforts to infiltrate to the heart of the man’s lair seemed to be blocked sometimes in a way I could not fathom. Like all agents of the government, Moriarty was eminently expendable and once he had outlived his usefulness then I had Mycroft’s full assistance in ridding the world of this man’s presence.”

“Did Mycroft have no compunction about helping to destroy one who had been an ally until recently?”

“An ally? No, Watson, he was a paid agent. His very criminality was what made him attractive to a government that sought out those it could use when official channels could not be utilised. That same criminality brought about his downfall.”

“It must be dashed unlucky to have one Holmes hounding you, but when another Holmes joins the hunt, then the effect must be terrifying.”

“Quite so, Watson.”

“When you related your meeting with Moriarty in our rooms the intimation was that you had never met the man before.”

“There had to be some necessary subterfuge in view of the high stakes for all concerned. There was a meeting, but not quite the dramatic confrontation I may have led you to believe.”

“Do you know, Holmes, I believe you spent your whole career hiding things from me!”

“Guilty as charged, Watson. But on occasion I saw it as for your own protection. My obfuscations were to my mind logically sound.”

“Be that as it may, it did rankle with me; the times I was aware of it of course, only now am I finding out the full extent of your deceit.”

“Well-meaning deceit, Watson, well-meaning deceit.”

“The connection between the government and Moriarty was covered up of course.”

“Naturally. Any inkling of such goings on would have put Her Majesty’s Government in an extremely bad light.”

“You are the master of understatement tonight, Holmes. Was the account you gave me regarding your travels for those three years a truthful one?”

“For the most part yes. My destinations were just as I expressed to you, but my travels were somewhat dictated by the government, for I was engaged in diplomatic work for them of a highly sensitive nature.”

“Which fully engaged you for three years?”

“I did have pursuits of my own to follow too. I was fortunate in that I was able to pursue them concurrently along with carrying out the edicts originating from Mycroft’s department.”

“The money that Mycroft wired to you was in fact by way of being a salary for your, what was it, spying?”

“Something akin to that yes, but with the emphasis on diplomacy.”

“Not always the strongest card in your pack, Holmes.”

“I concede that point to you, Watson. Apart from the occasional cases that came my way which involved the government of the day, my diplomatic career was over.”

“Until the advent of Von Bork.”

“Yes I have to confess I was very surprised to be pressed into active service once more, particularly as I was of the idea that retirement had softened my brain considerably, but it was good to be back in harness in spite of the dangers involved.”

“I find it hard to believe it was a full fifteen years ago.”

“Yes indeed, Watson, time has marched on since then and the world has passed us two old sleuth-hounds by.”

“It was only to be expected, no one is immune from ageing. Looking back, were there any crimes that you wished you had been invited to investigate?”

“Oh, constantly, Watson. At those times all I could do was to take a leaf out of Mycroft’s book and remain an armchair detective.”

“As I recall, there were many high profile cases which were paraded over many pages of the broadsheets and I also distinctly recall your impatience with the investigating officers.”

“I tell you, Watson, every day I had the desire to send off wires hither and thither setting out my objections to various theories I saw expounded in the news, but I stayed my hand. My standing at Scotland Yard, although high, was not something I took for granted and too much unwarranted interference on my part may have jeopardised that, so for the most part I kept silent.”

“Do any stand out in your memory?”

“The so called ‘Ripper’ murders of 1888 occupied my waking thoughts for weeks on end as I am sure you remember.”

“I particularly remember the sitting room being wreathed in an impenetrable blue fog of tobacco smoke on many a morning during that period.”

“In spite of the sensationalism accorded these crimes, they were to my mind fairly commonplace murders, not so very different than other atrocities committed in the Whitechapel district.”

“But these were heinous crimes, Holmes, far beyond anything seen before.”

“Not so, there were similar episodes in Paris earlier that same year and seven such deaths in Hamburg in 1886. These are just two examples out of quite a number. The streets of Whitechapel seemed to be designed for such crimes to take place. Dorset Street, in fact had the epithet of being ‘the most evil street in London’.

“Although you were not officially involved in the investigation were you able to draw any conclusions from the police and coroner’s reports?”

“I did have one or two ideas regarding the murderer and did have a meeting with Inspector Abberline just prior to the discovery of the butchered body of Mary Kelly. He listened politely and I heard no more from him. And of course as luck would have it, we heard no more from ‘saucy Jack’.”

“I suppose there is no way of telling whether your suppositions were correct?”

“No, neither now nor then. My own belief is that our man left the country, possibly for America, where some similar killings took place in Chicago in 1889. But, as you say, Watson, just suppositions and these particular murders will I suspect remain unsolved.”

“Who was this man of yours?”

“A fellow by the name of William Rudolph and a thoroughly unpleasant fellow as you can well imagine.”

“Was the evidence you collected strong enough to make a case against him?”

“I believe it could have been acted on had the powers that be decided to do so.”

“Could you not have brought him to book yourself without utilising the combined might of the City and Metropolitan police forces?”

“The lack of evidence would have told against such an action. I may have been wrong, Watson, after all he was just one suspect out of so many.”

“Do you know what became of the man?”

“I have only that supposition I mentioned that he fled to America. The murders in Chicago certainly displayed marked similarities to the Whitechapel murders. All the information I had on the man I passed on to Captain Adamson of the Central Division of the Chicago police force, but after that series of killings in his city, there was nothing more.”

“Was this Rudolph a doctor or a surgeon? I recall that the common belief at the time was that the murderer must have been involved in one of those professions.”

“Neither, he was a tailor by trade with small premises in Flower and Dean Street. The evisceration of those poor wretches was not as skilful as the authorities would have had us believe. I could have done a similar job myself with my own rudimentary anatomical skills.”

“There was certainly no shortage of suspects in the case.”

“Too many suspects. Which only served to confuse matters. The truth is of course that we will never be sure of the identity of this particular killer. My supposition was well-founded, but for all that, just supposition.”

“One of the drawings of the Ripper based on an eye-witness description looked exactly like me. Thurston ribbed me over it for some time.”

“I am sure that an enterprising writer of the future will decide that indeed you were the Ripper, Watson!”

“What a ridiculous notion, Holmes.”

“I do not believe so and if it’s any consolation to you, I will be tarred with the same brush myself.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Holmes?”

“Yes, Watson?”

“I cannot feel my hands at all now; could you apply some pressure to my left hand?”

“Certainly... there.”

“Thank you... I can feel your touch, it’s immensely reassuring.”

Interlude

“How is he, Lucy?”

“It’s odd, his breathing is very shallow, just what I would expect, but still he keeps chattering away.”

“Poor old boy.”

“He’s never been any trouble since he has been here, not like some I could name. When he first came in he seemed quite strong and alert. He ordered a newspaper every day, but now he hasn’t looked at one in weeks and he doesn’t ask about the world outside at all.”

“I think they call it now ‘locked-in’. He is living in the past completely.”

“It might not be that bad for him then, he had an exciting life from all accounts. He lived with that detective, the famous one, you know?”

“What, Sherlock Holmes?”

“That’s the man.”

“I didn’t even know he was real, Lucy.”

“Oh Polly, if Dr Watson is real, it stands to reason that Sherlock Holmes must be real too, doesn’t it? Well, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss know-it-all Pollett, whatever you say madam!”

“And I know something else too, Mrs don’t-know-nothing Harrison.”

“Oh yes and what might that be? Don’t tell me... I know, don’t tell me... you have won Nurse of The Year?”

“Funny girl.”

“What then?”

“I have a date tomorrow night... and you don’t.”

“Actually I don’t want one and especially not with a Welsh doctor. Dear me, Lucy, is that really the best you can do? And I hear his bedside manner is not all it’s cracked up to be either!”

“Jealousy, jealousy...”

Chapter 8

“Sorry, Holmes, did I drop off again? You will be losing patience with me as you used to.”

“There is no fear of that, my dear fellow. I was certainly guilty in the past, but not on this occasion I assure you.”

“I probably tried your patience far too often, Holmes. So I don’t rightly see I ever had any cause to complain... too much!”

“We complemented each other perfectly; our differences were never so marked as to come between our friendship.”

“No, it was fortunate that our interests, in some ways so different, never caused any form of isolation from each other. Although I could never quite understand your aversion to Rugby or cricket, two fine gentlemanly sports.”

“The implication being that fencing and boxing were not?”

“No, not at all, I hold both sports in high regard; I really enjoyed seeing the Italian fencer Ageliso Greco in action during that exhibition of fencing that we both attended. I even read the book that you insisted I read by Giuseppe Radaelli on the art of sabre fencing.”

“Yes, I recall your comments at the time, Watson. Long winded was one of your more charitable opinions.”

“I blame the translator, Holmes. I am positive it must been an absolutely riveting read in the original Italian.”

“Oh it was I assure you. One of the great textbooks of fencing.”

“I will take your word for it, my grasp of Italian was always a little on the weak side.”

“The ultimate in sport for me is the combat of one man against another. It is primal, honest and the excitement is always high. Team sports never engendered any such excitement in me; I reckoned them to be perfunctory and dull.”

“I cannot agree with you there. Rugby football is a thoroughly passionate sport, compelling, addictive and never failing to entertain.”

“I really should know better than to argue the point with an ex-player of the game, but argue I will. All too often the action is indistinguishable as are the players, owing to the mud which is liberally covering everything and everyone. The sport is predominantly staged in the winter leading to uncomfortable viewing conditions for the spectators; need I continue?”

“But you are determined to see only the negatives; the passion of the sport and the skill displayed far outweigh these negatives of yours. And I don’t believe you have ever attended a Rugby football match so your views are made largely redundant.”

“I have never thrown myself off the Eiffel tower either, but all the same I know I would not enjoy the experience! As it happens, I have witnessed this turgid sport in action; a never to be repeated excursion to a Varsity match. Even cricket would have been a joy to watch compared with that particular event.”

“I hold the sport of cricket in the highest regard. Its values are a code you can live by. It enshrines duty and fair play and is recognised as such the world over. It is genteel, relaxing, intriguing and even you might say, beguiling in its hold over people.”

“For those people who feel able to devote days of their life to watching one match, then yes, beguiling it must be. For I suspect the vast majority of us it remains a game that is difficult to summon up any enthusiasm for, not to mention the required stamina to sit through an entire game. I understand your allegiance to the sport, given your nodding, as I recall, acquaintance with Doctor Grace. Ballarat was it not?”

“Yes, it was 1873 and I had thoughts of finding my fortune amongst the gold fields of Ballarat. The gold rush was all but over by that time, but I stayed on in the area with a cousin of mine. He was a keen cricketer and was instrumental in bringing W G Grace’s team to Ballarat to play against twenty-two men culled from the surrounding area, himself included. The match took place as the New Year began.”

“I would imagine that was one of the earliest tours to Australia from these isles?”

“There had been two earlier, but the 1873/74 tour was the best organised to that point. The Eastern Oval was a lovely ground, Holmes. Dr Grace declared it was the most English of Australian cricket grounds.”

“For its rainfall?!”

“No, for its tranquility and appearance. Grace scored a century, that’s a sight I have never forgotten. My only regret is that I was not invited to play. Tell me, Holmes, did you never partake in simple game playing when a child, with bat or ball?”

“With whom, Watson? Mycroft being seven years my senior did not in any way allow for game playing between us; there was always a gulf between us. My father had no time for instilling any love of sports in us, his main pastime was himself and although he and Mycroft sided together, he only tolerated his younger son. There was no love from that quarter, on either side. My mother encouraged us in the finer arts; she extolled the virtues of learning and of art, in particular, painting. She was of course related to the French artist, Vernet and art in the blood in her case revealed itself in her gentle demeanour. I never kept up my art studies to any extent, but you may recall that I was able to identify the artists whose works were displayed in Baskerville Hall.”

“I was going to say I feel sorry for you, but I realise you would not wish that. There should have been no reason to suppose that our sporting loyalties would in any way coincide. Although I think we always agreed on our complete indifference to Association football.”

“Yes we did. Association football always seemed determined to parade the worst aspects of our society. The sport encourages partisan crowds to the point of tribalism and the situation will not remain a constant, it can only worsen.”

“I agree, but I am always baffled why this particular sport should attract such tribalism. Why do some men feel this need to belong and have strong allegiances to the teams of their choice?”

“I have no answer to that, Watson. It is a mystery I cannot solve nor would I have wasted my time in attempting to solve it.”

“Fortunately you had no great contact with amateur or professional sport in your career, Holmes.”

“No, it rarely featured in any cases save that of Godfrey Staunton and Cyril Overton.”

“And Bob Ferguson.”

“Ah, but although Ferguson was one of your mud-splattered former Rugby colleagues, sport played no part in the affair of the ‘Sussex Vampire.”

“I have to say that your sporting skills in both fencing and boxing were at times a great help to you.”

“They certainly saved me the odd beating and were instrumental in the taking of a few villains. Physically, I believe, I was underestimated by a few opponents. My frame did not speak of great strength to them. Slogging ruffians one and all, Watson, slogging ruffians.”

“As our friend Mr Jack Woodley found out.”

“Now there was a man who needed to be taught a lesson and I am glad I was on hand to administer it.”

“I am positive he enjoyed his ride home in the cart!”

“An evil man too, he would have stopped at nothing to achieve his aims, not that we were ever strangers to such men.”

“Indeed not, Holmes. Baron Gruner, Dr Roylott, Milverton and so many more who had no moral fibre whatsoever. I wondered if they were even aware they were committing crimes.”

“They were, my friend. We might reckon them to be mad compared with lives such as our own, but they were not in any way insane. Greedy yes, wicked yes, but men who knew exactly what they were doing. I, for one never tired of bringing them to justice or seeing justice overtake them, whatever form that justice took.”

“You say that, Holmes, but in the end you did get tired of doing so.”

“Nay, not tired of what I was doing, but more in the way of doubting how could I continue to go about it. I felt my powers were on the wane and my imperfections and increasing fallibility would certainly harm my career. What could be more natural then to bring an end to my activities? Not that I was idle in my years of retirement as you know. I was able to keep myself busy with occasional cases that I was consulted on and then as we recalled earlier I was pressed into service at the behest of Mycroft and was re-born as Altamont.”

“You don’t feel that you retired too early then?”

“No, I have never entertained the thought, I just moved on to a different life. A life of bees, contemplation and solitude, a world away from your own retirement years.”

“Which were rather less in number then yours. I was sixty-five before I had an inkling of retiring, but then perhaps doctoring is more of a calling than being a detective.”

“I have no doubts, Watson.”

“It is only the last year when I have felt truly alone. It is not a state I have in any way enjoyed. I have never been a solitary animal and the lack of company has been hard to bear for me.”

“I do have a certain amount of guilt over that; I have not been in touch as often as I sometimes could or should have been.”

“There is no need to reproach yourself, no need at all. I am equally to blame if it comes to that. After all, we both had our own lives to lead.”

“I am glad I have the opportunity to be here now with you, Watson.”

“The opportunity? You make it sound like you have been given permission to be here.”

“I am sorry, Watson, but that was not quite my meaning. I apologise for my poor choice of word.”

“Apology accepted with thanks. I am overjoyed to see you; it has been too long my friend.”

“Indeed it has.”

“Do you have regrets, Holmes?”

“Of what kind?”

“Well, of any kind, professional, personal?”

“Do you think I should have?”

“It’s not about what I think. It’s a fairly simple question after all, surely?”

“I made mistakes in my life, Watson, you know of some of them. I made some bad decisions; I took some wrong turnings, but regrets? Do you know, I don’t really know whether I do or not. And yes, it is a fairly simple question, but I am having trouble coming up with an equally simple answer.”

“I didn’t necessarily expect a simple answer from you, Holmes!”

“That appears to be just as well, Watson. If you push me I think I would say, no I have no regrets. I have lived my life in the manner I wished to and I cannot count any setbacks as causing me regret. I have no recourse, but to stand by all the decisions I made because they all came from me and were a part of me. Besides, what good can come from regretting?”

“Most likely, none at all, but that does not mean we cannot feel it.”

“And yourself, Watson, do you have regrets?”

“I do wish that those who loved me had been granted longer with me and I with them. My personal happiness always seemed to be a temporary state. Contentment I always had, but true happiness was at best transitory and often out of reach. Professionally, my regrets were few. The Afghan war rather interrupted my medical career as I envisaged it and it was hard to settle back down to my former life when I returned home, hence my drifting aimlessly for a while. In a modest way I achieved what I felt able to achieve. Pooling my resources with you gave me an extra dimension to my life and of course set me on a writing career which surprised me immensely.”

“On the whole you acquitted yourself well. My own attempts were little more than slavish imitations of your own style and I have to confess I did not measure up.”

“If we are talking about real regrets then there is one above all others.”

“Yes, I suspect there would be and I believe I know what it is.”

“In your view, then, what is it?”

“Elementary, Watson, you wished you had been a father.”

“Precisely so, Holmes. Useless of course to dwell on it now, but my life would have been far more complete had I had children.”

“Most men would like to see their line carried on I believe.”

“But that’s not it, Holmes, do you not see? I do not care one pennyworth about my line being carried on as you put it. It comes down to love, pure and simple. They joy of having children and bringing them up and nurturing them would have been the reward in itself. The happy childhood that I enjoyed, I would have been delighted to re-create with offspring of my own. But as I say it does no good to dwell on it, I cannot turn back the pages of time.”

“Would that we could, Watson, would that we could. How are you feeling my friend?”

“Tired, so very tired. And another feeling which seems at odds with perhaps how I should be feeling.”

“What feeling is that?”

“Exhilaration. Do you think that strange?”

“I think the memories we have discussed tonight would have had the effect of focusing your mind on happier times. In a way you are re-living those times tonight so I don’t see a feeling of exhilaration in any way strange. A little unexpected maybe, but not strange.”

“Still, life cannot be undone. The life I have lived is the life I have lived. Even the largest of regrets cannot change that. I just wish it didn’t have to end so soon.”

Interlude

“Is the tea ready, Nurse?”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Good, I am parched. Where is Nurse Pollett?”

“Gone to check on Dr Watson. She wanted to give him some company for a while.”

“And what about her other duties, how does she intend to fit them in?”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Matron. She has a good heart and she cares; isn’t that what nursing is all about?”

“It would not be like me to say it to her face, but she is a good nurse, frivolous at times, but I am aware that beneath it all she is very committed.”

“Sorry to speak out of turn, but what is stopping you from telling her just that?”

“She has a long way to go and still needs discipline above praise. I have seen nurses whose careers have faltered because of too much praise. They become over confident and sloppy, thinking they have made the grade.”

“But we all need encouragement, Matron.”

“And I give it when it is due do I not?”

“I suppose so.”

“No suppose about it, my girl. Let’s treat ourselves to a biscuit shall we, Nurse Harrison?”

“What about Lucy’s tea and biscuit?”

“She knows where to find us.”

“I could take her tea to her; she can have it as she sits with Dr Watson.”

“I will finish mine and take it to her myself.”

“Really, Matron?”

“Yes, really, Nurse.”

Chapter 9

“Watson?... Watson?”

“I was dreaming. I was floating along a river and clutching at roots on the river bank, but try as I might I could not grab hold of anything, my fingers refused to grasp any of these lifelines and the current was carrying me gently, almost peacefully along.”

“Gently upon a sea of words.”

“What’s that, Holmes?”

“I was letting your poetic tendencies sway my thoughts. All those years of reading your accounts must have borne fruit at last!”

“The ‘poetry’ as you term it was necessary and not as superfluous as you would have it.”

“Be that as it may, Watson. There is one thing that has always puzzled me however.”

“Something about me?”

“Yes, my friend. I have often wondered why you never ventured into other areas of writing, why you never authored any other tales. After all, your invention was always of a high level and there was, I have to admit, some degree of excitement in your chronicles of our exploits.”

“I was more than aware of my own shortcomings as a writer. It pains me even now to think of the inconsistencies that appear in my chronicles of your cases. I must have left my readers in a very confused state.”

“Yet, as you have said, some of these inconsistencies were forced on you for reasons of privacy and diplomacy. Dates, names and places, I fully acknowledge had to be changed, but I do not see that as reflecting on your literary worth.”

“No, Holmes, I always knew my limitations and truth be told I enjoyed the chronicling of our adventures so much that any other avenues of writing would never have measured up in my estimation. I would never have experienced the same pleasure.”

“Perhaps you could have branched out into fields that you specialised in?”

“Such as?”

“’The Gamblers Guide to Turf Accounting’ perhaps?”

“Very droll. I would hardly describe it as a specialism of mine, Holmes.”

“No, Watson? Do you think not? The chequebook of yours I kept locked in a drawer testifies differently as does the little matter of half your wound pension finding its way into bookmaker’s pockets!”

“It was a particular weakness of mine at a stressful time in my life, that was all. In time I weaned myself off it with the occasional relapse. You were not exactly a stranger to addiction yourself.”

“Very true, and I was exceedingly grateful for all your help in steering me away from that course.”

“I saw the dangers to your health, both physical and mental and as both your friend and physician I could hardly stand idly by and watch you destroy your talents through the use of that pernicious drug. Did you ever complete your own book, ‘The Whole Art of Detection’? I seem to recall you saying that you laid it aside a few years ago.”

“Yes, you recall correctly. I laid it aside for good. The new methods for detecting crime were moving on apace at the turn of the century and I felt my tome would be of no earthly use to anyone. Mechanised processes used more and more in industry and even the humbler workplaces would leave no marks of people’s occupations upon their hands or clothing. The world even then was becoming more uniform by the minute and the last nigh on thirty years has done nothing to halt this progress of de-humanisation. My methods, like myself I fear, had become stale and of no use to the modern breed of detective. The work of Bertillon and Galton has been taken on tenfold by police forces around the world. Time does not stand still, my friend, not even for us. New advances will mean better equipped police, better trained, for whom detection will be made simpler without the need for magnifying glasses and shag tobacco.”

“Surely, great brains will always be needed and why cannot the gifted amateur still have his day?”

“They will neither be required nor consulted, Watson. He is more likely I fear to be arrested for obstruction than listened to or heeded.”

“’The Whole Art of Detection’ could have been an important document, an account of your life with the emphasis where it should be; with your deductive skills to the fore instead of the sensationalist element I sometimes let slip into the stories of your doings.”

“Sometimes? I am not convinced anyone would want to read such a dry document, all in all, the general populace seem happy to know me through your chronicles and do you know, I am more than happy with that.”

“I am surprised to hear you say it, Holmes. Could it be you have mellowed?”

“Quite possibly, my friend, quite possibly.”

“At least you entered the published world through your monographs.”

“Ah yes, my monographs. Dry as dust and no doubt just as un-readable. I don’t believe I ever encountered anyone who had ever read the blessed things excepting your good self of course. You did read them, did you not?”

“Well, I certainly looked through them, I would hesitate to call it reading, but I believe I caught the gist of all the salient points you made.”

“You never seemed to have any trouble reading your sea-faring tales ad infinitum.”

“They were full-blooded and exciting, Holmes, whereas your monographs were-”

“Yes, Watson?”

“-as dry as dust.”

“Touché, Watson, or perhaps I should say more rightly; Et tu Watson! And all this from a discussion of your perceived limitations as a writer!”

“Every man has his limitations in all walks of life, perhaps they serve to cure us of the weakness of self-satisfaction.”

“I can see no harm in self-satisfaction, indeed I see more harm in not being satisfied enough. We should all strive to attain the utmost reward for our talents.”

“But that in no way negates self-satisfaction being an ill. It surely is the self-satisfied man who will never strive and reach out for further achievement.”

“Ah, but if he reaches the pinnacle of those achievements, then he can be well and truly self-satisfied.”

“It’s a question of degrees then?”

“Precisely so. You say your limitations as a writer served to cure you of the weakness of self-satisfaction?”

“Why, yes.”

“In other words, then, you were not satisfied and wanted to extend your literary skills?”

“No, I was happy not to seek to extend myself in that direction.”

“From your own mouth then, you proclaim yourself to be self-satisfied and your limitations did nothing to cure you of it. A point for me, Watson?”

“Yes, Holmes, I believe you are taking advantage of my weary state.”

“Far from it, I never did get your limits and exploring them now is of the greatest interest to me. A case in point is your account of the Enoch Drebber murder in the case you called ‘A Study in Scarlet’. They were described on the frontispiece as being a reprint from your reminiscences, but nothing else ever followed concerning your life. Why not?”

“It’s simple, Holmes. I found your life to be a far more interesting one than my own. The readers wanted to know about you, not me.”

“Perhaps they may have been eager for tales of your experience of women, which extended over many nations and three separate continents, unless your prowess in those matters was somewhat overstated.”

“My natural discretion would naturally not allow me to compile such an account.”

“Good old Watson!”

“As you were so fond of saying, the fair sex was my department.”

“Your natural charm carried all before you; I was constantly bewildered by the ease with which you relaxed in women’s company. I do not mean that unkindly, you had a great gift, a gift I could not share, but one I appreciated from afar. I am sure that at times it would have got you into trouble with your heart leading you into places you maybe did not want to go.”

“There is some truth in what you say. The mention of Ballarat brought an incident back to me that has haunted me all my life.”

“Involving a woman no doubt?”

“I was very young then and you might say, hot-headed.”

“A man of action even then? I was always well aware of your instinct to be doing something energetic, but even so, I have grave difficulty in seeing you as hot-headed.”

“Be assured I was. As you will recall, I was living with my cousin in Ballarat and kicking my heels before deciding whether to head home and take up the medical career I had equipped myself for or to stay put for a while and maybe strike out for one of the cities, possibly Melbourne, as it was the closest. My cousin lived with his adoptive folks in Mount Pleasant, a lively, thriving area at the height of the gold rush, but already in decline by the time of my arrival in the autumn of 1873. The house was basically a shack, but homely enough for a young man of twenty-one with the light of adventure in his eyes. The excitement of being in this strange place far out-weighed the lack of home comforts. In the neighbouring shack lived a family who kept themselves to themselves, although with persistence and patience I was able to strike up a friendship with the daughter of the house.”

“Persistence, patience and charm, I dare say, Watson?”

“A little maybe. Her name was Adaline and she was as sweet a girl as you could imagine with a face a man could die for. She wore her blonde hair long and loose and when the breeze caught it, it was such a sight to behold. It may be well over fifty years ago, but I would wager not a day has passed in all that time that I have not thought of her. I was not the only one to dance attention upon her; there were other suitors for the lack of another word. However, I was the one she favoured, the one she walked out with. So entranced was I that I was quite prepared to abandon my fledgling medical career and my studies to remain in Ballarat to be close to her.”

“What happened to change all that, Watson?”

“It all happened so quickly. We had made an arrangement to meet one evening for a walk. She was usually so prompt that I began to worry when the minutes ticked by and still she had not arrived. It was to be another thirty minutes before she came into view and when she appeared she was obviously in great distress, she was crying, her dress was torn and she looked abject.”

“She had perhaps been a victim of the attentions of one of these other suitors?”

“Yes, a brutish young man by the name of John Rock. He had tried to force himself on her, unsuccessfully I might add. The ferocity with which she fought back had seen him off. My blood boiled as she recounted all this to me. I comforted her as best I could and once she had composed herself she returned home with a story of stumbling on the ground to cover the damage to her dress.”

“And you, presumably, went in search of this John Rock?”

“Yes, Holmes. I had no thoughts of violence towards the fellow, I am not at all sure what I was thinking; he was a good three inches taller and wider than I and any form of fisticuffs would surely see me come off second best. However, I could not let it go.”

“Were there no officers of the law available to take the matter in hand?”

“It would have shamed Adaline for the assault to become public and in my innocence, I agreed with her. I found John Rock by the nearest deserted pit, drinking heavily from a half-empty bottle of whisky. He knew why I was there and his immediate response was to charge at me, head down like a bull. I side-stepped him and picked up a sizeable stone. When he charged again I brought it down on his skull with all the force I could muster. I could have stopped him by using less force, after all he was drunk and fairly incapable, but in that moment I wished him dead, it was a deliberate action of mine.”

“Did you in fact kill him?”

“Yes, Holmes.”

“Oh, my dear fellow, what a situation to find yourself in.”

“Do you judge me for my actions?”

“No I do not, Watson.”

“I became judge, jury and executioner in that moment of madness. I could not think straight, but when my red mist cleared, I realised what a quandary I was in and had to act quickly. I disposed of Rock’s body down one of the disused shafts and removed all traces of our presence. The following day was the last day of the cricket match between Ballarat and WG Grace’s XI and I took Dr Grace into my confidence and would have respected his advice whatever it would turn out to be. The upshot was that I travelled with Grace’s team until we reached the coast and then I worked my passage home.”

“What of Adaline?”

“I got word to her of what had happened and why I had to leave. I knew my secret was safe in her hands. I believe the general consensus of opinion was that Rock had decided to leave town. There was no way that I could stay and remain with Adaline after my actions; however I saw those actions and indeed however she viewed them, I was a killer and my life was forever to be blighted by my actions of that night.”

“My dear fellow, I had no idea.”

“You are the first person I have told since that time. My cousin never got to know of my actions, he probably assumed I was homesick and took advantage of the presence of the touring team to move on. Much later on, when I felt able, I wrote an anonymous letter to the remaining members of the Rock family detailing where they could find their kinsman. It is not an episode I am proud of, Holmes.”

“Was doctoring some kind of penance then?”

“Not exactly, I was already geared up to the life of a medico, but maybe it made my resolve to succeed all the stronger or perhaps my whole life has been a penance. In time I pushed the whole affair into the furthest recesses of my mind, not wholly successfully I might add. Those times when you acted as judge, jury and executioner always brought it sharply back into focus. Although of course you were not an executioner in the literal sense as I had been.”

“You think not, Watson?”

“I know so. I have tortured myself over the years with what I could have done or should have done that night. Futile, pathetic thoughts for I could never undo what I actually had done. I deprived a family of their son... for what?... a drunken misguided assault, half-baked, half-hearted and ill-conceived which would never have succeeded. Adaline deserved better from me. And what did she get? A violent thuggish reaction which ruined all we had been dreaming of.”

“But John Rock did that for you both, by attacking Adaline and setting the whole chain of events into being.”

“He may have started it, but I finished it with the most abject, cowardly action thinkable.”

“You were young and hot-headed, but cowardly? I do not think so.”

“There is no other word for it, Holmes. None at all. I do not believe that I have to account for my actions to a higher authority, a celestial court, but I do owe it to you, my friend, to set matters right.”

“I take it your anonymous letter was couched in such terms as to render the chances of anyone tracking you down negligible?”

“Yes, a ‘friend of a friend’ heard this or told me that. Ever the coward you see.”

“Was John Rock’s body recovered do you know?”

“I heard in a roundabout way that it had.”

“And Adaline?”

“The last I heard was that she married a local man of German descent and they made their home in Perth, but that was to be my last knowledge of her. I suspect you now see me in a different light, Holmes.”

“No, not at all, Watson. My view of you is based on the time we have spent in each other’s company and our friendship. You are solid, trustworthy and a courageous man. I could never have wished for a more able assistant or trusted friend.”

“Thank you, Holmes. I am not sure how deserving of those epithets I am, but thank you.”

“You are entirely deserving, your actions of fifty-five years ago have no bearing on it.”

“I feel so weary.”

“Then sleep, my dear fellow.”

“I will. Holmes, if I should not...”

“You will, Watson, you will.”

Interlude

“Some tea for you, Nurse Pollett and I have saved you a biscuit before Polly ate them all.”

“Thank you, Matron.”

“I know I was hard on you earlier about sitting in the chair, but I would rather you did that than sitting on the bed.”

“There is something odd about that chair; fair gives me the shivers it does. It’s like it doesn’t want me sitting there.”

“Stuff and nonsense, child.”

“Try it then!”

“How odd. A most peculiar feeling, perhaps there is a draught coming from somewhere?”

“No, no draught. I checked all over.”

“Oh well, sure it must be something simple to account for it. How is the doctor?”

“Growing weaker, but still talking in his sleep although he has gone quiet now. He says ‘Holmes’ every so often like he’s talking to him. Do you think he knows? I know you thought it best to keep the news from him.”

“On some level he may do.”

“Thanks for the tea, Matron. I suppose I should get on now, still got some jobs to do before end of shift.”

“What have you got left to do?”

“Nothing too much, a few instruments to sterilise, the linen cupboard to tidy.”

“If you want to stay here with Dr Watson, I will see if Nurse Harrison has the time to attend to your duties for you... if not I will do it myself.”

“Gosh, are you sure? Not joking are you, Matron?”

“I am not in the habit of making jokes, young lady! Now, call me if you need me.”

“Will do and thank you.”

“You are going to be a wonderful nurse, Lucy. Call me when... well, you know.”

“Yes, Matron.”

Chapter 10

“Is it morning yet, Holmes?”

“The dawn is not far off.”

“Odd isn’t it how time goes so slowly when young, but speeds up measurably when older. Of course I am well aware that it is not actually so.”

“The years of my youth seemed interminable before I could leave the family house and make my way in the world; so in that sense yes it did go slowly for me. Now all of a sudden we are rushing towards the mid 20th century with all the changes that will bring. Just think of all the inventions that we have seen in our time, Watson.”

“It was an ever-changing world. Houses lit by electricity, motor cars, telephones, aeroplanes. Will there ever be an era like it?”

“The answer to that is yes There will be myriad improvements to the inventions you mention; motor cars will become faster and faster, telephones will become available for all and that favourite mode of communication of ours, the telegram, will disappear altogether. Aeroplanes will carry hundreds of people across the seven seas quicker than we could ever imagine. At the same time, man will no doubt develop weapons which are fearsomely destructive. Mankind’s thoughts turn to war more readily than anything else.”

“Will life be better?”

“Life will be essentially what individuals choose to make it. I, for one would have to find an alternative profession.”

“So you intimated earlier, but detectives will always be needed whatever technological advances come along.”

“Not my form of detecting, Watson. In the future, so much information will be available at a push of a button, such are the advancements being made in communications.”

“Then you would have to become a different kind of detective, but still one equally successful surely?”

“I am happy to have lived when I did and it is somewhat futile and meaningless to speculate on what I or indeed you may have been in another time. I think we belong to hansom cabs, London ‘particulars’ and a gas-lit world. Personally, I would not have it any other way.”

“Nor would I.”

“If we could fly out of this window, Watson, hand in hand, to the future, I suspect we would not be enthralled by what we would see. Brave new world? I think not.”

“Perhaps others before us had much the same views regarding the 19th century. Each age, each epoch has to stand on its own merits. It’s only hindsight that tells us differently. Those living in the time of the Tudors no doubt thought themselves to be living in an enlightened age. When we look back we would deny them that; we would look at the poor sanitation, the gross religious intolerance, the poverty, the divisions between church and state, shake our heads wistfully and point to our own age as being truly enlightened even though we have experience of many of the same ills. Hindsight and foresight differ so very little. I prefer to think of the future as an empty canvas which mankind can fill with a new and better landscape. Each era must surely learn lessons. The factions that foisted the Great War on us will have seen what a terrible scourge they let loose upon the earth and lessons would have certainly been learnt there.”

“And yet, what have we seen since the cessation of those particular hostilities; the Soviet revolution, Greece and Turkey at war, Poland at war with the Soviets. Already there are storm clouds gathering over Europe and if I don’t miss my mark, then all too soon another great war will engulf us.”

“That would be madness, Holmes.”

“That is precisely what it will be.”

“I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors such a war would bring. The broken bodies I observed in the field hospitals of the Great War were almost too much for me to stomach; the whole flower of a generation wiped out in such an abomination. I would hope that future conflicts would be settled through diplomatic circles, by discourse and reasoning instead of bullets.”

“I doubt such a time will ever come. Avaricious nations will always seek to control lesser ones and man’s propensity for violence will always bring such disputes to a state of war. And if politics and greed do not divide then religion surely will.”

“Will not greater and more efficient communication and travel between nations have the effect of bringing those nations closer?”

“I believe it more likely to polarise rather than bring together; the differences amongst the nations of the world, be they political, cultural or religious, can only be heightened by greater intimacy with each other.”

“So the more we rise, the more we are liable to fall. The greater our discernment, the less we have to show for it by the way of peace and greater understanding. Man is a strange and ill-fated animal, Holmes.”

“And master of his own fate, for better or for worse.”

“As you said once, life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent and will continue to be so. But, perhaps we are guilty of painting too black a picture for the future. I prefer to stay optimistic on behalf of future generations, life may turn out to be better than we can imagine.”

“Perhaps so. Good old Watson, the one fixed point in this changing age. You are a beacon of hope in this dull world.”

“And a coward, a killer.”

“Watson, Watson. What’s done is done and cannot be undone. I do not seek to judge you nor do I have any right to judge you.”

“But in a sense you have spent a part of your life in the company of one you thought you knew well, but didn’t know at all.”

“I knew of your friendship, your loyalty and your courage; had I known of this sad episode in your life it would not have made any difference whatsoever to our comradeship.”

“Thank you, Holmes.”

“Besides, my friend, we are not so very different you know.”

“No? I was always aware of a gulf between us although maybe the word, ‘chasm’, expresses it better.”

“That was not quite my meaning.”

“You are surely not going to tell me that you also killed in your younger days? That would be something I would never believe of you.”

“Nevertheless. It is true.”

“I... I... but... who... why? I... I ...”

“Would you like to rest for a moment before I continue?”

“My mind says no, but my body says yes.”

Interlude

“How is he doing, Lucy?”

“Oh, hello Polly. He seems very calm. Still chatting away, but his eyes are becoming dimmer.”

“Ah, the sweet man.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready then, Lucy?”

“Ready?”

“Where is your head, gal? It’s knocking-off time. Well, near as dammit anyway.”

“You get off if you want, Polly. I’ll sit here a while, you know, keep him company.”

“Oh, okay. How long are you planning to stay for?”

“Until... well... you know.”

“Here, have a hug, you strange girl.”

“Thanks, Polly.”

“That’s what mates are for. Have fun tomorrow with your Welsh doctor!”

“Oh I will, don’t worry. You have fun at home alone!”

“I know something about Welshmen, Lucy... they have...”

“...oh go away, Polly”

“Bye, Lucy.”

“Bye, Polly.”

Chapter 11

“I fear I am having difficulties distinguishing between dreams and reality. It’s like I am sleepwalking with all my senses dulled.”

“Yes I know, my friend, I know only too well.”

“It appears lighter now.”

“Yes, the dawn is almost upon us.”

“What is time after all? What does it mean? Do any of us know? Forgive me, Holmes, the rambling of an old man. Do you wish to continue? I will understand it if you do not.”

“I will continue, for the event of which I will speak shaped my life more than anything else as will become obvious to you. Its effects have been profound and never stray far from my mind. Judge, jury and executioner I believe you called me earlier?”

“Yes, although I did not mean it literally of course.”

“Yet, it is the literal truth. I was young, Mycroft had only just gone up to Oxford and I was left in the house forming some kind of barrier between my father and mother. To my father, I was a failure and far too attached to my mother to be of any consequence or interest to him. Once Mycroft had left to take up the reins of his higher education then relations between my father and mother became more strained than ever. He took delight in taunting her with the fact she had only provided him with two sons and only one in his opinion that was worth considering as a son.”

“The strain he put you both under must have been intolerable.”

“It was, but he favoured us with occasional long absences when he was away doing God knows what?”

“Were you not away at school?”

“For the most part yes, this only caused me more pain because although I was free of his domineering ways, my mother was not. Nevertheless, we survived his cruelties. In time, he took to parading women that he was involved with in front of us; gave them free run of the house for as long as they were there or for as long as it was until he became bored with their presence and moved on to his next conquest.”

“That’s outrageous, Holmes. Why did your mother not flee with you?”

“The only sanctuary would have been the family Vernet in France, but my mother was adamant that my education would be in the best English tradition and every bit as good as that of Mycroft’s.”

“Could you not have achieved those aims elsewhere in the country, away from him?”

“I wish it had been so, I truly do. I... Excuse my emotions, Watson; they appear to be getting the better of me. I was home during the summer holidays of 1868 and the situation was as bad as it had ever been. There were long silences in the house punctuated by my father’s violent and now drunken outbursts. My mother took refuge more and more in her rooms save at mealtimes, whereas I would spend my time ambling over the estate partaking in rudimentary botanical observations. One particularly bright summer’s day in August my father asked me to go riding with him. It seemed an odd request from someone who shunned my company wherever humanly possible, but it was not so much a request as an order and an order I was not strong enough or courageous enough to countermand.”

“How extraordinary.”

“Indeed, but in a way I came to comprehend only too clearly later. We rode through the surrounding countryside until both we and our horses were exhausted. When we returned to the house my father instructed me to stable the horses, not normally a job he would entrust me with. The scene that met me when I entered the house was one that has stayed with me forever; my mother’s broken body lying at the foot of our imposing staircase. Dead; her limbs and neck broken.”

“My God, Holmes, how perfectly awful for you. Where was your father?”

“Kneeling over her body, seemingly prostrate with grief, but his face, Watson, his face... It bore the all the signs of gloating and triumph. At that point he repulsed me more than ever he had in the past.”

“But she had fallen presumably while the two of you were out riding?”

“So I thought. The strangeness of my father wanting me to go riding with him on this particular day nagged me; it was if he needed someone to be with him, to vouch for his whereabouts if awkward questions were to be asked. Yet, how could he know of this tragic event beforehand unless he was the architect of it?”

“Were the authorities called in?”

“A doctor was sent for as was a local constable who lived some miles distant. If my father was expecting awkward questions then he must have been pleased for none were forthcoming. At the coroner’s court the verdict that was returned was one of a tragic accident. After the verdict was returned my father disappeared, no doubt he had a floozy to meet; he could scarcely wait before my mother was cold in her grave before resuming his profligate ways. I returned home alone in a most abject state of mind. I was convinced my father was behind my mother’s death, but how? That was the question that taxed my young mind. Mycroft had not returned home for the inquest, but did so for the funeral of course. I felt unable to voice my suspicions to him.”

“Did you confide your fears to whatever authority there was; a local magistrate maybe?”

“I doubted my lone young voice would be heard and besides, there was a more telling reason.”

“What was that?”

“My father was the local magistrate and Justice of the Peace. No, if I wanted justice for my mother, it would fall upon me to provide it. My only problem was how to go about it. I applied myself to a diligent search of the staircase. I crawled on all fours, starting at the bottom, examining each step for any clues as to how my mother had come to fall. It was a long and arduous process, but not one I was about to give up on.”

“Did you find anything?”

“At the top of the stairs I found hammered into the left-hand upright two inches above the step, a nail, a new nail at that. The lustre had not been entirely removed by the hammering. On the opposite upright there was no nail, but a tiny hole was evident.”

“A trip wire of some kind had been laid then?”

“Yes and now my father’s actions of that day became clear to me. While I stabled the horses he went to the house to inspect his handiwork. He knew my mother would come down to the kitchen to gather her luncheon together and was confident therefore of finding her where he expected to find her.”

“It was entirely possible she would survive the fall though.”

“I am sure he had a contingency plan if that had been the case. Once he had established life was extinct he intended to extract the nails and remove the twine or whatever it was he used. The one nail I observed no doubt remained obstinate so he instead hammered it in further which was the only option available to him.”

“Was this not evidence that you could have acted on in some way?”

“I acted on it certainly, but not in the way you mean, Watson.”

“I think I know where you are going with this.”

“I have no doubt you do. This monster, my father had taken away my loving, gentle mother. I decided then and there that he would not get away with it. I was cool, composed and single-minded, even allowing for my youth. Before many more weeks had passed my father came home one evening in the blackest of moods, a veritable rage. He demanded I keep him in drink for the evening and I spent the next four hours in keeping him supplied with bottles. If my progress was not deemed to be quick enough then I received a beating for my trouble.”

“Given the state he was in, why did you not just retire to your room and leave him to drink himself into a stupor?”

“Because, Watson, a plan was forming in my head whereby his drunkenness would be beneficial to me. At the opportune time I suggested he go to his bed with the last of the bottles. I assisted him up the stairs and saw him into his room. I waited for what seemed a very long hour and checked on his condition. He was sound asleep although comatose would have been a more apt description. I had left nothing to chance, I had a hammer, nails and twine ready. My mind was made up and nothing on earth would have deterred me. I acted as quietly as I could yet was still suitably fearful my hammer blows would rouse my father from his unconscious state. Five minutes was all it took to secure the twine in place, brown twine virtually invisible against the brown stain of the wood. Satisfied with my handiwork, I retired.”

“And the outcome was as you expected?”

“Yes it was. I arose around eight o’ clock. All was still and quiet. My father was evidently still asleep. I dressed and went out, being careful not to disturb the twine of course. There was no one else who could be harmed by my actions. The gardener was due at nine, but would not enter the house unless invited. There was a woman from the village who assisted with the cleaning, but she was not due to work until the following day. I spent the next few hours in an almost dreamlike state as though I was somehow disassociated from my actions; that is not to say I

was not aware of my crime and the end result, for I was, but my thoughts that day were for my mother. When I eventually returned, it was to find my father sprawled out at the bottom of the staircase, his arms and legs akimbo and quite, quite dead.”

“Were not suspicions raised when this death followed on so closely from the other?”

“I was not aware of any to be honest. I testified to the coroner’s court as to how much drink my father had taken the night before and the verdict duly returned was the only one open to them. Mycroft returned from Oxford once more and no doubt on this occasion had his own suspicions, but he never once brought the subject up. His own education was virtually over and he stayed in the family home to oversee my own. So you see, Watson, you could also say that you have never really known what kind of a man you shared rooms with.”

“I know only too well, Holmes. I have no complaints, no regrets.”

“I echo those sentiments, my friend.”

“Is that the sun’s rays I see?”

“Yes, dawn has arrived.”

“Lord, what a heavenly light.”

“Indeed, Watson.”

“What a life we had...”

“Yes we did... Watson?”

“Can you hear me, Doctor Watson?”

“Watson?”

“Doctor Watson?... MATRON!”

“Farewell, my friend”

1929. A small hospital somewhere in Dorset. An ante-room off a dimly lit corridor. It is no longer night, the first light of dawn and the sun’s rays are slowly penetrating the room. In the room itself the growing light enables us to see a figure in a bed. The pipes, tubes and all the trappings we associate with keeping someone alive have been removed. The man, for it is a man, lies prone and still. Still and silent as the grave.

End Piece

Now that I have been disowned by the Holmesian world, let me try and explain myself...

First of all, theory wise, there is nothing in Holmes and Watson’s conversation that has not been mooted previously; I may however have taken one or two of these theories to extremes.

The fact of Watson being in Australia is undeniable, after all he says so himself when referring to the gold fields of Ballarat. Most commentators believe he was there in his youth before his studies, but I put his being there as somewhat later. It is my idea that after attaining his degree at the University of Edinburgh, he chose to take what we call now a ‘gap year’ before resuming his studies at the University of London and eventually obtaining a further degree.

Watson’s comment that he had ‘experience of women over three continents’ does not suggest to me a dalliance of extreme youth, but rather one reminiscing of an entanglement or entanglements of one a little more mature, placing Watson in Ballarat during late 1873 and early 1874 at the age of twenty-one seems to me to fulfil that criteria.

WG Grace the eminent cricketer of his day took his touring team to Ballarat to play a match which commenced on New Year’s day 1874. In deference to the gulf in class between the teams Ballarat fielded a team of twenty-two as opposed to the touring team’s eleven. All the same, it was a win for Dr Grace’s team, but on the Ballarat side was a Watson who acquitted himself well. This I believe was the cousin that Watson was visiting with the tragic results that we have seen. He may well have been fast approaching making a decision which would have altered the whole course of his life; to stay in Australia with Adaline and perhaps pursue his studies there. He was no doubt an impulsive man then and it was that characteristic of his that led him into trouble.

Of course Watson was right, once he had committed that rash act, there could be no going back to any kind of normality or what passed for it out there, A life with Adaline was no longer an option whichever way he looked at it. Flight was the only answer and fortunately Dr Grace was on hand to offer advice and also the means of escape. Perhaps an older Watson would have taken stock and offered himself up to the mercy of the authorities, but he was young and although horror-struck with his actions, decided that flight was the best course. The ramifications of his act would never leave him and it is typical of the Watson that we know that he would seek to make a small gesture later in life to the bereaved family.

Although both men paid lip-service to some kind of faith in the canon, I am confident that neither were believers in any kind of sense of the term. They would have certainly grown up with religion apparent in their everyday lives; at home and at school where it really would have been a way of life whatever type of schools theirs may have been. The spectre of the church would have walked the corridors and be in the very fabric of the buildings. Their parents would have been religious if not actually devout and certainly in the case of Holmes’s father, any display of faith would have been for show only, not uncommon among the gentry.

The battle within Holmes family would indeed have placed an intolerable strain upon him. His aversion to women and his inability to love has often been ascribed to some degree of desertion by his mother causing him to shrink from all female contact, excepting that in the line of his work. I look at it from another viewpoint, as a variation on the classic Oedipal scenario. Not that Holmes felt anything sexual for his mother, but the bond that tied them, that ‘art in the blood’ was an emotional tie that Holmes would never have broken, even if his mother had not died when she did at the hands of her husband. That one event would colour all Holmes’s life and career. And the event that it gave rise to was the most shocking of all... patricide.

To the young Holmes it was the only solution that appeared to be open to him after the discovery that his beloved mother had her life snatched away so callously by his own father, the one man who had sworn to love and cherish her. To Holmes there would been no question of mercy, he was as single-minded then as he would be throughout his personal and professional life. A life for a life was how he saw it and he promptly, cold-bloodedly and efficient put his plan into operation.

Mycroft may have suspected, but perhaps he could not bring himself to believe it of his fourteen year old brother. Of course he may have harboured suspicions regarding the death of his mother and in spite of his former closeness to his father he may have come to the conclusion that his younger brother despatched their father then perhaps it was for the best. We will never know. Relations between the brothers were certainly apt to cool throughout their lives. The visits to each other were infrequent as to be virtually non-existent unless it was in a professional capacity.

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John H Watson were to live with their respective acts of violence all their lives, no doubt being reminded of them time and time again. Their secrets were eventually revealed to each other when no one on earth could any longer judge them or their actions.

But, get this,

It is fiction...

Acknowledgements

As always, to Gill, on hand with advice and grammatical insights hurled at me like flaming arrows! As in ‘Sherlock Holmes and the Lyme Regis Horror’ and ‘Sherlock Holmes and the Lyme Regis Legacy’, some lines and paragraphs are hers alone.

To Steve at MX Publishing and Bob at Staunch.com. The book you now hold or have thrown into the dustbin is alive and looks the way it does because of them.

Thanks to various Holmes authors who are always supportive, especially those from the MX stable who are a great bunch of folk.

David Ruffle

March 2012

Also Available

Cover

Front Matter

Title Page

Publisher Information

Dedication

Frontispiece

End Peace

Chapter 1

Interlude

Chapter 2

Interlude

Chapter 3

Interlude

Chapter 4

Interlude

Chapter 5

Interlude

Chapter 6

Interlude

Chapter 7

Interlude

Chapter 8

Interlude

Chapter 9

Interlude

Chapter 10

Interlude

Chapter 11

End Piece

Back Matter

Acknowledgements

Also Available