Jack The Ripper: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (10 page)

Epilogue

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Dr. Watson sat in his den, going over the night’s happenings. Though he had killed men in the war, those deaths still haunted him, and he regretted adding another man’s life to his list of transgressions. He had to protect his old friend, however, as well as the innocent Julie. He would live with his remorse and keep the secret—after all, Donald Hamilton was almost as evil a man as the Ripper himself, and the world was well rid of him.

Julie had surprised Dr. Watson by thanking him for helping to avenge her friend’s death—she appeared to have no ill effects from the night’s misadventures at all, and if she disagreed with Holmes’ decision to send Francis away rather than having him hanged, she did not say it. Dr. Watson closed his eyes against the bright morning sun, hoping that his old friend was safe and that he would hear from him soon.

Holmes went home, his body weary and his head aching. He knew he would not find the sweet peace of rest for quite some time—there were details to be taken care of at Scotland Yard. He was hungry though, and needed to bathe and change his clothes. His trusty housekeeper was there to make his breakfast and not ask questions. She had learned by now that he preferred her conversation to remain focused on trivial matters, and for her hands to stay busy keeping his coffee cup full.

While Holmes dressed for the day, she made him a breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs along with fresh sausage. She poured a cup of coffee for him as well. They made small talk as he ate and then prepared to leave. She knew she would probably not see him until that evening. He looked like a man with a purpose.

Scotland Yard was buzzing with excitement. A body had been found. Yes, the body of one of the employees of the coroner’s office.

“Have you heard the news about Donald Hamilton?” asked Grant as soon as Holmes strode into the office.

“Just now—and I must tell you I am shocked.”

“I do not think our murderer was the Ripper, unless Hamilton caught the fellow in the act and the woman fled and hasn’t come forward yet. The fellow had his neck broken—snapped clean. It had to be the work of some sort of professional I am sure, and a strong one at that. We have no clues to go on yet, but we will of course investigate every avenue.”

“I hate to hear this news,” Holmes said, shaking his head. “He seemed like such a nice young man, with a bright future ahead of him. Were there any witnesses?”

“No, not a one. A merchant delivering eggs found the body hidden in an alley. Your priority will remain the Ripper case, of course. Will we be returning to Whitechapel with Julie tonight?”

“Let us revisit our strategy over the next fortnight,” answered Holmes. “As it is no longer the weekend, the Ripper is unlikely to kill—and Julie has withdrawn from the investigation. The night’s excitement in the pub proved too much for her nerves. And perhaps there will be no more murders—perhaps London is finally through with this madness.”

Grant agreed with Holmes’ request to postpone their next visit to Whitechapel, though with some hesitation—he knew Holmes was not a man to let go of a case until it was solved, and he did not understand his friend’s sudden withdrawal. Nevertheless, he was sure Holmes had some brilliant new tactic that he was not ready to share just yet.

Holmes knew he could not just halt his investigation and the investigations of all of the other detectives. He would have to play along for a while, and give the appearance of being devoted to solving the murders. He knew that after a few weeks, the excitement and terror would begin to fade, the trail would go cold, and the files would grow dusty as Scotland Yard moved on to other matters.

Though Holmes secretly longed for the world to know that he had, indeed, captured the world’s most notorious serial killer, his devotion to his friends and the Sovereign Order of Monte Cristo overcame his pride—he had protected those he cared about, which was more important than adding another great investigatory feat to his reputation.

Maybe Jack the Ripper murders would not be solved for at least one hundred years…on that he would bet his last farthing.

THE END

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The identity of the author is part of an international contest, and the first person to correctly name the HG Writer from the clues found in the Count of Monte Cristo sequels will receive a reward of $5000. Visit the Holy Ghost Writer's Amazon Author Page for Details and see if you can discover the real identity of the author being heralded as the new Stieg Larsson for That Girl Started Her Own Country, the successor of Alexander Dumas for The Sultan of Monte Cristo and the next Ray Bradbury for The Boy Who Played With Dark Matter. Contact the author c/o [email protected]