The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes (2 page)

Inspector Patterson and I soon joined Holmes in the room, which was spacious and tastefully decorated. We found Mr Snetterton slumped across a large oak desk, his face terribly contorted, and a glass of whisky spilt before him across a great array of papers. There was a single large window behind him that looked out across the garden and illuminated the room, which Holmes examined first, but to no success. He then examined the body from a variety of angles; satisfied, he turned his attention to the whisky, sniffing it with his hound-like nose. He then crossed the room to a large wooden drinks cabinet, removed a full decanter and inhaled deeply. Finally, he came back to the desk, picking up the suicide note, along with another of the many sheets which were indiscriminately spread across the desk.

“There has been no sign of forcible entry anywhere in this house,” he said. “His murderer must have been known to him.”

“But how could he have been murdered?” asked Patterson, bemused. “You hold in your hand the note which Snetterton wrote before he consumed the poison, and you said so yourself, there is no evidence of anyone forcibly entering this building.”

“The whisky in Snetterton's glass is not the same as that found in the decanter in his drinks cabinet, and the vial of poison on the desk is, as you have rightly stated, unopened. As for the note, Snetterton did not write it,” said Holmes, passing him the document. “The words are rather convincing, so your mistake is understandable, but if you examine it alongside another piece of Snetterton's writing, you will notice that the upward stroke upon the letter ‘G' is irregular, and that the ‘S' has a slightly uncharacteristic flourish.”

“My word, you are right!” exclaimed Patterson. “But if it wasn't suicide, who killed him?”

“It was a well educated man of respectable class; he is exceedingly tall and thin, with a domed forehead, and two deep-set sunken eyes. His shoulders are rounded, and he has a pale, clean shaven face which protrudes forward.”

“How in God's name did you come up with all that? You cannot tell me such information can be conjured from a man's handwriting!” exclaimed Patterson.

“Simple, Inspector. The murderer's name is Professor James Moriarty.”

“Moriarty? You believe Snetterton was part of this criminal empire we have been tracking?”

“No, I do not. You are forgetting, Inspector, that to general society Moriarty is a revered and celebrated academic and mathematician, not the Napoleon of crime which we know him to be. Snetterton would have been completely unaware of just who he had welcomed warmly into his home.”

“But how can you be sure it was him?”

“You are of course aware of my investigations, Inspector, but I have not informed you how these recent murderers are related.”

“Murders? There has been more than one?”

“Robert Snetterton, Arthur Winchester, and Mr and Mrs Ledger, were all murdered by Professor Moriarty.”

“But how do you know all this?”

“I have been sent tokens after each of our successes in which we have thwarted Moriarty. Three days ago, I received another such receipt for our work, and have since been waiting for you to contact me. I did not divulge such information, as I was worried you would not wish to continue. Now though, I believe I have formulated a sufficient case to end this ordeal once and for all.”

“You
knew
that someone was going to die,” said Patterson furiously, taking a step towards Holmes, “and you didn't tell me?”

“Had I informed you of such events, you may have been much less enthusiastic in assisting me against Moriarty; and I assure you Inspector, that unfortunate though these murders are, they are inconsequential if we are successful in bringing an end to the Professor. I had no way of knowing
who
would die; and nor could I have been certain that this was the murder I had been expecting until I came and examined the scene. You asked for my help, so here it is: Mr Snetterton welcomed Professor Moriarty into his home with open arms; Moriarty brought with him a particularly fine bottle of whisky, and offered his host a toast, which he happily accepted. If you need any further assurances, the poison found in the unopened vial would have offered a far more preferable death than the cruel drawn-out fate Snetterton suffered. No sane man would opt for such an unpleasant end. Moriarty watched the man die, placed the fabricated note upon the desk, and left with the real poison.”

“But all the evidence points to suicide. I cannot arrest Moriarty based upon assumption! What will I say in my reports and to the press?”

“Burn the note, and remove the vial of poison; report that Snetterton's death was accidental, caused by an unnatural reaction to a usually harmless chemical which was found in his drink. The lack of motive, forcible entry and fatal reaction to what is often an innocuous substance should be enough to satisfy those of any wrong-doing.”

“Are you mad?” Patterson cried.

“I am afraid that a completely unmotivated suicide will not be accepted, and a further inquest will ensue, which, given time, will conclude it must have been murder. Moriarty desires this back-lash, Inspector: it is the next step in his design. You must act how you see fit, but I can only assure you that we shall have our man soon enough. We will not be able to convict him of all these crimes, but we at least shall know the culprit has been brought to justice.”

Having left Charlwood Street, Holmes returned to Baker Street, and I to Kensington, where to my great disappointment, I learnt that Mary had been urgently requested by her old employer and friend, Mrs Cecil Forrester, and had departed immediately. I therefore dined at my old club, and played numerous rounds of cards before returning to my lodgings and the latest edition of the Medical Journal, with a cigar and glass of brandy. It was deep into the evening and my mind had begun to drift: I was aware of reading the words before me, but I failed to extract any meaning from them.

“Now is not the time for rest, Watson,” said Sherlock Holmes, emerging unannounced from the doorway.

“Holmes!” I cried, spilling my drink as I jolted awake.

“I apologise for my imprudence,” he said, with a minor chuckle at my misfortune, pouring himself a drink and then refilling my own. “But I assure you it was impossible for me to wait at your door. I have been hounded almost every step since we departed.”

“What on earth has happened to you?”

“After the cab dropped you off I journeyed back to Baker Street with the full intention of dining and continuing my plan of action regarding Moriarty. You can imagine then, what a great surprise it was when I entered my lodgings to find the very man who had consumed my thoughts sitting upon the sofa, awaiting my arrival. I consider myself master of all my faculties, as you know, but even I confess to feeling a slight thrill of fear shudder down my spine. Never have I encountered a man with such a callous and unforgiving nature.

“‘You are late,' said he, both hands resting upon a heavy, wooden cane.

“I was unaware that I would be entertaining guests, otherwise I would have ensured I was here to welcome you upon arrival,” I said, shutting the door and walking across the room to my desk.

“‘Your reputation appears to be unwarranted, Mr Holmes: a man of your intellect should know better than to assume that I would not have removed the firearm from your desk. Do you really consider me so uncivilised?'

“I have witnessed your work, Professor,” I said, turning from the desk and taking a seat opposite my guest. “And I assure you that I would not slander your ability with the label of uncivilised.”

‘“You flatter me; but I am afraid that compliments and my admiration for your skill are at an end' said he, consulting a small leather-bound notebook. ‘“The situation has become an impossible one, Mr Holmes. Through your continual persecution I have found my plans increasingly frustrated to such a degree that I am now in danger of losing my liberty.'

“What do you suggest?” I enquired.

‘“You must stop playing this game,' he said, his gaze boring into my eyes with a fierce intensity.

“Surely Professor, you know that I cannot stop playing until the game has reached its natural conclusion. As a dedicated player one must have respect for the rules and traditions of the sport; I could never simply abandon the match.”

‘“You place me in a very inconvenient position; a man of your stature will surely deduce that there can be only one outcome. Observing the way in which you have wrestled with this affair has been a great pleasure; you are perhaps the one man who can satisfy me intellectually. It would grieve me to have to take matters into my own hands. You may smile, but I speak truthfully. For too long I was unopposed, unrivalled in my profession. Even when I publicly flaunted my faculty, still those mindless dogs could not even manage a sniff!'

“The dogs may have been chasing their tails, but I assure you I got far more than a
sniff
.”

‘“That may be so,' he replied, with a slight stutter of discomposure.

“If there is nothing more of any real concern, Professor, I must insist, my time is most valuable.”

‘“It seems a pity,' said he, rising from his chair. ‘“I have done what I could. It has been a great duel between you and I, Mr Holmes. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, then rest assured that I should do as much to you.'

“You have paid me several compliments, Mr Moriarty, so let me pay you one in return; when I say that if I were assured of the former eventuality, I would cheerfully accept the latter.”

“In response, the Professor simply smiled at me with, I admit, a most unnerving expression, before placing a photograph on the table and swiftly making his exit.”

“What an extraordinary encounter,” I said. “I assume the photograph was of Robert Snetterton?”

“Indeed it was; the audacity of Moriarty is quite intolerable. I had only been turning over recent events in my mind for a short while before I was alarmed by the smell of smoke. The ceiling of the apartment below had rather inconveniently caught fire, and was now spreading into my quarters. Fortunately, Mrs Hudson and myself emerged unscathed, and nothing of value was lost. Having assured that she was safe and of a sound frame of mind, I decided to leave Baker Street. I had not been wandering for five minutes when I was almost run down by a particularly reckless two-horse van. I avoided disaster by a whisker, and stuck to the pavements, only to find myself inches away from being struck by a fallen brick from the roof above. Certain this was no accident, I increased my pace and carried on toward Pall Mall and my brother Mycroft's lodgings, where I spent the rest of the day. I waited for the cover of darkness before journeying here but was attacked by a rough, armed with a bludgeon. I left him in a rather unenviable condition in the street for a patrolling constable to find. But again, there was no proof linking this man to the esteemed Professor. So you see, Watson, that despite my every precaution, I am still being ruthlessly hunted, and it is for this reason that I must ask whether you are prepared to accompany me to the Continent?”

“Straightaway?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“I have an accommodating neighbour, and fortunately Mary is away upon a visit, of course I shall accompany you.”

“Mary is with Mycroft.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I presented her with a set of instructions to ensure that there was no suggestion of her having gone anywhere but to see her old Governess. She is in fact at Pall Mall under Mycroft's protection.”

“Well, I appreciate your efforts, Holmes, but was this really necessary?”

“Every precaution is necessary when you are dealing with Moriarty. You have seen what he is capable of; he would not hesitate to do the same to Mary. Now to business,” he said, leaning forwards. “You will need to carry out my instructions precisely Watson or we should find ourselves at the bottom of the Channel, instead of sailing merrily over it.”

The following morning I followed the exact and elaborate design Holmes had instructed me with in order to safely reach the Continental train at Victoria. Fortunate I am to have such an ally, for if I had not been given such instructions, I would have surely met with a most unpleasant end. As instructed, I sent my man to send for a hansom, ignoring the first two, and then wasted no time jumping into the third, urging haste, whilst brandishing a slip of paper to the driver for the Strand end of Lowther Arcade. It was only a matter of seconds before Moriarty's men were upon our tail, desperately attempting to keep pace. My driver, likely hand-chosen by Holmes himself, whipped the steeds into action, forging a path through the unsuspecting traffic. Our pursuers, though inconvenienced by the resulting mêlée of horses and carriages, were unfazed by such obstacles, impossibly carving a passage with frightful ease. I had my fare ready, and tossed it to the cabbie before he drew to a halt, as the sharp whistle of bullets suddenly caused an explosion of splinters behind me. I leapt from the carriage, weaving amongst the traffic, and narrowly avoiding a particularly eager cabbie. I dashed through the Arcade, aware of the pursuers still hot upon my heels. Again I owed myself to Holmes's keen sense of preparation, for not a moment had passed before I leapt into the waiting brougham, than I saw the murderous stare of my momentarily defeated opponents. I kept my revolver at hand and maintained a vigilant guard until we reached the relative safety of Victoria.

Exiting my carriage I scoured the area for any sign of danger, for it was abundantly clear from my assault that Moriarty was no longer concerned about discretion.

As I entered the station it did not take long to find my luggage, which had been sent on unaddressed the previous evening. Holmes had reserved us a first-class carriage, the only one marked ‘engaged.' My only source of apprehension was that Sherlock Holmes had yet to appear. The station clock ticked ever closer to our departure, so I decided to search amongst the travellers for my elusive friend. I took no comfort in the knowledge that my pursuers were nowhere to be seen: for if they were no longer preoccupied with me, they must be hounding Holmes's every step. I waited until the last possible moment before accepting the futility of my plight, and returned worriedly to my seat. I had no choice but to trust in the powers Holmes had so often demonstrated, and now that Moriarty was upon my track, I could not stay in London; I had to remain confident that even with such a daunting pursuer, Holmes would eventually join me at some stage of the journey.