Can you tell that I'm really meant to be revising, but trying to put it off? This is Granada's FINA from the point of view of Colonel Moran. Hope you like it! Please Read and Review!
Disclaimer - I do not own anything. Really. It all belongs to Doyle.
The Old Shikari
I watch them from my perch above, my eyes darting from one to the other, always alert - hunting one of them like I hunted the tigers in India. They stand, talking calmly, and from here, where I cannot hear them they look like they could be discussing the whether or something equally mundane. My master - shorter, stooped, dressed all in black - the Professor - circling his prey like one of my tigers would. His enemy - tall, dark, thin and angular - Sherlock Holmes - stands still. Through the sights on my gun I can see both of them clearly. Holmes' eyes follow the Professor, and I know that he is afraid. His hands are clasped behind him, and I can see them clasp, unclasp, clasp again. Good. Prey is easier to hunt when it is rattled.
Holmes is unaware of my presence. The Professor has sent me up here to end his enemy's life if he gives the signal. Not terribly sporting, perhaps, but the ends justify the means. Soon, the greatest threat to the Professor's life, business, work, will be exterminated. I finger the gun - a rifle - and find a strange beauty in it. This is my weapon of choice. The weapon which I have always used and which I have mastered.
The Professor and Holmes seem to have reached a decision. Not for the first time, I wish that I could hear the words that are being spoken. Holmes moves away, pulling out his pocket-book and writing a missive. I am a little surprised at the Professor - though I would never question his methods. Why allow Holmes to perhaps give us away? What is this small piece of mercy?
For a few minutes, Holmes is quiet. He finishes his note and turns to the Professor. His eyes are sad, resigned, though he does not give up his show of being in command and in control. He looks sadly about, as if wishing that his friend, the dear Doctor, were here to save him from his inevitable death. His eyes gleam with unshed tears and I laugh to myself. I always knew him to be a coward.
Holmes moves to the edge of the falls, and I realise that I have made a blunder. From my position here, I am out of range of their ledge. Cursing to myself, I pick up my equipment and run, aiming for a better and clearer location.
By the time I get there, they are both gone. Have I failed him? Is he really dead? I look around, trying to see him, but he is gone as I thought. Dead. And Holmes…at least he has gone too. I realise now that I feel nothing for the lost Professor - no grief, no anger, nothing. Am I numb? Or did I just not feel anything in the first place? I pick up my gun, my equipment, and start to make my way back, over the falls, past the place that I had been aiming from before.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving, and throw myself to the ground, my eye in the sights. A grey streak as someone runs between the rocks. Holmes? I try again and clearly see the blasted man's face. He is alive. He has murdered the Professor, and is alive. I line myself up, ready to shoot, when I perceive yet more movement from the falls. It is the Doctor, returned to aid his friend.
"Holmes!" I hear him yell "Holmes!"
He considers the falls. I expect Holmes to leap up, shout that he is alive. Then irony of ironies, at that moment, I will execute him before the Doctor's eyes. But he does not. I watch him as he watches the Doctor. The Doctor skirts the edge, crying out his friend's name, looking down into the endless black darkness of the falls. I have a clear shot at him for a moment. I line up the cross-hairs, aiming for his head, ready to take the life of the only friend of the man I hate, ready to torture Holmes with the knowledge that he has caused the Doctor's death, when the Doctor moves out of my line of fire. I curse. I am getting slower in my old age.
The Doctor has found something - the note from Holmes. He reads it, and through the sights, I see his face crumple. I feel myself grin as the Doctor puts his head in his hands and sobs for his friend. I shift position to look at Holmes. Again, I see tears in his eyes as he stares down at the Doctor. A couple of times, he lifts his hand, as if to call to his friend, but then stops himself, just waiting, and watching.
The Doctor is joined by more men. They carry out a search, but are quick to come to the erroneous conclusion. Holmes is dead, they seem to say. The Doctor nods, and walks away, dejected and alone. For a moment, I think about shooting him in the back. But Holmes knows who I am, and what I do. My life will not be worth an hour's purchase if I kill the poor Doctor. I let him go, cursing my own weakness and cowardice, and return my attention to Holmes.
I am still unable to get a proper shot. I look to one side, and see a huge boulder. Picking it up, I throw it straight at Holmes' head, although it misses. Holmes, alerted now, stiffens and starts to run, ducking behind trees. I find myself unable to keep up with my prey.
I lose him in the darkness. But I will be sure to end his life. One day.