I feel that I should begin by explaining that this is one of the very few occasions on which the only reason that the chronicle of my friend's cases is to be published is by the direct desiring of the latter. It was a matter that occurred, almost exactly on the turn of the century, and it is only sometime later after receiving a telegram from my friend, that I now publish this account of my friend's second duel with the man whom he long ago singled out, as the greatest enemy he ever faced.
It was a biting, unpleasant March and the chill could be felt in just about every room of Baker Street. I believe that the only two rooms that were warm were our housekeeper's parlour and the small living room, in which my friend and I spent most of our time. It is left to me to point out that it was only due to my efforts that we even had a fire going, as he was in one of his most languid moods and could barely seem to feel the cold.
As it was, no one seemed to want to venture forth, so it seemed rather unusual to both of us when our housekeeper announced that a Professor Samuels wanted to speak to us. I was mildly relieved, for the cold days were beginning to seem tiresome, but as for my friend it seemed as if salvation was at hand. If I had been unable to tell it through the normal ways, I was able to tell how bored he had been, by the way that Sherlock Holmes sprang to life to greet our visitor.
The Professor Samuels in question, turned out to be a small, rounded man, who greeted us in the warm manner of one who lives his life as peacefully as he can, but never fails to do a friend a good turn.
"Mr Holmes?" He asked, with great respect.
My friend had not risen but I could see by the look in his eyes he was giving Professor Samuels his full attention.
"Indeed. This is my friend and college, Doctor Watson."
"Of course." Our visitor paused as if collecting his thoughts. "Mr Holmes, I do not come to you out of any need for myself. I am in no trouble, though there is a small mystery surrounding the events I will outline to you, which I would like to know the answer to, even if it is simply an innocent one."
My friend held up his hand, a small frown creasing his brow.
"Professor Samuels, forgive my interruption, but if you do not desire to know something for yourself, why are you here?"
Our client shifted slightly.
"Well, Mr Holmes, I was rather hoping that I might be able to provide you with some information. Perhaps if I was to give you the whole story from the beginning…"
Holmes waved one hand and sank low into his chair, as the professor began his story.
"Mr Holmes, I am a member of the Royal Society of Chemists' and head of their publishing section. A few months ago a professor from a very prestigious Swedish university approached me about publishing one of our papers in his own country for his students. Normally we would give our consent straight away, but when it was first published, the writer gave his express wish that we contact him for permission before allowing anyone else to publish it. In the event of his death, then we were to go to his next if kin, so I wrote to his brother. The strange thing is, Mr Holmes, that there was no money to be exchanged, nothing except the right to publish it."
Both my friend and I were looking a little confused. Although I had been taking notes, I could make no sense of it. Holmes smiled gently at the man, trying to keep patient.
"Professor Samuels, it is a most intriguing case, but I do not why it should be of such special interest to me."
The Professor raised his eyebrows and when he spoke, he spoke awkwardly.
"Well Mr Holmes, the reason I thought you would be interested is that the paper in question is 'The Dynamics of an Asteroid'!"
I saw Holmes's eyes widen with sudden understanding and an icy hand clutched at my heart. 'The Dynamics of an Asteroid' was the paper written by the man who I had thought for so long had killed Holmes, the one man in England who was a match for him: Professor Moriarty!
To be continued