PLEASE READ: thank you to everyone who reviewed with the exception of sam fraser (aka Eddie Kennedy). Dude, seriously? You and your "friend" have the exact same way of typing. Sometimes the letters are mixed in the exact same spots, there are random capital letters on words they aren't supposed to be on, and you "both" don't make any sense half the time because you type your words too quickly. It's obvious to anyone who pays attention that Eddie Kennedy is fictional. Please stop calling Naomi (creative title) a pig and a liar because she is a beautiful person who is smart enough to figure out how to make an account, as you embarrassingly told everyone in your review that you didn't know how. Really, its not rocket science. Thank you VERY much to everyone who reviewed thus far. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! Thank you for staying with me throughout my story and giving me advice on where to take it. Shout out to CreativeTitle who is the sweetest person I've ever not met (haha...we're pen pals, if you were wondering). Please review my final chapter and tell me what you think of the ending. I hope that after all this time, it is satisfactory.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
The first time I had ever heard of Jack the Ripper, I was sitting in our shared rooms at Baker Street in 1888. Now, ten years later, I still cannot believe the disasters that occurred and the one that was nearly averted.
Wiggins continued to come to our flat once a day, sometimes more, to be checked upon. The poor child was occasionally too tired to leave and often made a bed of our sofa. Of course we didn't mind. In fact, we preferred to have him safe within our walls than out on the street. He had suffered through quite an ordeal.
Only a week passed since the attack before Holmes insisted to follow him again. This time, I was pursuing Tumblety as well. I wouldn't stand to be left at home for days on end waiting. Not when there was a murderer on the loose who was ready to kill you at moment's notice.
"Are you sure you want to come, Watson? I'll be fine, I assure you."
"You said the same words last time. There's nothing wrong with accepting help, Holmes. I'm coming and that's the last I want to hear of it."
He smiled lightly and it was clear he'd rather go by himself but I wasn't letting him leave again. We disguised ourselves in completely new disguises and left with our revolvers. Mrs. Hudson bid us goodnight and I couldn't help but think that this might be the last time we ever saw her. I gave her a thankful nod as she returned back to the kitchen of her rooms.
"I do hope we see her again." Holmes said almost under his breath. It was strange to hear him give praise to our landlady...if you could call it praise. "I'd thank her for all her work she's done over the years but you know how she'd get suspicious. I left her a note, Watson. In case we don't return."
"Are you expecting us to die tonight?" I asked casually. It didn't matter what the answer was. At least I would know where my friend was.
"Your calmness alarms me, Watson. Are you expecting to die?"
"I'll do anything necessary to rid the world of this monster. If death is what is needed then I am prepared to die. Though, we have our revolvers so it shouldn't come to that."
"I wish I could have kept you out of all this."
"It's too late to wish for second chances. I wish none of this had ever happened and those women would still be alive but it's an impossible dream. The only thing to do is try our best to stop him."
Holmes stayed quiet most of the walk to where we knew Tumblety had residence. We cautiously peered inside an open window at the man. What he was doing remains the single most haunting act I've ever witnessed.
Along the shelves covering the walls of the house, and there were many, lay jars of clouded water. In the clearer of the jars, I could make out the shapes of organs and body parts. It was all I could do to not shoot the man right then and there.
Holmes insisted we wait should we find that, when we followed him, there were more than three men in on the murders. He admitted that he could be wrong in saying there were three and the only way to prevent future murders is to be thorough in your investigation.
Holmes and I both stared in awe as Tumblety packed the organs into two large doctor's bags. When he finished, they were zipped up and he held one in each of his hands, making way to the door.
"Come, Watson." He whispered urgently and we moved away from the front of the small house. When Tumblety stepped out of the house, the degree of composure he showed was sickening. How could a man carry such things without the guiltiest of expressions on his face? Even Holmes would not be able to pull off such an act. Despite his occasional kindness, Holmes was still cold and unemotional. Tumblety must be infinitely worse to carry out a felony such as this one.
Holmes and I waited until Tumblety was out of earshot but within our sight. I trailed a bit behind Holmes so as to not look too suspicious. I kept my eye on Tumblety and only him the entire time we trailed him. Eventually, he stopped at a little shop and I caught up with Holmes then to wait.
"Do you know what this shop is, Watson?"
"No."
"It's a butcher's. I'd like to take a moment to go in there and take all the meat he's selling to prevent it being sold to the public as an animal's meat."
"Won't we lose sight of Tumblety?"
"You'll go on and I'll find you soon enough. Don't take your eye off him for a second. I have an idea where he's going anyways."
"But-"
I wanted to protest but the man came out of the shop and began his walk down the street. I nodded to Holmes casually and began to trial him once more. I listened to Holmes and didn't look away one second. Tumblety, much to my relief, never looked back at me.
I followed him through the city for hours on foot. He never stopped to take a hansom cab or the underground. He only walked. My leg was beginning to burn and I could feel my limp coming back. I had no cane to support myself on and Tumblety knew that I had a limp. It would only take him a matter of seconds to figure out that a man with a limp who was following him would be me.
I tried my hardest not to put too much weight on my bad leg as I walked but my limp became more and me noticeable by the minute. Finally, we came to the ship yard. It was immediately obvious that he planned on leaving England, probably for America.
I had to stop him.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and started.
"Quiet, Watson. It's only me. We mustn't let him get on that ship. If he does we are lost. I bought two tickets in case we have to drag him off ourselves."
"How did you know he would come here?"
"I thought of what I would do if I had committed the murders. I'd get out of London, of course. In fact, I'd get right out of England. The most only way is by boat, therefore he would come here."
I nodded at him and we began slowly making our way closer to the criminal. The ship yard was nearly deserted this time of night save for a few workmen who were coming home. It was good and bad at the same time. Fewer people made it easy to keep sight of Tumblety but it made it easy for him to see us. We remained out of earshot and far enough so he wouldn't see so much as our shadows.
"Watson?" Holmes began quietly.
"What is it?"
"I just wanted to thank you. If it happens that one of us dies here tonight, I don't want you to feel that you were unappreciated. It's been an honour to have you as both friend and colleague over the years."
"I assure you the feeling is mutual."
He smiled, a rare thing for him to do, and continued to look straight ahead. Our quarry suddenly sped up and ran aboard the passenger ship.
Holmes and I ran towards him, despite the severe burning in my leg, and followed him onto the ship. He must have seen us because when we caught up, he ducked into a corner of the ship and seemingly disappeared.
Holmes looked along the edges to see if he hung onto one of them while I checked inside the doors of the first deck. After a few minutes of searching, I heard a loud smack and then a splash. Turning around, I saw what I feared. Tumblety was peering over the edge of the ship. I didn't have to be genius to figure out that Holmes had been knocked out and thrown into the water.
Tumblety began to run towards the front of the ship.
I had the hardest decision of my life to face. I could either save my friend or catch a murderer. To this day I wonder what would happen had I chosen the other path and all my imaginings turned out the same. Life would be darker if I had I not saved Holmes.
Without hesitation, I jumped into the water.
VVVVVVVVVVV
It was hours before Holmes opened his eyes again in St. Bartholomew's hospital. I sat by his bedside the whole time, waiting for him to wake up, if he would wake up at all.
When he finally did, I remember the wave of relief that overcame me.
I explained the choice I had to make.
"You see, you were on the edge of consciousness and I would have regretted my choice all my life had I left you to die. I'm not saying I'm sorry for saving you because I'm not, but I'm sincerely sorry for letting Tumblety get away."
Holmes was silent for a long moment. I was afraid to look up at him, for he may very well burn me with his glare that stopped criminals in their tracks. I was surprised when he sighed partly in sorrow, partly in relief.
"I would have done the same thing. Now, if the nurses will allow it, do you think it would be too much trouble for you to fetch my pipe from Baker Street?"
And he was back to normal.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
It was only a few days before Holmes was back at Baker Street. I had asked him a few times to publish an account of them but eventually dropped the argument.
Ten years to the day, here I sit with my pen and paper, making an account of the ripper murders, by Holmes' suggestion.
"I believe it's time the public knew, Watson." He had said. And I knew exactly what he was talking about without questioning him. Perhaps in a year or two he'll allow me to publish the case of the Giant Rat of Sumatra, for which the world isn't yet prepared, as Holmes claims.
The fearsome events that took place in the fall of 1888 were something we thought the world would soon forget. We couldn't have been more wrong. The world will never forget what happened. Though many aspects of the case have been forgotten, the pure terror of what happened lives on.
As for the two of us, Holmes and I have had cases since then, of course, but none as extraordinary and haunting as this one. No case ever will be. I thank God for that every new day of my life.
VVVVVVVVVVVV
Please tell me how my ending was, seeing as it has been in the making since august. What's that...*counts on fingers*...seven months or so?
Thanks to all who read and reviewed thus far. Your thoughts (about my story...yes, that means you sam...) are greatly appreciated.
I hope my ending was satisfactory for you, but if it isn't, let me know that too! Thanks again and if any of you are interested in the new Sherlock BBC series, check out my stories for that fandom as well.
Sincerely Yours,
Myelle White
