Our party left the local police station behind, with Constable Stevenson now wearing a pair of clean, and seemingly never-used, handcuffs upon his belt. I could tell from the look on Holmes's face that the mystery had, indeed, been brought to a conclusion in his cold and analytical mind, and that an exciting denouement should await us all.
We entered into the Red Horse, and we were almost immediately immersed into the chattering and laughing of village life, which could easily be heard from further on up the road.
The villagers were all sat around tables within the pub's white plaster walls. All happily drinking, talking and being merry with one another. I recognised many of the villagers from my earlier stroll around the village in search of Mr. Hawthorne, as well as the earlier walk around the village that we had taken at the very beginning of our adventure.
I could see Dr. Martin, the village's curmudgeonly practitioner, sitting quietly at a table by himself in the corner, drinking his half-pint of beer.
Bert Stevens, the mild-mannered and stuttering librarian, sat at the bar by himself with a drink, and was reading a copy of "Crime and Punishment" quietly to himself as some form of rudimentary speech practise. One could even observe him making the shapes of the words with his mouth. "Si-beer-ee-ah" "Rahz-kohll-nee-kov".
He was sat near to Farmer John McDonald, who was sat drinking a tankard of beer as he talked and chatted merrily with another group of similarly dressed men, who appeared to be a number of his friends.
Without any form of regard toward common or colloquial manners, Holmes stepped forward into the bar area, and we reluctantly followed.
"Come, gentlemen," said Holmes "For I shall buy us a round! Consider it my treat."
"If you insist, Mr. Holmes, then how can we refuse?" asked Athelney Jones, whose eyes suddenly lit up, appearing to threaten another 'burst of energy'.
"I'll pay for mine, I insist." said Mr. Huddlestone, taking some change out of his apron pocket and attempting to prise Holmes's hand open in-order to give him the money, but Holmes quickly brushed him off.
"Well, I don't feel much like a drink." shrugged Mr. Hawthorne.
"Me and Constable Randall will have to pass on your kind offer too, Mr. Holmes. We're both still technically on-duty, you see."
"Oh, do lighten up, Constable!" pressured Jones.
"Alright then. Landlord, four pints of your finest beer, if you please. And you may keep the change."
"At once, sir." murmured the pub landlord, accepting the money that Holmes had given him without any form of hesitation.
We took our seats at the stools directly in-front of the bar, with Holmes darting to take the seat closest to Stevens before I could so much as consider it.
"Ah, M-M-Mister Ho-Ho-Hol-Hol...mes." stuttered Stevens with a friendly smile upon his face as he looked up from his book. "G-G-G-Go-Good E-Evening. H-How i-is the inve, inves...ti...gation?"
"Ah! Evening Mr. Stevens. Well, we have all but finished our enquiries. We now know the full truth behind the matter."
"R-R-Really? W-Wow! T-T-T-Th-They said y-you were g-g-good. I, I s-suppose the-they-they weren't k-k-ki-ki-kidding t-then... eh? Heh heh."
"Indeed." said Holmes, as plain-faced as ever.
"We-We-Well, well, I-I'm just d-d-d-doing some r-reading. C-C-Crime a-and P-Punishm-ment. I-I-I-It's rea-really ra...ther in-in-inter-in-in-int-in-in- DRAT! interesting. H-H-Have y-you -?"
"Read it myself?" asked Holmes "Yes, yes I have, actually."
"R-R-Really?"
"Yes. I should list it as one of the most important books for detectives to read, in my professional opinion, actually."
"Y-Yes?"
"Yes, I believe I also cited C. August Dupin and Le Coq would be good textbooks for detectives on what not to do in an old adventure of ours that you recorded, didn't you, doctor?"
"Yes, A Study in Scarlet was the one where you mentioned it."
"Ah yes, Watson and I's first ever outing."
"R-R-Really? W-Wo-Wow! T-Tha-That's g-g-g-great." stuttered Stevens, who had just about finished off his drink and was now checking the time on his pocket-watch.
"W-W-Well, I re-re-re-really must be g-go-going n-now." he yawned, marking his place in the library copy of the book and closing it. "I-I-I've got a lot more b-books to o-or-organise in, in the m-morning."
"Oh no, Mr. Stevens. Stay a while yet. You must stay." said Sherlock Holmes
"No, no, M-M-Mis...ter Holmes. I-I-I'm ti-tired. I re-rea-rea-really am. I m-m-m-must be u-up in the m-mo-m-morning e-early."
"No really, you must stay. For we have had our crime, we must now properly issue our punishment, Mr. Stevens."
The rest of the Red Horse suddenly began to quieten down, perhaps picking up on what Holmes himself had said.
"I b-b-b-b-beg your p-p-pardon?"
"Oh yes, for you are the true murderer, are you not?"
"Hang on... what?!" exclaimed Farmer McDonald, standing up and looking toward us. The rest of the pub seemed t notice, and began to look towards our group and Mr. Stevens, who had suddenly went whiter than he already was with the shock of such an accusation.
"Bert Stevens, the serial murderer? You've gotta be having a laugh, Mr. 'Great Detective', haven't ya?" slurred a voice from the back corner. "He couldn't slice bread, never mind somebody's throat!"
"Oh no, madam. I never joke about such serious matters." said Sherlock Holmes, shaking his head. He gave a wave to the three official policemen who were now stood behind him, as though ready to attack. Athelney Jones stepped forward and began to handcuff Mr. Stevens.
"Albert Stevens, I am arresting you in the name of her majesty the Queen for the murders of Miss Delia Hawthorne, Mr. Hugo Gregory, Mr. Giuseppe Bruno and Mr. Louie Jennings." read Athelney Jones as he fastened the metal bracelets onto Mr. Stevens's arms. "Anything you do say can and will be used against your defence in a court of law. If you do not mention anything when questioned, it may later harm your defence."
"OH, SHUT UP, YOU BUFFOON OF A FAT POLICEMAN!" barked Stevens suddenly, perhaps the clearest I had ever heard him speak for the entire duration of this adventure. He stamped down hard on Inspector Jones's foot, and looked ready to escape. The two village constables, however, stepped in-front of Holmes and Inspector Jones, armed with their batons suddenly. I laid my hand on my old service revolver as a precaution.
"Y-You can speak alright?" asked Farmer McDonald "Clearly, like?"
"Of course I can, you pathetic excuse of a farmer!" barked Stevens, with a look of fiery anger in both his face and his eyes. "They deserved it! ALL OF THEM! ALL OF THEM! AND I'LL KILL YOU PATHETIC LOT AS WELL IF I HAVE TO!" he growled.
The villagers gave varying startled cries, and a number of them suddenly dropped their drinks in the shock of the threat, as Stevens growled. Some of the villagers began to shuffle quickly, quietly and nervously toward the door, while a number of them cracked their knuckles as if ready for a fight.
Sherlock Holmes, however, laughed, and stepped in-front of the two constables.
"Now, now, Mr. Stevens. Now, now. There is no point in fighting against it. For you have been caught at long last. And I think at the perfect time, too, for I can tell by the bloodied knife in your jacket pocket that you intended to murder again tonight. Inspector, please check and confirm for our benefit, will you?"
"At once... Mr. Holmes." winced Athelney Jones, limping over toward his stool and removing a bloodied pen-knife from the jacket pocket. Confirming Holmes's suspicions.
"Damn you, Sherlock Holmes! DAMN YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL ITSELF!" roared Stevens.
"Really now," chuckled Holmes "do you not think that I have not heard that one before? Come now, to the station, and explain your motives."
