Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are not mine. They belong to…lots of other people.

Epilogue

Holmes and Watson walked along the pebbled Brighton beach. The salty sea breeze was cool against their skin and the sound of the gently rolling sea was relaxing, soothing. Neither of them had slept very well and they didn't believe they would until they were back in their familiar rooms in Baker Street. Holmes still looked ill, his face a mass of yellowing bruises and healing cuts. It went deeper than that though. There was a melancholy look in his eyes and Watson would often turn to find his friend frowning, like he was searching for some obscure truth.

"So how did you know that Sir Edward and his wife were involved?" Watson asked, drawing Holmes away from his own thoughts.

"It was obvious that they played some part in it, after all Anna Harris hadn't had time to meet any other people in that area. Then I remembered vaguely, reading something about Sir Edward being involved with the tea gardens in India. Then when Mrs Harris told me that her uncle was stationed in Bengal to protect British interests I realised that Sir Edward and Major Morrison may have met out there." He stopped and bent to pick a pebble up. He turned it over in his hand and he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of it.

"There were too many coincidences," Watson stated, seeing his friend's line of reasoning.

"Precisely. I questioned the staff about the relationship between the Major and Sir Edward and they said there was tension between the two. Then when they told me that Major Morrison was a man who was trying his best to look after his health I began to suspect foul play."

"You think they murdered Major Morrison?" Watson's head began to hurt. "Because he knew too much about them?"

"Yes," Holmes answered. "Mary, one of Sir Edward's young women, got a job as a scullery maid there. I have no doubt that while she was there she managed to lace the Major's healthy food."

"Some sort of poison you mean?"

Holmes smiled down at him and Watson could tell that he was feeling rather pleased with himself. "I don't suppose you noticed all the flowers in Wells' garden?"

"I did actually. They were foxgloves. Though, young Simpson got a closer look at them." Watson chuckled as he replayed the constable's fall in his head. "Lucky really, that's how we found out where you were."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you the danger of consuming foxgloves," Holmes said. He examined the smooth brown pebble for a moment then put it in his pocket.

"No, it's digitalis. Speeds up the heart." It dawned on Watson. "His death would have 

looked like a mere heart attack."

"Exacty." Holmes stopped walking and looked out at the Channel. The two men watched as the sea lapped against the support posts of West Pier where Ethel Parkinson's body had been found.

"What will happen to the Mary, Henrietta and Nancy?"

Holmes shrugged. "It depends how a jury sees it. They'll be charged as accessories."

"What will happen to their children if they go to prison?"

"Probably best not to think of that, Watson." But Watson couldn't help but think about it. Another four lives ruined by the madness of one man.

"I don't understand, Watson." Holmes said after a brief pause.

"Understand what?"

"Why he did it." Holmes continued to stare at the water; he liked the steady rhythmic crashing and drawing back of the tide, it was beautiful and natural, unlike the events of the past few days. "I've seen many murderers, but all of them had some sort of purpose. Granted, it may have been a petty one like money or jealousy, but there was a reason for their crimes. Sir Edward tortured and killed for no reason. Almost as though he did it for fun."

"There are such people I believe," Watson replied with a sigh. "Sir Edward was a sick man. Take that Messiah stuff for instance."

"You think he believed that?" Holmes sounded sceptical.

"No, I think he liked having power over those women. They took impressionable young girls and twisted their minds to suit their own purpose. Plus he got their allowance as well, so there's a motive for you."

Holmes shook his head and sneered. "No, that was her. She indulged his madness while it suited her. She didn't care about those girls."

"There are records of people who seem to have no conscience," Watson said. "It's quite a phenomenon."

"The human mind is still such a mystery to us," Holmes announced with a gentle sigh and looked back at his friend with a smile.

Watson smiled back. "You'd make an interesting case study yourself." Holmes let out a small chuckle and Watson was relieved to see that melancholy look fade for just a moment.

Holmes turned and carried on walking down the beach. "This is one case I will not mourn the loss of."

As the two of them walked along off along the beach in silence Watson had time to reflect on 

everything that had happened. Perhaps Holmes would finally realise that there were worse things in the world than boredom, although somehow Watson doubted it.

"This is one case I will not mourn the loss of." The words echoed in Watson's head and he realised there and then that this was one case that would not make it into the archives.

So it's over. This story has finally seen the light of day! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it and thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. I'm actually rather sad that it has finished.

I have some ideas for future stories but I'll have to give them a bit more thought.

Thanks again.