I was not an evil man. On the contrary, I was a respected doctor, husband, and the member of several clubs. It was not greed that led me to crime. I was not the sort of man to believe that one could ever profit from crime, or escape the net of the law indefinitely.
So why do it? It is not thrill either. I get my thrill from new discoveries, theories, and processes that make my profession simpler. My profession is humane, unlike my overseers. More like slavers.
I had made the wrong sort of friends as a lad, and now my wife was being threatened to get me to go along with it. It seemed like an easy sort of job. All I had to do was make the right friend. The friend worked with me, so all I had to do was get close to him, learn his habits, and generally be at my employers disposal in case they ever needed me to get at him.
However, things were taking an interesting turn as I bid the elder Mr. Holmes goodnight. Now I didn't have the doctor, but rather the detective himself, my employer's ultimate prize.
Suddenly, I saw a way to rid myself of this trouble forever. Surely selling the detective could buy my wife and liberty back?
Payback is such a lovely thing eh Mrs. P?