We now move into a more narrative style for the remainder of this epic. Did the 'daily journal' work as a means of telling the first part of the story? All characters today are the creation of ACD.

The Fight Back Starts

Watson looked at Holmes in astonishment.

"Calm down, Holmes!" he exclaimed. "Rarely have I seen you so agitated!"

"With good reason, though, wouldn't you agree?" spat Holmes. "Unbelievable! How could I have failed in such a way?"

"You mustn't take it upon yourself too harshly," Watson replied. "You were not to know."

"But I was. It is my job to know."

The sunlight dimmed from the street outside 221B Baker Street as a cloud passed in front of the sun. It perfectly reflected the mood within the room.

"Mr. Holmes," ventured Gregson, "the Doctor is right. You mustn't take this personally."

Holmes was about to say something, but held back. He held up his hands in defeat.

"As you say, Gregson. But we are going to do something about it now, nonetheless."

"I am at your disposal, Mr. Holmes."

"Very well. First you must do everything to keep Silas Cromwell's suicide out of the newspapers for as long as you can."

"I have some influence."

"Good. Now we need to tease out his antagonists - like pus from a wound."

"Very colourful, Holmes!" interrupted Watson, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"And to do this we need to set a trap for them," continued Holmes, ignoring him. "It still grates, though; we were so close."

"Mr. Holmes, you may have been at the right place but not at the right time," replied Gregson. "The fact you were even summoned to Cromwell Hall at least has meant that you now have an opportunity to do something about it."

Holmes' mood turned darker again. "I was a fool. John Cummings summoned me to help when he saw his master becoming so worried, although he didn't know what about. But I should have looked deeper. That's my responsibility. Instead, all we did between us, Watson, was to ruin some of Mr. Cromwell's flower beds."

"We are not natural groundmen, Holmes, that I will accept," replied Watson. "I expect we stuck out like a sore thumb."

"If only Cromwell had told others that he had engaged us," continued Holmes. "Then we would have known the time for the completion of their scheme was approaching. To think there are people passing themselves off as me! Intolerable! Or even you, my dear fellow!" he added quickly, almost as an afterthought. "But he kept that secret well hidden; doubtless at the behest of Gibson. And then of course I got bored, and we left …" His voice trailed off.

"So, how do we draw them out, Holmes?" encouraged Watson.

"I need to review events so far," he replied. He picked up the pages of Cromwell's journal again. "We need to find the fake Holmes and Watson, those two rogues who, with Gibson, arranged the whole thing and drove him to take his life. It would be good to know what mining company they represented, but even that is eluding me at present. Give me a moment."

Watson drew Gregson a glass of brandy whilst Holmes sat down by the window, looking out absent-mindedly at the bustle of the street below. After a few moments he drew a deep breath.

"Well, it's not original, but it will have to do. Based on the fact that the suicide is not public knowledge yet, we need to place an advertisement in the London Gazette."

"I'll get onto it right away, Holmes," replied Watson, "What wording?"

"Along the lines of 'Mr. Silas Cromwell advises that he has found additional papers which rightly belong to others and for them to make contact at the Hall.' Yes, that should suffice. Sufficiently vague as to what papers these might be, but enough for those who have had recent contact with Cromwell – his antagonists - to think that it is worth the effort of getting them."

"Won't they be suspicious, Holmes?"

"They do not know he is dead. They will imagine that they have broken him so far that he just wants to co-operate. Remember that as far as he knows, Gibson, 'Holmes' and 'Watson' are still captives. The nine o'clock deadline in the final note has long passed, and the three of them have not been returned as the note promised. His mind must, they will think, be in turmoil. They don't know we are now genuinely involved, and that we were able to speak to him before he took his life. The wording will be read as a plea for them to get back in touch with him, with news of his trusty valet if not of us."

"Do you have any suspicions, though, Holmes?" asked Watson.

"None that I will share at present," he replied darkly. "Now, let us be at it. I have a score to settle."