A/N: From the fifth chapter of STUD, we never do find out who the man is that impersonated an old woman to get the ring back.
Prompt 10 – Who was that man, and did Holmes ever encounter him again?
Compelling Curiosity
Prompt 10 – Commiserable Cogitation
"The public have lost a sensational treat through the sudden death of the man Hope, who was suspected of the murder of Mr. Enoch Drebber…"
No. It couldn't be! Not Jeff! Not my best friend…
I had been with him from the beginning. Before he ever met that girl that would consume his existence.
I was with him when they met, when her horse was caught up with that steer. I saw the looks that went between them and knew that I would have to share my friend from then on.
I have tried to block out the memories, but reading of his death…now they're all coming back.
I remember the way he paced anxiously around the campsite, that night he decided to ask for her hand in marriage. I laughed and told him if he didn't, she'd be asking him, they were that much in love.
When we all went prospecting, all he could do was talk of her, and all his plans of moving to California and having a family. That man could talk the ears off a snake, if they had any.
He also worried about her day and night, whether or not she and her father were safe and all sorts of "what if's" that had me so perturbed I'd have popped him one on the jaw had he not been so pitiful. Young love is such an extraordinary thing.
But the joy was short lived. I was with him when the messenger brought the note warning of the Prophet's plans. His face had gone so pale, I thought he would surely faint. But he steeled himself and prepared to go back.
I pleaded with him, told him it wasn't worth it. He could not fight all the powers of the Avenging Angels alone.
Then he asked me to go with him.
I was a coward in those days. I saw that radical group for what they were—a militant cult, bent on destroying anyone who opposed their will. And I knew that if I tangled with them, my life would be forfeit.
And then he looked at me sorrowfully, and left. I regret my decision to this day…
I didn't see him again for over a year. And when I found him ruminating in the mountains, barely alive, he welcomed me as a friend. I didn't deserve his friendship, but he needed mine.
Jeff was a broken man, by every definition of the word. When I first saw him, he looked a decade older. And it was all I could do to stand close and talk to him without coughing at the filth and squalid conditions in which he was living.
It did not take long to get the whole story out of him, and what a sad tale it was. He told me of the desperate escape he made with Lucy and her father. The hasty journey, his five hour mistake, and what he found upon his return.
His shock upon finding John Ferrier's grave was enough to arouse his anger, and he told me of how desperately he followed them, searching for his love. But when he found her…
He showed the ring to me, and at that point I cried. What had I done? Why had I let him go alone? They could have been alive and happy now, if only I had done something. What kind of friend was I?
Determined not to make the same error, I stayed with him. For five long years I stayed with him. So we worked in the mines, and our lives resumed in the way they had been those years ago before we ever met Lucy Ferrier.
But Jeff was dead inside. I could see it. His eyes held nothing of the life they once had. And it wasn't long before they burned with the fire of hate.
One day I awoke to find him gone. He left no word, but had taken all of his money and his rifle. I knew what his quest was, and I was sorry.
I had tried, but for all I had within me to give, it couldn't replace the hole in his life the loss of his Lucy had left him with.
And for a long time, I heard nothing. I expected my friend was gone forever, until one day I received a telegram from Copenhagen. He was on his way to London, still after Drebber and Stangerson, and he wanted me to come to him.
At that moment, I wanted more than anything to see those men punished for what they done to my friend. There had been no better man than Jefferson Hope, and their selfish evil had destroyed him.
So I went, and when I got there and found my friend he was a changed man. He had something of his sanity back, but he was weak and exhausted in his spirit. And I knew why, when he told me he had killed Drebber.
I don't know why I was surprised. I expected nothing less. But that it had actually happened was a great shock to me. And apparently to him as well, for he talked at me for hours, arguing with himself over the morality of his choice.
At the end of that day, he had both of us convinced. His action was justified.
And whether it was or not, I was his best friend. I would stand by him in everything, even if it took me to Hell.
So when he showed me that advertisement in the paper, and told me what he wanted me to do, I did not hesitate.
I performed my task, fooled the gentlemen, and managed to elude them when they pursued me. I imagined they were policemen after that, but didn't think much of it.
Then, when Jeff told me he had killed Stangerson, I went around to the crime scene. Jeff was in too deep now, and his mind was going. I was afraid he may have left evidence to incriminate himself.
I was very surprised when I saw a police inspector coming out of the building in a rush, hailing a cab, and giving the very address to the driver which I had recently visited.
"…the man was apprehended, it appears, in the rooms of a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes…"
I had been re-reading those words over and over as I walked to the address. It was clear to me who had been my friend's ruin and even death. I knew my friend had been in poor health just from looking at him, but he had many more years on the earth I am sure.
Now I stand across the street from 221B Baker Street. That Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes were responsible, not the police, I was certain. And I could avenge my friend.
I don't know what I will do or what I will say, but I have a gun in my pocket and my resolve is firm.
But, wait… Here they come, out the front door. I can shoot them here and now. It will probably mean my death, but what have I to live for?
I draw my gun…but pause. In his eyes…
They are laughing, the doctor and his friend. And I see in them, the youthful friendship Jeff and I enjoyed all those years ago, when the world was comprised of the Rocky Mountains and the bright blue sky.
They're the same, just like Jeff and I were. I…I can't kill them. I can't take that away. Having had the joy of friendship, I know there is no greater feeling on the earth.
And despite my grief…I can't do it. I'm not Jeff.
And maybe…maybe it's better this way. I know that now Jeff is at peace, and in Heaven his heart will have calmed now he is with Lucy. He wouldn't want me to kill them.
So I release my gun and it drops back into the depths of my coat pocket. And the two friends walk down the street, grinning at each other and laughing.
Someday…Jeff and I will share that laughter again.
Author's notes: Well, how is it? I actually re-read that boring second half of STUD to write this. And then I wrote straight through, not even checking for typos. If ever anything needed proofreading, this is the chapter.