CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Only Way
"Where are we headed?" I asked as Holmes fairly dragged me outside the Ten Bells and across the road to where a group of about six women were gathered. Their appearance left little doubt as to their occupation - the oldest in the world, as the old saying goes.
"Watson," Holmes said, "if you want information on a disease, see a doctor. If you want information on a jewel, see a jeweller. If you want information on the whereabouts of a prostitute, see another prostitute." Holmes said the word with his characteristic detachment.
As we drew near the group of women, they saw the relative finery of our clothes and gathered round us, offering up their wares as a butcher in the market offers his prime cuts.
"Listen to me. I am Sherlock Holmes, of Baker Street. You will have, no doubt, heard of me. One of your own is in grave danger; her life hangs in the balance for at this very moment she is in the company of Jack the Ripper."
The women gasped at this, but before Holmes could say more, a tough looking man emerged from a nearby doorway.
"I don't care if you're Sherlock Holmes, the Lord Mayor of London or Christ All-bloody-mighty," he growled, "get away from my girls and don't be filling their heads with no nonsense about Jack the Ripper."
"Sir," said Holmes, "these are not 'your girls.'"
"I've warned you once, there won't be another warning!" the man said, snarling at Holmes and I.
"Indeed, sir. Now, ladies, if you could be so kind -" Holmes was cut off by a backhanded blow across the face from the fleshmonger which knocked Holmes into me and almost sent me to the ground.
Holmes wiped the blood from his lip and said to me and the women "you are all witnesses to this. I am acting in self defence." Holmes assumed a boxer's stance and held his fists up to the man. "Only a scoundrel strikes with the back of the hand, sir" said Holmes and lunged at the man with a jab to the jaw that jerked the man's head back. The next few minutes were decidedly one sided with Holmes' straight left against the slogging ruffian. When the panderer lay in the gutter unconscious, Holmes again turned to the gathered women and asked them what he had intended to.
"Do any of you know Miss Mary Kelly?"
They seemed reluctant to answer.
"You have nothing to fear, believe me. If you do not help me, Miss Kelly will tonight die the worst death imaginable. I can prevent this and I can stop Jack the Ripper, but you must help me."
One voice piped up. It belonged to a young woman who said, "I know Mary. If you're looking for her, she'll be in her room at Miller's Court. Number twelve or thirteen, I think."
Holmes uncharacteristically smiled at the young woman. "Thank you," said he. "You may have saved your friend's life tonight. Come Watson!"
As we rushed towards Miller's Court - it was not worth taking a hansom as it was only a few streets away - Holmes was silent. He was running full pelt through the streets and I had trouble keeping up as we all but sprinted across the uneven streets to reach Miller's Court. Suddenly, Holmes skidded to a stop as we passed by an old fence - stopping so suddenly that I almost ran into him.
"What is it, old man?" I asked.
Holmes reached across to the fence and produced a single red hair that was clinging to the rotten wood.
"Holmes! The landlord of the Ten Bells said Mary Kelly was a redhead! They must have passed by this way!"
Before I had even finished speaking, Holmes was off again, this time running in a full sprint. I ran after him and before two minutes had passed we reached Miller's Court. Miller's Court is a cul-de-sac just off Dorset Street and, as we rushed in, we heard a woman scream from behind the door of number thirteen Miller's Court.
"Watson! Thirteen!" Holmes cried as I was closer to the door than he. I tried the door, but, alas, it was locked. I heard Holmes shout, "stand aside Watson!" and just as I did Holmes barrelled past me and threw himself, shoulder first at the door. It did not budge so, as Holmes backed off for another run at it, I gripped either side of the frame and hit it soundly with the sole of my foot. I felt the door give way slightly and called to Holmes.
"One more should do it, Holmes!"
As Holmes flung himself at the door, it opened from the inside and Holmes and I tumbled into the room, landing at the feet of Edward Hyde. On the bed lay the prone figure of Mary Kelly, unconscious but alive. Above us, Hyde chuckled softly.
"So, we meet again, Mr. Holmes." Hyde's voice was as hideous as his countenance. "Only this time you're in your natural place - at my feet."
Holmes all but sprang to his feet and, as I got to mine, Hyde regarded me with contempt.
"This must be the famous Dr. Watson. It is a pleasure, doctor" Hyde said, smiling a broken-toothed grin. "Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to." With this, Hyde swung his fist at Holmes and cracked him on the side of the head with seemingly inhuman force. Holmes toppled into me and I lost my footing and fell to the ground. I managed to protect my head in the fall otherwise I would surely have been knocked out on the stone floor. Hyde did not notice I was still conscious and, laughing horribly, turned back to Mary Kelly. As he raised his knife into the air I took my pistol and, taking careful aim at his upheld hand, squeezed the trigger.
The bullet went through Hyde's hand and embedded itself in the wall behind him. Hyde roared in pain and dropped the knife and Holmes and I got to our feet. Holmes, by this point, had taken out his revolver and was aiming at Hyde, as I was. Snarling like a wild animal, Hyde turned on Holmes and I and began stalking towards us, grasping his bloody hand. When Hyde got within three steps of us, he stopped suddenly and a strange look came across his face. For a fleeting moment, he took on the appearance of Jekyll, then all too quickly, his features moulded themselves back into those of Hyde and, with murderous rage in his eyes, he advanced again.
He was almost upon us when, once again, he stopped and some sort of terrible battle between good and evil played out on his face. His features shifted back and forth between those of Jekyll and Hyde and, in a horrible, guttural voice he cried out "Holmes! Holmes! I remember! I remember everything! Oh, God help me!" His physiognomy became that of Henry Jekyll and a look of realisation came over his face in a wave. "Jack the Ripper!" said he. "I am Jack the Ripper! God forgive me!"
Holmes and I lowered our weapons but as we did Jekyll again became Hyde and he threw himself upon Holmes, knife raised, ready to attack. As he flew through the air, Holmes raised his pistol and fired one shot almost directly at Hyde's heart. The impact of the shot seemed to stop Hyde in mid air and he crumpled to the ground.
I rushed to the dying man's side as his face once again morphed into that of the good doctor Henry Jekyll. Holmes joined me at his side.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes" he said. "Thanks for the bullet. It was the only way. May God have mercy on my soul."
His eyes closed as he breathed his last and the life of the unhappy Henry Jekyll came to an end.
