Stand My Ground
A/N: First, I apologize most profusely to all who read anything I have written. I had my life turned upside down, and then I got married. My wife has nagged me incessantly these past few years to get back into-and finish-what I started. This is the first time I've had a good sit-down with Holmes and Watson since they started tormenting me a couple of weeks ago. They've begun unleashing the plot bunnies on me in my dreams; just to ensure I have enough material to be going on with. Instead of exorcising these demons in my head, I've wound up with this little offering to appease them. Hopefully this means you'll be seeing many more posts in the weeks ahead.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little offering as much as they.
I can see
When you stay low nothing happens
Does it feel right?
Late at night
Things I thought I put behind me
Haunt my mind
.
I just know there's no escape now
Once it sets its eyes on you
But I won't run, have to stare it in the eye
~ Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
It has been weeks since I had seen Holmes. His absences in London as he traveled to the Continent were little remarked upon by those who knew him. By this point in his career his name had become something of a synonym for justice nearly world-wide. His name was whispered in the darkest alleys of London as fervently as it was in the highest ranks of government across Europe. Never could I have imagined how my poor scribblings would have affected his career.
While others had called him away to the Continent to solve their "pretty little problems", as he would put it, I maintained my practice. Common though these occurrences were, there felt something deeper and darker brewing beneath the surface. Though I, in my own simple way, knew nothing of the goings on in France or Scandinavia that my dearest friend had been a direct influence upon, there were some things I gleaned from the rumors my many patients would bring to me. Holmes, himself, seemed to feel it best I be left out of such doings. As I had my own responsibilities to Mary and my practice, I had paid it no mind. It was not the first time Holmes had left me out of a case, nor would it likely be the last.
But when his silence stretched from days into weeks with no word on where he was or what kind of case he had been working, I began to worry. Perhaps it was just a sub-conscious itch, or a sudden sense of distraction that led to my sleepless nights. But even as Mary began to comment on my wandering thoughts and lack of engagement in anything not involving word of Holmes, I began to realize there was more to my friend's silence than distraction. It was not uncommon for him to go a few days without sending a letter of his current whereabouts and adventures, but weeks…
It was the first night after I realized with a conscious mind that the effects of Holmes' silence was more than a lapse of memory. It was then that the nightmares began. A nameless, black fear crept through my dreams, chasing Holmes far, far away; in a place I could not stand by his side to help him. In some of the dreams there were flashes of my past and the bloody battlefields with Holmes standing alone, unguarded as the darkness fell upon us all. In others there was a thick, black mist and something chasing him as the darkness became a solid, living thing to swallow him up.
The following morning was no better. It seemed I could no more shake off the shadowy darkness from the dreams than I could the shadowy fear that clutched at my heart. The very thought of Holmes had me wanting to chase across all of Europe to find him. I was utterly convinced he was keeping his head down and running from something. The silence was because he could not escape. I had resolved myself to go to the elder Holmes in hope of some word of my friend's whereabouts.
Whatever it was my dearest friend had gotten into, I would not let him face it alone.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I've got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground
~Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
Having resolved myself to a course of action regarding the Napoleon of Crime, Professor Moriarty, I found myself at last approaching my destination. Finally I was back in London! Weeks of dodging his hounds and fleeing across Europe had taken their toll. I knew the Professor was much angered with me after foiling his plot on France. How angry I could only judge based on the level of determination to chase me all the way back to my home.
But there was nowhere else I could go. Seeking asylum amongst the wealthiest of the Continent's nobility would have done little to protect me. And, ultimately, it was not for myself that I feared the most. Giving my life for the cause of justice meant nothing. Knowing Moriarty as I did, though, he would not stop there. Were he denied the vengeance he sought upon me, I had no doubts it would soon turn upon my dearest friend, Watson.
Damn it all! I had never intended to befriend the flatmate I met all those years ago. Nor would I have expected such mindless devotion. He may consider me a heartless thinking machine, but Professor Moriarty new it for the lie it was. Even as I crossed into the familiar waters of London's harbor, I had knew I could run no more. Moriarty was setting a trap for me, that would soon ensnare the one man in this world I could rely upon to be there as my partner and friend. I could not repay such devotion with fatal negligence; as Moriarty well knew.
Standing in the shadows of an alley so very close to my home on Baker Street I could practically smell the blood in the air, my blood. Already I felt their shadowy presence closing in on me. I took a deep breath and smiled. Soon it would come to a direct confrontation, and now they were on my battleground. Whatever the outcome would be, I would ensure Watson's safety.
With that singular thought in mind, I stepped into the light ready to face my enemies.
It's all around
Getting stronger, coming closer
Into my world
I can feel that it's time for me to face it
Can I take it?
.
Though this might just be the ending
Of the life I held so dear
But I won't run, there's no turning back from here
.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I've got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground
~Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
It is well that I convinced my Boswell to join me on a trip to the Continent. He seemed more than willing to accept the story I fabricated of the events leading up to my arrival at his practice. While not entirely true, there was enough truth to convince him of my need for him to be at my side. I do so despise lying to one so openly honest and loyal; especially when such a lie only serves to hide how much danger he is really in. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would find out about the fire on Baker Street. Better to tell him right off. I had not anticipated his level of determination to see this through. A part of me I still curse for existing had very dearly hoped he would run and hide.
No, not my staunch Watson. The threat of danger to either of us would only further encourage his determination. Even as I cursed myself for dragging him so thoroughly into this, I was warmed by the knowledge that at least he was safe by my side…for the time being.
I find myself wondering that only a matter of days have passed, since then. It seems the further we get away from London, the stronger the feeling of danger. I feel it—him—coming for me. Like a shadowy darkness on the edges of my vision. At first I tried to convince myself he was safely locked away with the rest of his criminal organization. The telegram proved I am not merely over-stressed, as I had thought. The culmination of my life's work has been to ensnare the crafty, deadly Professor; and those bunglers let him escape!
Now he has come for me. I've seen his shadow upon the mountainside. He is very close now. Watson still does not know. Though he still goes around armed, I have given him no indication of what is to come.
Perhaps, because I do not know for myself.
I know there will come a final reckoning. There can be no other way. I must face Moriarty myself. I know he will likely not be alone, in the event something should happen to him. I am certain the murderer Moran will be with him, acting in his role as assassin. Somehow I must find a way to keep his target sighted on me, and not my dear friend.
And, above all, Watson must not know!
Should my trusty Boswell even hint that they are following us, he would never leave my side. Knowing what I do of Moriarty and Moran, Watson would be the first of us to fall to that damnable air-gun. Moriarty would not risk being overwhelmed in a direct confrontation between us.
I shudder as I pen these few scribbles I know none shall ever read. How I wish I could take Watson and flee these dangers. But there is nowhere in this world he and I would be safe. Alone, I could die quite happily in the knowledge of having taken down Moriarty. Even a bullet in the back from that blackguard Moran would not be unwelcome, so long as Watson and his wife are safe.
Bah! These ruminations serve no purpose. I can feel it, stirring beneath the surface. The darkness that is Moriarty is coming. There is little time left. I must find a way to take Watson from my side on the morrow to ensure his safety.
I will bring this to an end, once and for all.
All I know for sure is I'm trying
I will always stand my ground
~Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
As I sit here with pencil in hand, my mind racing through every possible outcome of this encounter here in such a beautiful, let lonely place, I can only pray that my dearest friend will forgive me for whatever end. I pray, too, that he understands what it means for me to make this stand. I cannot help the feeling of serenity that steadies my hand as I begin to write.
My dear Watson:
I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my
convenience for the final discussion…
…Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear
fellow,
Very sincerely yours,
Sherlock Holmes
At peace with myself in my decision, I say a final, silent goodbye to my dearest friend. For all his years of loyal devotion and friendship, the safety of his continued future is all I can give.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
I won't give up
No more denying, I've got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
~Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
Our intellectual battle over, the physical battle begins. As we rain blows upon one another fighting with all the crudeness and vile hatred of two drunken brawlers my mind is serene. Watson is safely away and will not see the inevitable that I have already witnessed in my mind's eye as the battle draws us closer and closer to the edge of the vast and terrible falls.
As he charges me in one, last wild attempt to revenge himself upon me, I see my opening. Even as his arms encircle my body, I allow my training to take over. His own weight carries him over the edge, as I am left breathless and nearly stunned by the impact of rock upon my back. I had not dared hope to escape the deadly embrace of the Falls myself. I believe my mind to be more stunned by the reality of my survival than my body.
As the first shot rings out, I know my initial estimation of the situation is still correct. Moriarty was not alone. Even in death, his ghost cries to his confederate for revenge. There is no time. I must lead Moran away from this place before Watson returns. By now my dear friend has learned of the deception and must be on his way back. For the first time in my life, I pray his war-wounded leg slows him down, as I begin my dangerous climb up the rock wall.
Whether I survive or fall, Watson will live. I swear it on all I hold dear.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I've got to face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground
~Within Temptation: Stand My Ground
"Damn you, sir!" I roared, nearly out of control. "The truth shall be known, by my hand, if need be! Your vile perversions of the truth shall not stand uncontested while I still breathe!"
Colonel Moriarty's hand flew to his face in the wake of my fist. His lip and nose bleeding slightly did little to extinguish the fire that now raged in my heart. Since Holmes' death I had suffered much. While I can appreciate someone attempting to defend their brother's honor, I would not allow this man to slander the memory of the man I called brother.
With a terrible calm, Moriarty composed himself. "If your own life means so little after the terrible loss of your children, I would imagine your wife would be all that much more precious."
The unspoken threat very nearly unhinged me. But, no, I would not murder this man in my own practice. As if a part of Holmes' memories had awakened, I suddenly noted then the desperation behind those cunning eyes. The man was afraid; afraid of the truths I could tell. He could not begin to imagine how little I truly knew of all that had taken place between Holmes and his brother. Nor did he appear aware of Mary's condition. She had, perhaps, weeks of life left in her, before she would go to join our children in eternal peace.
Yes, perhaps I was more unhinged by these events than even I had come to realize. For, it was then, that I laughed. Perhaps a bit hysterically, but I laughed as I turned my back on this man to resume my position behind my desk. I half-expected a knife in the back. But the man's obvious puzzlement as I turned to face him again across my desk served only to heighten my sense of humor.
"I fail to see what amuses you."
"You come to my practice to frighten me into silence upon the matter of my friend and your brother," I finally stated with deadly seriousness. "I have kept my peace, until now, because those who knew Holmes knew the truth of his courage and sacrifice. You call him murderer, we believe him to be a noble soul. You attempt to garner attention in the public eye, we quietly mourn the loss of a dear friend."
I reached into my desk. Ah, my faithful Webley. There it is. I knew I had kept it in my desk far too long. It was in desperate need of a cleaning, I was certain. But, for the purposes of this day, it would suffice.
"Yes, Colonel, we; for there are many of us who knew him. You may silence me, if you are so bold; but you cannot silence us all. The truth will be told, and I will see to it personally, unless you wish to settle the matter more directly right now."
As I lay it upon my desk in direct challenge, I had only one care for how this would end. Now, more than ever, I felt the desire to put to rest the ghost of my dearest friend. I would tell his final tale, and likely be joining him and my own family shortly after. But here, now, the man would have to be mad to kill me in my own practice with my own gun.
With a feral growl Colonel Moriarty stormed out of my practice. Good. There was time yet to put out the word. I would close my practice today, and begin immediately. Moriarty might have his wish in my death before it was all done, but I would ensure others would know the truth, and pick up where I had left off. Holmes would be allowed to rest peacefully, his noble sacrifice known to all. This would be my last stand.