"We should not moor a ship with one anchor, or our life with one hope." - Epictetus

Chapter 25: "One Anchor"

Watson

It proved to be rather difficult to extract Lachlan from midst of the girls that had surrounded him, and the midshipman did not make it any easier. It seemed that pretty girls were one of his weaknesses.

At last, though, I managed to pull him away and steer him toward where I had left Holmes with Helen. His eyes were still somewhat vacant and he had a distinct impression of a young woman's lips on his cheek.

I pointed this out and he rubbed it away quickly with his handkerchief, coloring slightly.I grinned.

"The young lady with the auburn hair seemed particularly taken with you, old fellow."

He laughed.

"A little too much…forward lass that one…and far too young. Her father must have a full-time job keeping tabs on her. You didn't do too bad yourself, Doctor. Quite a bit of the gossip going on out there was about you. One young lady in particular could not keep her feelin's for your 'gallant dancing' to herself."

"Well between the two of you, you should be able to infatuate every eligible young woman on the ship…and I wouldn't encourage your 'burnette', Lachlan - she's engaged."

We stopped short as Holmes came up beside us, lighting his pipe once again, and looking utterly bored with the topic of conversation.

I frowned at him.

"What did you do with Helen?" For I noticed the baby was conspicuously absent from his arms.

Lachlan raised his eyebrows.

"Helen?"

"The baby from the neighboring cabin," I explained quickly as Holmes glowered at the implication that he too had been entertaining a lady.

"Ah, the one with the lungs," Lachlan grinned.

"Yes. She's taken a fancy to Holmes."

"She's done nothing of the kind. She enjoys the smell of tobacco," Holmes said firmly.

"Your tobacco," I insisted.

Holmes snorted, "Her parents came to collect her. Are we going to spend the evening discussing infants or are you interested in what I have deduced?"

"You've remembered then?"

"The thought that you so rudely interrupted this morning? Yes, I have."

"Good." Lachlan said quickly, forestalling an argument. "Would you care to share it with us?"

"Mm." Holmes said absently, taking his pipe out of his mouth and pointing with it in the direction of the aft end of the deck. "It seems quiet enough over there."

I had to agree that relocation was necessary for a conversation, for the liveliness and the spirit of the surrounding festivities was only just beginning and was growing louder with each passing moment.

"Right." Lachlan said and forged ahead through the crowing crowd of after-dinner revelers, both his uniform and his stature cutting an effective path.

I was rather glad for the noise and crowd to fall away behind us and leaned with my back against the railing, enjoying the cool sea air. Lachlan leaned out to look at the dark water beneath us and Holmes stood fiddling with his pipe, which had apparently gone out again.

When he had at last gotten it lit to his satisfaction he turned to face us, reminding me of a general who surveys his troops.

I sighed and fixed him with a pointed look and he took his pipe out of his mouth.

"First, Lachlan, I should like to know how many people have become ill since your unfortunate sailor."

Lachlan blinked, saddened, but not overly surprised at the question.

"Five are ill…there have been no more deaths so far, and they seemed stable when I saw them last."

Holmes nodded soberly, "Are they all crew members?"

"Only three of them. One is an older gentleman in second class and the other a maid in first. Their families know nothing of the illness; they have been persuaded that it is merely a bug that has been going round the ship. The captain is trying to keep it quiet…though the ship's doctor's are baffled."

Holmes took a draw from his pipe.

"Then Smith advances in earnest…we must stop him soon or these fevers will be spread farther then I should like."

"I agree," I said, "but I still do not understand why he has not attempted to do away with you…or even me. He has, or should have, a healthy respect for your abilities since our last encounter."

Holmes looked at me…and I was shaken not so much by his expression, but by the lack of enthusiasm in his eyes, the lack of that eager energy…had the death of the sailor affected him so much?

"You have hit upon the subject of my deductions, Watson," he said in a voice also bereft of his usual feverish energy.

"His reason for not killing you lies in the past?" I said, confused. "It cannot be personal vengeance surely. Smith is far too practical a man for that - he is not another Moriarty."

Holmes smiled and a slight shadow passed over his face at the memory of that Napoleon of Crime, still fresh in his mind.

"No, Watson, you are correct in that sense. He does not desire to engage in a battle of wits with me…he would far rather have me out of the way as his scheme here is a delicate one and I am one of the few men who could spoil it."

"Then what could he possibly want of you? He would be an idiot to keep you alive otherwise."

Holmes grinned, and his eyes twinkled.

"That is a high compliment indeed, Watson…my blushes."

I sighed in exasperation and fixed him with the same pointed glare. "Get on with it, Holmes, do."

Lachlan turned to lean against the rail beside me, folding his arms in a manner that suggested he was of the same opinion. And under the combined, scrutinizing gazes, Holmes at last began.

"Smith has kept me alive thus far, because I possess information that he needs to guarantee the success of his plan."

Now it was Lachlan's turn to frown.

"But you said he had not counted on your arrival, if you were a vital piece to his puzzle than surely…"

"Surely he could have extracted the information from me earlier, before I even had time to get aboard ship…you are correct, Lachlan. But I meant what I said the first time, he did not count or even desire to have me involved in this scheme. But now that I am here, and with the knowledge I possess, he is put in very dire danger indeed."

"So he cannot kill you until he has extracted this information from you." I said.

"Precisely."

"Do you know how he plans to extract it?" Lachlan said, his face and voice grave with concern. And rightly so…there were many harmful ways that Smith could attempt to get this information from my friend.

Holmes smiled reassuringly at the midshipman.

"Nothing so crude, I assure you. I have already deduced his method, and it is a rather ingenious one. It goes on even now."

"What?" I asked, frustrated by the ingrained theatrics of my friend's personality.

"Entrapment, blackmail, hostages…I am not certain there is a term for it."

I exchanged a look with the seaman, saw that he was quite as confused as I, and opened my mouth to demand Holmes explain.

He did so before I requested it.

"The hostage is this ship. You yourselves, Lachlan especially, are witness to the fact that passengers and crew are sickening daily…and this will continue until Smith has driven me to give him the information voluntarily."

I felt my heart quicken with dread and I opened my mouth to protest.

Holmes intercepted my comments again.

"No, Watson, I have no intention of giving in. He does not count on my viewing it that way. For if his plan were to be successful than I would observe it not as a betrayal of the information but of saving the ship."

I frowned, "I don't follow."

Holmes hesitated for a moment, took another draught from his pipe and spoke again.

"Smith is not the only man alive who has made a study of Indonesian diseases – there are others, amateurs such as he and a few professionals who know almost as much as he. The information I possess is the name of the very man who could be his undoing, the only other man who has managed to work out several possible cures for the diseases he is currently spreading."

A mix of emotions rose in my chest at this statement, for it meant that not only was my friend's safety secure for now, but that we might have an ally against Smith and his army of bacteria - but I was also somewhat uneasy. There was something that Holmes was withholding, hesitating to tell me. Even now, from the guarded look on his face, one could tell that he almost hoped I would leave it at that and except the explanation he had given.

Lachlan's voice broke in on my thoughts.

"So he expects you to contact this person as the situation on board worsens and discover the name from your message."

Holmes smiled. "Exactly. Keep an eye on the wireless officers, Lachlan. I expect that one of them, either this evening or tomorrow sometime, will sicken and have to be replaced."

"And the officer who replaces him will be Smith's man."

"Right."

"Holmes," I broke in on their exchange.

My friend turned toward me with a look of apprehension.

"You said that his reason for keeping you alive was tied back to our first case with him."

"I did."

"So you knew the name of this professional long before this voyage even began…did you consult him about the former case?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Lachlan was glancing uneasily at the two of us, sensing that there was an underlying tension.

There was of course, for I had never been able to forget that terrible day when I had come upon Holmes in his sick room, seemingly in the bouts of fever.

Now Holmes's hesitation was truly evident as he fiddled with his pipe unnecessarily and at long last glanced at me, his look solidifying my apprehension.

"I required his expertise…because without it I would not have survived to enjoy my victory over Smith."

He spoke the words as slowly and dreadfully as if they had been dragged from his mouth. A terrible idea pricked the back of my mind…and I refused to acknowledge it.

"How?" I asked, taking refuge in the question.

Holmes sighed, somewhat exasperated himself.

"Smith came to see me because he was under the impression that I was in the grasp of his disease."

"Yes, I know." I said, "I remember, you fooled even me, but what…"

Holmes cut me off impatiently. "I fooled no one, Watson."

The terrible idea now pushed itself inexorably forward and I was forced to address it. I opened my mouth, and found that my throat was far too dry and my tongue too clumsy to form the words.

Holmes went on.

"Four days before you fetched Smith to me, that particular little ivory box arrived in the mail - you remember it?" my friend asked, his manner quiet and steady as when a teacher seeks to explain something to a student.

"Yes, of course." I said quickly.

"On the day in question I was engaged in another line of inquiry and did not look at the post until that evening. I was distracted by my other investigation and despite my suspicions of Smith I was not careful, much like you were when you opened the letter just last night."

I willed him to go on…and also dreaded it. It could not be…

Holmes licked dry lips and continued. "I opened the package and flipped open the lid of the box. And was successfully pricked by the spring which you heard Smith himself describe."

I tried to swallow and found I could not, I was suddenly very grateful for the support of the railing.

Holmes went a little faster, seemingly glad that he had at least gotten the first and most difficult part of the explanation out.

"I realized then whom the box was from, and what it meant; and I made preparations, contacting the only other expert on tropical diseases in London at the time."

"Ainstree?" I gasped, naming the very man I had suggested see Holmes when I had believed him fatally ill.

Holmes nodded.

"The very same, Watson. That night I managed to persuade him of my predicament and he began to work to complete an antidote just as the first of the symptoms began to show."

My friend took a very long draught from his pipe and Lachlan shifted uneasily, his blue eyes grave with concern and his attention torn between me and Holmes.

"I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and to trap Smith in his own schemes. I was quite confident at the time that I would be able to withstand the worst of the disease. Everything transpired as Mrs. Hudson described, I neither ate nor drank for two days, the fever progressed and I felt myself growing alarmingly weak…but Ainstree kept in contact with me, and was making rapid progress on the cure."

Holmes looked straight at me now, truly meeting my eyes for the first time since he had began.

"On the third day I allowed Mrs. Hudson to send for you. I had in fact planned on Ainstree or Mrs. Hudson herself to fetch Smith…"

He took the pipe from his mouth, "Believe me, Watson, I never meant to involve you in the sordid affair, but when the time came…"

I said nothing but my heart was beating rapidly.

"The disease had taken a stronger hold on me than I had expected it would. I remember very little of those few hours you spent in my bedroom…and any feverish ramblings were real."

He closed his eyes as though remembering and I felt the back of my eyes burn. I remembered all too well, at the time I had been mortally afraid that even his great mind had been irreparably damaged by the bizarre fever.

"The reason I did not let you near was indeed because of infection, and now that I look back upon the situation I curse the state to which I had sunk or I would never have let Mrs. Hudson fetch you so soon. Though…"

His enigmatic mask dropped and revealed a warm smile.

"…I was very glad for your company, old fellow."

I could not help but return the smile despite the turmoil of fear and realization that was swirling inside of me.

"Ainstree arrived shortly after you went to fetch Smith - and I refused the antidote, knowing that this last hour would be the most critical, my appearance would have to stand up under Smith's scrutiny. Ainstree was disturbed at my choice and adamant that I take it. I folded so far as to take half to stave off the fever and I agreed to keep the remainder close at hand so that I could take it at the end of my performance…in fact it was Smith himself that gave it to me."

"The water!" I gasped in sudden understanding, recalling the glass that Smith had given to Holmes near the end…and with a shudder I remembered the insistence in Holmes's hoarse voice as he pleaded for it…a tone near to desperation.

"Just so." said Holmes grimly, "The portion of the cure I had taken cleared my head enough that I was fortified for Smith's visit. The only real acting that I did was during that time, though my 'ghastly face' as you described it, was entirely genuine."

"And he administered the rest," I gasped, finding my voice once again. "And I recall upon my return from Smith's - you sounded more yourself, you seemed to have improved." I recalled my own words of the account as clearly as if my journal was before me.

To my enormous relief, he had improved greatly in the interval. His appearance was as ghastly as ever, but all trace of delirium had left him and he spoke in a feeble voice, it is true, but with even more than his usual crispness and lucidity.

Holmes nodded.

"I was on my way to recovery at that moment, not fully but the portion of the cure I took did much to improve my condition, mentally at least."

I swallowed the knot that had formed in my throat.

"Why in heaven's name did you not tell me? Why go through the elaborate deception of pretending the whole thing had been an act?"

My friend sighed.

"I fear, Watson, that at the time I was guilty of the same protectiveness that I displayed at Reichenbach. It seemed to me that the whole thing would be less of a strain to you if I led you to believe I had never truly been in danger. The thought occurred to me after I had taken that portion of the antidote, so I acquired the implements I needed before your arrival and made up an excuse for why I would not allow you to approach."

He fell silent, finished at last with the dreadful account, and I strove to settle the spinning of my mind - going over the thing in my memories, testing his story against my own account.

It was all there, his sudden recovery upon my return to his rooms, the dreadful surety I had felt upon my first glimpse of him that he was ill, his determination for the water at the end…and the mere fact that he had managed to deceive Smith.

I had never thought too deeply into the matter before, but now that I thought on it, it did not make sense that it would take four yards to 'deceive me' as he put it, but that he would be able to deceive Smith, who was a master of these diseases, at such a close range.

This explanation filled in all the discrepancies and flaws that had niggled at the back of my mind since Holmes's explanation of the events so many years ago. It was the truth, I could feel it - and at the realization of it I shuddered.

Holmes had been the victim of Smith not only recently but long ago. And just like Reichenbach, he had seen fit to deceive me.

Anger rose to replace the anxiety and I felt my brow darken…this combined with the fear of the last few days was almost too much. But now was not the time to lose my temper.

I understand that many of my readers are amazed at the fact that I have found it so easy to forgive my friend for his many deceptions…not least of all for allowing me to believe him dead for three years.

I will not deny that on each occasion I have been hurt, and angry, just as anyone else would. But I learned long ago that there are more important things in this life than pride, namely friendship. And Holmes was dear enough to me that I could forgive him more easily than I did others.

So as I had done out at the tor during the Baskerville case, I swallowed my anger at his deception and met his rather anxious gaze with a small smile.

"I always knew I liked Ainstree," I said, watching with some amusement as his expression changed to one of surprise.

Beside me Lachlan breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Thank heaven for levelheaded Englishmen. For a moment I thought I was going to have to break up a bout of fisticuffs, what with that storm cloud rising on your brow, Doctor."

Holmes relaxed visibly and I laughed, the last of the tension taken away by the easy words of the seaman.

"What is your plan then, Holmes?" I asked.

The detective stuck his pipe back in his mouth, not realizing in his relief that it had gone out again.

"We have failed to locate Smith, so we shall do what we did before and lay a trap for him. Tomorrow morning I shall send a telegram to Ainstree and wait for Smith to come to us."

"Holmes!" I objected but was stopped by his expression.

"Can you think of any other way in which to locate him, Watson?"

I sighed, the death of the sailor and the fate of the other members of the ship weighing heavily on my shoulders.

Holmes took this as assent.

"It is settled then. We shall have to increase our vigilance tenfold - and you, Lachlan, must keep an eye on the number of ill persons."

Lachlan nodded, his bright blue eyes seeming to turn dull and grey, solemn and devoid of their usual humor.

"As you would have it, Mr. Holmes. I'm behind you."

Holmes smiled grimly and nodded his thanks.

"And so am I," I said quietly.

My friend's troubled grey eyes turned to meet mine, the harshness of anxiety in their depths softening the merest trifle.

"I know."