Chapter 25

Once again out in the fresh air, my anger cooled down rather quickly as I strolled aimlessly through the village, pausing only briefly in the harbour to watch the seagulls picking at some unfortunate fish that had not made it back into the sea with the receding of the tide. The hour was rather late by now, and darkness fell quickly, but I could not bring myself to return to the cottage.

I feared that my news would result in rash actions on Holmes's part, and I could not allow him to even rise from his bed any time soon.

I visited the post office to see whether a reply had arrived from Mycroft. It had, and unsurprisingly, it was rather short and terse. It said: 'Affirmative – M', and that was the extend of it.

My desolate roaming did little good for my own health, as my leg continued to pain me immensely in the humid air after the recent downpour, and it also did little to set my mind at ease.

It was a pity, a shame that I should not be able to apprehend the criminals, now that Holmes had done his best to uncover their identity. It would, of course, have facilitated the matter if I had seen the photographs the Inspector had no doubt obtained before his encounter with the men themselves.

Then again, I had serious doubts whether the McCraines would be so stupid as to show their faces in the open after all the deeds they had committed. Still, they knew nothing of my association with Holmes, and were most likely of the opinion that the inspector had been the last man able to lead to their downfall.

After all, they had made quite certain that Holmes would die if no one came to his aid.

I seized that thread of thought and held onto it, following it to the end. If the Riders were indeed unconscious of my importance in this matter, they would not consider the possibility that Holmes had survived. However, they had made certain that there was no chance of survival in all their previous murders, and it seemed impossible indeed that they should not convince themselves of their success. After all, Holmes was the one serious threat to their safety now that the inspector had been bribed.

Thus, it was quite probable that they had returned to the tide cave to assure themselves of Holmes's demise. The water had only now receded. It was just possible that I would still find them there, planning their next move – after all, they had found that Holmes had by no means fallen victim to their murderous attempt. They would know, of course, that Holmes would not rest before they were brought down; likely until all four of them would be hanged for what they had done.

In a moment of foresight, I had slipped my revolver into my pocket as I departed from the cottage, although it was quite beyond me why I had brought it with me on a vacation at all – probably, after all those years, I knew that Holmes attracted crime as honey did the flies.

Slowly, considerate of my cramping leg, I found myself once again on the cliff path, still damp and slippery from the rain. The sea below appeared very sinister to me, the darkening sky above seemed to herald some greater misfortune yet. Certainly the weather indicated more rain, or perhaps indeed a coming thunderstorm, for the temperature had again plummeted, especially in the unforgiving wind that tugged at my clothes. In my pocket, I had discovered the stub of a candle and a box of matches, but I was determined not to put them to use until I reached the tide cave, or at the very least not before I had to master the steep incline towards the beach.

As I passed our cottage, I perceived a new carriage returning to the village, while the window of our sitting room and the one of Holmes's bedroom were brightly lit. It was safe to assume, then, that Mycroft Holmes had arrived and that his younger brother was safely in his care.

Briefly, the medical instinct I possessed tried to urge me to go inside and assure myself that Holmes was all right, but there was frankly no time for a detour. If I wanted to apprehend those criminals at all, I had to find them now, and fast.

The fading light of day was sufficient to lead me down to the beach, where I thoughtfully took off my boots and continued across the sand almost soundlessly. Now, as the water had receded further, the walk towards the cave entrance appeared to me to be quite long, and the cold wind threw up spray that was as efficient in soaking me to the skin as the water itself had been.

But, I moved on – there really was no other way – even as I felt my feet tingling with unnatural heat that indicated that they were, in truth, extremely cold. But, the pain was the more prominent sensation I received from my lower limbs. My shoulder, too, felt stiff, but I kept the gun clutched in my fingers, never for a moment lowering it as I entered the cave and promptly scurried behind a pillar for cover.

There was no need for me to light a candle. The light of the torch the Riders of Apocalypse had brought with them illuminated the whole of the cave, including the pillar they had fastened my dear friend to. In the light, I could see that it rose all the way up to the ceiling, offering absolutely no chance of escape, even had Holmes been able to swim and hold on until the water had risen up to the ceiling. The four of them stood gathered around the pillar, discussing in low voices, but with their excitement and anxiety clearly written on their features. I am not able to read lips as Holmes is, but it was clear to me that they were debating whether they should take further measures against my friend, while the circumstances of his escape clearly was a puzzle to them.

It occurred to me then that my approach had been rash and unplanned. How was I, even with the surprise on my side, to apprehend four able-bodied men, alone? Holmes had been alone, and while he had not carried a weapon as I did, his knowledge of various outré fighting techniques rendered him a far more dangerous opponent than myself. I could, of course, shoot the criminals from the spot I was hidden, but every fibre of my being protested against that notion, even though they had very nearly killed my dearest friend. I felt that justice would be the greater punishment for all of them; however, I had my doubts whether I would have hesitated to use my weapon if they had succeeded in killing Holmes in the very cruel way they had designed for him.

It was the criminals themselves that forced me into acting, for they had apparently decided on a course of action and were about to depart, one after the other marching past the pillar I had hidden behind.

Quickly, I jumped forth from my hiding place, and pressed the muzzle of my gun against the temple of the one criminal bearing the torch. It was not one of the twins, but the slenderest member of the family, Ralf McCraine, whom we had already met at the vicar's cottage.

At his terrified yelp, the others spun round, but the torch had dropped into a puddle and gone out, engulfing us all in darkness. "Don't move, any of you, or I shall shoot him." I was quite pleased that my voice did not quaver, but held a military sternness and confidence I hardly felt as their piercing gazes locked onto me. I laid my arm around Ralf McCraine's neck without moving my gun from his temple, and restricted his flow of air until he gasped and ceased his struggle.

"Dr Watson," he croaked.

One of my opponents, Arthur, burst out laughing, a thoroughly disquieting sound. "What do you intent to do, Doctor? You can't stop us. Just let us go, like a good fellow, and we might even leave Mr Holmes be. After all, we have rather warned him off, have we not?"

"I don't believe you. March ahead; I shall take the lot of you to the police station, and deliver you into the hands of the British law."

To my shame, I had not paid attention to the movements of the twins. Bulky as they were, they were also extremely stealthy, and suddenly, one of them was behind me, before I had even noticed that he had moved in the dim light. Merciless, a boot crashed into my lower back, sending both me and Ralf McCraine crashing into the ground. My gun skittered away and was picked up by Arthur McCraine while I still lay on the ground, trying to catch my breath as a searing pain coursed through my spine. I had not yet recovered when another boot came down squarely onto my old wound.

Bright lights exploded in my vision, and everything shifted out of focus. All thoughts were wiped from my mind, with the exception of the one: Fool.