There is little to be said about me. My name, Godfrey Norton, has little reason to be known. I am an English lawyer, who, having left London, has found refuge in the only city that may be said to surpass it for better and for worse. I am employed by the wealthy men who enter Wall Street with money and time to spare and sit back to watch it multiply beyond comprehension.
It is my dear wife, the illustrious Irene (née Adler), who is by far the most notable thing about me. Even men who have seen her only in passing find her to die for. She has the voice of an angel and has been the "favorite," upon various occasions, of several European monarchs - the most notable such occasion being that infamous "Scandal in Bohemia."
However, that is only as she has already been seen by the public; my restating it is redundant. No, I am writing to record the strangest incident to which my dear wife and I have yet been privy. I hope that it will illuminate another side of her, that of the brilliant woman who has bested one of the greatest minds in Europe. But I suppose this case is less a tale of the victory of women than the folly of men.
I will try to keep to the facts with as little personal input as possible, but I also seek to guide you, the reader, through a tale in which much is implied and little can be said.
It began upon a pleasant spring morning in early April of 1891. The trees were just beginning to bud, the sky was a beautiful bright blue, and the air was crisp, but not too cold. It was a welcome relief after the long, cold winter - nothing to which an Englishman like myself was unaccustomed, but tiring after a time nonetheless. Irene and I were just returning from a pleasant walk in the park when we discovered a man waiting in our sitting room, perched upon my usual chair by the window.
He was tall and thin with deep, sunken eyes and rounded shoulders that gave the impression he had spent many hours bent over ancient tomes. His great domed head - a sign of great intelligence - swayed from side to side as he spoke. There was something restrained, almost ascetic about him, like an old monk or a professor from some ivory tower who subsisted more on knowledge than mortal food or drink.
"Good morning," he greeted us with a thin smile. His gestures were small and tight, as if no motion was wasted. "My apologies for the intrusion."
"Not at all," I replied.
I glanced over at Irene to find her preoccupied with examining our visitor. It seemed he was a stranger to the both of us.
So, I added on, "I typically consult in my office." I gestured towards the hall, confident of his purpose, albeit confused as to why the maid had not directed him there when he arrived.
He gave me another tight-lipped smile. "It is a consultation I seek, but I believe the late Miss Adler would be of more use to me than yourself. No slight intended to your own talents, of course," he said, though his tone made it clear that he did not care whether I had taken offense or not.
"And you are…?" Irene spoke up at last.
"Consider me a prospective client." He stood, an arm outstretched.
Irene took it and they briefly shook hands.
"I am Professor James Moriarty. My expertise is in mathematics, but I am here on a more private business. You ought to know, I have taken great pains to locate you."
"What business do you have with me?" she asked, her eyes wide in exaggerated surprise.
Instead of answering, he gestured at the chair across from him. "Let us not be strangers, it is your own home after all. Do take a seat and make yourself comfortable."
"Very well," she replied, a little taken aback by being told to make herself comfortable in her own home, but she complied.
Professor Moriarty returned to my chair and Irene took her usual place, just across from him.
"I believe it is time I leave you to talk," I declared and made my way to the door. "I can call for tea, if you like."
"No, thank you-" Professor Moriarty began, but Irene cut him off.
"Not so fast," she said to me, with a disarming smile, "I believe you may be of use to me yet." She turned to the professor and explained, "Anything you tell me will get to him regardless, so he may as well hear it first hand."
"This is a most delicate matter," the professor protested. "If word were to get out, it would be disastrous."
"He is as trustworthy as myself, I assure you, and there are no secrets between us." Despite her confident demeanor, she must have been wary of this Professor Moriarty to insist upon my presence at a private consultation.
"Of course, my apologies for underestimating the bond between man and wife." I almost detected a hint of sarcasm to his tone. "You may as well seat yourself," he concluded with barely a glance in my direction.
I hurriedly sat down on the couch a few feet behind Irene and waited for the conversation to resume.
Irene picked up where they had left off, "So what brings a professor of mathematics all the way across the pond to our humble abode?" Again, she feigned wide-eyed innocence.
"As I said," Professor Moriarty answered with some impatience, "I am not here on professional business, but to seek your aid in a more private matter. I am a well connected man with acquaintances in all rungs of society. As a result, people often come to me with their troubles in the hopes that if I cannot help them, I know someone who can. However, at times I find that not even one of my myriad acquaintances possess the necessary expertise. The matter that brings me to your door is one of particular import and delicacy that requires someone of your particular talents."
"I take it your employer isn't an opera missing a prima donna," Irene remarked with a crooked smile.
The professor appeared significantly less amused. "I am aware of your acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he began in a rather roundabout way.
Irene interrupted almost immediately, "Yes, so is everyone else after that friend of his, Dr. Watson, published 'A Scandal in Bohemia' - I believe it was. A lovely piece too, though that disclaimer at the beginning has led to quite a bit more speculation as to my 'relations' with the man than I would have liked."
I had to stop myself from laughing at the familiar complaint.
"Despite public speculation about his relations with you, Mr. Holmes is suspected of a less savory offence," Professor Moriarty explained. "You are one of few who have bested the detective. Between your" - he paused - "innocuous form and your previously demonstrated abilities you are the person best suited to investigating him and establishing his innocence. Of course you will be reimbursed for your troubles."
"Really?" Irene exclaimed, her eyes a little too wide in bewilderment. "I'm flattered, but I'm no detective. I just help ladies - friends of mine, really - with their little problems. It's merely a hobby of mine. That and I suppose I have a penchant for self preservation." She gave him a little smile. "What do you expect me to be able to do?"
"It is the nature of the case at hand," he replied delicately. "I believe it falls under your area of expertise rather nicely. If my records serve me, you've even taken a case of the same nature before."
"And what is 'the nature of the case?' I can't do whatever you expect of me without the most basic knowledge," Irene insisted.
"I have been asked to investigate Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. You are to speak with their friends and acquaintances and determine what exactly, if anything, is…" - the professor considered for a moment - "between them."
I glanced at Irene to confirm that I understood what the professor was suggesting, perhaps in the hope that she would share in my surprise, but she seemed to take it in stride.
"I will not go without my husband," she declared somewhat abruptly. "And unlike myself, he is not at leisure to leave at a moment's notice; he has a significant legal practice to tend to."
I knew Irene was no stranger to travelling alone, but I supposed London was another matter entirely, especially with such a purpose.
"Well, then that prevents him from joining you, doesn't it? I beseech you to reconsider your position on the matter," the professor replied. He seemed to be beginning to lose his patience and there was something cold in his dark eyes that suggested maybe that would be something best avoided.
Still, Irene answered with an unshakeable stubbornness, "It appears we are at an impasse. I will not return to London without him."
The professor considered the demand; if he were another man, I suspect he may have sighed. At last, he said, "If he must come, then I suppose I have a few capable contacts who I may be able to convince to take on his current cases for the time it takes for you to investigate. But this is a very private matter, about which we would not want word to get out."
"Of course," she said simply, "He is essential to any work you expect me to do. Though if you have the resources to hire someone to take over a considerable legal practice on such short notice, I question your decision to recruit me instead of an official detective or private investigator."
"False humility does not suit you, Mrs. Norton. I have explained why you are necessary to the investigation, and the request for your assistance stands. I will manage the fulfillment of your husband's responsibilities while you are away."
"I'm flattered," Irene replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, "But even with my prestigious abilities, I would find it impossible to investigate your suspects without a place to start. Despite public opinion, I know little of Mr. Holmes' personal life and have no intention of walking up to him and asking him whether he has committed indecency with his former flatmate."
"Mr. Holmes is in France at the moment," Professor Moriarty said drily, "And will not return for quite some time-"
"How do you expect me to find evidence if I can't even observe the suspects?" Irene exclaimed.
"You will have to make do," the professor replied, his frown almost a sneer. "Dr. Watson has no such travel plans. He lives with his lovely wife Mary. Mr. Holmes has an older brother, by the name of Mycroft, who can be found at the Diogenes Club on Pall Mall. There is also Mrs. Hudson, his landlady of several years - a perfectly agreeable woman, if protective of her long-term tenants. You are, of course, to act with the utmost discretion; we would not want knowledge of this suspicion released prematurely, especially with what it could do to their prestigious reputations."
I wondered why bother to investigate at all, if the suspects' reputations were such a concern, but Irene assented with a touch of pride, "Of course."
The professor continued, "Your voyage across the Atlantic has been paid for; you will leave tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock sharp. Your husband will have to finance his own trip, as I was unprepared for your insistence upon his accompanying you-"
"You cannot pay one more person's fare for a transatlantic voyage, yet you can easily hire someone to take over a sizable legal practice for several weeks at a moment's notice?" Irene demanded. "Consider it an expense of employing me. I expect to be given all the resources I could possibly need to solve your mystery. My husband included."
"Very well, it will be taken care of." He stood with the expression of a man at the end of his patience.
"One moment," I interrupted despite myself, "You are mainly seeking to ascertain relations between Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, is that correct?"
He gave an awkward smile, "To put it rather bluntly, yes."
"If you intend to prosecute him under the Labouchere Amendment, would it not be more effective to establish a pattern of indecent behavior? I have never had a case of the sort myself, but I have read up on the law, and it relies on one suspect being the instigator, which would lend itself to prosecuting one person for several counts with multiple different accomplices."
"My client has specifically inquired as to Dr. Watson's involvement," Professor Moriarty replied stiffly, "If you have no further questions-"
"Actually, just one more; this is a most disturbing matter, a case of most improper behavior. As remarkable as my dear Irene is, can you assure me that she will not be forced to go too deep into indecency herself in the course of her investigation? Her involvement in such a matter could be disastrous to her reputation. We have settled here for a reason, and we do not want to be uprooted once again."
"She will be a free agent; nothing will be forced upon her, and you will be present to ensure that she is not dragged 'too deep into indecency.' May I also remind you that Mr. Holmes is in France at the moment, so you will have no need to encounter him directly."
"You believe we will be able to solve the case without his presence or any excessive involvement on Irene's part?"
"As I have already stated, yes, on both counts." The professor was beginning to snap. He turned back to Irene, "Now, I believe that is all. One of my associates will call upon you once you have situated yourselves in London. Good day." He gave each of us a little nod and left without another word.
"So we return to London…" I remarked as soon as he was out the door.
Irene nodded. "I wonder what interest Professor Moriarty's client has in Mr. Holmes. And then there is the professor himself; you no doubt noticed his temper. He is not a man accustomed to being crossed. Yes, there are many points of interest in this case…" she trailed off.
I knew better than to interrupt when she was lost in thought.
Abruptly, she remarked with a smile, "I appreciate your concern for my reputation, but I believe, if nothing else, I have proven myself competent at self-defense."
I chuckled. "True, but then, I cannot help but wonder what your intent was in insisting upon my joining you."
"As I said," she replied, as if it were obvious, "I am competent at self-defense; I know how to use what I have at my disposal. No offence to your autonomy, of course."
"I'm terribly hurt," I intoned.
"My apologies, I hope you're not too insulted to agree to accompany me." Her joking tone turned serious, "I did not intend to force you into joining me."
"Not at all, my dear, I could use some time back in dear old England." I tried to lighten the mood.
"We're not going for pleasure," she cautioned.
"I know."
"I cannot deny that I feel some apprehension about returning, especially as we are walking right back into the danger we fled London to escape," Irene admitted.
"You know you are under no obligation to cooperate with Professor Moriarty, whoever his client may be."
"I know," she replied, her eyes gleaming with energy, "But I'm curious. I want to know what his game is. Oh, I want to know what Mr. Holmes is up to as well, but who is this Moriarty? What does his client - or the professor himself - want with Mr. Holmes, or Dr. Watson's wife? Don't worry, Godfrey," she added on, noticing my concerned expression, "I won't do anything foolish, you know I can make a tactical retreat when I must, but the problems of butterflies can get so tiresome. I haven't had a chance to do something this fun in quite some time."
"And now I know why I needed to come with you," I remarked.
She smiled back at me. "Yes, you'll keep me out of too much danger, and I'm sure I can find other ways for you to make yourself useful."
Note: Addooshoes (on Archive of Our Own) and I came up with the idea for this story all the way back in 2014. I started writing it and got to the beginning of the fourth chapter before I ran out of steam - mostly because I didn't know how to end it. After poking at the story for years, I finally got back to it last summer (along with some other long-neglected projects) and finished it up, and after yet another shorter delay, it is finally ready to post!
I know this is a bit different from my usual Star Trek fare, and I don't want to neglect Kirk and Spock completely, so instead of posting a chapter of this every week until it's done, I'll post a chapter of A Scandal on Baker Street every other week, with other stories in between.