Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes related characters belong to Doyle, not me.
A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Thanks to Tonifranz for the review, by the way. I'm still working on it, but I'll get University Life posted as soon as I can!
***********************************
Chapter 19- The Aftermath
"Dr. Watson, are you alright?" Stanley Hopkins's concerned voice called frantically, dragging me from the darkness that had engulfed me.
I quickly opened my eyes that I hadn't realized were closed, and found myself lying on the wooden wharf, staring into the distraught inspector's face.
"You really had me worried there for a moment, when you didn't come back up," he said with relief clearly evident as he eased me into a sitting position.
As memories of the night's events returned to me, I craned my sore neck around and peered anxiously around. "What happened?" I managed to croak in a raspy voice that sounded unfamiliar to my ears.
"You were able to find Miss Granger in the water, Doctor," Hopkins told me. "It seems that she had tried unsuccessfully to drag Colonel Moran to the surface with her. Apparently the old man put up a fight and tried to drag her down with him-if it weren't for you, she wouldn't have survived."
My eyes rested on Kathryn's body lying motionlessly nearby surrounded by a myriad of policemen, gaping bemusedly as the inspector's words began to sink in. "How is she?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"She'll be fine, I think," Hopkins assured. "We managed to get her breathing, at least. She should be waking up any moment now."
"And the Colonel?" I enquired, too tired to form a complete sentence.
"He wasn't as lucky, I'm afraid," Hopkins replied gravely. "We haven't been able to revive him yet."
The inspector slowly helped me back onto my feet as the clip clop of hooves sounded in front of us. "Come on, Doctor. I think it's time for us to return to Scotland Yard."
***
The quiet crackling of the glowing hearth at my feet enveloped me in a blanket of warmth and tranquillity as I rested my aching bones in a leather cushioned easy chair. A steaming cup of bittersweet tea was nestled within my fingers as I let the wispy tendrils of steam tickle my nose before I breathed in the fragrant aroma.
Sighing deeply, I took a swig of the searing liquid before fixing my gaze on the bright embers reflected in the dark pool of liquid held in my cup.
'It's almost as dark as the Thames,' I thought idly as I flitted through the memory of the night's proceedings.
Shaking my head to end my reverie, I stood from the comfortable resting place, and began to pace rapidly in front of the fire.
'I can't think about all of this now,' I reflected sombrely. 'It's too soon.'
A gentle knock at the door behind me returned my mind to the present. Shifting my gaze quickly, I announced curtly, "Come in." The entrance opened slightly to reveal the tall figure of Kathryn Granger, who slipped quietly inside before closing the door behind her with a click.
Her appearance had changed so dramatically that for a moment, I couldn't recognise who she was. Her long streaks of jet black hair, which had always been tied securely in a knot behind her head, now fell loosely over her shoulders-hiding, I was sure, what must have been considerable bruising on her neck. Her startling emerald green eyes, which were no longer hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, were now darkened considerably, as the warm and innocent twinkle that had always shone with scintillating lustre was replaced by the dim yet hard glint of weary determination.
"The inspectors should be arriving soon," she announced as she made her way across the room and sat on the chair that I had just vacated.
"That's good to know," I replied, "At least we'll be over all of this soon enough, and hopefully Holmes will be free by the time we leave."
Kathryn gazed at me introspectively with even more intensity, now that there was nothing to shield me from her piercing orbs that blazed with more emotion than I had seen since I met her. After a moment, she retracted her probing eyes and turned to stare into the radiant flames that licked hungrily at the logs in the hearth. "How are you feeling, Doctor?" she asked pensively.
"I should ask you the same thing, you know," I answered, looking back at her silhouetted form.
Kathryn smiled slightly, without taking her eyes from the fire, before replying, "I am doing as well as can be expected, Doctor. I must really thank you for what you have done, tonight. I owe you a life debt now, after all."
"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger," I responded curtly as I suddenly found the intricate design on the carpet of utmost interest.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kathryn stated calmly. "Why do you keep evading it?"
"I'm not sure."
My companion nodded slightly in understanding, before returning her gaze to the fireside. The silence that followed, with only the merry crackling of the hearth reaching my ears, covered me with a soothing blanket of peace and calm that lifted, for the first time in days, the burden of all the troubles that had befallen us.
The tranquillity was shattered all too soon with a sharp tap at the door, before the door swung widely open to reveal a procession of detectives. In the lead, was the bulldog-faced Inspector Lestrade, bearing an inscrutable frown that puckered his features. Inspector Gregson followed his colleague into the room, with his wavy flaxen hair visibly dishevelled and his face gaped like a gold fish with incredulity and shock as his pale ashen lips formed the shape of an "O." Holmes, to my inexorable surprise, stepped in next, with iron grey eyes glinting in amusement as he nonchalantly brushed himself off, looking as if he had never been in the gallows at all. Seeing the astonishment plainly evident on my face, he smirked sardonically, before taking his place by the fireplace, propping himself up with an elbow. The young Inspector Hopkins brought up the rear, who deftly avoided everyone else's gaze, opting instead to focus his eyes solely on the carpeted floor.
Hopkins slipped the door closed silently, and opted meekly to remain there as he cleared his throat. "Now that we are all gathered here, I think it is time that you offered some explanation, Miss Granger."
"Certainly, Inspector; it has certainly been shrouded in mystery long enough." Kathryn replied as she slowly stood up from the comfortable easy chair. She turned to face all of us, and shot a gauging glance at each of our expressions before continuing. "The case itself is actually a simple one. Had you not been clouded by any prejudices, Inspector Lestrade, then you would have seen the truth much more easily. As it is, you allowed your previous experiences with Mr. Holmes to cloud your judgement, which robbed you of essential evidence leading to the identity of the true culprit. Yet, it is not your fault for going astray, Mr. Lestrade, because Mr. Holmes had neglected to tell a vital piece of information.
"You see, Mr. Holmes had been unofficially commissioned by our government to retrieve some important documents that Moran had in his possession. Holmes contacted Miss Stamford to seek her aid in accessing the papers.
"From this, it is clear that not only would Holmes's motive for murder vanish, the evidence also points out another suspect: Colonel Sebastian Moran. After all, the documents in question are quite valuable to him, and he would be at a great disadvantage if they slipped out of his papers.
"Armed with this information, I went to examine carefully the crime scene once again with the good doctor, to see if I could find any traces of any other people who may have visited Miss Stamford on the evening of her death. Now, as the establishment is a respectable one, it can safely be conjectured that the rooms are cleaned every day. I confirmed this fact with the servants. Therefore, any traces of evidence that we found would most likely be from the night of the murder."
"I personally searched the crime scene and found nothing out of place apart from Mr. Holmes's murder weapon," interrupted Inspector Lestrade sceptically.
"At first glance, you are right- everything seems to be in place," conceded Kathryn with a nod. "However, upon closer examination, there was evidence that suggested the presence of three guests in her room that day- not just one. For example, there were four different sets of footprints in the room where the deceased was found, which were detected in a brand of cigar ash that neither Miss Stamford nor Mr. Holmes smoked."
"What about the jack knife that was found at the crime scene?" Lestrade pressed on impatiently.
"Well, that can be explained as well," Kathryn assured. "Where was the weapon found?"
"It was tucked in the grate of the fireplace," Lestrade supplied with a huff. "It was found quite easily, actually, as it was only partially covered in a coating of ashes. But as intriguing as all that is, I don't see how it has anything to do with the case."
"On the contrary, it provides a compelling explanation of the weapon's presence," Kathryn countered lightly. "How long have you known Mr. Holmes?"
"Almost twenty years," Lestrade answered briskly. "Stop changing the subject, Miss Granger, and just give us an answer."
Kathryn snuck a mischievous glance at Holmes, before smiling wryly. "Please bear with me for a moment, Inspector. Now, I suppose that Mr. Holmes has assisted you in several of your criminal cases during your acquaintance?"
"Yes, of course."
"And I suppose that you consider his assistance to be quite valuable?"
"Yes."
"So you would agree that Mr. Holmes is a skilled detective who knows how the criminal mind and the mind of the criminal investigator?"
"I suppose so-"
'Then why on earth would Mr. Holmes be so inane as to place his murder weapon conveniently in a place that he knew would almost definitely be searched, without even bothering to hide it properly from plain view? Was he asking to be arrested for the crime?"
Lestrade sputtered bemusedly for a few moments. "How am I supposed to know what was going on in his head? Indeed, I have seen many criminals do rash things after they have committed their foul deed in the bout of crazed excitement that they experience afterward."
"Don't you think that it is more likely that the weapon was easy to find because it was planted there?" Kathryn responded calmly.
"The wounds inflicted on Miss Stamford were consistent with Mr. Holmes's jack knife," stated Inspector Gregson, who finally seemed to have recovered from his shock.
"Exactly," Lestrade agreed. "Let's suppose that the weapon was planted, Miss Granger. How on earth would anyone, apart from Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, have access to the weapon in the first place? This completely contradicts your accusation of Colonel Moran; he's in hiding, after all."
"On the contrary, this strengthens my argument," Kathryn countered fixing the inspectors with a sharp gaze. "The jack knife was the murder weapon, but the person wielding it wasn't Mr. Holmes. You see, Moran had been in hiding in a place where no one would think to look- Camden House."
"Camden House?" Lestrade repeated in surprise. "You mean the house where we arrested him for an attempt on Mr. Holmes's life at the conclusion of the Ronald Adair case?"
Kathryn nodded. "Now you see why the Colonel had such ready access to Mr. Holmes's lodgings. In fact, Mrs. Hudson revealed that Moran, under the guise of his alias, called for Mr. Holmes the day of Miss Stamford's murder, soon after Holmes, Dr. Watson, and I left for Covent Garden that evening.
"The presence of the murder weapon was the only real piece of hard evidence against Mr. Holmes; all the rest were coincidences and assumptions that made the case against Mr. Holmes almost undeniable. After all, Holmes did go to Miss Stamford's lodgings that evening. However, his motive was not to kill her, but to discuss the terms by which she would return the documents that Holmes was seeking. Moran knew that Mr. Holmes would be seeing her that evening, which is why the murder was committed shortly after, giving Holmes no valid alibi."
"This theory is all well and good," remarked Lestrade, still eyeing Kathryn with scepticism, "but you've forgotten the fact that all of the servants only heard one guest entering the lodgings that evening."
"That too can be explained," Kathryn assured. "The servants retired two hours early that evening, complaining of headaches, and, from what they've told me, they slept unusually soundly afterwards."
"Are you suggesting that they were drugged?" Gregson asked bemusedly.
"Yes," Kathryn replied. "Moran had an accomplice in the establishment, Miss Jennifer Thompson. He persuaded her to slip some opium into the curry that had been served for dinner."
"So Colonel Moran murdered Miss Stamford?" asked Lestrade, once he had absorbed all he had heard.
"He was the mastermind behind the plan, yes, but he wasn't the one who wielded the jack knife," Kathryn explained. She delved a hand into the depths of her dress pocket, and extracted a small ornately engraved ivory snuffbox. "During my examination of Miss Stamford's rooms, I found, among the other evidence which I have already related, this little trinket," she continued, placing the snuffbox on the table before her.
"It belonged to Kumar Rao, former agent for the German government. He left Germany after a scandal, which almost cost him his life, and made his way to Britain, where he was recruited into Professor Moriarty's employ. Rao took up an alias, Abdullah Raquesh, and set up an antique shop close to Whitechapel under his new guise. He, one of the last remaining agents of Omega, came with Moran to 243 Oxford Street to murder Julia Stamford. After Miss Stamford and the Colonel had a heated argument regarding the papers, Moran left her at Rao's mercy."
"Well what are we waiting here for, then?" Lestrade asked brusquely. "Why isn't the fellow under arrest?"
"Mr. Kumar Rao was found murdered this morning, sir," Inspector Hopkins answered quietly from his position at the door.
"WHAT?"
"Dr. Watson and I went to question him about the murder this morning, but we discovered that someone else had gotten to him first," Kathryn answered grimly in response to Lestrade's outburst.
"So who killed him?" Lestrade blurted loudly as he darted his flustered gaze from Kathryn to Hopkins.
"Colonel Moran did," Kathryn replied before Hopkins could supply an answer. "Apparently, Mr. Rao stole the documents that Mr. Holmes had been seeking from Miss Stamford after Moran had left. The Colonel, however, is not someone who takes the theft of his possessions lightly, so he killed Rao. Unfortunately for Moran, he had neglected to find the documents, so he sent his accomplice, Miss Thompson to retrieve them.
"Miss Thompson did not know of the documents' importance, so she did not retrieve them, thinking it would divert suspicion of the Stamford case from Moran and herself. She also managed to drop her spectacles in the room, which allowed Dr. Watson and me to track her down.
"It seems, from our questioning of Miss Thompson, that she did not know that Moran was planning to murder Miss Stamford, and that she was compelled to help him due to the love she thought they shared. After the murder, the realisation of what she had done struck her, and she only continued her silence due to the fear of punishment.
"With a little beckoning, Miss Thompson revealed the location of Moran's hideaway, Camden House, which, unfortunately, was already deserted when Dr. Watson and I arrived. Colonel Moran had known we were coming; he left me a note arranging a meeting at a dock on the end of Broad Street, where he would converse about the details of Miss Stamford's murder with me.
"There is little more for me to tell you, gentlemen. When I met with Moran at the wharf, he revealed to me the details of the case, which I have already mentioned, before making an attempt at my life. If it weren't for Inspector Hopkins and Dr. Watson," she concluded, shooting grateful glances at us both, "then he probably would have succeeded."
"So where is Colonel Moran, now?" Inspector Gregson asked with meek curiosity.
"The Colonel had been clinging onto Miss Granger's arm when she was retrieved from the river with Dr. Watson," explained Hopkins briefly. "His body now lies in the coroner's office downstairs."
A heavy silence settled into room as each us retreated into the depths of our minds, interrupted only by the warm crackling of the glowing fire, oblivious to the sombre moods of the other occupants. Dimly, a clock could be heard in the distance, slowly tolling the twelve strokes of midnight and hailing forth the new day.
"Well, Mr. Holmes," Inspector Lestrade uttered quietly with his head bowed, extricating me from my tangled thoughts as he cleared his throat. "I think that I owe you an apology."
A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Thanks to Tonifranz for the review, by the way. I'm still working on it, but I'll get University Life posted as soon as I can!
***********************************
Chapter 19- The Aftermath
"Dr. Watson, are you alright?" Stanley Hopkins's concerned voice called frantically, dragging me from the darkness that had engulfed me.
I quickly opened my eyes that I hadn't realized were closed, and found myself lying on the wooden wharf, staring into the distraught inspector's face.
"You really had me worried there for a moment, when you didn't come back up," he said with relief clearly evident as he eased me into a sitting position.
As memories of the night's events returned to me, I craned my sore neck around and peered anxiously around. "What happened?" I managed to croak in a raspy voice that sounded unfamiliar to my ears.
"You were able to find Miss Granger in the water, Doctor," Hopkins told me. "It seems that she had tried unsuccessfully to drag Colonel Moran to the surface with her. Apparently the old man put up a fight and tried to drag her down with him-if it weren't for you, she wouldn't have survived."
My eyes rested on Kathryn's body lying motionlessly nearby surrounded by a myriad of policemen, gaping bemusedly as the inspector's words began to sink in. "How is she?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"She'll be fine, I think," Hopkins assured. "We managed to get her breathing, at least. She should be waking up any moment now."
"And the Colonel?" I enquired, too tired to form a complete sentence.
"He wasn't as lucky, I'm afraid," Hopkins replied gravely. "We haven't been able to revive him yet."
The inspector slowly helped me back onto my feet as the clip clop of hooves sounded in front of us. "Come on, Doctor. I think it's time for us to return to Scotland Yard."
***
The quiet crackling of the glowing hearth at my feet enveloped me in a blanket of warmth and tranquillity as I rested my aching bones in a leather cushioned easy chair. A steaming cup of bittersweet tea was nestled within my fingers as I let the wispy tendrils of steam tickle my nose before I breathed in the fragrant aroma.
Sighing deeply, I took a swig of the searing liquid before fixing my gaze on the bright embers reflected in the dark pool of liquid held in my cup.
'It's almost as dark as the Thames,' I thought idly as I flitted through the memory of the night's proceedings.
Shaking my head to end my reverie, I stood from the comfortable resting place, and began to pace rapidly in front of the fire.
'I can't think about all of this now,' I reflected sombrely. 'It's too soon.'
A gentle knock at the door behind me returned my mind to the present. Shifting my gaze quickly, I announced curtly, "Come in." The entrance opened slightly to reveal the tall figure of Kathryn Granger, who slipped quietly inside before closing the door behind her with a click.
Her appearance had changed so dramatically that for a moment, I couldn't recognise who she was. Her long streaks of jet black hair, which had always been tied securely in a knot behind her head, now fell loosely over her shoulders-hiding, I was sure, what must have been considerable bruising on her neck. Her startling emerald green eyes, which were no longer hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, were now darkened considerably, as the warm and innocent twinkle that had always shone with scintillating lustre was replaced by the dim yet hard glint of weary determination.
"The inspectors should be arriving soon," she announced as she made her way across the room and sat on the chair that I had just vacated.
"That's good to know," I replied, "At least we'll be over all of this soon enough, and hopefully Holmes will be free by the time we leave."
Kathryn gazed at me introspectively with even more intensity, now that there was nothing to shield me from her piercing orbs that blazed with more emotion than I had seen since I met her. After a moment, she retracted her probing eyes and turned to stare into the radiant flames that licked hungrily at the logs in the hearth. "How are you feeling, Doctor?" she asked pensively.
"I should ask you the same thing, you know," I answered, looking back at her silhouetted form.
Kathryn smiled slightly, without taking her eyes from the fire, before replying, "I am doing as well as can be expected, Doctor. I must really thank you for what you have done, tonight. I owe you a life debt now, after all."
"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger," I responded curtly as I suddenly found the intricate design on the carpet of utmost interest.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kathryn stated calmly. "Why do you keep evading it?"
"I'm not sure."
My companion nodded slightly in understanding, before returning her gaze to the fireside. The silence that followed, with only the merry crackling of the hearth reaching my ears, covered me with a soothing blanket of peace and calm that lifted, for the first time in days, the burden of all the troubles that had befallen us.
The tranquillity was shattered all too soon with a sharp tap at the door, before the door swung widely open to reveal a procession of detectives. In the lead, was the bulldog-faced Inspector Lestrade, bearing an inscrutable frown that puckered his features. Inspector Gregson followed his colleague into the room, with his wavy flaxen hair visibly dishevelled and his face gaped like a gold fish with incredulity and shock as his pale ashen lips formed the shape of an "O." Holmes, to my inexorable surprise, stepped in next, with iron grey eyes glinting in amusement as he nonchalantly brushed himself off, looking as if he had never been in the gallows at all. Seeing the astonishment plainly evident on my face, he smirked sardonically, before taking his place by the fireplace, propping himself up with an elbow. The young Inspector Hopkins brought up the rear, who deftly avoided everyone else's gaze, opting instead to focus his eyes solely on the carpeted floor.
Hopkins slipped the door closed silently, and opted meekly to remain there as he cleared his throat. "Now that we are all gathered here, I think it is time that you offered some explanation, Miss Granger."
"Certainly, Inspector; it has certainly been shrouded in mystery long enough." Kathryn replied as she slowly stood up from the comfortable easy chair. She turned to face all of us, and shot a gauging glance at each of our expressions before continuing. "The case itself is actually a simple one. Had you not been clouded by any prejudices, Inspector Lestrade, then you would have seen the truth much more easily. As it is, you allowed your previous experiences with Mr. Holmes to cloud your judgement, which robbed you of essential evidence leading to the identity of the true culprit. Yet, it is not your fault for going astray, Mr. Lestrade, because Mr. Holmes had neglected to tell a vital piece of information.
"You see, Mr. Holmes had been unofficially commissioned by our government to retrieve some important documents that Moran had in his possession. Holmes contacted Miss Stamford to seek her aid in accessing the papers.
"From this, it is clear that not only would Holmes's motive for murder vanish, the evidence also points out another suspect: Colonel Sebastian Moran. After all, the documents in question are quite valuable to him, and he would be at a great disadvantage if they slipped out of his papers.
"Armed with this information, I went to examine carefully the crime scene once again with the good doctor, to see if I could find any traces of any other people who may have visited Miss Stamford on the evening of her death. Now, as the establishment is a respectable one, it can safely be conjectured that the rooms are cleaned every day. I confirmed this fact with the servants. Therefore, any traces of evidence that we found would most likely be from the night of the murder."
"I personally searched the crime scene and found nothing out of place apart from Mr. Holmes's murder weapon," interrupted Inspector Lestrade sceptically.
"At first glance, you are right- everything seems to be in place," conceded Kathryn with a nod. "However, upon closer examination, there was evidence that suggested the presence of three guests in her room that day- not just one. For example, there were four different sets of footprints in the room where the deceased was found, which were detected in a brand of cigar ash that neither Miss Stamford nor Mr. Holmes smoked."
"What about the jack knife that was found at the crime scene?" Lestrade pressed on impatiently.
"Well, that can be explained as well," Kathryn assured. "Where was the weapon found?"
"It was tucked in the grate of the fireplace," Lestrade supplied with a huff. "It was found quite easily, actually, as it was only partially covered in a coating of ashes. But as intriguing as all that is, I don't see how it has anything to do with the case."
"On the contrary, it provides a compelling explanation of the weapon's presence," Kathryn countered lightly. "How long have you known Mr. Holmes?"
"Almost twenty years," Lestrade answered briskly. "Stop changing the subject, Miss Granger, and just give us an answer."
Kathryn snuck a mischievous glance at Holmes, before smiling wryly. "Please bear with me for a moment, Inspector. Now, I suppose that Mr. Holmes has assisted you in several of your criminal cases during your acquaintance?"
"Yes, of course."
"And I suppose that you consider his assistance to be quite valuable?"
"Yes."
"So you would agree that Mr. Holmes is a skilled detective who knows how the criminal mind and the mind of the criminal investigator?"
"I suppose so-"
'Then why on earth would Mr. Holmes be so inane as to place his murder weapon conveniently in a place that he knew would almost definitely be searched, without even bothering to hide it properly from plain view? Was he asking to be arrested for the crime?"
Lestrade sputtered bemusedly for a few moments. "How am I supposed to know what was going on in his head? Indeed, I have seen many criminals do rash things after they have committed their foul deed in the bout of crazed excitement that they experience afterward."
"Don't you think that it is more likely that the weapon was easy to find because it was planted there?" Kathryn responded calmly.
"The wounds inflicted on Miss Stamford were consistent with Mr. Holmes's jack knife," stated Inspector Gregson, who finally seemed to have recovered from his shock.
"Exactly," Lestrade agreed. "Let's suppose that the weapon was planted, Miss Granger. How on earth would anyone, apart from Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, have access to the weapon in the first place? This completely contradicts your accusation of Colonel Moran; he's in hiding, after all."
"On the contrary, this strengthens my argument," Kathryn countered fixing the inspectors with a sharp gaze. "The jack knife was the murder weapon, but the person wielding it wasn't Mr. Holmes. You see, Moran had been in hiding in a place where no one would think to look- Camden House."
"Camden House?" Lestrade repeated in surprise. "You mean the house where we arrested him for an attempt on Mr. Holmes's life at the conclusion of the Ronald Adair case?"
Kathryn nodded. "Now you see why the Colonel had such ready access to Mr. Holmes's lodgings. In fact, Mrs. Hudson revealed that Moran, under the guise of his alias, called for Mr. Holmes the day of Miss Stamford's murder, soon after Holmes, Dr. Watson, and I left for Covent Garden that evening.
"The presence of the murder weapon was the only real piece of hard evidence against Mr. Holmes; all the rest were coincidences and assumptions that made the case against Mr. Holmes almost undeniable. After all, Holmes did go to Miss Stamford's lodgings that evening. However, his motive was not to kill her, but to discuss the terms by which she would return the documents that Holmes was seeking. Moran knew that Mr. Holmes would be seeing her that evening, which is why the murder was committed shortly after, giving Holmes no valid alibi."
"This theory is all well and good," remarked Lestrade, still eyeing Kathryn with scepticism, "but you've forgotten the fact that all of the servants only heard one guest entering the lodgings that evening."
"That too can be explained," Kathryn assured. "The servants retired two hours early that evening, complaining of headaches, and, from what they've told me, they slept unusually soundly afterwards."
"Are you suggesting that they were drugged?" Gregson asked bemusedly.
"Yes," Kathryn replied. "Moran had an accomplice in the establishment, Miss Jennifer Thompson. He persuaded her to slip some opium into the curry that had been served for dinner."
"So Colonel Moran murdered Miss Stamford?" asked Lestrade, once he had absorbed all he had heard.
"He was the mastermind behind the plan, yes, but he wasn't the one who wielded the jack knife," Kathryn explained. She delved a hand into the depths of her dress pocket, and extracted a small ornately engraved ivory snuffbox. "During my examination of Miss Stamford's rooms, I found, among the other evidence which I have already related, this little trinket," she continued, placing the snuffbox on the table before her.
"It belonged to Kumar Rao, former agent for the German government. He left Germany after a scandal, which almost cost him his life, and made his way to Britain, where he was recruited into Professor Moriarty's employ. Rao took up an alias, Abdullah Raquesh, and set up an antique shop close to Whitechapel under his new guise. He, one of the last remaining agents of Omega, came with Moran to 243 Oxford Street to murder Julia Stamford. After Miss Stamford and the Colonel had a heated argument regarding the papers, Moran left her at Rao's mercy."
"Well what are we waiting here for, then?" Lestrade asked brusquely. "Why isn't the fellow under arrest?"
"Mr. Kumar Rao was found murdered this morning, sir," Inspector Hopkins answered quietly from his position at the door.
"WHAT?"
"Dr. Watson and I went to question him about the murder this morning, but we discovered that someone else had gotten to him first," Kathryn answered grimly in response to Lestrade's outburst.
"So who killed him?" Lestrade blurted loudly as he darted his flustered gaze from Kathryn to Hopkins.
"Colonel Moran did," Kathryn replied before Hopkins could supply an answer. "Apparently, Mr. Rao stole the documents that Mr. Holmes had been seeking from Miss Stamford after Moran had left. The Colonel, however, is not someone who takes the theft of his possessions lightly, so he killed Rao. Unfortunately for Moran, he had neglected to find the documents, so he sent his accomplice, Miss Thompson to retrieve them.
"Miss Thompson did not know of the documents' importance, so she did not retrieve them, thinking it would divert suspicion of the Stamford case from Moran and herself. She also managed to drop her spectacles in the room, which allowed Dr. Watson and me to track her down.
"It seems, from our questioning of Miss Thompson, that she did not know that Moran was planning to murder Miss Stamford, and that she was compelled to help him due to the love she thought they shared. After the murder, the realisation of what she had done struck her, and she only continued her silence due to the fear of punishment.
"With a little beckoning, Miss Thompson revealed the location of Moran's hideaway, Camden House, which, unfortunately, was already deserted when Dr. Watson and I arrived. Colonel Moran had known we were coming; he left me a note arranging a meeting at a dock on the end of Broad Street, where he would converse about the details of Miss Stamford's murder with me.
"There is little more for me to tell you, gentlemen. When I met with Moran at the wharf, he revealed to me the details of the case, which I have already mentioned, before making an attempt at my life. If it weren't for Inspector Hopkins and Dr. Watson," she concluded, shooting grateful glances at us both, "then he probably would have succeeded."
"So where is Colonel Moran, now?" Inspector Gregson asked with meek curiosity.
"The Colonel had been clinging onto Miss Granger's arm when she was retrieved from the river with Dr. Watson," explained Hopkins briefly. "His body now lies in the coroner's office downstairs."
A heavy silence settled into room as each us retreated into the depths of our minds, interrupted only by the warm crackling of the glowing fire, oblivious to the sombre moods of the other occupants. Dimly, a clock could be heard in the distance, slowly tolling the twelve strokes of midnight and hailing forth the new day.
"Well, Mr. Holmes," Inspector Lestrade uttered quietly with his head bowed, extricating me from my tangled thoughts as he cleared his throat. "I think that I owe you an apology."