Holmes found a Bible amidst his reference materials and brought it over to us. Handing it to me, he directed, "Revelations, chapter one and verse eleven."
I read, "Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea."
"And First Timothy, chapter six and verse seven."
"For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out," I obliged, turning to the proper verse.
"Have either of the verses especial significance with you?" Holmes inquired of Mrs Kendrick when I had finished.
"None before this reading of them," she told him. "Although, if you do not already know it, I can give you the name of the writer of this note," she continued confidently. "For only one of my brother's two friends ever achieved sufficient proficiency with the use of Biblical references to have composed this message: William Thomason. He was the one kind enough to send the letter following my brother's death."
"The other is then the one which we must guard against," Holmes cautioned, "for this Thomason is aiding us in whatever means he may against his old friend. Is the name Hancock familiar to you?"
"It is," Mrs Kendrick replied after a brief pause with a strange expression on her face, "but perhaps not in the way that you may be expecting. As I had earlier recounted, my landlady, Mrs Forrest, was summoned to her sister's bedside. The name of the sister is Hancock, while the name of my brother's friend was Trumper."
"The thread winds tighter than I had at first suspected," said Holmes, bounding to his feet and dashing across to his desk. He opened one of the books that sat upon it and withdrew a few pages. "I had known of the man, Thomason, for there are few occupations that would allow a lamed man to continue naval service, and it was a simple enough matter to have him traced. But it was another man, this Hancock, that had not at first fit within the neat confines of the rest of the evidence. And, as you are well aware, if a fact does not fit with the rest, there is some other linking fact that has been missed. We have just been provided that necessary linking fact and all begins to fall neatly into place."
"But what does Thomason mean with this talk of the seven churches?" I asked with the Bible still opened on my lap. "Surely he cannot mean actual churches."
"There are a great deal more churches than seven. Why seven times seven churches were built in the aftermath of the 1666 fire alone!" Holmes declared. "No, rather he refers to something of which the city has only seven."
"But what?" I asked, searching my mind for something of which the great and sprawling city had only seven of, not more and not less. But I was met with no answer as my companions considered the options. "Some people considered there to be seven principle bridges across the Thames," I suggested after a moment.
"Foot bridges or railway bridges?" Holmes asked with a raised eyebrow. "There are eight principle foot bridges – Chelsea, Vauxhall, Westminster, Waterloo, Blackfriars, Southwark, London, and Tower – and other less notable besides those. And there are only six chief rail bridges. No, my dear Watson, I shouldn't think that seven he refers us to are bridges."
"What then?" The only other seven I could bring to mind were the Seven Seas, and those clearly could not be of use in passing a message along.
"The city gates," said Mrs Kendrick. "There were seven gates to the city of London."
"But see, you were not so far off after all, Watson," Holmes added, "for one of the ancient gates was in fact a bridge. And that is our best chance to contact this Thomason."
"But how?"
Sherlock Holmes gave me a knowing smile and a short laugh. "By following the instructions that he has himself given us. We will write our message in a book and leave it, with some watching, on London Bridge, for our unknown friend to find."
I was much intrigued as to how exactly Holmes intended to leave his message, and further still how he intended to keep the true meaning concealed from anyone else who might happen to intercept the message, for I knew that Holmes would not write such a delicate thing in plain language. Holmes took the Bible from me, leafing through it for several moments, reading passages and then shaking his head with disapproval.
"I should like to make use of this cipher system of yours," Holmes commented to Mrs Kendrick after some time had passed, scratching out a short note on a piece of scratch paper. I thought it extraordinarily brief, considering the circumstances, but Mrs Kendrick cried out to the contrary.
"Mr Holmes, you can't be serious! Nothing in that may be omitted or altered for the sake of the other layers of the message and once in telegraphed form, that short message is extraordinarily long."
"If you are unable to do it," he commented evenly, "then we will be forced to resort to other, and no doubt less secure, means." It sounded almost as though Holmes were issuing out a challenge to her.
"I did not say that it was not possible," she retorted hotly. "I was merely informing you that this message will take a considerable amount of time to cipher properly."
"Watson and I need to make a few inquiries out in the city," Holmes replied, still completely nonplussed, "and we will return before nightfall. The message must be ready and copied properly before we return. If you don't believe that you can manage it, then we will make alternate arrangements while we are out."
Mrs Kendrick didn't respond, instead staring at Holmes with a look of displeasure. Sherlock Holmes did not appear to be disturbed by her reaction and instead went about gathering up a few things, shoving them into the pockets of his coat, before looking over to see if I was ready to leave on whatever tasks we had waiting. I had immediately moved to don my own coat and hat, so that Holmes would not be kept waiting on me, and the two of us moved out into the hall without another word, only a shared glance.
Holmes stopped for a moment to leave some instructions with the pageboy and then we stepped out into the damp street. It wasn't raining, but the air was heavy and damp, almost oppressive. The grey clouds loomed low and wet over us and I wished that I had thought to bring an umbrella with me, for it was certain to rain at some point and I had no desire to be caught in the downpour unprepared. I considered going back upstairs and fetching one, but Holmes showed no sign of such thoughts and started off down the street.
"We shouldn't be outside for long enough that you'll have need of an umbrella, Watson," Holmes called back over his shoulder as I trailed behind him. "We have a few inquiries to make at the naval offices, and then there is a noted cello virtuoso giving a concert that I should very much like to attend. I few finish at the naval offices, we may have time for lunch before the concert."
I was astounded yet again by my companion's ability to suddenly switch topics within his mind, almost as though he had turned the analytical part off for a few hours. "Surely you cannot mean to attend a concert this afternoon?" I asked in some shock. After all, we had just left Mrs Kendrick to cipher a complicated message that would hopefully all but resolve the case before us.
"What better way is there for us to pass this dreary afternoon, my good doctor?" Holmes asked cheerily. "We are nearly at a solution for this case and can do nothing further until this evening. The message is in capable hands, and I made it complex enough for her that she will be occupied until we return. I would have invited her along, but you, of course, would not have allowed that.
I sputtered a bit, but could think of no response to his statement. Finally, I resigned myself to it and said, "What business do we have at the naval offices?"
