Disclaimer: all major characters belong to ACD

Chapter 10

September to November, 1919

The funeral of Wiggins was a sad affair. Apart from Holmes and Watson, only two other people attended – stall holders who traded from premises next to Wiggins. They seemed ill at ease to be present, and the vicar likewise; and when the service was over and the body interred in the quiet St Margaret's Cemetery, they quickly took their leave without a word to Holmes and Watson.

Holmes stayed in 221B Baker Street for a few days after the funeral, and then one morning announced to Watson that he was going away for a few days.

"How long?"

"My dear Watson, I have no idea. But I will rejoin you soon; and then we shall, I think, return to Sussex. The events of the past few weeks have been somewhat unsettling, and my bees are calling!"

Watson laughed. "Sometimes I think that you're married to them, the way you go on about them!"

"They keep me sane, Watson," replied Holmes. "Not for them the undoing of criminal plots, the uncovering of felons and the arrest of wrongdoers. For them it is – obey the queen! Collect nectar! Nurture the children!"

"I will mind 221B until you return, old friend, but I wish you would tell me where you were going."

"Alas I cannot – not at this time," replied Holmes. "But rest assured that if it were possible for you to attend me, I would ask. You're going to have to trust me on this."

"Well, I do of course, but I would like to know at least the outline. It is this Moran business, isn't it?"

Holmes was silent for a moment. "Yes, it is – but that is all I can tell!" he then exclaimed, and removed to his room to pack a small case.

Watson called through the door to him. "Remember what he said, Holmes! Have a care!"

Holmes looked at him quizzically. "What he said..?"

"In his account of meeting the Duchess again. His vow. 'Never to trust again. Never to be honest again. Always to hide is feelings.' Those sorts of things."

Holmes dismissed his concerns. "Heat of the moment, Watson, that's all. From what I saw of him, there has been a change, you cannot deny."

"I agree there appears to have been a change. But it might just be that he has learned to disguise his emotions and intentions very well. Remember that he was able to obtain his release from Bescott. Few have done so, even after surgery."

"Thank you for your concern, Doctor," replied Holmes, with perhaps a little to much emphasis on the last word. "I am sure that if my reading of our ... friend ... is wrong, that you will record as much in your account."

"Indeed I will, Holmes," replied Watson, becoming testy in his turn. "I just hope and pray the account will not also record the demise of the great detective."

With other similar words Holmes and Watson continued for some time, but Holmes was not to be diverted from his task. Early the next morning Watson woke to find his friend gone, with a small note left on the table.

Have no fear, Watson. Trust me, it is for the best in the long term. Holmes.

Watson knew too well what was going on. Doubtless Holmes was meeting Moran – but to what end? What were they planning? He didn't even know where Moran was hiding, so couldn't go and help his friend if anything went wrong.

Part of a pattern, he thought. Since they had arrived in London, and especially since the meeting with Moran, Holmes had become more distant than Watson had ever known him to be in their long years of acquaintance. It had been a slow process, over many days; but there was obviously something deeply troubling Holmes, that he could not share with Watson; the dreams, perhaps? The shock on Holmes' face as he awoke from the dream was still clear in his memory – or was it the shock of waking up to find Moran in his room?

A day became days. Days became a week. Then another. Watson was never free of the unsettling feeling, the worry that Holmes could be in danger and he was unable to help. Every day he scoured the newspapers for news that could be interpreted as being the work of his friend, but to no avail. On a couple of occasions he even paid a visit, late in the evening, to Adam Lestrade, but the policeman was silent as to the whereabouts of Holmes. The gnawing worry slowly grew until it was a shadow over Watson's every waking hour.

And then, late one very wet early October evening, Watson at last heard the familiar steps on the staircase. The door flew open and Holmes stood there, soaked to the skin; but Watson gasped at his appearance. Filthy dirty, his clothes were ragged, and a full beard framed his haggard face. Only his eyes blazed with the usual power of his personality. The two embraced.

"All is well, Watson, all is well!" exclaimed Holmes. "But first, I beg of you, before any questions – a bath!"

It was almost midnight before Holmes emerged from the bathroom, clean shaven and robed. He sat down with a sigh into his familiar chair and smiled at Watson.

"What a time I have had, Watson!" he said. "So much has happened since we parted. But, you see, I am true to my word. I am safe and sound, back with you; and tomorrow we leave for Sussex. But since you will not give me any more rest before I have told you what I have been up to, I will give a brief exposition of my actions these last five weeks.

"You were correct of course; I started with Moran. There were a number of issues he and I had to resolve, and I can safely say they have been so, to my satisfaction, if not to his. I specifically advised him that I was not going to resort to murder to assist him in his mental struggle – I am sorry for him, but I am not stooping to that. 'Then you will kill me', indeed. How melodramatic.

"But my main business has been getting to the bottom of the business with Wiggins. And there I have had a degree of success, although it will be a longer drawn out affair to bring it to a successful conclusion. The pieces are in place, but the time is not right for some of them. I think you will find that the most interesting thing about the whole affair is that Wiggins himself was not the one being punished. As I thought, there is 'protection money' involved, and Wiggins is part of the small group of traders who are being extorted thus; but he was up to date with his payments. No, it was a fellow named Davis who had fallen behind. You would know him by sight, I am sure; he was there at Wiggins' funeral. No, our friend Wiggins was killed as a warning to the others. Which is an interesting – and revealing – insight into the mind of the one who controls Moriarty's empire."

"Clay always was a nasty piece of work. Making himself out to be some prince or other. That time in the vault where you apprehended him, telling people not to touch him with their grubby hands! I'll wager he's just the same now, pushing his weight around. Well, I hope you've been able to cut him down to size."

"Not exactly, Watson," smiled Holmes. "As I say, things are moving to a conclusion at the right time. A little while yet.

"But the pattern is interesting. Foster was killed as a warning to others not to try and leave. Wiggins as a warning to others to keep up their payments. The targets always seem to be those who are close to those who have carried out a misdemeanour. And that, of course, makes me very worried."

"Why ever so?"

"Because I have played a very powerful card. I have revealed to the ones in charge of Moriarty's empire that I am on to them. I have already taken some actions which have caused them some inconvenience. And that is the reason why we must leave for Sussex, my friend."

"I'm still not quite catching on, Holmes. It is late, after all."

"If they follow the pattern, they will punish me by punishing someone who means much to me."

"Ah. I see."

"So pack your bags, Watson, we are heading for the country."

Two weeks had passed in the quiet farmhouse when the news they had been dreading reached them. The morning paper told how an attempt had been made to burn down 221 Baker Street. Some minor damage had been caused, but the landlady had escaped and was currently staying with an elderly aunt.

"Miss Violet got out alright, then," sighed Watson with relief.

"Yes. This is not unexpected. You see what I was talking about? You see how they are seeking to hurt me through others?"

"Even dear old 221B, eh?" smiled Watson.

"Bricks and mortar, Watson," laughed Holmes. "That is easy to fix. And I had of course advised Miss Violet to be on her guard."

"You are almost talking as though you let it happen."

"To an extent, I did. I keep telling you, Watson – 'keep your powder dry'. It is most important that our opponents think they have the upper hand, think that we were caught off guard, think that we are on the run."

"And I suppose, knowing you, that nothing is further from the truth."

"Of course. But it is the start of the end."

"That sounds ominous."

Holmes shot him a glance. "It is, Watson. They are following a path for them that I have laid. It is rather predictable, although the setting up was most exhausting. No, I think a few more weeks should bring matters to a head. I expect to see a significant development reported in the papers shortly – and that will put the wheels in motion." He rubbed his hands, almost gleefully, almost childlike. "Ah, the thrill of the chase, Watson!"

Watson smiled at his friend. "I really don't know where you get the energy from, Holmes! It is most unfair!"

"You carry wounds, physical and mental, with you, Watson, that I have never carried. You have had the joy of marriage, but also the searing loss of your partner. But I must admit, those weeks away were hard work. I try to fight it, Watson, but I think neither of us are getting any younger."

"Your brain is a s sharp as it always was, though!" laughed Watson. "Come, will you not tell me what lies ahead? Your great plan?"

"No, Watson," said Holmes. "There is too much at stake. I hope, one day, that it will become clear, and that the events necessary to end this evil will drive themselves to their natural conclusion. You will have to trust me on this."

"Again? That's all I seem to be doing these days. Trust me, trust me. I wish you would open up a bit, old man."

Holmes sighed. "I can't, Watson. What if I told you, and then by some means, unlikely as it is, they got hold of you?"

"I wouldn't tell."

"Of course you wouldn't. But I would not want you to have to face that test."

He would have no more of it, and the matter was soon forgotten as the days passed from autumn into early winter. Then one foggy November morning, Watson arrived back from the village shop with the morning's paper, his face white and hands shaking. He was barely articulate. He threw the paper onto the table in front of Holmes.

"I told you! I told you!"

Holmes calmly took the paper, and read the lead article.

BILLINGSGATE MURDER

SENSATIONAL ADMISSION BY CRIMINAL

COLLAPSE OF TRIAL

FORMER COLONEL IMPLICATED IN WIGGINS CASE

In an amazing development at the Old Bailey yesterday, Michael Binglelow, on trial for the murder of the trader Robert Wiggins, was sensationally released upon the testimony of Inspector Collins of Scotland Yard, who revealed that they were now hunting a former resident of Bescott House, the Government's rehabilitation institution. Sebastian Moran was released earlier this summer but has disappeared since that time.

Whilst admitting to being a member of the notorious Clay Street Fellowship, Binglelow said to reporters that he was innocent of any blood and knew that Moran was the brains behind the murder, and in fact of the whole criminal operation of which Wiggins was a victim ....

Holmes sighed. "So, Moran plays his card, then."

"I told you he was not to be trusted! And to think he was in our rooms! YOU let him stay. You trusted him."

"Now, Watson, calm yourself."

"I will not. You play a dangerous game, Holmes! What if he had decided to exact his revenge on you whilst he was staying with us? Did you not think for one moment to be careful?"

"But of course. I knew what I was doing. Sometimes you have to give someone the benefit of the doubt."

"Oh, come, Holmes. There is no doubt. It's as plain as the nose on your face that he's guilty. He hasn't changed."

"I'm going to say it again, Watson. Trust me."

"I can't, I'm afraid. I really think you've lost it this time, Holmes. You had Binglelow nailed. You yourself said to me, 'doubtless'. You even pinned it on the tobacco – you, a world expert in the stuff. And now he's walked free."

"I don't have to explain my actions to you, Watson. Consider for a moment all that I have said to you regarding this matter, and then form your own conclusions. But what I have set in motion will work its way through to a conclusion, whatever you may think."

Watson sighed in resignation. "Have it your own way. I should know by now that you know far more than you let on about. I don't know why I bother sometimes. But Holmes, mark my words – if you're not careful, this will be the death of you. Have a care."