chapter seven
out of the falls
I
reflected on how strange it was to be sitting at 221B, Baker Street,
listening to Holmes enumerate the background of a case to us, and not
the other way around.
"There are two facts that require your
first attentions," Holmes began, sending rings of grey smoke up
to the ceiling. "The first is that, as you suspected, Miss
Ingham, your unfortunate uncle is far from dead. The body found in
your grandparent's home, with the conveniently mutilated face, was
only a cleverly constructed look-alike. I do not know to which case
of mine you alluded back in New York, when you gave me somewhat of a
start by mentioning my true name, but I have no doubt I will find out
in due time. By the way, Miss Ingham, you will forgive me for my
previous gruff treatment of you? I had no wish to be so dismissive of
your distress following such a traumatic experience, but it was
necessary to keep up my charade."
"Of course, Mr.
Holmes," I said.
"The two young policemen with me were
unaware of my true identity, as, I hope, were the vast majority of
people I encountered in your century. They knew me only as Officer
Brandon Waldrop, recently transferred from a small-town job in the
Southern region of America. I confess that I had to be...well,
monetarily persuasive in attaining that post so rapidly. If it had
been possible, I might have had a word or two to say regarding the
ethics of certain 21st-century government officials. But that is of
no matter now. The second important fact is that both of you were
also correct in your assessment of your uncle's true character. He is
corrupt and dangerous, though I must give him the credit that I
believe this whole affair has gone much farther than he originally
intended it to. All his troubles began when he teamed up with the
Swiss scientists who were involved in the scandal of which you spoke,
Miss Ingham. I trust that both of you have heard of Professor
Moriarty?"
I felt myself grow involuntarily colder at the
mention of the man who, even in fictional form, had always terrified
me. I remembered a certain nightmare I had had once, where the evil
professor was climbing, eyes blazing and hair standing on end, back
out of Reichenbach falls, and shouting curses at Holmes' retreating
figure. I blinked hard to rid myself of the unwanted mental
image.
"Professor Moriarty," said Jeanette, as if trying
to remember. "He sounds very familiar, but could you refresh my
memory, Mr. Holmes?"
"Moriarty is viewed by most people
as an innocent mathematics professor," Holmes replied. "But
I know him to be one of the most depraved men who has ever lived, and
the criminal mastermind of London. I think of him as the Napoleon of
crime."
"Oh, yes, Moriarty," Jeanette cried. "Isn't
he the one who--"
I silenced my cousin with a vicious pinch.
Although she was far less familiar with Holmesian chronology than I,
she understood what I meant immediately.
Holmes continued.
"It
was my great pleasure to learn while in your century that the
professor meets his end during my lifetime," he said.
"Naturally, I was tempted to look at a surviving copy of
Watson's accounts to see if he had written anything on the topic, but
an Englishman in any century does not forget his sense of fair play,
and I felt that to look ahead would be cheating. At any rate, it
appears that Moriarty's body, mangled as it was by the unknown manner
of his death, was somehow got ahold of by a group of scientists in
Switzerland. They took his body to North Africa, were it was
preserved for over a century by methods similar to those of the
ancient Egyptians. Matters changed, however, when your uncle's
research team came on the scene. You will forgive my ignorance of
genetics, for it does not interest me save where it pertains to the
study of criminal behavior. However, it is my understanding that the
scientists got the idea that, by somehow tampering with Moriarty's
preserved DNA, they could succeed in raising him from the
dead."
Jeanette and I stared at the detective in absolute
shock. "And did they succeed, Mr. Holmes?" I asked.
"Not
to my knowledge," he replied. "They were making some
progress, but were stopped when certain information leaked out to the
public, causing the aforementioned ethics scandal. Of course, no one
had any idea what was really going on, but there was only a stir
about them using Moriarty's body, since the team had no proof that he
had authorized the experimentation while he was still alive. I assure
you that in attempting to understand these matters, I have learned
more than I ever wished to about the complicated legal procedures of
your country and century. But had the press known the real reason
that no consent had been obtained, of course, it would have been much
harder for them to persuade the university to withdraw their charges.
It was partly in fear of this reason being discovered that your uncle
chose to fake his own death and go into hiding."
"But
where do you come into all this, Mr. Holmes?" asked Jeanette,
ever the practical-minded one.
"Well, you must know that your
uncle is, or will be, a far cleverer man than most people realize.
Not only is he a genius at biochemistry, but he has also studied a
great deal in the other sciences--geology, astronomy, physics. He
holds them all like cards in the palm of his hand, laying down one or
the other as they prove convenient. While the genetics experiment was
going on with the Swiss team, he was also putting the finishing
touches on a secret experiment of his own--one that he planned to use
to make contact with Moriarty if the Swiss team failed him or proved
treacherous. This experiment was, of course, the time-traveling
portal which you so cleverly found beneath his laboratory."
"What
about the other time machine, the spherical one?" I asked.
"It
is the personal invention of Professor Moriarty," Holmes
replied. "In one of the really great triumphs of my career, I
managed to spirit it away from him before he got a chance to actually
use it. He will not be able to make another for some time, for it
requires several lesser-known natural elements that are very rare and
difficult to obtain. Shortly after the time machine came into my
possession--for I did not intend to
use it myself--one of your
uncle's agents entered my century through the portal. He had been
sent by your uncle when the ethics scandal stopped the other
experiment, to serve as a sort of preliminary scouting mission.
However, he made several foolish errors which caused him to meet up
with me before meeting Moriarty. From him I learned that my presence
was urgently required in the future, and the rest, as they say in
your time, is history. Thus you find yourselves rescued from a very
turbulent moment, and I find myself in the midst of one of the most
interesting cases I have ever encountered. I hope only that I can
stop your uncle and his cohorts from whatever evil scheme they
intended to use Moriarty for."
"One question, Mr.
Holmes," I said. "Where did my uncle go after faking his
death and sneaking out of my grandparents' house?"
"That
is part of the case at hand," Holmes replied. "But I think
we have talked long enough about these dark matters. I have
dispatched young Billy with a message for Watson, and I believe that
is his tread I hear this moment upon the stairs. If I know my friend
at all, he and his wife will be only too glad to offer you shelter
during your stay in London."
