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."