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Part One
Chapter 2: Railway Girls
Thursday, February 7th, 1895
The winter of 1895 saw both Holmes and me living back in our old lodgings at 221B Baker Street Holmes had made his sudden, spectacular, reappearance back in London the previous spring. After my period of considerable shock and readjustment, Holmes and I resumed our friendship - both older, wiser, scarred, and altered by the years apart. I was still dealing with both grief and guilt over the loss of my darling wife Mary, some sixteen months previously. My years of grieving the loss of my dear friend over the side of the Reichenbach falls in Switzerland (or so I believed) for almost three years had left me melancholy, distant from most of my fellow men, and with a great deal of my resilience and sense of optimism long gone. While I had forgiven Holmes - eventually, I had by no means forgotten the pain of loss, the guilt, and the many bleak months of loneliness. I could forgive and move on, but I could not entirely forget.
Holmes also was considerably changed. He was thinner, if such a thing was even possible, and looked both older and more weathered. While Holmes had tremendous stamina and was capable of enduring great discomfort, and the normal ravages of heat and cold while pursuing a case, he had never been a man drawn to nature, sports, or the many pursuits of the outdoor life. His face, hands, and overall physique spoke of many months spent largely outdoors - often in less-than-ideal weather or circumstances, living as a man on the run. His appearance spoke the truth of the times he spent staying one step ahead of the remainder of Moriarty's gang and Colonel Moran. Holmes' body also displayed the long months when he went from the hunted to the hunter. As his doctor, I could not help but notice several extra scars: a white slash across the back of his left hand and three others across his arms. It was clear his years alone had not been safe ones. His moments of dark moodiness were more pronounced, and perhaps more frequent. In any other man, such behavior would be called, "haunted."
In earlier years, such behaviors would have me feeling alarmed and looking for signs of his 7% cocaine solution. Yet it seemed that Holmes was no longer using cocaine and was even actively avoiding anything that would leave him less than alert at all times. Hard lessons learned in times of duress were clearly written all over him. I did not have his powers of observation and deduction, but I am a doctor, and I knew my friend. He was changed; worn, but not broken, battered, but not defeated.
Several months after Holmes had returned, he convinced me to sell my medical practice and the home I had kept with Mary. While I gave up the practice reluctantly it didn't require much pressure for me to sell the house and practice together. I cannot deny that I got a more than fair price for both - something I later learned that Holmes had a lot to do with. Fortunately, my reputation as a doctor was well established by then. I had no problems finding ample use for my services at St. Bartholomew's and several other prominent hospitals across London. I also had several close colleagues who were in constant need of a second, experienced pair of eyes and hands at their fast-growing practices. In short, I was at last well established, financially stable, and able to work whenever and wherever I chose. This new situation was still suitable for Holmes as he knew he could readily call upon me for help and companionship on a case as long as he could provide a measure of advanced notice. (I had both flexibility, and yet more demands upon my time.)
Mrs. Hudson was happy to have active lodgers again. While Holmes' brother Mycroft had paid Mrs. Hudson to keep the Holmes' rooms and possessions intact, she had missed the routine and sense of purpose that only active lodgers could provide. This doesn't mean that all was entirely well between her and Holmes. She had deeply mourned his death as a lost son. While she was profoundly grateful for the circumstances that saw his safe, unexpected return, she was wounded in heart and soul by the experience, and what she could not help but feel as betrayal - even if she understood that Holmes had left to ensure the safety of his friends and colleagues in London, including her. She was a gentle forgiving woman with a generous spirit, but still, the peace between her and Holmes was fragile. Certainly, he did not try her patience with chemical explosions, or indoor pistol practice any longer.
By winter 1895, Holmes and I were several months reestablished as fellow lodgers and already well into something of a daily routine. I spent most of my days in practice while he worked almost continuously on cases old and new. That morning Holmes and I were at the dining table eating boiled eggs, ham, sausage, toast and coffee. As usual, I ate heartily while Holmes picked his way through the food, spending more time and attention on the morning papers then Mrs. Hudson's excellent breakfast. I tentatively tried to redirect his attention.
"Holmes, your eggs, they're getting cold and will be mostly hard boiled if you do not eat them. Then you'll complain."
"Watson, must you? It's always the same with you. Eggs will be eggs. They remain as they will ever be, but the news is always different. How do you expect me to stay informed, and to keep pace with the doings of almost five million of our fellow Londoners, not to mention the millions of others living out their existences in the towns just beyond our great metropolis?"
"Morning papers will keep, but the eggs won't. The coffee will not improve aging in the pot either, or the toast . . ."
Holmes sighed but then gave me a wry chuckle, "Very well my friend. I will address my breakfast such that neither you nor our good land lady have any reason to fret. Besides, I rather doubt I will be seeing lunch today, as I have several irons in the fire that need tending today."
"Indeed? How so? Is this the Hoffman murder still?"
"Ah no, Watson. That case is almost done and gone. It proved simple enough that a few hours of investigation gave me enough to point Gregson in the right direction."
"Is it a hanging case then?" "Most likely not. Nathaniel Hoffman met his unfortunate end through what proved to be mostly careless misadventure by his work colleague, Albert Bridger. This would have been catalogued as an accident by the Yard's inspectors if Bridger had not panicked and tried to conceal the evidence. He will get a few months, perhaps a year at most. A case can be made for mercy, considering there was no sign of foul play, malicious intent, or any prior criminal record. I don't know what Gregson will recommend but a fine and probation might be the preferred outcome. The man has a young family, after all."
"Is that what you are going to the Yard for?"
Holmes eyed me keenly. "How did you deduce I am going to the Yard?"
"It is your behavior this morning. When I see you devouring all of the morning papers this rapidly while ignoring your breakfast, and then you tell me you have several active cases going that will keep you out all it, it doesn't take a detective to surmise that your first stop today will be Scotland Yard. You will bring forward any interesting stories you find in the papers, especially any murders or significant robberies. You'll then throw your two cents in as appropriate and hope you can steer the force in the right direction. While at the Yard, you will gather data relative to the open cases you are working on. Am I right?"
Homes smiled and said, "You're making great strides my friend. Actually, I have more than one piece of business at the Yard today. I am off to speak to Sergeant Maxwell Thomas about an investigation he's heading up regarding deaths on London's rail lines."
"Oh, I didn't know about this. Have there been any murders? I didn't read anything about it in the Times, Telegraph or Herald."
"Not quite sure of the details yet, old boy. I'll fill you in this evening. Working in Dr. Amesbury's practice again today?"
"Indeed, I am. His practice is growing by the week. Those neighborhood circulars seem to be drawing them in, along with his bedside manner and up to date training. The recent flu outbreak isn't hurting his business either."
"You give yourself no credit, Watson. Some of his success is the quality of the doctors who work with him. Both you and Goldstien are seasoned and respected doctors in your own right. Amesbury has learned one lesson well: Hire only the best, and you will get the best."
"Well, I must admit he's a pleasure to work with and Lord knows he pays well. Back to Sergeant Thomas, you have been spending a lot of time with him recently. I know he is promising, but is he as good as all that?"
"I have high hopes for him Waston. He might possibly be what I have been advocating for at the Yard for decades. A new breed of constables and inspectors – men with brains and education as well as brawn. He made his name in Manchester before being transferred to Scotland Yard two years ago. Changes in recruiting standards are finally having an impact. It's not just local boys from the working classes anymore. The Home Office has also helped by actively encouraging recruitment with an eye to presenting Law Enforcement as a viable professional career choice for educated young men."
"Well, you had a lot to do with that."
"Perhaps, but I should have started advocating for it long ago. It took me a while to see that in many ways I expected too much from the rank-and-file constables of the Metropolitan Police, and even their inspectors. As a group, they just don't have the ideal education, background and training. In the past, I expected chemistry insight from men without even basic exposure to science, observation skills from those never taught to see, and deductive capabilities from those never thought to question, explore, or even have an ounce of imagination. In these modern times, criminals are getting smarter and more creative. The men who capture them must be too. Thomas has a background and training in both chemistry and mathematics from the University of Manchester – and it shows. He sees, observes, and understands. He is bright enough to learn and is driven to self-improvement. He also has the capital gift of knowing what he does not know, while working hard to fill in the gaps. He's rising fast, and will go far."
"He sounds like a promising lad indeed, Holmes. Well, I'm off. You can tell me all about it tonight over dinner."
With that, I put on my coat and hat, grabbed my medical bag and cane, and headed for the door. I took a cab to Dr. Amesbury's practice. While riding through London, I briefly pondered my change in fortune. A few years ago, I would have walked. Now, older and richer, I find myself walking less and riding more. The day proved busy but uneventful. Respiratory illnesses like cold and flu, along with the usual odd sprinkling of arthritis cases and injuries took up most of the day. A broken arm from a 14-year old's prank gone wrong kept both of us later at the practice than we expected. Therefore, it was later than expected when I finally made my way back to Baker Street. I expected to see Holmes in our sitting room before me, but he had not returned yet.
Mrs. Hudson had thoughtfully made up the fire, and was ready with a restorative pot of hot tea. I thanked her and I settled down with the Evening Times to wait for Holmes to return. Both Mrs. Hudson and I expected him to actually appear for dinner. One of Holmes' newer habits, taken up to appease Mrs. Hudson, was to send word ahead of time if he wasn't going to make it home on time to eat - thereby sparing Mrs. Hudson the frustration and expense of a wasted dinner. He mostly kept his word on this, and when he could not, he usually had a decent explanation and a profuse apology. Like me, Mrs. Hudson celebrated the small victories where she could get them.
About 40 minutes after I arrived, I heard the front door followed by Holmes bounding up the stairs two at a time as usual. He came in clearly in a good mood, although he showed signs of fatigue after what had clearly been a busy day. "Greetings, Watson. I see you got here about 45 minutes ago."
"Holmes, how could you tell I have been here that long?"
"Elementary, Watson. You are far more relaxed than you would be if you had just been home for 15 or 20 minutes. There's tea in your cup, which means you are at least on your second cup - possibly third, as there is little steam coming from it. Also, I know how you peruse the evening papers. I can tell from how far you are into it that you have been hard at it for more than half an hour."
"I should have known. As always it sounds so trivial when you point it out."
Holmes made a face. "It always is Watson. You should know your own indicators by now. Is there any tea left in that pot?"
"At least a cup, possibly more, but it's no longer very hot. Shall I ring Mrs. Hudson for more?"
"Never mind, old man. I'll take what's there and wait for coffee with dinner. A pot of tea will only delay Mrs. Hudson further, and I suspect our dinner is already taxing her ability to keep it warm and fresh. I'll ring for dinner right away and make Mrs. Hudson a happy woman."
Holmes suited his actions to his words, and it wasn't long before we were settled in with Mrs. Hudson's dressed mutton with mint, carrots, peas and mashed potatoes. A bottle of one of Holmes' preferred burgundy wines completed the meal. As usual, especially when the dinner was first rate, Holmes talked of more trivial matters including a quick overview of how the newest inspector, Randolph Featherstone was getting on. Despite the light conversation I could tell from Holmes' demeanor that his day had been somewhat more eventful and constructive than average. I held off on asking him for details until we had finished off an excellent apple tart with our coffee, and were settled in front of the fire with glasses of Sherry
"So, Holmes, I can tell from your mood that your day was not a total loss. I take it you spent time on Adams St. today?"
Holmes gave me a broad smile. "Very good Watson! How could you tell?"
"The Steinway Jewelry Store robbery featured prominently in the evening papers. It is reported that the police have few leads, and the take was substantial. I expected that Lestrade would waste no time in bringing you into the case. Furthermore, you have signs of red paint on your right shoe. The evening papers also reported the red paint used to vandalize the front of the shop, and the two adjoining businesses."
"Bravo Watson! Well done! You have come a long way indeed. I did in fact spend much of the afternoon on Adams Street at the scene of the crimes."
"Crimes, Holmes? There were more than one?"
Holmes laughed. "Indeed, my friend. There were two crimes at that location. It is even possible that the jewelry theft was the lesser act of malfeasance. What Lestrade missed entirely was the purpose of the paint. All that paint was used to muddy the waters and obscure what was likely the true focus of the whole incident. It was Steinway's neighbor who was of greater interest. It's an insurance agent, Harold Baker by name, an up and coming seller of residential and commercial insurance policies. His business was also hit last night. While the jewelry theft looked like it was done with damage and maximum plunder as the goal, the insurance agent's theft was done with extraordinary finesse, indicating a wily and experienced professional who knew exactly what he was looking for. Indeed, Baker's senior assistant, Stephen Brewer by name, didn't even detect the theft until it was pointed out to him by yours truly"
"Really Holmes, what was taken and what was the paint for?"
"As always Watson you get right to the heart of it. The paint was to obscure the signs of breaking at Baker's state-of-the-art front door and lock. The paint helped to obscure any signs of foot traffic in the agency's interior. Their major security expense was the front door. Interior doors and safes, while in use, were both older and simple. It would take an expert's eye to determine that both safes and the back strong room had been penetrated by a true master of their craft. All in all, the whole enterprise exhibits many signs of singular interest. I rarely get a case like this, so it made for a most fascinating day."
"But what about the jewelry store, and what was taken from the insurance broker?"
"The jewelry store was a crime of opportunity – most likely just a distraction. It created enough chaos and immediate mayhem so that even the employees at Baker's would be distracted enough, and worried about broken glass and paint being tracked into their own business. They hoped that any signs of penetration into the agency's protected areas would be missed, possibly for days if they were ever found at all. As for what was taken, it seems a substantial number of bonds are missing, and for some insurance policies - the paperwork details have been altered."
"My word Holmes! I'm not sure I have ever heard of such a well-executed scheme. What is the likelihood the culprits will be brought to book?"
"I have high hopes, Watson. The mastermind behind this clever endeavor did not believe their handiwork would be discovered. A list of the missing bonds is already going out to all the usual trading houses while the people most likely to profit from, or be damaged by, altered insurance policies are being assembled by Baker's employees for Lestrade's team as we speak. I expect this will ultimately come down to a simple case of greed, combined with 'Cui Bono' – who benefits. The prompt detection of the central crime isn't going to help the culprits very much either. The jewelry theft was meant to look effective but commonplace. Anyone of a wide range of common criminals could have done that. The brokerage theft - not so many. That was subtle work, pointing to a rare type of expertise. I know of only nine people, twelve at the outside, who are at large, and who are currently not guests at her majesty's pleasure, who could do a job like that. Lestrade has the particulars and will do what is necessary to run them to ground. He may have missed the point entirely but now that he has been pointed in the right direction, I expect he'll do all right. Our friends at Scotland Yard have their skills and uses after all. Putting a fair number of men into action to track down experienced cracksmen, is one of them. He will bring me in when some progress has been made. I expect he will have the main players in hand in less than a week."
"Well done, Holmes! It seems like Lestrade is again in your debt. He probably would have muffed it entirely without your aid. More laurels for him again it seems. I wish you were more interested in your reputation. This is a significant pair of crimes. You should get the credit."
Holmes smiled ruefully. "Sorry old boy. I just don't have the need or interest. The challenge alone is reward enough. I wouldn't have missed this day for the world. Besides, I don't have to worry about any reputation as long as I have my Boswell. Although I don't think even you will find much of a story here. The major points of interest are largely solved already. The rest is just closure by the yard."
I sighed, thinking of what an interesting case this would have been. "I could have called it, 'The Red Paint Mystery.'"
Holmes chuckled and reached for the sherry decanter. "I am sorry that my day proved more interesting for me than for you. I am not sure there is much of interest for you in Sergeant Thomas's case either."
"Why Holmes? What is he working on?"
"He has an interesting puzzle, more of an intellectual exercise really, but not without its points of interest. The more I work with him, the more impressed I am by his intellectual curiosity, imagination, and observation skills. I also see why Lestrade, Gregson, and Hopkins are so happy to have me work with him. With the possible exception of Gregson, his quick mind, train of thought, endless questions, and curious way of approaching problems, would drive most of them absolutely crazy. They don't really know how to train him anymore. He's clearly marked for inspector, rather soon in fact. He just needs a bit more experience. The sooner he is promoted the better in my opinion. He does his work independently and resolves the issues put to him very quickly. That's why he is now working with several senior inspectors, as well as me. It is also why he has time left over for investigating more obscure matters. It's likely that he will be promoted soon - and given a backlog of unsolved and cold cases. It may not be fair, and may not help his case closure numbers, but the higher ups are aware of his rather unique talents. What's more, they really would like to see some of their older cases finally resolved."
"So, what is he working on now? Is it a cold case, something other inspectors could not resolve, or is it an active issue?"
"Actually Watson, it's all and none of the above. It is something he alone is looking into, largely in his free time when the inspectors don't have other tasks for him. They keep him busy so he's primarily working on this in his spare time after hours. Lestrade and the rest can't stop him. They admire his industriousness, focus, and ingenuity. While this work isn't an active investigation, something could come of it. It's relevant enough in its own way, and yet obscure enough that the only other person who could find it interesting is me."
"Well now you have my complete attention. Just pass me the sherry and tell me what he has found so interesting - or at least interesting enough to capture your attention as well."
"Well, as I said, it's a bit obscure. As I previously told you, Sergeant Thomas has a mathematics background. He likes to work on the physics of trajectories of fast-moving objects like bullets. He is also intrigued with using statistics and data analysis as a tool for predicting and preventing crime. As you well know, entirely too little research has been done in this area. Most law enforcement branches are still only focused on the rudimentary basics. Open cases, closed cases, types of murder, robberies, acts of violence, etc. Entire areas of investigation and possible speculation have not even been examined yet, or deemed worthy of data gathering efforts. While this entire area of investigation is of great interest to me personally, as well as certain people in Special Branch, and The Home Office, even I have had to prioritize basic techniques of observation, deduction, evidence gathering, and proper techniques for processing both a crime scene, and the evidence gathered. As you well know, the right evidence properly gathered is useless if someone doesn't know what to do with it. I am perpetually stuck in reactive mode, even with the most senior investigators in the yard. Proactive speculation and the types of data needed is a worthy, much neglected topic, but it has gone by the wayside due to lack of interest, and lack of minds to properly contemplate the issues involved. This is why I find Sergeant Thomas worthy of my time and attention. I only wish there were fifty more like him.
"He sounds ideal, Holmes!"
"Indeed. Anyway, he has been doing some data gathering and analysis on death by railroad accident, or more accurately, deaths and likely suicides by train, whether deliberate or misadventure. He went back to 1850, gathering data on the number of people who have died by being hit with a train, either in the open, at rail crossings, near rail yards, or at or near train stations. He confined his research to deaths in London, or in towns and communities within thirty miles of central London. He is looking for data on which cases were suspicious, or where foul play was suspected, unsolved cases, suicide - and which cases were ruled to be safety issues, or the fault of the railway companies themselves."
"That is fascinating, Holmes, but what drove his interest in the 1st place?" "Ah Watson, straight to the heart of the problem as usual. As you well know, I have so frequently stressed the difference between seeing and observing. Thomas has been looking deeply at this - and he observed an unusual trend that he believes warrants additional investigation."
"Thomas is concerned that there has been a recent increase in the deaths of young women, mostly poor young women, who have either fallen under trains or been pushed- a sharp trend upward since November of last year. I must commend his diligence, as he has names, locations, and circumstances most thoroughly documented."
"How fascinating! What has he discovered?"
"There's Miss Amy Patterson reported on the 2nd of November. she was found the day before outside a freight yard in the East End; A Miss Sally Cohen, a maid for a middle-class merchant selling teas and spices. Mr. Padgett Baker reported on the evening of the 5th that she fell or jumped off a pedestrian bridge, onto the tracks north of Paddington station. Then there is Miss Fiona O'Connell, reported on Wednesday the 21st of November, who fell on the track at Waterloo station, followed by Miss Miranda Wright, who fell off a balcony at a warehouse holding for on Tuesday the 5th of December. There's more, Watson, three more. One in late December, and the others early this year."
"How odd, Holmes. How does the warehouse death connect to deaths on the rail lines?"
"Because the warehouse overlooked the westbound tracks near the Bethnal Green station only feet away as the sparrow flies."
"How much of an anomaly are these deaths, Holmes? Sadly, people die by rail accident all the time - well perhaps not all the time, but certainly often enough. Did Scotland Yard investigate?"
"No, they did not in most cases, at least not thoroughly. As you know railway officials and authorities largely direct activities in their jurisdictions, for better or worse. Yes, the Metropolitan Police were informed, constables came to the locations, and took their usual ham-fisted version of notes after nosing around. However, nothing struck them as unusual, out of the ordinary, or indicative of foul play. Needless to say, none of the railway managers were interested in drawing any additional scrutiny beyond what was strictly legally necessary. As for the 'normal' level of death by railway misadventure, two young women over the space of three months is statistically closer to the norm, certainly no more than three. There have been seven young women in three months - more or less. Hence, the good sergeant's curiosity."
"Did Thomas want your opinion or is he looking for more?"
"Watson, I am not sure. I believe he's looking for a second pair of eyes, advice, a sounding board, and just some confirmation that he's not being unreasonable. He certainly doesn't want to waste his not so copious free time. If there's an effective way to further investigate, he definitely would like to pursue his investigations further in that direction."
"So, what has he done so far?"
"He has been delving into the unfortunate victims' pasts, looking for clues, patterns, causes, basically any glimmer of light. So far, all the young women seem to be random, with no connections. The connection, if any, is they were mostly poor lower working-class girls. Most of these girls were living by their wits, as in the case of Miss. Patterson, or in some low-ranked form of domestic service. All were between the ages of seventeen to twenty-two, and all had minimal education - although notably all had at least some skills. All of them could read, write, and do at least elementary arithmetic, a situation that as you know is by no means universal for young women in service."
"Of the seven, one name stands out. Miranda Wright had somewhat more education and more prospects. She was a milliner's apprentice at a small, but not uninspiring design shop: Rosalynn's Fashion Boutique. She was dutiful, conscientious, quite creative, enthusiastic, and well thought of. Her aunt had been Rosalynn Gerland's maid for close to ten years, and Mrs. Gerland was sufficiently impressed with the needlework and craftsmanship of the young Miranda at fifteen years old, that she took her on as a shop girl. The position grew into a more formal apprenticeship two years later - to the mutual satisfaction of all parties. It's also noteworthy that Mrs. Wright was engaged to one Bill Sullivan, an up-and-coming clerk at a growing midsized export firm. They were due to be married this June, on Saturday the 15th, I believe.
"How tragic, Holmes! That poor man. He must be utterly devastated. His future plans and happiness have been snatched away."
"Indeed Watson. In fact, it's her sudden, violent death that prompted Sergeant Thomas's first interest in these supposedly unrelated deaths. I said these deaths were all unrelated. That's not strictly true. Sergeant Thomas did go over all related notes and statements from witnesses. While not all these deaths had immediate eyewitness testimony, Thomas was able to get somewhat more detail than the original slim pickings that were available in every case. While investigators were not able to determine if these deaths were suicide or misadventure, they were able to rule out any sign of immediate foul play. None of these young women were pushed or assaulted in any way. All deaths where there were immediate witnesses reported that the women seemed confused, agitated, incoherent, or driven in some way. Miss Patterson was described as in a great hurry, perhaps as if she was being pursued. Each woman was described as undergoing a change in the day or two leading up to their death. Worried, secretive, withdrawn, restless, and agitated - one and all. As you can probably already foresee, Watson, these descriptions, along with no signs of foul play, pursuit, or other outside influence, are why railway officials and constables alike all quickly reached the conclusion of suicide, or self-directed misadventure."
"And Mr. Sullivan?"
"All the young women except for Miss Wright had nobody to speak directly against the official findings. While each woman had friends, confidants, and at least some family, even if distant, none of those close to them had sufficient certainty about the deceased state of mind, or immediate personal circumstances to declare otherwise against the official positions, except for Miss Wright."
"Bill Sullivan strongly defended Miss Wright's mental state as being sound, quite happy optimistic, pleased with her life and circumstances, and in no way inclined towards rash actions, melancholy, worry, mania, instability, or suicidal behavior. Unfortunately, he had not seen Miss Wright in four days due to a heavy workload at the office, although letters were exchanged. However, Mrs. Rosalynn Gerland did see Miranda in the days before her death. She reported Miss Wright as somewhat withdrawn and distracted. When pressed, Miss Wright said she was fighting frequent headaches, and having trouble sleeping. Mrs. Gerland, who was very fond of her best assistant, recommended she see a doctor. Miss Wright indicated she already had consulted someone already and would be right back to her old self in a few days. Mrs. Gerland was beyond horrified at the death of her close associate and could offer no rational explanation. She agreed with Mr. Sullivan in all particulars. Neither believed Miss Wright was unstable, suicidal or under any particular duress. The three other workers at the shop, along with Mrs. Lincoln, Mrs. Wright's landlady, all agreed regarding her state of mind. All those who knew her said that Miss Wright had everything to live for."
"You know Holmes, it is entirely possible that Miss Wright's death had no relationship to the other railway deaths. Indeed, it seems each of these deaths is a separate, unique event in and of itself. Life is complex, uncertain, and I dare say hazardous for anyone. There are millions of us, all packed into this vast city. Stranger patterns and coincidences are bound to eventually happen."
"I know it Watson. But you know how I mistrust coincidences. Yet everything you say is true. Unfortunately, there is little if any research available regarding how so many people interact, and what longer trends and patterns will emerge from so many lives all interacting with each other. For all we know, something well within the range of 'normal' may be going on here, especially for densely packed humanity."
"So, where did you leave it with Sergeant Thomas?"
"I told the good Sergeant that I would give all of this a generous amount of careful consideration over the next few days and would get back to him."
With that, our conversation drifted into other topics. I gave Holmes only the briefest account of my day. While the newly improved Holmes, back from his hiatus, was more solicitous and engaging regarding discussions about any current medical cases, I well knew that the real level of interest Holmes had was superficial and trivial at best. We eventually settled into separate tasks. I wrote up some notes on 'The Red Paint Mystery' or 'The Misdirection Mystery,' while Holmes updated his scrapbooks with his own personal elements of interest for the case. We passed the rest of the evening in companionable silence.
The following morning, I rose early, as I was opening the practice for Doctor Amesbury. As I arrived downstairs for breakfast, Holmes was there before me already well into his coffee, eggs, ham, and toast, clearly in a hurry to leave.
"Good morning, Watson. I'm off to the East End. Gregson sent a telegram, as he has a tidy little bit of unbridled mayhem for me to investigate. An incident, initially looking like a gang fight gone very wrong, took place around half three this morning at a warehouse storing rare and exotic woods down by the river. Two men are dead, with three more in a bad way in hospital. The owner, one Charles Baston, is claiming this was a well-organized attempt to steal a large shipment of Chinese mahogany, and his security employees acted in defense of life and property. Gregson says something doesn't feel right, so he wants me to survey the scene, talk to his employees, and the captured thieves - if that's who they really are. His telegram arrived before you awoke, and I've got five constables waiting on location. I'm planning on being home for supper, but you can never tell. Mrs. Hudson is bringing your breakfast and coffee. Take care old boy."
I barely had any time to wish him well before he gulped the last of his coffee, ate the last mouthful of egg, and grabbed two pieces of ham and some toast as an impromptu sandwich, before he was gone. His parting words with Mrs. Hudson, on the way upstairs with my breakfast, announced that I did not have long to wait. A quick glance through the Times was all I had time for before I too had to hurry out the door. Only a small three paragraph article announced the events at the lumber warehouse. I would have to wait until this evening to get the full details from Holmes.
My day was busy but with no events of special medical interest. Amesbury and I ultimately left later than we planned, due to the unexpected late afternoon arrival in the office of a young woman, who suddenly found herself in labor earlier than expected. To the wide-eyed shock of her young husband, who saw a lot more than the intimate details of childbirth than he had planned, a healthy girl of almost six lbs. became the happy couple's first child. I arrived back at Baker Street two hours later to find Holmes arrived just before me.
Over steak and kidney pie, and a very good bottle of claret, Holmes provided the missing details on the warehouse brawl.
"It is a violent, ugly business Watson. Three men are now dead, and a fourth is not expected to survive the night. The whole affair really does appear to be an ill-conceived plan to steal over thirty-three hundred pounds of expensive wood. The employees at Batson's establishment appear to be heading towards full exoneration, although days of dreary paperwork and legal proceedings remain. It is not wise to try stealing, when a determined, capable force is already entrenched on the home ground, and they are armed with pipes and hard lumber to hand as clubs. This one will go down as a particularly feckless example of how not to commit a robbery. Men died but nobody will hang for this one. Fools all. What a way to end a life!"
"It hardly seems like it was worth your time, Holmes. I wonder why Gregson couldn't sort it out."
"Oh, don't be hard on Gregson, my friend. There was enough chaos on the scene, and enough conflicting information, such that shedding light on the whole affair provided me with enough points of interest to make it worthwhile. I did manage to earn Mr. Baston's eternal gratitude - enough to receive enough wood for what will be an extremely fine hallway table for Mrs. Hudson come Christmas time, and two very fine walking sticks for both of us."
"Why thank you, Holmes. That is both unexpected and most appreciated. Speaking of appreciation, did you manage to help Sergeant Thomas on his 'railway girls' mystery today?"
Holmes shook his head. "I did put in quite a bit of time, and effort, mostly legwork on the good Sergeant's little problem today, both looking at medical reports, and interviewing several bored and indifferent railway administrators. I can tell you that nothing unusual, especially regarding foul play, came out of my investigations. If there is something outside the norm going on, it's not something that is going to leap out quickly, if at all. There really may be nothing here, and there's a lot of ground to cover. Thomas is willing to put in the time and work, even if just to gain additional insights and experience. I can and will continue to advise, look in, and help where I can, but this is not going to have a quick solution, or be a case with obvious clues and clear objectives. This is all old, cold data at best, with no beginning, discernible crimes, or even a pool of suspects. There's a lot of rocks in this field to overturn and that's without knowing if we are looking in the right field to begin with. I don't hold out much hope for any immediate progress or insight here. It is indeed possible that the Sergeant is chasing his tail, but it's his time to burn, as long as he doesn't do too much on Scotland Yard's time. He's an exceptionally bright prospect. I have often wished for a better, brighter breed of constable or inspector from the Metropolitan Police. I finally have one, so it's not too much of an imposition to invest some time and attention on him."
We talked no more about professional or case related issues that night. Both of us caught up on the newspapers we hadn't read that morning. I moved on to a recent copy of 'The Lancet,' while Holmes idled away on his violin, working on a Mendelson composition he was learning.
There were no new developments in the railway investigation for quite some time. Days passed, with me working either at Doctor Amesbury's practice, or filling in at St. Barts. Holmes and I did not see too much of each other as we both were putting in longer than usual hours in our own affairs. Holmes had two significant robbery cases and a fatal stabbing to occupy his time, while also conducting some detailed chemical research, with an eye towards publishing a monograph on tobacco additives. Sergeant Thomas did more investigation and analysis but was not able to find anything new to link the young women's deaths, or any signs of illegal activity. In one of their meetings, he and Holmes even talked about what type of new analysis and research may be needed to more fully understand the factors which caused people to take drastic measures in a densely crowded modern city.
It wasn't until eleven days later that the railway deaths once again became an active topic of immediate interest. Unfortunately, it wasn't new information, but rather another death of a young shop girl which was the catalyst driving Holmes' investment in what had originally appeared to be a tragic, but random sequence of events. As Holmes had told me for years, he had a strong dislike and mistrust of coincidences, and this latest death proved to be one coincidence too many. It was time to look much deeper, as something far beyond simple random chance appeared to be happening.
