Sherlock Holmes

by Keisuke Matsuoka

  Nicholas approached the reclining chair. He never once glanced in Sherlock’s direction; the Romanovs were not in the habit of exchanging pleasantries with the workers they employed. But it was also only natural that Nicholas was feeling dour, considering the unpleasant procedure to come.

  He sat down before the mirror and asked a question in Russian. There was a slight tremble in his voice. Most likely he was asking something to the effect of: Will it hurt? How long will this take?

  Ito had been watching silently, but now slowly approached until he stood directly behind Nicholas. Nicholas did not immediately notice his presence. Ito stared at Nicholas’ reflection in the mirror, speaking softly in English.

  “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  Nicholas’ expression became startled. He spun around, staring upward at Ito. “Who are you? You’re not the tradesman I was expecting.”

  Sherlock, who had been standing against the wall, walked towards the chair as well. “Please forgive the imposition, Your Highness. This is the Chairman of the Privy Council, Hirobumi Ito.”

  Nicholas’ eyes widened. His eyes ran up and down Ito’s clothing.

  It was no surprise he had a hard time believing them, Ito thought, considering he was dressed in the same rickshaw driver’s uniform as previously, with the livery coat and apron, workman’s trousers and tabi. He had no idea what the Nagasaki tradesmen usually wore, but Sherlock had insisted the Russians would never know the difference. The English detective himself had gained entry wearing his usual frock coat, claiming to be Ito’s translator.

  Getting inside had been that simple. They had kept watch on the legation through binoculars, and confirmed that Ambassador Shevich and Lt. Colonel Kanevsky were confined to a meeting room somewhere else.

  Nicholas leapt to his feet and rushed toward the door, shouting something in Russian. Sherlock spun around, blocking Nicholas’ path. “A moment, Your Highness. Before your guards throw us out, ask yourself, are you entirely in the right in this situation?”

  “What do you mean?” Nicholas stared at him.

  “You have entered the country without permission, and without the knowledge of the Japanese government. Inside the legation you are protected by extraterritorial privilege, but in order to return home, at some point you will need to step outside the building. If anyone should spot you, it would provoke an international incident.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Trying to say? Rather, let me ask what you planned to do here today. Why should you come here if you have no need of a barber—which clearly you do not? You were informed, I believe, that the tattooist from Nagasaki had arrived two days early. Your appointment was undoubtedly with him.”

  Nicholas’ face betrayed that he was dumbfounded. He finally glanced around the room and realized the three of them were not alone.

  His confusion was instantly replaced with anger. “Chekov! And even Miss Luzhkova! What is the meaning of this!”

  In the corner of the barber’s room, Chekhov and Anna cowered. “Please forgive us, Your Highness,” Chekhov said falteringly. “We lied when we said that the tattooist had arrived early. Only…”

  “Your Highness!” Anna’s voice was shrill and panicked. “We are prepared for arrest, if it comes to that. But I beg you, please understand. Mr. Holmes already knew everything.”

  Nicholas turned toward Sherlock in astonishment.

  “Would you do us the honor of rolling up your right sleeve?” Sherlock requested quietly. “As you yourself must know, that in itself will be more than ample proof.”

  Silence descended on the room. Nicholas gave Sherlock a stubborn look, but soon gave in. He unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve.

  Ito swallowed hard. He could not believe his eyes.

  Nicholas’ tattoo—the dragon tattoo he had received in early May—was not there!

  Of course, Ito had never actually seen the tattoo for himself. When he and the Emperor had visited the Tsarevich in Kyoto, Nicholas had been wearing long sleeves.

  Nicholas rolled his sleeve back down with an air of apprehension. “Mr. Holmes, is it? Are you related to the famous Sherlock Holmes?”

  “No. I am the famous Sherlock Holmes.”

  “But I heard you were dead.”

  “Those reports are false,” Ito answered. “As a result Ambassador Shevich believes that Mr. Holmes is a spy. On my honor, however, I swear to you that Mr. Holmes and I have come to help you.”

  Nicholas glanced at Chekhov. “You’ve betrayed our confidence?” Chekhov and Anna shrunk into the corner, shaking their heads back and forth frantically.

  “Your Highness,” Sherlock said softly. “I arrived at the truth quite on my own, I assure you. You did not in fact visit Japan from April to May of this year. It was your brother, Grand Duke George, who visited in your stead.”

  Ito reeled. “His brother? That cannot be!”

  “But it can,” Sherlock said implacably. “Grand Duke George was attacked by Sanzo Tsuda, and still remains in critical condition.”

  Ito could not make sense of it. It was absurd—Grand Duke George was in Paris, resting after an extended campaign of public service. When Nicholas had visited Japan, he’d met with Prince Takehito Arisugawa, interpreter Naohide Madenokoji, Governor Takeaki Nakano of Nagasaki, and even Duke Tadayoshi Shimazu. And above all, he had even met His Grace the Emperor.

  In the past, His Grace had met Nicholas during official functions. And Ito had been present with His Grace at the hotel in Kyoto. Surely they should have noticed if Nicholas and his brother had traded places.

  Nicholas sighed. “You are an Englishman. I suppose that means the entire world now knows the truth?”

  “Hardly. I have yet to inform a soul. I have deduced these facts based on your dealings with Siam and Japan, but I would now like to hear your own account of events, if you might do me that kindness. Though I am capable of discerning how events unfolded, only you may say what your state of mind was at the time.”

  Nicholas paced in the silence, his expression disconsolate. Then his feet came to a stop. “George is three years younger than me, but he was always tall, unlike me. He is handsome and lively. Mother always fussed over me, so he would cause mischief to get her attention.”

  “The English newspapers often run stories concerning the Romanov family,” Sherlock said. “Perhaps other countries’ papers do as well. The papers say that your father is very strict, and has instituted English education for his children. He kept your chambers Spartan, made you sleep in military beds, woke you up at six in the morning, and forced you to take cold baths.”

  Nicholas frowned with one corner of his mouth. “Mother ran us hot baths from time to time. She was kind. Mother taught us the importance of family.”

  “And Grand Duke George…”

  His voice turned soft. “George was the smartest of us all. Like Mother, he liked society. He and I were very close. We had all the same tutors, we grew up in nurseries next to each other. We both began English lessons at age six, but he improved much more swiftly than I. And we advanced to the program at the Academy of the Russian General Staff together. By then we were fluent in French, and passable at German and Danish. We often went sporting and fishing together as well.”

  “But your brother’s health deteriorated?”

  “It did.” A shadow crossed over Nicholas’ face. “I believe the symptoms were first discovered shortly before he came of age. Tuberculosis. He has struggled ever since.”

  “Your brother caught cold during your tour of the East and was sent home, out of caution. It was for health reasons.”

  “Yes. The entire trip was on our parents’ suggestion—demand, rather. They wanted us to travel from October of last year to August of this, through all those small regions where the British squabble with us for influence. I had never wanted to go but George
was looking forward to the trip. So I decided to make the most of it; at least I’d have him.”

  “I gather you were not particularly interested in visiting Japan, then, either?”

  Nicholas nodded. “None of it suited me. Culture bores me. I detest reading, and find theater and art tedious. The only part I enjoyed was seeing the dancing girls as we travelled down the Nile. I know you are an Englishman, but I found the sight of the British red coats in India to be completely dismaying. And naturally I had no interest in China or Japan. I had heard how barbaric they are.”

  Ito had a question. “While you were in Egypt and India, did you not say you were looking forward to your visit to Japan?”

  But Sherlock only had to gesture at Chekhov and Anna. The two lowered their heads in chagrin.

  Of course. That had also been a lie—designed to conceal the fact that Nicholas and George had traded places.

  Nicholas snorted. “My brother was the one who wished to visit Japan. He was constantly telling me everything he wanted to see, but I found it impossible to relate. Japan is an uncivilized place. I knew it would be dangerous to visit, I knew it all along!”

  Nicholas is remarkably childish for his age, thought Ito. He had all the entitlement one would expect of aristocracy. He highly doubted their father really had been as strict as the rumors said, looking at the result. Besides, it was easy to imagine how much the mother probably doted on him. Nicholas was selfish and ignorant of the ways of the world—unbecoming traits in a crown prince. He was stubborn in his preferences, and chose to run away, rather than change, when faced with anything that displeased him. What he’d said about not even wanting to look at the British officers in India was a perfect case in point—England was Russia’s greatest rival, after all.

  “When did your brother fall ill?” Sherlock inquired.

  “He developed bronchitis around when we got to Bombay. We hoped that the warmer climates would help him, but they had the opposite effect. George left the ship and returned to the Caucasus region with Chekhov and the others. It was a real blow. I had never wanted to go on the trip to begin with. Now there was even less reason to look forward to it.”

  “Your brother joined you again later, though.”

  “He did.” Nicholas lowered himself to sit on the reclining chair. “He recovered nicely when I was in Singapore. He expressed interest in continuing the trip. Only…”

  He glanced at Chekhov. Chekhov nodded and picked up the story. “His Highness Grand Duke George wished to rejoin the envoy, but His Imperial Majesty the Emperor sent a letter instructing him to instead recuperate in the Maldives. His Highness the Grand Duke consulted with Tsarevich Nicholas at this point…”

  “Yes, he did.” A small smile flickered across Nicholas’ face. “When I got George’s letter in Singapore, I was overjoyed. I told him to join me and we would keep it a secret from our parents together. George was back aboard the Pamiat Azova before we set sail for Siam.”

  “Naturally I assume you travelled with the Grand Duke?” Sherlock directed to Chekhov and Anna.

  “We did,” Anna replied. “We were aboard the ship from then on, seeing to His Highness Grand Duke George’s health along with the doctor.”

  “One of the many annoyances during our time in Egypt and India,” Nicholas said, “is that wherever we travelled, people constantly confused George and I. He is taller and more sociable, and so many assumed he was the elder brother. This isn’t the first time this has happened; people have been confusing us for one another since we were children. So before we arrived in Siam, George and I concocted a plan. I was not enjoying myself at all, whereas my brother very much looked forward to the trip. Why not disembark in my place, and pass himself off as crown prince?”

  Ito couldn’t believe his ears. “Ridiculous! The Tsarevich and Grand Duke may have some small resemblances in their faces, but they are hardly twins. The difference must be obvious!”

  Nicholas turned toward Ito. “Chairman Ito, do you have any brothers?”

  “No.”

  “Of course. Brothers may not look or think alike, but to have a brother is to have a natural conspirator. Siam is a closed country, not a British or Dutch colony. We had no intention of ever returning to Siam, so what was the harm? We had help from my cousin, King George of Greece, as well.”

  “It isn’t the first time they have done this,” Chekhov ventured tremulously. “Even in Russia, when visiting the smaller country villages, His Highness Grand Duke George often went in His Tsarevich’s place.”

  Nicholas’ face creased in displeasure. “Do not say he ‘went in my place.’ That reflects poorly on me. George enjoys travelling, but there were few official duties to take him from home. Our interests simply aligned.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Chekhov submitted humbly. “If I could be forgiven for saying so, however, while such behavior may have been overlooked in your youth, now that you are an adult…And in recent years, they have made stunning breakthroughs in photographic technology. There is even the Kinetoscope.”

  It was an unfamiliar term. “The Kinetoscope?” Ito asked.

  Anna explained. “It is a moving picture machine invented by Edison. The Tsarevich and his brother resemble each other somewhat in facial features, but it would be as easy to distinguish them through a Kinetoscope, with gestures and facial expressions, as it would be to distinguish them in person.”

  “We already discussed this at length,” Nicholas said impatiently. “With his health as poor as it is, George would never have this opportunity again. He was so looking forward to visiting the Far East. He deserved to go. Besides, it’s hardly as if the Kinetoscope has made it over to these backwaters.”

  “Are you saying that Grand Duke George was sent to attend on the King of Siam in your place?” Ito snapped, exasperated.

  “We told Tsarevich Nicholas it would be most disrespectful.” Chekhov’s voice cracked. “But Grand Duke George was doing much better, and they promised this would be the last time…We agreed to allow them to swap, but only in Siam and Japan.”

  “What’s that?” Ito was obviously taken aback. “Only Siam and Japan?”

  “Those are the only two countries from their trip that are independent nations,” Sherlock said quietly, “free from colonial rule.”

  “And also we assumed they were less advanced,” Nicholas added completely indifferently. “For instance, we knew that the Siamese royal family prohibited newspaper correspondents from entering the country.”

  Ito was beginning to find Nicholas’ attitude very provoking. “I imagine Your Highness’ opinion had begun to change after seeing our country for yourself.”

  “True, it is much more modern than I had expected. But we had no way of knowing that before.” Nicholas sounded surprisingly contrite. “We did not bring the military photographer ashore in Siam to make sure there wasn’t any evidence.”

  Chekhov sighed. “The entire crew was operating in the utmost secrecy, including the captain. Naturally, not even the palace was informed.”

  Sherlock stared at the young man. “So you thought if you did not take photographs you would be safe?”

  Nicholas’ face clouded over. “Unfortunately, we learned later that the Siamese had taken shorthand notes. Things George said contradicted with what I had said earlier in other countries.”

  “So officially you said you wanted to compare records, but in fact you were hoping to revise the Siamese records to better match your own official views.”

  “My brother’s statements were not the only problem. Some newspaper correspondents had paid local Siamese press to do some reporting for them. George had even been photographed in secret, from afar.”

  “Luckily for you, the photographs were all unclear,” Sherlock filled in. “None of the newspapers realized they actually depicted Grand Duke George. The Russian court has offered a large sum to purcha
se those negatives, the goal being to remove them from circulation.”

  “Since the photographs were developed using rudimentary technology, they will likely deteriorate in a number of years. The negatives, however, are a different story. If someone enlarged them they might realize it was George.”

  Sherlock nodded. “You worried the same situation might occur in Japan, so you didn’t inform the reporters of your itinerary. Instead, the Grand Duke snuck out in secret.”

  “Yes. Of course I’d met the Emperor before all this, so the plan was that I would go in person for only the Tokyo portion of the trip. At any rate, Japan agreed with George greatly, and he showed little reserve in his travels. He even visited the homes of commoners. And of course, everyone he met were people he’d never met before. I’m sure he assumed that no one in Asia would be able to tell the difference between him and I. And even the dignitaries were fooled. There were no reporters, everyone bowed their heads on the street, and cameras are not popular here with the public. Photographs were prohibited. I wrote my diary entries based on George’s letters, just as I had in Siam.”

  Ito didn’t understand. “But there were photographs taken during your visit, I am sure of it. I saw them myself at the newspaper offices. It was clearly you in those photographs, sitting in a rickshaw.”

  Sherlock held up a hand to stop Ito. “Your Highness, you must have been very shocked when you heard of what occurred in Otsu.”

  Nicholas groaned. “Shocked! I could hardly believe it. The entire Pamiat Azova was in a panic. I was desperate to know if my brother was safe. I could not rest.”

  “Were you worried for your brother?” Sherlock asked coldly. “Or were you more worried that the Emperor of Japan was on his way to see him? You received notice that he wished to check on your brother’s well-being, I believe.”

  Nicholas closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “And my heart nearly fell out of my chest. I consulted with the officers and other attendants. We decided I should switch with George before the Emperor arrived. He had been sent to Tokiwa Hotel—if we had admitted him to a hospital there would have been records. We snuck ashore in secret, and travelled to the hotel by carriage.”