by Jack Tunney
"How can you be certain of the murder weapon?"
A spasm shook my friend's frame. "Recall that cold night, Watson. I entered the smithy. Laid hands on the tools. The long tongs were colder to the touch than others. How was this possible in a shop not in use and cooled evenly by the weather outside? The tongs had to have been recently outside in order to be colder than the others. That night I combined this with the poisoned liquor, the lack of a struggle around the body and the finger of suspicion fell on Hayden. Once we learned Nigel Mathews, familiar to some degree with Tanner's habits, must have known Tanner would be elsewhere for some minutes, this led to the conclusion he must have had information about Peter Hayden which was unknown to his brother. "
I nodded in understanding. " Fred Mathews challenged Tanner over Nigel's death, not Hayden. Said knowledge had to have come from Midge who shared a circus background with Hayden and Tanner."
Lestrade had joined us by this time. He stood, hands on hips, staring down at the shrivelled, bleeding form of Holmes. "You've been through the ringer, sir, and no mistake."
"Never mind that," said Holmes. "Hayden. Did you get him?"
"We did not. The search continues." Lestrade turned to listen to a constable who had joined him, then turned back to us. "Gentlemen, we've got to get the lot we collared over to the station and a mountain of paperwork before our holiday begins. I've asked one of our drivers to wait with instructions to conduct you both home. I must beg your pardon for the means of transport as only a vacant black Maria is available at the moment."
Holmes smiled. "Well suited to our present needs. Thank you for the offer of a lift."
"Very good," said Lestrade, fastening his greatcoat. "I'll shall let you know when we have the dwarf in custody. A Happy Christmas to you both."
Lestrade stepped out into the tempest. A muffled exchange followed and we heard the rattle of wheels. Silence prevailed as Holmes and I perched on dusty crates in the empty warehouse.
Holmes rubbed his palms gingery across his swollen face. "Your pistol if you please, Watson."
So shocked was I by this that at first I was scarce sure I'd heard him correctly. I pulled it from my coat pocket and gave Holmes a questioning look.
"Come now, Mr. Hayden!" shouted Holmes. "Let's finish this business like gentlemen!"
The cry was met with silence. My eyes on Holmes, I strained my ears for any sound while Holmes leaned back and closed his eyes.
A scrape three feet from us startled me. A false panel in one of the crates separated from the rest as it was manipulated from the inside. A scuff of shoe leather and Peter Hayden emerged, his long face half obscured by shadow.
"Tanner! The big fool," said Hayden. "He'd become a liability to me – one I could not do without, I'm afraid. Funny that my downfall was precipitated by way of loyalty and soft feeling."
"Emotions and reason seldom make a good mixture," offered Holmes.
"That is correct. It had been my hope we would be on our way to America before Tanner could muck things up beyond saving. I underestimated his stupidity and allowed loyalty to cloud my judgment. And here we are."
Hayden came over and stood before us, his face in the weak light. Peering into his expressive eyes I could see the cunning and intelligence he had fought so hard to conceal while playing the servant.
"What was the source of the resentment you harboured towards Nigel Mathews?" asked Holmes.
"As a youth, he used to bring his father's payment to Tanner. I let Tanner run the gambling and collections and he was good at it."
"You took a great risk with the saw mill," said Holmes. "May I ask why?"
"Nigel Mathews was always cruel to me though he couched it in pleasantries," replied Hayden, his eyes grew hard. "At the end, I saw the chance to answer mock courtesy with faux currency."
"Was it really worth the risk?" asked I.
"Yes. And it was a calculated one at that. With money changing hands hastily all over the city during the holiday time, it was my intention to be at sea before Mathews, or others we had duped, knew they had been cheated. By then Tanner and I would be beyond their reach and they could not go to the law after all. How was I to know Fred and Nigel Mathews harboured such hatred for their father."
"Mathews did seek to purchase his father's debt from you?"
"Fool that he was! Selling off his livelihood for revenge against his father." Hayden shook his head in disbelief. "We all have our burdens to bear, correct?"
"As to your fellow thieves?"
"They were no friends of mine!" roared Hayden. "Looking down their noses at me, the disdainful looks. I suffered them while I built my empire. The law could not touch me. And I would have had my revenge on them all if not for you, Mr. Holmes."
"And how many innocents have you exploited?"
"Enough," said Hayden. "Enough to keep me beyond their sordid reach."
"They are free now," said Holmes. "The police shall see to that."
Holmes seemed emboldened by the rest and the satisfactory conclusion to the case. He defied my order and attempted to stand.
Pride only managed so much. He staggered and I helped him to sit. His breathing was fast and erratic once more and he leaned back to stare up at the ceiling as he struggled to calm his racing heart. I handed him his garments and he fumbled into them. Hayden made no move during this interval. He seemed resigned to his fate. I had to remind myself Hayden had personally broken the neck of Nigel Mathews and had ordered Fred to be rendered helpless and beaten to death in the ring. The man deserved no sympathy.
"The lengths you went to stop me," said Hayden, and there was pride in his voice as it trailed off.
"You heard the inspector," said Holmes. "A ride awaits us. If you are ready, sir."
"I am."
"May I commend you on the manner in which you yield to your fate," said Holmes.
"It was work capitol I began with the death of Nigel Mathews and I knew the stakes. I point out that no rope has yet been placed around my neck, sir," said Hayden. "I am not without resources. Shall we?"
Keeping Hayden in front of us, we stepped out into the snow which appeared to be tapering off. A call to the driver and the man hopped down from his perch and came around to the rear of the waggon. The lock clacked open and the rolling prison cell yawned before us.
Hayden bounded up the steps and was swallowed by the shadows within. I helped Holmes climb in and followed close behind. The driver offered his apologies before banging the door shut. With a lurch the police van began to roll.
The aura of the law around him had quieted Hayden and we proceeded for some time in silence. Holmes closed his eyes, his breathing controlled and steady – the perfect image of a man at rest after great exertion.
I could not make out Hayden's face in the gloom. The clouds broke about halfway through our journey and a shaft of moonlight found a crack in one of the maria's seals, casting a pale beam on the worn shoes of Peter Hayden where they dangled below the hard bench he sat upon. The rent in the cloud was soon closed and the beam cut off.
Holmes and I were to be the first to exit the waggon. It jerked to a halt and the driver swung the door open for us.
"A bit of a walk for the pair o' you, I'm afraid," said the driver. "It's Cleveland Street for me and the littl'un. But that's Carburt at the corner and that'll get yer to Denonshire, then Paddington and there you are."
We thanked him and assured him we'd see to securing the door. He clambered back aboard the black maria.
"One last question before we take our leave of you, Mr. Hayden" said Holmes. "Would you have released Arthur Mathews from his debt to you?"
"Yes," came the reply from the shadows. "He would no longer have been of use. And it occurred to me one good deed was in keeping with the spirit of the season."
"Very well, then." Holmes held the door a moment, staring inside. "I'd convey Christmas greetings to you, sir, if your condition did not preclude the opportunity of your making merry."
Hay
den slid off the bench and approached the open door. I slid my hand into my coat pocket as a precaution. From this position he was eye to eye with Holmes.
"There is but one difference between us, Mr. Holmes," said Hayden. "You are permitted to leave this cell whereas I must work at it. Nothing more."
EPILOGUE
The snow still fell handsomely, but the wind had dropped off as we made our way back to Baker Street on foot. There was no hope of ever finding a cab at this hour on Christmas eve.
To take our minds off the cold, I tossed a question or two at Holmes.
"How do you account for Hayden's confidence, Holmes? Is it mere bluster or do you think he has a chance of escaping the hangman's noose?"
"I suspect an examination of the holdings, and anything else pertaining to the crime ring, will be in the name of Ezekiel Tanner. Hayden was diabolically clever in that regard. And the prosecution will have to prove he killed Nigel Mathews. Tanner might give evidence against him to save his own hide, then again, he may not. Not hampered by the law, I was able to establish Hayden is guilty of murder, as well as a host of other crimes. It does not always go so easy in a court of law. If called upon, I will assist the police. If not, and Hayden escapes justice, we will have at least taken all he worked so hard to amass. And I will keep my eyes and ears open for his name should he try to operate again in London."
The streets were void of humanity. Sounds of revelry, laughter and good fellowship seeped through the closed, frost-rimed windows of the lighted houses as we made our way along the snowy streets.
"You demonstrated a most interesting fighting technique toward the end of your clash with Tanner," observed I. "Wherever did you learn it?"
"Some years back I met a man by the name of Edward William Barton-Wright," replied Holmes. "He had travelled extensively through Asia and India and had been developing a science of self-defense which included various disciplines – everything from Japanese wrestling, British boxing, and French savate to name just a few. Seeing the benefits of this technique for my chosen career, I began training with him in earnest before his affairs called him east once more."
"Fascinating. What did he call this discipline?"
"He has toyed with the name bartitsu, using a portion of his surname combined with jujitsu, since many elements of that technique are present. And he may teach the method to the public at some point down the line. I preferred the name baritsu myself. Well, what is in a name after all? I asked him to stop in the next time he is in London as the technique presents endless possibilities."
Holmes grew weaker by the minute. Our journey had taxed the reserves of his strength. He tried to mask his fatigue, but failed utterly. I broke off our conversation so he might conserve his energy.
A low windowsill to an underground dwelling presented itself up ahead beneath a weakly flickering street light. As I had taken Holmes under the arm by this time, I eased him down upon the sill and breathed deeply of the clean air. The night was still, silent, the snow falling gently. Our work was done and home and hearth lay ahead.
Faint singing reached our ears. The sound grew in intensity as the singers approached. On the opposite corner ahead, a group of carolers appeared. Four in number, and in the midst of a tune I did not recognize, they drew near the roadway, smooth with a fresh blanket of snow, separating us. Seeing Holmes and I dimly in our gloomy spot, the quartet paused and regaled us with a verse:
O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.
Holmes smiled faintly at the song, closed his eyes and nodded his head. I stepped out of the shadow and into the middle of the road to doff my hat in appreciation. The singers moved on, their tune fading until we heard it no more. Returning to Holmes, I got my shoulder under him for support and we continued on toward Baker Street.
THE END
KEEP READING FOR EXTRA CONTENT
FIGHT CARD:
SHERLOCK HOLMES
EXTRAS
GLOSSARY
Work Capitol: A crime that carries the death penalty.
Adam's Ale: Water
Beak: Magistrate
Betty: A type of lock pick
Blabber: mouth
Blood or Beer: Fight or shut up and drink
Blower: Informer.
Bludger: A violent criminal; one who is apt to use a bludgeon
Blue Bottle: A policeman
Boat, get the (Boated): To be sentenced to transportation. To receive a particularly harsh sentence
Bone: Good or profitable
Bottom: Guts, bravery
Broad Arrow: The arrow-like markings on a prison convict's uniform. "Wearing the broad arrow" = In prison
Bruiser: A Boxer
Cagg: abstain from liquor
Chapel, the: Whitechapel
Cool: Look, look at this/it
Coopered: Worn out, useless
Corned: Drunk
Crabshells: Shoes
Crapped: hung, hanged
Crooked cross, to play the: To betray, swindle or cheat
Crow: A doctor
Crush: run from the police
Dewskitch: A beating
Do a Scoot: flee, do a runner
Down: "To put down on someone" means to inform on that person
Downy: Cunning
Draw the Long Bow: To tell extravagant stories
Earth Bath: grave
Eternity Box: A coffin
Family, the: The criminal Underworld
Fancy, the: The brethren of the boxing ring
Fizzing: First-rate, very good, excellent; synonymous with stunning
Flash house: A public house patronized by criminals
Gargler: throat
Gatter: Beer
Gattering: A public house
Go By The Ground: A little short person, man or woman
Gonoph: A minor thief, or small time criminal
Gulpy: Gullible, easily duped
Jolly: Disturbance or Fracas
Klat: Talk
Know life, to: To be knowledgeable in criminal ways
Leg :A dishonest person, a sporting cheat or tout
Mandrake: a Homosexual
Monkery: the country, nature
Mumper: Begger or scrounger
Nose in the Manger: To put one's nose in the manger, to sit down to eat
Oration trap: mouth
Peelers: Police
Pocket: To put up with. A man who does not resent an affront is said to pocket it
Prig: A thief
Ran-tan: To be on the ran-tan, to be roaring drunk
Rawsman: bare knuckle boxer
Reader: Pocketbook or wallet
Ream: Superior, real, genuine, good
Reeb: Beer
St. Peter's Needle: Severe discipline
Snide pinching: Passing bad money
Snorer: nose
Toffken: A house containing well-to-do occupants
A STRAIGHT LEFT AGAINST
A SLOGGING RUFFIAN
SHERLOCK HOLMES AND
THE SCIENCE OF DEFENSE
When the trailer for the first Robert Downey Jr. Sherlock Holmes film was released, it took less than a nanosecond for the Holmesian world to tremble. The film portrayed everyone's favorite consulting detective as a kick-ass action star, which did not sit well with Holmes traditionalists.
To this day, I'm not quite sure why.
In the original tales, Doyle describes Holmes as an expert in Baritsu, making him a mixed martial artist. He is also described as a crack shot, good with a sword and singlestick fighting. And, yes, Holmes is not just proficient at boxing, but good enough to turn pro according to a former boxer he goes toe to toe with in one of the canonical tales.
&nb
sp; For the sake of this piece, we'll concentrate on boxing. In The Sign of Four, Holmes reminds the former boxer, McMurdo, that he had fought an exhibition bout with him at Alison's rooms four years previously – a scene I use to kick off my Fight Card Sherlock Holmes tale – and McMurdo's comment that Holmes could have turned pro if he so desired is not faint praise coming from a former professional fighter well aware of the dangers of the ring.
Later in the canon, Holmes gets involved in a bar fight in The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist and uses his boxing skills against a slogging ruffian to come out on top. He alludes to having a tooth punched out in the waiting room of Charing-Cross in The Adventure of the Empty House without further explaining the event, which left me free to do so in my tale.
So where did he acquire his boxing skills? They can't be mastered from a book, can they? The only answer is Holmes mastered them in the ring. His bout with McMurdo simply could not have been his first and last. It's clear Holmes had taken the time to learn how to hit and get hit, developing his skills by applying what he learned.
So what's the problem? Holmes is a tough customer. It's as simple as that. Given his chosen profession, he would have to be able to defend himself, right? My opinion is the naysayers were used to reading Doyle's descriptions of Holmes merely possessing these abilities whereas the new films showed Holmes demonstrating these abilities.
Holmes as an action star? You betcha! It's how Doyle conceived and portrayed him and holds true for the current incarnations. We got to see Jeremy Brett demonstrate Holmes's boxing skills back in the day and though Benedict Cumberbatch has yet to throw 'em, the Downey films are full of Holmes fights, and even the folks behind Elementary have given us Jonny Lee Miller showing us Holmes working off his frustrations on the heavy bag in a recent episode.
