by Ian Wright
“Come along, Watson,” he called, as he climbed through the window. Watson followed suit and, together, they ascended the steps of the fire escape.
Below in the street, a small crowd had gathered, eagerly looking up at the roof. Lestrade and two officers were standing at the top of the fire escape. Holmes approached the top of the four-storey building, noticing the frost that had settled on the iron staircase, making it slippery.
As he joined the police officers at the top of the fire escape, he heard a voice shout, “Stay where you are!” He looked in the direction of the voice and saw Wood balancing precariously on the top of the roof, holding onto a chimney.
Watson joined the others at the top of the fire escape. Upon seeing Wood, he quietly said, “My God, Holmes. Do you think he will jump?”
Holmes did not acknowledge the question, but instead asked Lestrade, “Have you tried to get him to come down from there, Inspector?”
“Yes we have, Holmes. He won’t come down. He said that he wants to speak to you and won’t move until he has done so.”
“Very well, let us play his game,” replied Holmes. He moved himself in front of the police officers and called out, “Wood, this is Sherlock Holmes. What is it that you wish to tell me?”
The murderer looked over at Holmes and, in a mocking voice, called, “I intend to give you a chance to satisfy your insatiable need to catch criminals, Mr. Holmes.”
Holmes felt the scorn in Wood’s words, as he asked, “What do you mean, Wood?”
“You now know that I am the murderer you have been seeking, Mr. Holmes. Well, come and catch me.”
The great detective stood perfectly still, and waited to see how a lack of action, on his part, might provoke Wood.
He did not have to wait long, as Wood began to taunt, “Come on, Mr. Holmes. It’s cold up here. I don’t want to stay up here all night. Are you too afraid to catch me?”
“Very well, Wood. I shall come and get you.”
“You can’t! Don’t be a fool, Holmes,” pleaded Watson.
“I must,” replied Holmes, as he looked back at Watson. He then smiled and started to climb up a ladder that was fastened to the side of the roof from the fire escape to the top of the building.
The frost lay quite thick on the apex of the roof, making progress exceptionally dangerous for Holmes. He knelt down and slowly started to make his way along the rooftop, towards Wood.
Holmes felt his heart beating heavily, as he carefully inched his way along. His hand fell upon a loose slate, which slid out of place causing him to tip and loose his balance. He grabbed the top of the roof with his other hand to stop himself from falling off. He pulled himself back into position and held his breath, as he remained motionless whilst regaining his courage. When he overcame the shock of almost falling, he slowly continued along the rooftop.
“It’s a beautiful sight, do you not agree, Mr. Holmes?” said Wood. Holmes stopped and looked over to the murderer, still clinging onto the chimney, whilst looking out at the view.
Holmes looked out in the same direction as Wood and had to admit that it was a beautiful view. The lights emanating from the city shone brightly against the backdrop of the night sky. Below, there was a thin band of mist coming from the river but, otherwise, the night was clear.
When Holmes was about six feet away from Wood, he looked over to him and asked, “Have you any intention of coming back off of this roof with me?”
“I spent a great deal of time thinking whilst I was incarcerated, Mr. Holmes. The best games take a great deal of time to conceive and plan, and this one is no exception. The game’s a head, Mr. Holmes. Remember those words? Yes, it was I who said those to you. I have been leading you along a path that I devised long ago. I have anticipated every move that you would make in my game.”
“I realised that you were taunting me, Wood. It was obvious that you were leaving clues, like bread crumbs, for me to follow. But now, here we are on this roof and your options are, decidedly, limited. What do you intend to do, Wood?”
The murderer seemed calm, as he smiled and continued, “Every game has a winner and a loser, Mr. Holmes. You have played your part in the game well, but now it is over. It is time to find out who wins.”
Wood stood tall on the roof and shouted, “Play on, Sherlock Holmes,” as he let go of the chimney, slid down the roof and fell off the edge. Holmes watched, in horror, as Wood fell through the air, his arms and legs flailing around and his voice screaming in terror. His fall was abruptly halted as he hit the top of a street lamp. The pointed top of the lamp pierced Wood’s stomach and his screaming immediately stopped. Wood’s impaled body violently twisted and contorted, as he tried to free himself. Blood spewed from his mouth onto the pavement and road below.
The onlookers on the pavement had all backed away, and all had their attention transfixed on the writhing body above. Blood ran down the glass of the gaslight rendering its glow red, as Wood continued to struggle.
As life started to slip away from Wood, his movements became weaker and slower. His head dropped and his legs hung still. The only movement was a slight clawing of his hands, but this, too, soon stopped. His arms and legs started to twitch for a few seconds and then he became perfectly still.
Holmes, witnessing this spectacle from above, knew that Stephen Wood was dead.
Chapter 10
Curling veins of smoke rose from the pipe clasped in Sherlock Holmes’ hand, as he sat in his favourite armchair at 221b Baker Street. He looked over at Dr. Watson, who was standing by the window and looking out at a bright, sunny morning.
“Watson, I have been thinking about this case, or ‘game’, as Wood described it. Just before he fell to his death, he mentioned that every game has a winner and a loser. He went on to say that it was time to discover the winner of his game. It seems to me that, ultimately, he was the winner.”
Holmes puffed on his pipe, waiting for Watson’s response.
Watson turned from the window and asked, “How can you say such a thing, Holmes? After all, Wood is dead.”
“That is true, Watson,” smiled Holmes. “However, his game was about making a travesty of our legal system. He even wrote that the ‘law is devoured’ in one of his notes, and he managed to manipulate events to make that statement true.”
“I fail to understand. Would you please explain yourself?” asked Watson, with a puzzled expression on his face.
“As you are aware, Watson, there were six intended victims that Wood had planned to kill, including us. All six played their respective roles within the legal system, resulting in Stanley Wood being sentenced to death. The six people abided by the law and received no reward for doing so. The law also judged Stephen Wood insane and he was placed in an asylum, accordingly.”
“I still don’t follow you, Holmes.”
“This is where the travesty occurs, old man. The same legal system, that was indebted to the six people, decided Stephen Wood was sane and, subsequently, released him. In doing so, it, effectively, sentenced the six people to death. So, it proves that we have a foolish legal system that, unwittingly, assisted Stephen Wood in his dark plan. Six people helped the legal system to sentence a maniac to death, and the same system allowed four of them to be murdered.”
“Come now, Holmes. You can’t believe that. After all, we are still alive. That proves that Stephen Wood didn’t achieve his objective.”
“Are you certain, Watson? Perhaps we were meant to escape with our lives. When Wood told me that his game was over, he realised that I knew he had won. I believe that he always intended to kill himself; it was the final part of his game. I believe he was well aware that our final encounter would be his day of reckoning. He had planned to either kill me, or take his own life.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“After failing to kill me, his other option was to ensure that I should live with the knowledge that I could never catch him. He knew that his game was over, but that mine would not end if he,
ultimately, evaded me. I believe that is why his final words were ‘play on, Mr. Holmes’. He knew that I would play on. He left this world with the satisfaction of having escaped justice. At the same time, he knew that I will never be deterred in my endeavours to catch criminals. Perhaps, his final words were a compliment to my enduring tenacity for fighting crime.”
Watson wondered how his friend’s mind always managed to make such amazing connections when interpreting evidence. He had learned a great deal having helped Holmes work on many cases, but he could never see things in the same way as the great detective.
A small smile broke out on Watson’s face as he remarked, “Holmes, have you considered the fact that Stephen Wood can no longer harm anyone? He will never again be a burden to the state, or to society, in general. That is in no small part due to your efforts, so I believe that it is you that won, not him. Also, we are now in a position to inform Miss Spencer that her sister’s killer is now dead.”
Holmes glanced up at Watson and a smile broke out on his face. “You are quite right, old fellow. Wood has gone and the world is a better place for it. We will go and inform Miss Spencer of the news, shortly.”
Holmes settled back in his chair, feeling contented, as he watched the curling veins of smoke rise from the pipe he clasped in his hand.
