He paused, letting the words fill the air and settle around us. I knew my own answer, but could not be sure that Holmes would acquiesce.
“Let me speak plainly—we are all men of the world here. If you disagree, or at some later date say something inappropriate, we will have little choice but to destroy you.”
It was a cold threat, but one I knew he could and would keep, which unleashed a chill shiver and set it to running from the nape of my neck all the way down to the base of my spine.
“You owe us a debt,” Holmes said. I closed my eyes, dreading the next words to leave my companion’s mouth. “It is one I am minded to have you pay immediately. Dr. Watson and I will agree to your terms but only on one condition.”
“Name it,” the man in black said.
“As we have said, this all began with the search for the whereabouts of Lieutenant Norbert Wynter, late of the Dido, one of the casualties of Sorrow’s Crown. Someone not only did him the disservice of listing him as Missing in Action, but went so far as to besmirch his name with whispers of desertion.”
“While I have a great many powers, raising the dead is not among them.”
“You may though, possess the ability to bring a measure of peace to his widowed mother,” Holmes countered. “I want his record restored, his reputation burnished, and his mother properly accommodated for not only losing her son, but for her long months of uncertainty and anguish.” The man nodded.
“I will go one better. When you return home, you should find a receipt for your next two months’ rent already paid.”
I gaped at his knowledge of our financial straits but chose to remain silent, lest I jinx our good fortune. A man with that many resources at his disposal was not to be trifled with and I admit knowing he had such easy access to our intimate doings was most disquieting.
The deal was done swiftly and within a heartbeat, the case was closed. Holmes had once more done the seemingly impossible.
The man knocked twice on the door and within moments, two identically dressed men presented themselves. They flanked Holmes and me. Our host said, “Now, Doctor, I would appreciate you turning in your journal. I am afraid I must insist that no published record of any aspects of this case be revealed. While I appreciate that you are a man of your word, and your character is unimpeachable, the Crown would feel more comfortable if it was in safe keeping. This is not a request, Doctor.”
I had rarely felt so menaced in such a calm manner. The mere presence of these men, so close to me, was not comfortable, nor was the dead, cold stare of the man in black for all his mild manners. He walked forward, hand outstretched. I wanted to argue but knew my words would be ignored.
Rather than waste my breath on a futile argument, I reached into my coat and withdrew the journal. The man took it from me, flipped the cover open to verify I was handing over the appropriate volume, and then pocketed it. I thought of the notebook in which I had transcribed the interviews with Wynter’s comrades and Miss Caroline Burdett, no doubt sitting in plain sight in our sitting room in Baker Street, and hoped he would not ask whether I had any other writings the Crown would prefer remain hidden. I did not think I could lie convincingly to this man.
“Thank you, Dr. Watson,” he said. “I truly have enjoyed your stories of Mr. Holmes’s other cases, and genuinely regret that I will not be able to enjoy your account of this adventure.” He nodded once in our direction and then turned on his well-polished heel and strode out of the room with his comrades.
Holmes and I were suddenly alone for the first time in I could not recall how long, and I was feeling a broiling mixture of emotions, uncertain of which one to let out. As their footsteps receded, a feeling of exhaustion came over me and I knew all I wanted was to return to Baker Street and sleep.
“That was underhanded, Holmes,” I finally said.
“Indeed, but all very legal it appears,” he said.
“Are you not bothered by these secrets? Nearly two dozen dead men with wives, parents, siblings, and children all ignorant of what became of them!”
“Of course I am, Watson, but I am sanguine enough to realise there are things we can control, and things that are beyond our purview. I am not at all interested in being engaged in politics and state secrets. We are more useful employed helping people like Mrs. Wynter. The sum of our employment was to find the truth about Norbert Wynter and that we have done, and done admirably well. Strip away everything else we have experienced and learned, and take pride in the fact that we have accomplished what we set out to do. Mrs. Wynter’s son’s reputation and memory will be returned to her.”
He was not wrong, but then he so rarely was.
Nineteen
Peace
For all my tiredness, I could not sleep.
We returned to Baker Street, stopping on the way so that Holmes could place an order with his street Arabs to procure a batch of cigars due in from Nicaragua on the morning tide. I had no idea how my companion could be so aware of the comings and goings at Custom House.
While Holmes sat in his chair by the fire, no doubt fussing over the cigars, I sat at the table in our sitting room, paper and pen in hand, completing the composition of my letter to Mrs. Wynter. I opened the notebook which contained the interviews with Miss Burdett, George Raskill, and Louis Dodge, and sifted through it one more time to see what his friends and lover had to say about him. There was no doubt more to the man than I would ever know but I knew enough to confirm once and for all that he was anything but a deserter.
He was in love. He was a poor gambler. He was an excellent dart player. He could not tell jokes. He volunteered for the mission that had cost him his life. Lieutenant Norbert Wynter was a man like any other with foibles and accomplishments but no one could call him a deserter.
I began twice before finding the proper way to compose my biographical sketch; my letter was to be a fitting eulogy for the son who did not come home from war. It was difficult to write about a man I had never met and barely knew, even from the interviews I had conducted. I kept at it, though, and was thoroughly ignored by Holmes, who only stirred when an Irregular arrived with a package that smelled strongly of tobacco. He then sat smoking, keeping his own counsel. He had never shown any curiosity about Wynter the man. Holmes saw him as an object to be found, not a man to be understood.
That fell to me and clarified in my own mind what qualities I brought to our partnership. His keen intellect could never be matched but his understanding of human nature, the human condition, that was something I knew all too well. I could continue reminding him of the personal price exacted by the very act of living.
With that in mind, I proceeded deliberately, conjuring forth the words I needed to bring Norbert Wynter to life one final time. The letter covered three sheets of paper, each in the best possible penmanship I could muster. I let the ink dry, reread it and declared the missive as proper as I could manage. I signed it, placed it in an envelope, and slipped the letter into my jacket pocket.
I waited until Holmes retired to his room, then ventured out. I had a place I needed to be. Whilst I could not tell Mrs. Wynter the particulars of her son’s death, I could set her mind at ease and offer her the testimonies of his comrades, and in some small way, perhaps, finally bring him home to her.
About the Authors
Steven Savile is the author of over thirty novels, including Inheritance and Vampire Wars, and won the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Award in 2002. He was nominated for the International Media Tie-In Writer’s SCRIBE Award in 2007 for Slaine: The Exile and was runner-up in the British Fantasy Awards in 2011. He has written extensively for Star Wars, Warhammer (Black Library), Doctor Who and Torchwood.
Robert Greenberger held senior editorial roles at both Marvel and DC Comics before becoming a freelance writer and editor. He has written many books, both fiction and non-fiction, including The Essential Batman Encyclopedia, The DC Comics Encyclopedia, as well as novels for Batman, Hellboy, Predator and Star Trek.
&nbs
p; THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE SCROLL OF THE DEAD
David Stuart Davies
In this fast-paced adventure, Sherlock Holmes attends a seance to unmask an impostor posing as a medium. His foe, Sebastian Melmoth is a man hell-bent on discovering a mysterious Egyptian papyrus that may hold the key to immortality. It is up to Holmes and Watson to use their deductive skills to stop him or face disaster.
ISBN: 9781848564930
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE VEILED DETECTIVE
David Stuart Davies
It is 1880, and a young Sherlock Holmes arrives in London to pursue a career as a private detective. He soon attracts the attention of criminal mastermind Professor James Moriarty, who is driven by his desire to control this fledgling genius. Enter Dr John H. Watson, soon to make history as Holmes’ famous companion.
ISBN: 9781848564909
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE TITANIC TRAGEDY
William Seil
Holmes and Watson board the Titanic in 1912, where Holmes is to carry out a secret government mission. Soon after departure, highly important submarine plans for the U.S. navy are stolen. Holmes and Watson work through a list of suspects which includes Colonel James Moriarty, brother to the late Professor Moriarty—will they find the culprit before tragedy strikes?
ISBN: 9780857687104
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE WEB WEAVER
Sam Siciliano
A mysterious gypsy places a cruel curse on the guests at a ball. When a series of terrible misfortunes affects those who attended, Mr. Donald Wheelwright engages Sherlock Holmes to find out what really happened that night. Can he save Wheelwright and his beautiful wife Violet from the devastating curse?
ISBN: 9780857686985
AVAILABLE NOW!
Murder at Sorrow's Crown Page 25
