The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street

by Rob Nunn

  “Instead of solving other people’s puzzles for an affordable fee, why couldn’t I build my own puzzles that would benefit me while being unsolvable to others? Over time, my plans grew and allowed me to be the head of a well-hidden crime syndicate right here in London. Which brings me to you, my good doctor.

  “Before you and I met, I had been plying young Stamford for information on reliable men that he knew, and he eventually delivered you. My original interest was that of a discreet doctor, one that I could call on when one of my employees needed mending, and their injuries might arouse suspicion from a more traditional medical service. But after first meeting you, I saw a hint of your nature and wanted to give you further inspection. You immediately struck me as a man who was not happy with how the world had treated him and yearned for adventure. You, no doubt, have been studying me as well.”

  Watson chuckled, embarrassed to be found out.

  “Never mind our prying natures. Over the past few weeks, I have found you to be a most reliable and trustworthy companion. You have not been taken aback by some of my visitors and seem tolerant of my curious habits and hours. If you object to what I have to say, we may part on amicable terms, and no word of this need be spoken again. But if you are, as I suspect, a man of adventure, then I believe you will be interested in my proposal.”

  Watson sipped his tea and took a moment to respond. “It is true that I have found London to be rather dull and unwelcome since my return. I wouldn’t object to hearing what you have to offer.”

  Holmes smiled with delight. “Excellent! Your medical knowledge will, of course, be of use to my organization. But more importantly, I would like to offer you to be a colleague. I prefer to keep my hands clean of the actual business that brings in my earnings, but sitting and dispatching orders can become so tiresome when it is done alone. I would like you to be present and available while I am doing so. And while you may not see every nuance and detail of my plans, I feel that a man of your nature would be a welcome addition to my operation. A trusty comrade is always of use. Please take your time in considering this proposal, but I would be thrilled if you joined me.”

  Before Watson could reply, there came the pattering of many steps in the hall and on the stairs, accompanied by audible expressions of dismay from our landlady, Mrs. Hudson. The sitting room was soon overrun by half a dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street Arabs that anyone had ever seen.

  “It’s the Baker Street division of my organization,” said Holmes to Watson, and then turned to the young scoundrels. “’Tention!”

  The boys lined up like six disreputable statues.

  “In the future you shall send up Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait in the street. Wiggins, do you have my replies?”

  “Yessir. Here you are,” replied one of the youths.

  “Good, good.” Holmes took the scraps of paper from the boy and took three others out of his blue dressing gown pocket. “See that these are to be delivered immediately. The first is for the band of gypsies in Surrey. You will need to talk to our man about transportation. The second will go to Beddington, and the third is for Detective Gregson at the Yard. Now, off you go, and come back with replies once you have delivered your messages.”

  The boys scampered away downstairs and Holmes and Watson could hear their shrill voices the next moment on the street. Holmes turned back to Watson. “I prefer to stay removed from most of my associates, so I employ the Baker Street Irregulars to deliver messages. Many of my employees would arise suspicion from the authorities if they were to be seen frequenting my door.”

  “But you delivered a message to a detective at Scotland Yard,” Watson observed.

  “Of course. As I said, my aim is to conduct crime in a professional and gentlemanly way. When dastardly instances such as yesterday’s murder in Lauriston Gardens happen, I want them stopped just as much as the force. London’s inhabitants should feel safe. And the safer they feel, the easier my plans become. I only help a few of the detectives, though. Most are not worthy of my time. Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders; he and Detective Lestrade are the pick of a bad lot. They are both quick and energetic, but conventional - shockingly so. They have their knives into one another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties and are happy to use my suggestions to gain a step up on each other. I also find it useful to hear their thoughts as they track down criminals. Lestrade got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and hearing his methods helped me to know what steps the force would follow in my future plans. No, I don’t worry about the Scotland Yard detectives picking up my scent any time soon. I am well-hidden right in front of them.”

  Watson finished his tea, and cleared his throat. “Your offer is quite an appealing one. It seems to me that you endeavor to bring crime to as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world. I would be happy to join you.”

  Holmes clapped Watson on the shoulder and welcomed him to the organization. Soon, their conversation drifted away from matters of work, and Holmes, in the best of spirits, prattled away about Cremonas and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati. Watson listened attentively, expecting to learn much from his new employer, and Holmes was happy to talk with the man that would quickly become his most trusted friend and associate.

  Chapter 2: Everything In Due Order

  With Watson by his side, Holmes’ empire grew. He acquired new employees while nurturing their talents until they were at the top of their professions. One such employee that Holmes took special pride in was Victor Lynch, an up-and-coming forger. Lynch had been performing small jobs for another criminal, Reginald Matthews, when Holmes became aware of his talents. Holmes always preferred to handle incidents without violence when possible, and his hiring of Victor Lynch put this philosophy to the test.

  Holmes had been watching Lynch for three weeks, when he finally had his chance to meet with the man without his employer around. After getting into a fight with a neighbor, Lynch was being treated and kept overnight at Charing Cross Hospital. Holmes and Watson visited the man, looking to anyone else as typical well-wishers, but when they entered his room, Holmes handed Lynch his business card.

  Lynch read the card out loud. “Sherlock Holmes. Consultant. What’s consultin’ got to do with me?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Mr. Lynch, I have been aware of your talents in forgery for some weeks now,” Holmes replied.

  “Oy! You can’t come in here accusin’ me-”

  Holmes held up his hands. “Please, Mr. Lynch. I am not the police. Scotland Yard and the constabulary have no idea of your gift. And I would like to keep it that way. You are currently working for Reginald Matthews, correct?”

  “Maybe.”

  Holmes looked to Watson. “A man who does not readily answer questions about his employer is a good man to have on staff, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Indeed. It is a sign of character,” Watson agreed.

  Turning back to Lynch, Holmes continued, “You have a chance to be the top forger in London and I am in need of someone with your capabilities. Judging by your reaction to my card, you’ve never heard of me. And that makes me happy, for I strive to keep my name away from crime. But if you ask around, Mr. Lynch, you will find that many people in your line of work, are not only aware of who I am, but are employees of mine. Simply mention the phrase ‘Vatican cameos’ and you will find that the organization I would like to employ you in is one that is subtle but very effective. All jobs are planned by myself. If you choose to be in my employ, you will no longer work by your own motives, but neither will you work at your own risk. My employees follow my orders, and because they do, they are protected and very well cared for. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Lynch?”

  “You want me an’ my scribbles to come work for you, but if I does, I can only do what you tell me to?” Lynch asked.

&nb
sp; “That is correct. I don’t expect an answer today, but when you are discharged from here, please make a few inquiries using the given phrase. If my proposition is one that would suit you, please dress appropriately, and call on me at the address on the card. If not, make sure that your work never interferes with mine.”

  With that, Holmes and Watson nodded goodbye to Victor Lynch and left his room. As they walked down the hall, Holmes assured Watson that they would hear from Mr. Lynch very soon. When they entered the hospital waiting room, a ruddy-faced man stepped in front of Holmes.

  “I shoulda known you’d show up sooner or later,” the man growled.

  Holmes sighed as he looked at the man confronting him. “I had hoped I could conduct my business quietly. Please keep your voice down and don’t make a scene, Mr. Matthews.”

  “Don’t you go poachin’ my boys. You stay up there in your little apartment, and let me do my business,” Matthews said, shaking a fist in Holmes’ face.

  Watson tried to step between the two men, his hand on the service revolver in his coat pocket. But Holmes held out a hand to stop him, his quiet, self-confident manner allowing the situation to play out how he knew it must.

  “No need, Watson.” Turning back to the petty crime boss, Holmes continued, “We were just visiting Mr. Lynch to make sure that his needs were being met. His future plans are his alone. Not yours or mine to make.”

  “He works for me and he knows that if he tries to work for a dandy like you, he’ll get a rough go of it. And so will you!”

  Matthews threw a hard right fist into Holmes’ cheek, knocking out his left canine. Holmes, seemingly unfazed by the whole display, demurely spit the tooth into his palm, placed it in his pocket, and then looked at Matthews, who was more than surprised to see his rival so unshaken.

  Holmes’ cocked an eyebrow as his grey eyes looked at the man coldly. “You will never lay a hand on me or any of my associates ever again. If you do, you will be the one to get ‘a rough go of it.’” He brushed by Matthews, and out the door of the waiting room, to a cab waiting for him in the street.

  The following evening, Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door at 221B and announced that a Mr. Lynch was there to see Mr. Holmes. Holmes, clapped his hands together, looked knowingly at Watson, and told Mrs. Hudson to see Mr. Lynch up. The man that appeared in the doorway was a cleaner version of the one in the hospital room from the day before, and his demeanor was much more subservient.

  “Mr. Holmes, sir. Thank you for seeing me,” Victor Lynch said.

  “Welcome to my home, Mr. Lynch. Please, have a seat.”

  Lynch sat in a wicker chair. “I asked aroun’, and what you said was true about your organization, Mr. Holmes. But, right after you left, Matthews came in to see me and tol’ me he knocked one o’ your teeth out. I don’t like workin’ for a man like that, and I’d rather work for you. But Mr. Holmes, that Matthews is a rough man...”

  “True, Mr. Matthews and I did meet last night,” Holmes conceded. “I also promised him that if he ever touched one of my employees, of which I now view you, that it would not end well for him. I will handle Mr. Matthews. As for the matter of employment, are we in agreement on my terms?”

  “I think so, Mr. Holmes. But how will I know when you want me to do a job for ya? And how will I live between jobs if I’m not doin’ my own work?” Lynch asked.

  Holmes nodded to Watson, who gave a handful of bank notes to the forger. “This is your starting bonus,” Watson said. “You will receive a monthly payment and extra for certain jobs. All other communication with Mr. Holmes will be done through our messenger service, the Irregulars. Any street Arab will know how you can get in touch with Mr. Holmes. This will also be your last visit to Baker Street. All other communications will be done by messenger.”

  Lynch nodded, impressed by the money in his hand and the separation between the boss and his workers.

  “I will be in touch with you shortly, Mr. Lynch. I believe your services will be of use to us in the next week or so,” Holmes smiled.

  Just as Lynch was rising to leave, the door from the stairs burst open, and Reginald Matthews stared at the men inside. “I knew you’d turn tail and come work for this toff!” he roared at Lynch, who flinched at the intruder’s words.

  Matthews strode into the room. “I’ll give you one chance to come back and work for me. If not...,” he grabbed the fireplace poker and bent it between his large hands and dropped it to the floor, never taking his eyes off Lynch.

  Watson cleared his throat, and only then did Matthews notice the gun trained on him that the doctor was holding.

  Holmes stood to his full height of over six feet and quietly picked up the bent poker. “Mr. Matthews, Mr. Lynch and I have just completed an employment agreement.” Without straining, Holmes bent the poker back to its original shape, much to the surprise of his uninvited guest. “I believe I made myself clear at the hospital yesterday. But,” he sighed, “You chose not to heed my advice.”

  Holmes stepped closer to Matthews, his words and demeanor turning to ice. “You are done in London. You are clearly not aware of my reach. Not only do I have the upper hand on you in this room, but I have the upper hand on you in this city. I have tolerated your bumbling crimes long enough. You are becoming a thorn in my side, and I will not tolerate it, Mr. Matthews. You have until tomorrow morning to leave my city. If not, you can expect a visit from Scotland Yard. And when the detectives bring you into their cells,” Holmes tilted his head and paused for effect, “some of my friends inside may find other things to discuss with you.”

  Up until this point, Matthews had only heard rumors of the busybody living on Baker Street who liked to think of himself as a crime boss, but had dismissed them as just stories. Suddenly, he realized that Sherlock Holmes was not a man to be trifled with. A man that could possess such self-discipline had to be a man with enough resources to back up what he was saying. “A day won’t be enough time to get my things.”

  “I don’t care,” Holmes stated flatly. “You are wasting your time here. Get out.”

  Matthews turned and quietly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Holmes turned back to Victor Lynch. “You see, Mr. Lynch, as long as you are in my employ, you are under my protection. All I ask of you is your loyalty and to use the utmost discretion when dealing with others outside of our organization, and you will be rewarded. You are never to speak my name yourself, and you may only discuss business with those who know our passwords.” Holmes stuck out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Lynch jumped from the chair and shook Holmes hand. “Yessir. We have a deal!”

  “Not to rush you, Holmes, but Mortimer Maberly has sent ahead and asked to meet you at seven. Perhaps we should prepare for your meeting.”

  Holmes nodded and thanked Lynch for his time. “We will be in touch soon.”

  Although Holmes’ self-control was unsurpassed, he noted that not every would-be competitor could be scared off as easily as Reginald Matthews, so Holmes decided that he would become not only an intellectual force, but a physical one as well. Strength had always come easily to him, but his refined tastes dictated that he have an effective and gentlemanly way of using is. Holmes dove into boxing, Baritsu and singlestick. One evening in the autumn of1884, Holmes told Watson to dress for a night out.

  “Where are we off to tonight, Holmes? The de Sarasate night at Covent Garden was yesterday.”

  Holmes picked up a small bag. “Tonight, we will be taking in the fine art of pugilism. And we must be on time, for I am appearing in the fourth match!”

  “Holmes, this is preposterous. You can’t mean to set foot in a seedy den after all this time of distancing yourself from the criminal class. Surely, word of you appearing in a backroom match will make its way back to-”

  Holmes held up his hand. “Of course not, Watson. We will be attending
a benefit at Alison’s rooms tonight. The fee to the benefit is ten pounds, so we will hardly be rubbing elbows with London’s lesser ranked citizens. Come along, Doctor!”

  Holmes and Watson arrived just as the first round was beginning. Watson nodded hello to a few acquaintances from his social club as he read the match card for the evening, planning on placing a few bets as the night went on. Holmes, on the other hand, found a vantage point at the back of the crowd, where he could observe those in attendance as well as the fighters in the ring. Always on the lookout for business opportunities, he made a study of those in the room, and once the fights started paid close attention to the fighters and how they maneuvered, possibly to pick up any tips that would help him in his match.

  When the fourth match began, Holmes stared across the ring at his opponent, McMurdo: a short, deep-chested man. The referee invited the two men to meet in the middle and reviewed the Queensberry rules before beginning the match. When the match started, McMurdo pounded his gloves together, bobbing and weaving like a ship at sea, while Holmes moved in calmly and coolly. McMurdo barreled towards his opponent and tested a few punches to Holmes’ stomach, and Holmes retaliated with a right feint followed by a short jab to McMurdo’s protruding face, forcing the smaller man to take a step back as he shook his head.

  The crowd cheered for more, and McMurdo waded back in with a combination to Holmes’ midsection, expecting his taller opponent to move away. Instead, Holmes blocked and absorbed the brunt, returning a wicked two-punch volley to McMurdo’s chin. McMurdo clipped back and forth on the canvas while Holmes stood his ground. McMurdo delivered short punches to Holmes’ midsection and Holmes whipped a right uppercut to his chin. The two opposing styles continued for the remaining minutes of the round, McMurdo’s frenzied attacks countered by Holmes’ carefully placed punches until the first round ended.