The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street

by Rob Nunn

  “Don’t fool yourself, Mr. Holmes,” Moriarty hissed. “We are both common criminals, no matter how well-hidden and intelligent we are.”

  Holmes stared hard at his opponent, his eyes contracting until they were like two menacing points of steel.

  “Very well. You must drop it, Mr. Holmes,” Moriarty said, his face swaying about. “You really must, you know.”

  “After Monday.”

  “Dear me, Mr. Holmes, dear me! I am quite sure that a man of your intelligence will see that there can be but one outcome to this affair. It is necessary that you should withdraw. London is mine. Take your talents to Paris or Berlin. I will grant you that out of respect. You have worked things in such a fashion that we have only one recourse left in London. It has been an intellectual treat to me to see the way in which you have grappled with this affair, and I say, unaffectedly, that it would be a grief to me to be forced to take any extreme measure. You smile sir, but I assure you that I would.”

  “Danger is part of my trade. Surely no man would take up our profession if it were not the danger that attracts him.”

  “This is not danger,” Moriarty said. “It is inevitable destruction. You stand in the way not merely of an individual, but of a mighty organization, the full extent of which you, with all your cleverness, have been unable to realize. You must stand clear, Mr. Holmes, or be trodden underfoot.”

  Holmes rose, his eyes never leaving his nemesis. “I am afraid that in the pleasure of this conversation, I am neglecting business of importance which awaits me elsewhere.”

  The professor shook his head sadly. “Well, well. It seems a pity, but I have done what I could. I know every move of your game. You can do nothing before Monday. It has been a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes. You hope to place me in the dock. I tell you that I will never stand in the dock. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you. Your organization will not survive this gambit.”

  “You have paid me several compliments, Mr. Moriarty. Let me pay you one in return when I say that if I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter. Although, I hardly think you are up to the task.”

  Finally showing a crack in his cool demeanor, Moriarty snarled at Holmes, “I can promise you the one but not the other!” Turning his rounded back on Holmes, he left the room.

  Slightly shaken by the professor’s soft, precise fashion, Holmes mulled over the singular interview. After deciding that there was nothing to do in the matter, Holmes went out that afternoon to follow up on business on Oxford Street. As he passed the corner of Bentinck Street, a two-horse van furiously whizzed round the corner headed straight for him. He jumped back up to the footpath and missed being trampled by only a fraction of a second.

  As Holmes continued down Vere Street, a brick came falling down from the roof of one of the houses, shattering to fragments at his feet. He hailed a constable to have the place examined, and the officer reported that it must have been that the wind toppled over a loose brick that was part of a pile for repairs. Knowing better, Holmes hailed a cab and spent the rest of the day in Mycroft’s rooms in Pall Mall.

  That night, as Watson sat reading by a single lamp, Holmes entered.

  “Have you any objection to my closing your shutters?” Holmes asked as he edged his way around the wall.

  “You are afraid of something?” Watson asked.

  “I am. Air guns.”

  “My dear Holmes, what do you mean?”

  Holmes drew in the smoke from a cigarette.”I must apologize for calling so late and I must further beg you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leave your house presently by scrambling over your back garden wall. Is Mrs. Watson in?”

  “She is away upon a visit. I am quite alone.”

  “Then it makes it easier for me to propose that you should come away with me for a week on the Continent.”

  “But Holmes, you’ve just returned from France,” Watson protested. “Your pale face tells me that your nerves are at their highest tension. There is more to this than a trip.”

  “Moriarty. The time has come for me to strike. In three days, that is to say on Monday next, matters will be ripe, and the professor, with all the principal members of his gang, will be in the hands of the police, leaving the rest of his employees to absorb into my syndicate. I’m sure you remember Porlock, my confederate in Moriarty’s organization.”

  Watson nodded.

  “After Moriarty began to suspect him, I helped Porlock to disappear until I needed him. Now, I have acquired enough information, that with his testimony against the professor, I can topple his organization and reclaim the entirety of the London criminal element. If I could beat that man, if I could free society of him, I should feel that my own career had reached its summit. Never have I risen to such a height, and never have I been so hard-pressed by an opponent. He can cut deep, and yet I just undercut him.”

  Holmes quickly told Watson of his plan, the meeting with Moriarty, and the attempts on his life already today.

  “You will spend the night here,” Watson offered.

  “No, my friend. You might find me a dangerous guest. I have my plans laid, and all will be well. Matters have gone so far now that they can move without my help as far as the arrest goes. It is obvious that I cannot do better than get away for the few days which remain before the police are at liberty to act. It would be a great pleasure if you could come on to the Continent with me. It would make a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely.”

  “You know that I have an accommodating neighbor. I would be glad to come.”

  “And to start tomorrow morning?”

  “If necessary.”

  “Most necessary. Obey these instructions to the letter. You are now playing a double-handed game with me against the cleverest rogue and a most powerful syndicate of criminals in Europe. Now listen!” Holmes gave Watson explicit instructions on what to do with his luggage and how to approach Victoria Station.

  “Where shall I meet you?” Watson asked.

  “At the station. The second first-class carriage from the front will be reserved for us.”

  Holmes bid Watson goodbye and disappeared out to the garden and over the back wall.

  The next morning, Watson followed Holmes’ instructions and arrived at the only carriage marked “Engaged” but did not find his friend there, only an old Italian priest, who spoke very broken English. As the train started to leave the station, Watson felt a chill of fear, worried that Holmes had fallen to Moriarty over the night.

  “My dear Watson,” said a familiar voice, “you have not even condescended to say good morning.”

  The aged priest turned his face towards Watson and for an instant, the wrinkles disappeared, the eyes shone bright, and the lower lip ceased to protrude, transforming into Sherlock Holmes. A moment later, it all collapsed back into the visage of an old priest.

  “Every precaution is still necessary,” Holmes as the priest whispered. They are hot upon our trail. Ah, there is Moriarty himself.”

  Glancing back, Watson saw a tall man pushing furiously through the crowd and waving to stop the train, but it was too late.

  “Even with all our precautions, you see that we have cut it rather fine,” Holmes laughed. “Have you seen the morning paper?”

  “No.”

  “Then you haven’t seen about Baker Street. They set fire to our rooms last night. No great harm was done.”

  “This is intolerable, Holmes!”

  “They must have lost my track completely. Otherwise they could not have imagined that I had returned to my rooms. They have evidently taken the precaution of watching you, however, and that is what has brought Moriarty to Victoria. Did you recognize your c
oachman?”

  “No.”

  “It was my brother Mycroft. It is an advantage to get about in such a problem with help from a brother such as Mycroft. But we must plan what we are to do about Moriarty now.”

  “This is an express train. I should think we have shaken him off very effectively.”

  “My dear Watson, you do not imagine that if I were the pursuer I should allow myself to be baffled by so slight an obstacle. Why then should you think so meanly of him?”

  “What will he do then?”

  “What I should do. Engage a special. This train stops at Canterbury; and there is always at least a quarter of an hour’s delay at the boat. He will catch us there.”

  “What then?”

  Holmes paused for a moment’s thought. “We shall get out at Canterbury and then we must make a cross country journey to Newhaven, and so over to Dieppe. Moriarty will then get on to Paris, mark down our luggage, and wait at the depot for two days. In the meantime, we shall treat ourselves to a couple of carpet bags and make our way into Switzerland, via Luxembourg and Basle.”

  As they disembarked at Cantebury, Holmes pointed up the line. “Already, you see.”

  Sure enough, coming from the Kentish woods rose a thin spray of smoke and a minute later a carriage and engine flew along the open curve which led to the station. Holmes and Watson ducked behind a pile of luggage as the train rattled and roared past them.

  Holmes and Watson made their way to Brussels and spent two days there, moving onto Strasburg on the third day. From there, Holmes telegraphed London, and received a reply that evening.

  “I might have known it,” Holmes groaned. “He has escaped!”

  “Moriarty?”

  “Yes. The police secured the whole gang with the exception of him and his chief lieutenant. I think that you will find me a dangerous companion now. This man’s occupation is gone. He is lost if he returns to London. If I read his character right he will devote his whole energies to revenging himself upon me. I should certainly recommend you return to your practice in London.”

  “I will do no such thing,” Watson responded resolutely. “Don’t bother to debate with me, Holmes. As an old campaigner as well as an old friend, my decision will not be swayed.”

  Holmes knew better than to argue. For hadn’t he hired Watson for his reliable nature? They spent the week moving up the Valley of the Rhone and through Alpine villages. But Holmes’ quick glancing eyes and sharp scrutiny of every face that passed did not rest, constantly aware of the danger which dogged his every step.

  On May 3rd, the duo reached the village of Meiringen and put up at the Englischer Hof. At the advice of the landlord, Holmes and Watson set off with the intention of crossing the hills and spending the night at the Hamlet of Rosenlaui, after stopping to visit the Reichenbach falls.

  Standing upon the falls, Holmes and Watson gazed upon the fearful place. The swollen torrent plunged into a tremendous abyss, creating spray that rose up like smoke from a burning house. The river hurled itself into an immense chasm lined by glistening coal black rock. The two stood near the edge peering down at the gleam of the breaking water far below against the black rocks and listening to the half-human shout that came booming up with the spray out of the abyss.

  When they moved to return to the path, a Swiss boy came running along with a letter addressed to Dr. Watson from the landlord. It said that within a few minutes of their departing the inn, an English lady had arrived in the late stages of consumption. She was overtaken by a sudden hemorrhage and was thought to have only a few hours left to live. It would be a consolation to her to see an English doctor, a summons which Watson could not ignore.

  Holmes and Watson parted there, agreeing to meet that evening at Rosenlaui. When Watson looked back over his shoulder, he saw his friend leaning against a rock wall with his arms folded as he gazed down at the rush of the water. The sight pained Watson and caused the doctor to worry the entire trip back.

  After passing another man walking towards the falls very rapidly, Watson finally reached Meiringen an hour later, only to find out that there was no English woman dying of consumption. He had been tricked! Before the landlord could offer any possible explanations, Watson hurried back up the mountain to the falls, where his worst fears were coming true.

  After Watson’s departure, Holmes waited patiently for what he knew was to come. When the sinister figure of Professor Moriarty appeared on the narrow pathway, Holmes read an inexorable purpose in his cold, grey eyes.

  “I regret that it has come to this, Mr. Holmes,” Moriarty shouted over the roar of the falls.

  “I do not,” Holmes said flatly.

  “You may have struck me a heavy blow in London. But my reach is far beyond the metropolis. My organization will rise again and spread throughout the Continent. You did not believe me when I said you do not realize the extent of my organization.”

  “I realize it. And I intend to have what is left of it, professor. It is a shame that you did not stay in London. I would have arranged for you to have comfortable lodgings in Newgate.”

  Moriarty chuckled. “Oh, I was quite aware of what you had in store for me, Mr. Holmes. You are not the only one with friends on the force and in the government. It was not so easy to trace you to Victoria Station, but following your friend, Dr. Watson, told us what we needed to know.”

  Moriarty took a step toward Holmes. “I hope you know that our little tete-a-tete has been a most stimulating exercise for me.”

  “Then you will grant me one courtesy - to write a short note to my friend.”

  “Of course,” Moriarty replied with a wave of his hand. “Let it not be said that I am not a gentleman.”

  Tearing three pages from his notebook, Holmes addressed a final note to Watson.

  “My dear Watson, I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very high opinion which I had formed of his abilities. I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his vile presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends and employees, and especially, my dear Watson, to you. I have already explained to you, however, that my career had in any case reached its crisis, and that no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this. Indeed, if I make a full confession to you, I was quite convinced that the letter from Meiringen was a hoax, and I allowed you to depart on that errand under the persuasion that some development of this sort would follow. Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict the gang are in pigeon-hole M., done up in a blue envelope and inscribed ‘Moriarty.’ I made every disposition of my property before leaving England, and handed it to my brother Mycroft. Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours, Sherlock Holmes.”

  Holmes set the note on top of a rock jutting on to the path and weighted it down with his silver cigarette case. Leaning his alpenstock walking stick against the rock as well, he turned to walk the rest of the way up to the falls, with the professor right behind him.

  When Holmes reached the end of the path, he turned and Moriarty sprang at him with a snarl. Knowing that Holmes had ended his game, the professor threw his long arms around Holmes, and was only anxious to have his revenge, future plans be damned.

  As the mist of the falls soaked their clothes and skin, the two men tottered on the brink of the cliff, the endless chasm of rock and crashing water awaiting them. Holmes slipped through Moriarty’s grip with a Baritsu move, and Moriarty kicked madly for a few seconds and clawed the air with both hands. But for all of his efforts, the professor could not regain his balance
. Over he went, falling into the darkening void with a terrible scream, eventually striking and bounding off of a rock and splashing into the water far below.

  Holmes stood at the precipice and regained his breath, astonished at how close to death he had just come. Knowing that the arrest of Moriarty’s gang would lead to a bloody crime war in London, he weighed his options. Fate had presented Sherlock Holmes with a chance to disappear, leaving the world to think that he was dead. At least three other prominent criminals had vowed to kill Holmes, all working for Moriarty, and their vengeance would only be incensed by the death of their leader.

  Turning away from the falls, Holmes had made up his mind. A few small footholds presented themselves on the rock face behind him, and Holmes started to make his way up to the rock ledge above. The falls roared beneath him, and one mistake would lead him to the same fate as Moriarty. As he climbed, tufts of grass came out in his hand and his foot slipped in the wet notches of the rock from time to time. Holmes struggled upward, and at last, reached the ledge above him just in time to roll out of sight as Watson returned to the scene of the final confrontation.

  Watson stood for a minute or two, collecting himself. Looking around, the damp soil told him the story all too well: Holmes and Moriarty met, grappled at the cliff face, and went over together. No footsteps returned from the cliff. Watson laid down on the soil with his face over the abyss and called Holmes’ name in vain.

  No sound came back.

  Only the cry of the water plunging down.

  Standing, Watson turned around and spotted Holmes’ alpenstock and cigarette case. He took up the letter and read the words of goodbye that his friend had left for him. Numb with shock, Watson could barely register the fact that Sherlock Holmes was gone. He turned and stared at the Reichenbach Falls once more before slowly starting back down the path, utterly alone, and leaving behind the best and wisest man that he had ever known.