Further exploits of Sherlock Holmes

The Reichenbach Secret-3

I was lost for words. I knew not how to respond to this amazing story and yet Holmes made it clear by a telling gesture that his tale was not yet complete.

‘I lodged in a large block in the Via Matteo di Giovanni,’ said Holmes, leaning forward to stir the fading embers of our fire. ‘My rooms were on the second floor and were reached by an exterior stone staircase. It was a simple and basic apartment but it was self-contained and afforded me the privacy and seclusion I needed. On the following morning, I was having my second pipe of the day and idly reading Boccacio in the original when my door opened and a visitor stood on the threshold. The figure was virtually a silhouette, like a dark angel, with the fierce morning sun rippling behind him, dispersing bright beams of light around him into my room. I could tell that he was a young man dressed in a linen suit and, as he removed his hat, his dark hair tumbled over his forehead.’

Despite the sunshine and the warm morning air, I suddenly felt a chill as I gazed on this apparition.

‘So, Mr Sherlock Holmes,’ he said softly, ‘We meet at last.’ The voice was cool, relaxed and had the sinister charm of a hissing snake.

‘Do we?’ I replied casually. ‘How can I be sure?’

The stranger allowed himself a dry chuckle. ‘Oh, you will have to take my word for it but I assure you that there is no deception on this occasion. I really am Professor James Moriarty.’

I believed him. I strained my eyes to get a better look at him, but his face was in deep shade with the yellow light of the sun in bright relief behind him. But I could tell that he was young, Watson. Some ten years younger than I. Here was no ancient professor with a balding pate and stooped shoulders – that was all a hoax.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked.

‘To congratulate you and to warn you.’

I said nothing but waited for him to explain.

‘You are a remarkable man, Mr Holmes. It has almost been a pleasure to encounter your opposition – an intellectual pleasure, you understand. However, now I am tired of the game – a game which you have come very close to winning.’

‘With your organisation in ruins and your need to flee the country, I would say that I was the winner.’

Moriarty responded quickly to my jibe, but the voice remained clam and unruffled. ‘The game is far from over, Mr Holmes. It is true that there must be some years spent in the wilderness – for both of us. But in due course, like the phoenix, I shall rise. For the present I think it is time that I enjoyed my riches and travelled the world. So resilient have you been in foiling my little plans that I have decided to leave you alone. I admire your brain and have no wish to harm you now. There would simply be no point, so I can assure you that there will be no further attempts on your life or liberty. You may cease looking over your shoulder.’

He paused for effect. When I failed to reply he continued in a more business-like tone. ‘But this must be a reciprocal arrangement. You must eliminate from your mind all thoughts of revenge or plots to bring me to justice. As far as the world at large is concerned, they must believe that I perished at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls. And just to make sure that you accept these conditions, I have arranged for a watch to be placed upon Dr Watson. Dear Dr Watson, your closest friend and ally.’

I felt my hands gripping the arms of the chair in impotent anger as the devil unveiled the details of his plan.

‘If I even hear or suspect that you are making enquiries about either my whereabouts or my plans, I will arrange for the good doctor to meet with an accident – something suitably nasty.’

I jumped to my feet, the chair tipping over behind me, and was about to pounce on him when he flashed a revolver at me. I heard the click of the hammer being c****d.

‘Now, do not act in haste or anger, Mr Holmes. Should anything befall me here, Watson will be dead within twenty-four hours. Not all my colleagues were arrested, you know. There is a slender framework to my organisation still in place in London. Be sensible. Leave me alone and I will leave you and the good Watson alone. One false step and … well, need I go into detail?’

‘I was lost for words, Watson, and, indeed, words were useless on this occasion. There was nothing I could say or do. In that sense, he remained the victor. Whatever success I had in destroying his organisation, when the dust settled he still held the upper hand. A wave of fury surged through my veins but I was incapable of action.’

‘We will have our time in the wilderness, but in due course we shall return to our respective professions. It has been good to know you, Sherlock Holmes, but I hope that we never meet again.’

Without another word, he turned, pulling the door quickly behind him, cutting out the bright sunlight and plunging the room into comparative shadow.

I stood for some time staring at the door, my mind turning over his words. For all my cleverness, I had been placed in a situation where I could do nothing. I could not risk your life to pursue him further.’

‘If only I had known … I am an old campaigner, after all. I could have looked after myself,’ I said with some passion.

‘Against a foe that was visible and recognisable, I am sure you could. But not against Moriarty. Remember airguns, Watson? One cannot be prepared for the unforeseen.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I could not. I knew how you would react – much as you are doing now. I had to keep it a secret. I could not risk the consequences of such indiscretion.’

Despite my sense of disappointment and uncertain emotions, I knew in my heart that Sherlock Holmes had taken the only course of action open to him.

‘I understand,’ I said at length and then added, ‘What became of Moriarty?’

‘He never quite revived his organisation but some years later he commenced operations again in London for a short time. Although I never became actively involved in the investigation of his crimes, mainly robberies, I did pass on information about them to Scotland Yard recently. Then there was silence. Whether he is dead or he just grew weary of his calling and has retired I cannot say.’

Holmes and I sat in silence for some time. Eventually, it was my friend who spoke.

‘I hope you can forgive me, Watson.’

As I responded, I felt the prickle of tears in my eyes. ‘I can forgive you. Of course, I can forgive you. I only wish…’

‘I know, I know.’

We both smiled, but they were mirthless smiles.

I drained my glass and sighed. It was a sigh for lost opportunities, for the passing of a lost world and for the final revelation in my long relationship with Sherlock Holmes.

‘I think, said I, stretching my weary limbs, ‘it is long past my bedtime. I am not as young as I believe I am.’

*

Neither of us mentioned the Reichenbach secret again. At breakfast the following morning, it was as though nothing had been said the night before. As we sat with our coffee and toast, with Mrs Towers bustling around us, our conversation did not flow very easily and to be honest I was relieved when my hired car came to collect me at eleven. We stood, Holmes and I, for the last time, at his wooden gate, shaking hands and smiling. We both knew that our paths would never cross again and so it was with some difficulty that we parted. ‘Thank you for everything,’ I said.

Holmes smiled faintly, leaning on his stick for support. ‘It wouldn’t have been the same without you, Watson.’ It would not have been the same.’

As the car sped away and I turned to wave through the rear window, the spare figure of my old friend was already fading into the distance.