Holmes and Watson End Peace: A Novel of Sherlock Holmes (9 page)

“But John Rock did that for you both, by attacking Adaline and setting the whole chain of events into being.”

“He may have started it, but I finished it with the most abject, cowardly action thinkable.”

“You were young and hot-headed, but cowardly? I do not think so.”

“There is no other word for it, Holmes. None at all. I do not believe that I have to account for my actions to a higher authority, a celestial court, but I do owe it to you, my friend, to set matters right.”

“I take it your anonymous letter was couched in such terms as to render the chances of anyone tracking you down negligible?”

“Yes, a ‘friend of a friend' heard this or told me that. Ever the coward you see.”

“Was John Rock's body recovered do you know?”

“I heard in a roundabout way that it had.”

“And Adaline?”

“The last I heard was that she married a local man of German descent and they made their home in Perth, but that was to be my last knowledge of her. I suspect you now see me in a different light, Holmes.”

“No, not at all, Watson. My view of you is based on the time we have spent in each other's company and our friendship. You are solid, trustworthy and a courageous man. I could never have wished for a more able assistant or trusted friend.”

“Thank you, Holmes. I am not sure how deserving of those epithets I am, but thank you.”

“You are entirely deserving, your actions of fifty-five years ago have no bearing on it.”

“I feel so weary.”

“Then sleep, my dear fellow.”

“I will. Holmes, if I should not...”

“You will, Watson, you will.”

Interlude

“Some tea for you, Nurse Pollett and I have saved you a biscuit before Polly ate them all.”

“Thank you, Matron.”

“I know I was hard on you earlier about sitting in the chair, but I would rather you did that than sitting on the bed.”

“There is something odd about that chair; fair gives me the shivers it does. It's like it doesn't want me sitting there.”

“Stuff and nonsense, child.”

“Try it then!”

“How odd. A most peculiar feeling, perhaps there is a draught coming from somewhere?”

“No, no draught. I checked all over.”

“Oh well, sure it must be something simple to account for it. How is the doctor?”

“Growing weaker, but still talking in his sleep although he has gone quiet now. He says ‘Holmes' every so often like he's talking to him. Do you think he knows? I know you thought it best to keep the news from him.”

“On some level he may do.”

“Thanks for the tea, Matron. I suppose I should get on now, still got some jobs to do before end of shift.”

“What have you got left to do?”

“Nothing too much, a few instruments to sterilise, the linen cupboard to tidy.”

“If you want to stay here with Dr Watson, I will see if Nurse Harrison has the time to attend to your duties for you..
. if not I will do it myself.”

“Gosh, are you sure? Not joking are you, Matron?”

“I am not in the habit of making jokes, young lady! Now, call me if you need me.”

“Will do and thank you.”

“You are going to be a wonderful nurse, Lucy. Call me when... well, you know.”

“Yes, Matron.”

Chapter 10

“Is it morning yet, Holmes?”

“The dawn is not far off.”

“Odd isn't it how time goes so slowly when young, but speeds up measurably when older. Of course I am well aware that it is not actually so.”

“The years of my youth seemed interminable before I could leave the family house and make my way in the world; so in that sense yes it did go slowly for me. Now all of a sudden we are rushing towards the mid 20
th
century with all the changes that will bring. Just think of all the inventions that we have seen in our time, Watson.”

“It was an ever-changing world. Houses lit by electricity, motor cars, telephones, aeroplanes. Will there ever be an era like it?”

“The answer to that is yes There will be myriad improvements to the inventions you mention; motor cars will become faster and faster, telephones will become available for all and that favourite mode of communication of ours, the telegram, will disappear altogether. Aeroplanes will carry hundreds of people across the seven seas quicker than we could ever imagine. At the same time, man will no doubt develop weapons which are fearsomely destructive. Mankind's thoughts turn to war more readily than anything else.”

“Will life be better?”

“Life will be essentially what individuals choose to make it. I, for one would have to find an alternative profession.”

“So you intimated earlier, but detectives will always be needed whatever technological advances come along.”

“Not my form of detecting, Watson. In the future, so much information will be available at a push of a button, such are the advancements being made in communications.”

“Then you would have to become a different kind of detective, but still one equally successful surely?”

“I am happy to have lived when I did and it is somewhat futile and meaningless to speculate on what I or indeed you may have been in another time. I think we belong to hansom cabs, London ‘particulars' and a gas-lit world. Personally, I would not have it any other way.”

“Nor would I.”

“If we could fly out of this window, Watson, hand in hand, to the future, I suspect we would not be enthralled by what we would see. Brave new world? I think not.”

“Perhaps others before us had much the same views regarding the 19
th
century. Each age, each epoch has to stand on its own merits. It's only hindsight that tells us differently. Those living in the time of the Tudors no doubt thought themselves to be living in an enlightened age. When we look back we would deny them that; we would look at the poor sanitation, the gross religious intolerance, the poverty, the divisions between church and state, shake our heads wistfully and point to our own age as being truly enlightened even though we have experience of many of the same ills. Hindsight and foresight differ so very little. I prefer to think of the future as an empty canvas which mankind can fill with a new and better landscape. Each era must surely learn lessons. The factions that foisted the Great War on us will have seen what a terrible scourge they let loose upon the earth and lessons would have certainly been learnt there.”

“And yet, what have we seen since the cessation of those particular hostilities; the Soviet revolution, Greece and Turkey at war, Poland at war with the Soviets. Already there are storm clouds gathering over Europe and if I don't miss my mark, then all too soon another great war will engulf us.”

“That would be madness, Holmes.”

“That is precisely what it
will
be.”

“I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors such a war would bring. The broken bodies I observed in the field hospitals of the Great War were almost too much for me to stomach; the whole flower of a generation wiped out in such an abomination. I would hope that future conflicts would be settled through diplomatic circles, by discourse and reasoning instead of bullets.”

“I doubt such a time will ever come. Avaricious nations will always seek to control lesser ones and man's propensity for violence will always bring such disputes to a state of war. And if politics and greed do not divide then religion surely will.”

“Will not greater and more efficient communication and travel between nations have the effect of bringing those nations closer?”

“I believe it more likely to polarise rather than bring together; the differences amongst the nations of the world, be they political, cultural or religious, can only be heightened by greater intimacy with each other.”

“So the more we rise, the more we are liable to fall. The greater our discernment, the less we have to show for it by the way of peace and greater understanding. Man is a strange and ill-fated animal, Holmes.”

“And master of his own fate, for better or for worse.”

“As you said once, life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent and will continue to be so. But, perhaps we are guilty of painting too black a picture for the future. I prefer to stay optimistic on behalf of future generations, life may turn out to be better than we can imagine.”

“Perhaps so. Good old Watson, the one fixed point in this changing age. You are a beacon of hope in this dull world.”

“And a coward, a killer.”

“Watson, Watson. What's done is done and cannot be undone. I do not seek to judge you nor do I have any right to judge you.”

“But in a sense you have spent a part of your life in the company of one you thought you knew well, but didn't know at all.”

“I knew of your friendship, your loyalty and your courage; had I known of this sad episode in your life it would not have made any difference whatsoever to our comradeship.”

“Thank you, Holmes.”

“Besides, my friend, we are not so very different you know.”

“No? I was always aware of a gulf between us although maybe the word, ‘chasm', expresses it better.”

“That was not quite my meaning.”

“You are surely not going to tell me that you also killed in your younger days? That would be something I would never believe of you.”

“Nevertheless. It is true.”

“I... I... but... who... why? I... I ...”

“Would you like to rest for a moment before I continue?”

“My mind says no, but my body says yes.”

Interlude

“How is he doing, Lucy?”

“Oh, hello Polly. He seems very calm. Still chatting away, but his eyes are becoming dimmer
.”

“Ah, the sweet man.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready then, Lucy?”

“Ready?”

“Where is your head, gal? It's knocking-off time. Well, near as dammit anyway.”

“You get off if you want, Polly. I'll sit here a while, you know, keep him company.”

“Oh, okay. How long are you planning to stay for?”

“Until...
well... you know.”

“Here, have a hug, you strange girl.”

“Thanks, Polly.”

“That's what mates are for. Have fun tomorrow with your Welsh doctor!”

“Oh I will, don't worry. You have fun at home alone!”

“I know something about Welshmen, Lucy...
they have...”

“...oh go away, Polly”

“Bye, Lucy.”

“Bye, Polly.”

Chapter 11

“I fear I am having difficulties distinguishing between dreams and reality. It's like I am sleepwalking with all my senses dulled.”

“Yes I know, my friend, I know only too well.”

“It appears lighter now.”

“Yes, the dawn is almost upon us.”

“What is time after all? What does it mean? Do any of us know? Forgive me, Holmes, the rambling of an old man. Do you
wish
to continue? I will understand it if you do not.”

“I will continue, for the event of which I will speak shaped my life more than anything else as will become obvious to you. Its effects have been profound and never stray far from my mind. Judge, jury and executioner I believe you called me earlier?”

“Yes, although I did not mean it
literally
of course.”

“Yet, it
is
the literal truth. I was young, Mycroft had only just gone up to Oxford and I was left in the house forming some kind of barrier between my father and mother. To my father, I was a failure and far too attached to my mother to be of any consequence or interest to him. Once Mycroft had left to take up the reins of his higher education then relations between my father and mother became more strained than ever. He took delight in taunting her with the fact she had only provided him with two sons and only one in his opinion that was worth considering as a son.”

“The strain he put you both under must have been intolerable.”

“It was, but he favoured us with occasional long absences when he was away doing God knows what?”

“Were you not away at school?”

“For the most part yes, this only caused me more pain because although I was free of his domineering ways, my mother was not. Nevertheless, we survived his cruelties. In time, he took to parading women that he was involved with in front of us; gave them free run of the house for as long as they were there or for as long as it was until he became bored with their presence and moved on to his next conquest.”

“That's outrageous, Holmes. Why did your mother not flee with you?”

“The only sanctuary would have been the family Vernet in France, but my mother was adamant that my education would be in the best English tradition and every bit as good as that of Mycroft's.”

“Could you not have achieved those aims elsewhere in the country, away from him?”

“I wish it had been so, I truly do. I... Excuse my emotions, Watson; they appear to be getting the better of me. I was home during the summer holidays of 1868 and the situation was as bad as it had ever been. There were long silences in the house punctuated by my father's violent and now drunken outbursts. My mother took refuge more and more in her rooms save at mealtimes, whereas I would spend my time ambling over the estate partaking in rudimentary botanical observations. One particularly bright summer's day in August my father asked me to go riding with him. It seemed an odd request from someone who shunned my company wherever humanly possible, but it was not so much a request as an order and an order I was not strong enough or courageous enough to countermand.”

“How extraordinary.”

“Indeed, but in a way I came to comprehend only too clearly later. We rode through the surrounding countryside until both we and our horses were exhausted. When we returned to the house my father instructed me to stable the horses, not normally a job he would entrust me with. The scene that met me when I entered the house was one that has stayed with me forever; my mother's broken body lying at the foot of our imposing staircase. Dead; her limbs and neck broken.”

“My God, Holmes, how perfectly awful for you. Where was your father?”

“Kneeling over her body, seemingly prostrate with grief, but his face, Watson, his face... It bore the all the signs of gloating and triumph. At that point he repulsed me more than ever he had in the past.”

“But she had fallen presumably while the two of you were out riding?”

“So I thought. The strangeness of my father wanting me to go riding with him on this particular day nagged me; it was if he needed someone to be with him, to vouch for his whereabouts if awkward questions were to be asked. Yet, how could he know of this tragic event beforehand unless he was the architect of it?”

“Were the authorities called in?”

“A doctor was sent for as was a local constable who lived some miles distant. If my father was expecting awkward questions then he must have been pleased for none were forthcoming. At the coroner's court the verdict that was returned was one of a tragic accident. After the verdict was returned my father disappeared, no doubt he had a floozy to meet; he could scarcely wait before my mother was cold in her grave before resuming his profligate ways. I returned home alone in a most abject state of mind. I was convinced my father was behind my mother's death, but how? That was the question that taxed my young mind. Mycroft had not returned home for the inquest, but did so for the funeral of course. I felt unable to voice my suspicions to him.”

“Did you confide your fears to whatever authority there was; a local magistrate maybe?”

“I doubted my lone young voice would be heard and besides, there was a more telling reason.”

“What was that?”

“My father was the local magistrate and Justice of the Peace. No, if I wanted justice for my mother, it would fall upon me to provide it. My only problem was how to go about it. I applied myself to a diligent search of the staircase. I crawled on all fours, starting at the bottom, examining each step for any clues as to how my mother had come to fall. It was a long and arduous process, but not one I was about to give up on.”

“Did you find anything?”

“At the top of the stairs I found hammered into the left-hand upright two inches above the step, a nail, a new nail at that. The lustre had not been entirely removed by the hammering. On the opposite upright there was no nail, but a tiny hole was evident.”

“A trip wire of some kind had been laid then?”

“Yes and now my father's actions of that day became clear to me. While I stabled the horses he went to the house to inspect his handiwork. He knew my mother would come down to the kitchen to gather her luncheon together and was confident therefore of finding her where he expected to find her.”

“It was entirely possible she would survive the fall though.”

“I am sure he had a contingency plan if that had been the case. Once he had established life was extinct he intended to extract the nails and remove the twine or whatever it was he used. The one nail I observed no doubt remained obstinate so he instead hammered it in further which was the only option available to him.”

“Was this not evidence that you could have acted on in some way?”

“I acted on it certainly, but not in the way you mean, Watson.”

“I think I know where you are going with this.”

“I have no doubt you do. This monster, my father had taken away my loving, gentle mother. I decided then and there that he would not get away with it. I was cool, composed and single-minded, even allowing for my youth. Before many more weeks had passed my father came home one evening in the blackest of moods, a veritable rage. He demanded I keep him in drink for the evening and I spent the next four hours in keeping him supplied with bottles. If my progress was not deemed to be quick enough then I received a beating for my trouble.”

“Given the state he was in, why did you not just retire to your room and leave him to drink himself into a stupor?”

“Because, Watson, a plan was forming in my head whereby his drunkenness would be beneficial to me. At the opportune time I suggested he go to his bed with the last of the bottles. I assisted him up the stairs and saw him into his room. I waited for what seemed a very long hour and checked on his condition. He was sound asleep although comatose would have been a more apt description. I had left nothing to chance, I had a hammer, nails and twine ready. My mind was made up and nothing on earth would have deterred me. I acted as quietly as I could yet was still suitably fearful my hammer blows would rouse my father from his unconscious state. Five minutes was all it took to secure the twine in place, brown twine virtually invisible against the brown stain of the wood. Satisfied with my handiwork, I retired.”

“And the outcome was as you expected?”

“Yes it was. I arose around eight o' clock. All was still and quiet. My father was evidently still asleep. I dressed and went out, being careful not to disturb the twine of course. There was no one else who could be harmed by my actions. The gardener was due at nine, but would not enter the house unless invited. There was a woman from the village who assisted with the cleaning, but she was not due to work until the following day. I spent the next few hours in an almost dreamlike state as though I was somehow disassociated from my actions; that is not to say I

was not aware of my crime and the end result, for I was, but my thoughts that day were for my mother. When I eventually returned, it was to find my father sprawled out at the bottom of the staircase, his arms and legs akimbo and quite, quite dead.”

“Were not suspicions raised when this death followed on so closely from the other?”

“I was not aware of any to be honest. I testified to the coroner's court as to how much drink my father had taken the night before and the verdict duly returned was the only one open to them. Mycroft returned from Oxford once more and no doubt on this occasion had his own suspicions, but he never once brought the subject up. His own education was virtually over and he stayed in the family home to oversee my own. So you see, Watson, you could also say that you have never really known what kind of a man you shared rooms with.”

“I know only too well, Holmes. I have no complaints, no regrets.”

“I echo those sentiments, my friend.”

“Is that the sun's rays I see?”

“Yes, dawn has arrived.”

“Lord, what a heavenly light.”

“Indeed, Watson.”

“What a life we had...”

“Yes we did... Watson?”

“Can you hear me, Doctor Watson?”

“Watson?”

“Doctor Watson?... MATRON!”

“Farewell, my friend”

1929. A small hospital somewhere in Dorset. An ante-room off a dimly lit corridor.
It is no longer night, the first light of dawn and the sun's rays are slowly penetrating the room. In the room itself the growing light enables us to see a figure in a bed. The pipes, tubes and all the trappings we associate with keeping someone alive have been removed. The man, for it is a man, lies prone and still. Still and silent as the grave.