Sherlock Holmes (18 page)

I gave her what I hoped would be a helpless
smile. She gave me a knowing look, saying, “Why of course sir, I'm
always available to assist a gentlemen out of his clothes and into
the bath” and she gave my arm a squeeze.

Even though I am a professional man, used to
having to examine my patients and sometimes help them disrobe, I
am, at best, a reluctant patient. We struggled with my clothes for
a few minutes with me feigning difficulty with my shoulder but soon
I was naked. I held out my arm and she assisted me as I climbed
into the bath and sat down.

At this point, she turned to leave. I was
sure that Holmes had not had sufficient time to accomplish his task
so I had to try and delay Mrs Withers further. “Pray, don't leave
Mrs Withers. I...I am in need of your attentions for my bathing
also. Of course, I would be willing to pay a little extra for your
expertise in these matters.”

Mrs Withers gave me a wink, saying, “Of
course sir, allow me.” and, taking up a loofa, she began to wash my
back.

After ten excruciating minutes, not one part
of me had been left untouched. I felt defiled! However, I smiled as
she dried me and I indicated that Nurse Susan would not be required
as the assisted bathing had relaxed me sufficiently. Mrs Withers
helped me dress and we returned, once more, to the waiting
room.

“Right, sir. That will be twenty-five
shillings to cover the little extra attention.” She smiled sweetly
and I gave her a sovereign and two half crowns. I touched my hat,
said goodbye and hurried down the stairs.

It took me but a few moments to find Holmes.
He could see that I was more than a little unnerved. “Gracious me,
Watson. You came down those steps in a very spritely fashion for a
man with a war wound!” He laughed heartily and patted me on the
back. “Come on old fellow, let us look for somewhere to compare
stories.” With that, he took my arm and we set off to seek
somewhere to lunch.

Finding a nearby tavern, we ordered two pints
of ale. For our luncheon we were served a fine meal of pork pie, a
little Stilton cheese, some pickles and freshly baked bread. Holmes
was as anxious to hear my tale as I was to hear whether he had been
able to retrieve the Bishop's tie pin and photograph.

“I have to say, Holmes that my heart almost
stopped when I saw you through the crack in the door as you entered
the waiting room.”

Holmes smiled broadly. “Yes, very quick
thinking on your part, Watson. I heard it all!”

I grumbled
and raised my glass of ale. “That is not all, Holmes. I had to
prevent Mrs Withers from returning to her office. I did so by
procuring her services and enduring the indignity of a most
intrusive and intimate assisted bath!” At this
, Holmes roared with laughter and, whilst at first I was a
little aggrieved, I did eventually see the humorous side of the
affair.

Holmes then began to recount his adventure
from when he entered the waiting room. “On opening the outer door a
crack, I observed that the coast was clear. Crossing towards the
office of Mrs Withers, I saw the door of the treatment room
beginning to open and heard your voice. Thankfully, your request
saved the day! I slipped into the office which I have to say was
richly furnished in Mahogany and velvets. Mrs Withers’ desk was
rather fine with inlaid legs and a leather writing surface in the
Georgian style.”

Holmes paused and took a drink of ale before
continuing. “However, the drawer locks were child's play and by
using the appropriate pick they soon gave up their secrets. I was
surprised to find that Mrs Withers had files on numerous clients,
several illustrious names were amongst them. It took me but a few
moments to find the Bishop’s file and from it I removed the
photograph and also the tie pin.

Holmes paused again briefly before
continuing. “It was as I prepared to copy the names of the clients
into my notebook that I heard footsteps approaching. This required
me to dive into the kneehole of the desk. I could see, from my
position in the shadow beneath the desk, that one of the nurses had
entered the room. She crossed to a wooden cabinet, opened it and
inside was a small safe with a slotted recess in the top.
Obviously, it was the practice that when Mrs Withers was not
present to take the money, the girls dropped the coins into the
safe. I observed that the safe was made by Thomas Milner of Oxford
Street. A safe of reasonable quality but certainly not
invincible.”

I looked closely at Holmes and noted that he
now had a distinct twinkle in his eye. “Waiting until the girl had
left, I then quickly scribbled the names from the files into my
notebook. I also took the liberty of making an impression of the
safe key which was also in the desk drawer. Taking a small tin
containing some glaziers putty is always useful when one may have
to make an impression of a key. Replacing everything as it had been
found, I locked the drawer, slipped from the office and out of the
building.”

Holmes was clearly pleased with the outcome
of our adventure and, on finishing lunch, we hailed a cab and
returned to Baker Street. As we entered our lodgings, Mrs Hudson
passed Holmes a note that had been left by a government messenger.
“Ah, it is from Mycroft. He is to visit this evening at around
nine.” I could see from Holmes’ expression that he was indeed eager
to pass on the details of our exploits to his brother.

As we sat after dinner smoking a pipe before
Mycroft's arrival, I suddenly remembered the list of names that
Holmes had copied into his notebook. “Were there some names of
interest in Mrs Withers’ files Holmes? I asked.

Holmes had a thin smile on his lips as he
tossed his notebook over to me. I must confess that I sprang from
my chair like a Jack-in-the-box as I read the first name. “Holmes!
This is incredible...and...no! Good Lord...not...” I sank into my
chair totally aghast and bewildered by the importance of the names
on the list. “You mean this woman has a hold on each of these
men?”

Holmes nodded. “Incredible it may be, Watson
but I fear it is so. These men are the captains of industry and men
of great influence within our government and yet, they are mere
puppets, performing at the whim of a foreign power.”

I had barely taken in this information when
the ringing of the bell in the hall below announced the arrival of
Mycroft. Once safely in our rooms, and with the door firmly closed,
Holmes swiftly recounted our visit to Mrs Withers and how he had
retrieved the Bishop's photograph and tie pin. At the end of his
narrative, Holmes passed Mycroft a copy of the list of names from
his notebook.

Mycroft Holmes is not a man easily shocked.
However, it was apparent from his expression that, on this
occasion, he most certainly was! Mycroft recovered quickly, saying,
“I must admit, Sherlock that Mrs Withers has very interesting
clientele. It is something, I think, Mr Asquith and the Prime
Minister should be made aware of immediately.”

Holmes smiled and nodded. “Quite so...you may
find this of some use in the future, Mycroft, should you have need
to visit the lady's establishment in an official capacity.” Holmes
reached into his jacket pocket and removed the small tin containing
the glaziers putty with the impression of the safe key.

Mycroft opened the tin and examined the
impression. “Ah, one of Thomas Milner's if I am not mistaken. The
form of the key is quite distinctive. Thank you Sherlock, it will
no doubt be most useful. I will keep you apprised of the situation
regarding the Bishop of Sandbury.” With a nod in my direction,
Mycroft was gone.

Two months passed before we heard from
Mycroft again. It appears that he had had occasion to use the
services of the Bishop of Sandbury to deliver further false
information to the German embassy. As confirmation of the validity
of the contents of Captain Mapleton's bag, he had arranged for Mrs
Withers’ establishment to be raided a week later by Special Branch.
In the raid the files were seized and the contents of the safe
removed. Such action ensured that Mrs Withers’ hold over her
clients had been relinquished, much to the relief of all parties
concerned. We also learned that as a direct result of the
deception, Herr Friedmann had been removed from his post and was
currently languishing and awaiting trial in a Kiel prison.

It was a few days after these events, as we
were sitting at leisure in our rooms, that a letter arrived for
Holmes bearing the postmark of Sandbury. Holmes opened it and
smiled. “It is a note from the Bishop, listen to this,
Watson...'Dear Mr Holmes and Dr Watson, I have been informed that
as a result of my co-operation with Special Branch that I am not to
be prosecuted. This is on condition that I retire from my post as
Bishop of Sandbury with immediate effect. The Bishop of Westfield
tells me that I have you and Dr Watson to thank for preventing a
scandal and I am forever in your debt. I have also been informed
that you retrieved my tie pin from Mrs Withers. It would give me
great pleasure if you would keep it as a gift from a very grateful
churchman'. It is signed, Clive Mapleton."

Holmes reached into a drawer in his desk and
removed from it a very handsome diamond and ruby tie pin. “Well,
Watson. In the light of your great sacrifices in this affair, I
think that it is only right that the tie pin should become yours.”
and he passed it to me. I was initially somewhat reluctant to
accept it but Holmes insisted. For a year or so it remained in my
collar drawer but I wear it now with pride as a memento of the
'Case of the Bishop's Tie Pin'.

It was in the autumn of 1896, at
the close of a case that Holmes had found interminably dull, that
we became embroiled in another which, I have to say, was perhaps
one of the most harrowing and wicked that I have hitherto
recorded.

I had risen quite late that
fateful morning and, on entering our sitting room, I found myself
alone. From the look of our dining table, it would appear that
Holmes had had some small semblance of breakfast. The butter dish
was awry and his place at the table was covered in crumbs from his
toast. His half-drunk cup of tea was in evidence, his chair askew
and his napkin tossed roughly aside as though he had left somewhat
in haste.

I was but part-way through a
fine pair of 'Arbroath Smokies' when I heard our front door slam
and the sound of seemingly angry, though familiar, footfalls upon
the stairs.

Holmes burst into our rooms,
crying, "Utterly incompetent, Watson!" He threw his hat and coat in
the general direction of the coat stand before angrily collapsing
into his leather armchair. "I am beside myself with contempt for
minds that decide to prosecute a clearly innocent man! They may
look but they have not an inkling as to what is plainly there
before them!"

I put down my knife and fork and
regarded Holmes. "Is it the Stanton case?" I asked, hoping for an
explanation for his obvious foul mood.

Holmes looked across at me and
it was though the mere act of concentrating on something other than
his own anger had seemed to calm him. Reaching for his pipe and his
Persian slipper pouch, he began to fill the bowl with fresh
tobacco.

Now a little more at ease, he
answered, "Indeed. I found it necessary to almost drag Lestrade to
Hammersmith mortuary to explain to him that, if he continued with
the case, Scotland Yard would be made a laughing stock by any
half-decent defence counsel. What do you recall of the case,
Watson?" asked Holmes as he struck a match against the fender and
drew strongly upon his pipe.

I had managed a further mouthful
of kipper but again put down my knife and fork. Sitting back, I
thought for a moment whilst dabbing the corner of my mouth with one
of Mrs Hudson's fine, damask napkins. “Well, let me see… you have
been retained by the wife of one Samuel Stanton, a petty larcenist
who has been accused of the murder of his drinking companion, Henry
Squires. As I remember, Holmes, Stanton had had a drunken
altercation with Squires in 'The Moon and Sun' public house one
evening. Squires was subsequently found dead with a head wound the
following morning in an alley behind the establishment. Murder was
presumed and Stanton, who had no alibi, and, indeed, no memory of
the evening whatsoever, was found to have blood on his
clothes."

Pleased with my résumé of the
case, I once more picked up my knife and fork and continued with my
breakfast.

Holmes nodded and blew out a
thin stream of blue smoke before asking, "And what of this head
wound, Watson? It was examined during the post mortem and found to
have caused a deadly bleed to the brain. It was assumed to have
been caused by some blunt object, wielded by Stanton, though none
was found."

I sat forwards, a little alarmed
by this new information. "Assumed? Was it not so?" I asked.

Holmes barked out a scornful
laugh and then smiled grimly, shaking his head. "No, Watson! After
a brief visit to ‘The Moon and Sun’ public house and the most
elementary of enquiries at his workplace, I found out that Squires
was a sign writer for a local tram company. Two days before the
evening of the argument with Stanton, Squires had had an accident
at work. A sign that he had just painted became loose from its
fixing and had struck him heavily on the back of the head.”

I nodded and considered this,
waiting for Holmes to continue. “Based on purely circumstantial
evidence and, by association, The Crown, in their wisdom, decided
to prosecute Samuel Stanton for murder. It was only after I had
examined the head wound that I was able to establish beyond doubt
that Stanton was not responsible. However, I found it necessary to
demonstrate my findings to Lestrade this morning at the
mortuary.”