The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case Read online

  The Adventure of the Tired Captain

  A

  Sherlock Holmes Case

  K. Michael Gaschnitz

  © 2012 K. Michael Gaschnitz

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 1

  Often was the time that Sherlock Holmes would exhort me to suppress publishing the details of one of his little problems in order to protect the identity of any innocent persons involved. The decision not to make public the details of this case, however, was mine alone to make. At the time the events were still too fresh in my mind and the memory too painful for me to set the details onto paper. Time does, however, heal all wounds and it would be a great disservice to the memory of those involved, to let the story forever remain untold. Discerning readers and frustrated editors have long decried my lack of accuracy as to dates in many of my published stories (due to either carelessness or on the advice of my solicitor) but they will no doubt be relieved to know that the dates related within are precise as I certainly shall never forget them.

  As readers of my modest stories may recall, Holmes was thought to have met an unfortunate and untimely end in a struggle high atop Reichenbach Falls with the implacable Professor James Moriarty and while most of the facts leading up to the supposed demise of Holmes are as described in The Strand Magazine, the reports concerning his death as widely reported in all of the daily newspapers of the period are wholly fictitious. Any student of Holmes’ methods or indeed any of my readers may have deduced as much. For those who may not recall the facts of the case I shall summarize them.

  It was in the fiftieth year of the reign of Victoria that Sherlock Holmes first became aware of a single controlling presence emerging in the murky criminal world which was his milieu. Like some gigantic spider this evil mastermind sat in the middle of his great web, controlling and guiding it’s every movement and being aware of every radiation affecting it. Following a labyrinthine investigation Holmes was finally able to put a name to this “Napoleon of Crime.”

  Professor James Moriarty was a mathematical genius who had at one time written a treatise upon the Binomial Theorem which had gained a European vogue and won him the mathematics chair at a small English University. There, various dark and sinister allegations arose around him, which forced his resignation from that esteemed institution. Following this he gravitated to London, that great sinkhole of the Empire where all things are inevitably drawn. It was in the capital that he became an Army coach, preparing men for the entrance examination into the officer’s corps. It was also here that he began to form his vast criminal organization and where he would eventually come under the scrutiny of Sherlock Holmes.

  It was early in the year of 1891 that the matter between Holmes and Moriarty began to resolve itself.

  Moriarty had become aware of Holmes’ interest in him and had presented himself at Baker Street in April of that year. What follows is a verbatim though abbreviated transcript of the conversation between the two adversaries as related to me later by Holmes.

  “You first crossed my path on the 4th of January,” began the Professor, “on the 23rd you incommoded me; by the middle of February I was seriously inconvenienced by you; at the end of March I was absolutely hampered in my plans; and now, at the close of April I find myself placed in such a position through your continual persecution that I am in positive danger of losing my liberty. The situation is becoming an impossible one.”

  “Have you any suggestions to make?” asked Holmes.

  “You must drop it, Mr. Holmes,” replied Moriarty.

  “After Monday.”

  “Tut, tut!” replied Moriarty. “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 withdraw. You have worked things in such a fashion that we have only one resource left. 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.”

  “Danger is my trade,” replied the detective.

  “This is not danger,” said Moriarty. “It is inevitable destruction.”

  “I am afraid that in the pleasure of this conversation I am neglecting business of importance which awaits me elsewhere,” replied Holmes calmly.

  “Well, well,” Moriarty said. “It seems a pity, but I have done what I could. You can do nothing before Monday. If you are clever enough to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you.”

  “If I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter,” said Holmes.

  “I can promise you the one but not the other,” snarled Moriarty as he gathered his hat from the stand and left the room.

  This then was Holmes’ first meeting with Professor James Moriarty.

  Following this interview Holmes immediately became the object of Moriarty’s vindictive wrath and it was later that very day that his life was put in jeopardy by Moriarty’s machinations. Though he came through virtually unscathed the experience had left him shaken. Subsequently it was that same evening that I found Holmes in my consulting rooms. It struck me that he was looking even paler than usual.

  “Have you any objection to my closing your shutters?” he asked.

  “None, whatsoever,” I said, moving towards the window.

  With the speed and agility of a mongoose my friend was upon me, pushing me against the wall.

  “For God’s sake Watson, stay back,” he whispered. Dropping to his knees he closed the shutters, never showing himself in the window.

  “You horrify me Holmes. You are afraid of something?” I asked.

  “Yes Watson, I am.”

  “Of what,” I asked? This frank admission caused my blood to run cold. I had never met a man who had more confidence in his own abilities or one who could face danger with such a casual indifference. The threat then must indeed be great to affect him in such a way.

  “Of air guns,” he answered.

  “Air guns! But what does it all mean, Holmes?” I asked him.

  In mute reply he lit one of the foul little cigarettes he favored, when separated from his beloved pipes and I saw in the light of the gas lamp that two of his knuckles were burst and bleeding.

  “You are hurt, Holmes.”

  “It is nothing, Watson. But as you can see it is not an airy nothing. On the contrary, it is solid enough for a man to break his hand over.”

  “You are involved in a case?”

  “Of a sort,” he replied. He then told me of his meeting with Moriarty.

  “Is Mrs. Watson in?” he asked.

  “She is away upon a visit.”

  “Indeed! You are alone?”

  “At the moment.”

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

  “On the Continent! Where?”

  “Oh anywhere. It’s all the same to me.”

  “The practice is quiet,” said I, “and I have an accommodating neighbour. I should be glad to come.”

  “And to start tomorrow morning?”

  “If necessa
ry.”

  “Oh yes, it is most necessary.”

  My army experience had made me a ready traveler and it would be little effort to have my bags packed for the next day’s journey. We then made our plans for the morrow.

  His first concern was to provide for the safety of those few people who were close to him. I was to put my wife Mary up at Brown’s Hotel in Gloucester Road where she would come under the watchful eye of Mycroft Holmes. “Brown’s” was a cozy hotel close to Kensington Station and was much favored by Americans. Mrs. Hudson had been whisked away to her sister’s in Scotland, Holmes no doubt paying her way. He worried little about his older brother Mycroft as he was virtually untouchable in his lodgings in Whitehall or in the tranquil, if unnatural, surroundings of the Diogenes Club while my friend had arranged for me to rendezvous with him at Victoria Station the following morning in time to catch the Continental Express.

  We finalized our plans after which Holmes took his leave. I offered him the use of my spare bed which he declined as he did not want to bring danger upon myself or my wife.

  Upon Mary’s return I told her of Holmes’ visit and of his concerns regarding Moriarty. The dire consequences which were certain to befall her should she fall into the Professor’s hands, I kept to myself. To her credit and my consternation she refused to be bullied. Though I implored her to take Holmes’ advice she would have none of it. I sent a telegram to my friend informing him of this development.

  I received no reply.

  The next morning after saying my farewells I set out for Victoria Station. I will not bore the reader with the precautions taken in order to thwart Moriarty and his followers, as I have already described the events of that morning in the story which eventually appeared in the Strand Magazine. It is enough to say that I reached the station with little time to spare. Inside the coach I was greeted by Holmes, who dressed in the guise of an ancient Italian cleric had secured for us a first class compartment on the Continental Express. Holmes’ seemed ill at ease during our trip and perhaps sensing that Moriarty was hard upon our heels he had us disembark at Canterbury. We allowed our luggage to go on without us, in a hope it would provide a false trail for the Professor to follow.

  My friend’s instincts again proved correct as we had no sooner alighted from our own train than an engine with a single carriage passed by the shadowy doorway of the station house where we had secreted ourselves. Sitting in the carriage with his face pressed to the glass, was an elderly man. The almost reptilian features bespoke of evil and wickedness and although I had never seen him before I had little doubt as to his identity.

  I could not help feeling responsible. “I am sorry Holmes; he must have followed me from Kensington.”

  “If there is any fault it lays with myself, Watson. Moriarty if nothing else is my intellectual equal and I failed to put myself in his place. He has conducted himself as I should have done.”

  “In what manner, Holmes?”

  “I would have put members of my organization at all the ports and major train stations and have them report back to me immediately if my quarry attempted to run.”

  “Even if our flight has been detected by how could he have responded so quickly?”

  “I tell you Watson, the man is an organizational genius. It would be but a moment’s work for him to be informed of our flight and to engage a special to pursue us. At least we shall have the satisfaction of knowing that they shall all be in the dock come Monday although it may be small consolation if he should find us before then.”

  Following a light lunch we made our way to Newhaven and then across the Channel to Belgium and thence to Brussels. We spent two days in the Belgian capital before traveling to Strasbourg. There, Holmes telegraphed Inspector Patterson to inquire as to the results of their mutual plan to ensnare the members of Moriarty’s organization. Receiving a reply later that day the detective learned that nearly the entire gang had been captured the notable exception of course, being the Professor, himself, as he was on the Continent stalking us.

  Holmes tried to convince me to return to England as he was concerned that Moriarty would redouble his efforts to seek his revenge. The prospect of abandoning my friend held little appeal to me. We argued the question for nearly an hour, however by the evening we had resumed our journey.

  For over a week we wandered lazily up the Valley of the Rhone and by May the third we had made our way to the quaint Swiss village of Meiringen. There we put up at an inn by the name of the Englischer Hof the landlord of which was Peter Steiler. A jovial host, who spoke excellent English, Herr Steiler proved to be a font of information concerning the local landmarks.

  On his recommendation we set off across country with the purpose of reaching the hamlet of Rosenlaui where we would spend the night. Our host cautioned us though, that our journey would prove to be a waste of time if by way of a brief detour, we did not visit the falls of Reichenbach.

  The falls, swollen by the melting snow from high in the mountains plunged into a tremendous abyss from which the spray boiled up like the smoke from a burning house. A well worn path, formed from the countless pairs of feet of curious sightseers who had, like us, come to see one of nature’s wonders led us to a spot near the top. Suffering from a fear of heights I stayed well back from the railing which surrounded our aerie. Holmes having, no such apprehension, sat upon the top rail smoking and staring contemplatively into the raging water.

  Suddenly from below us a young lad appeared. The child pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me with grubby fingers. Unfolding it, I found what proved to be a dispatch signed by the landlord of the hotel in which we had spent the previous night. It seemed that an English lady in the last stages of consumption had arrived at the hotel soon after we had left. Apparently her condition had worsened and she had requested the presence of an English doctor. Though I had misgivings at leaving my friend alone, I had, at his insistence, no choice but to obey the summons.

  Leaving our messenger with Holmes to act as his guide and companion, I began the return journey to the hotel.

  Upon reaching the bottom of the path I looked back to where I had left my friend. To my horror, far above me I could see the figure of a man outlined against the rocks which lined the path. The tall figure, lean and dressed in black emanated an almost palpable aura of malignancy, and could only have been that of Professor Moriarty. He must have been secreted somewhere further up the path, remaining hidden until Holmes and I had parted company.

  There was no sign of the young Swiss boy who had delivered the summons and I feared that he had abandoned my friend. The thought of going back crossed my mind however my duties as a doctor took priority. If the stranger above was indeed Moriarty, Holmes with his keen senses would undoubtedly be aware of his presence and be prepared for whatever the Professor had in mind, however I redoubled my efforts to reach Meiringen.

  It was almost an hour later that I found myself confronting our former host, who was standing in the doorway of his hotel.

  “Well,” said I as I came hurrying up, “I trust that she is no worse?”

  A look of surprise passed over his face.

  “Whom do you mean, Doctor?”

  “You did not write this?” I asked, showing him the letter. “There is no sick Englishwoman in the hotel?”

  “Certainly not,” he cried. “But it has the hotel mark on it! Ha, there has only been one other Englishman at the hotel since you left and it must have been written by him. He was____”

  But I had turned to go before he could finish uttering the sentence.

  It had taken me an hour to reach the hotel from the falls, and being winded, the return trip uphill took nearly double that. Upon reaching the top I could see no sign of my friend save for his Alpine-stock which was leaning against a rock. I stood there for a moment or two in horror and it was to no avail that I shouted. Presently I regained my senses and attempted to use Holmes’ own methods which he had in vain tried to drill into my head.

/>   Unfortunately the signs were only too plain to see. The black soil which lies upon the path is continually kept soft by the spray from the falls. There were two lines of footmarks leading away from me towards the path’s end and none returning. Comparing the footmarks to those which we had made on our ascent I knew one set to be that of Holmes while the other must have been that of Moriarty.

  Slowly I made my way back to where my friend had left his stick and it was only then I saw his cigarette case glinting in the sun. As I picked up the case a small white square of paper fluttered to the ground. On it, written in Holmes’ precise hand were these lines....

  “My Dear Watson,” it began.

  “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 presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, 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 may 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 will follow.

  Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict the gang are in pigeon hole “M”, and done up in a blue envelope and inscribed “Moriarty.”

  I have 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 my dear fellow,”

  “Very sincerely yours”

  “Sherlock Holmes”

  I sat there poring over the words while the roar of the falls thundered in my ears. It was an hour before I gathered my senses and decided to return to Meiringen for assistance.