Sherlock Holmes and the Father of Lies

by C J Lutton

  Following Holmes’ path was harrowing. At first, Thaddeus had us careening wildly, but he quickly mastered the slick surface. Once he did, we were on our way.

  After what seemed an incredibly long ride, we came upon Holmes’ abandoned sleigh. Our horse whinnied, as we glided sideways into a snowbank next to a tree. Jumping down, we stood anxiously, listening for any sign of Holmes. There was nothing but silence. Thaddeus was about to call out when I pointed at the ground. I had spotted Holmes’ footprints. We followed the indentations, slowly at first, but quickened our pace the farther along we went.

  The night was frigid, but the air was crystal clear and still. Off in the distance, we could see the mist rising from the falls. The evening sky was full of stars and a bright, full moon. The only sounds I could make out were the rumblings of the great falls. Holmes’ tracks were leading us to the river that flowed with falling water. I suddenly became aware of another sound that somehow appeared out of nowhere, but I thought little of it until it fully penetrated my agitated brain. In the state I was in, it was the most terrifying sound I had ever heard! I lunged at Thaddeus and held him still.

  ”Listen!” I whispered.

  At first, there was nothing but the rumbling of the falls, then faintly, another sound was heard. It was not the sound of a human, but rather the wailing of some prehistoric animal. The cries rose from the distance, then built to a climatic crescendo, right at the foot of the riverbank. Thaddeus and I peered with eyes narrowed in concentration. We looked in the direction the noise had originated, but saw nothing. Next a new and more horrifying clamor could be heard. It was as if a giant walked the land. Its footfalls trampled the snow and ice, as it strode through the evening's cold.

  This also originated from the opposite shore and traveled to this side of the river. Again, Thaddeus and I turned this way and that, but there was nothing to be seen.

  ”What was that?”Thaddeus’ voice was ragged in response to the moaning of the dead.

  ”Wait,” I pleaded, crouching low and following the direction of the thunderous crack. ”The ice!” I cried. ”The sound is coming from the ice expanding and contracting. It's breaking up.”

  Embarrassed by our imaginations, we didn't look each other in the eye, but we did resume our search for Holmes.

  We reached the riverbank and saw that Holmes had gone onto the frozen river. Carefully, we felt our way out onto the ice. Holmes’ tracks led straight out to the middle of the raging river, hidden below the crust of ice. We could hear the water churning under us. We felt it vibrating beneath our feet. Following our friend’s footsteps, we could see that Holmes suddenly veered left and walked downriver towards the falls. Thaddeus and I glanced at each other and with a shrug of our shoulders, we followed his tracks. The snow was virgin, except for Holmes’ tracks and now ours. Unexpectedly, another set of tracks appeared out of nowhere. Holmes had met someone on the ice! Slowly, the realization seeped in that there had been no tracks leading up to Holmes. They just appeared in the middle of the river.

  The newcomer had to be Moriarty.

  Thankfully, there were no signs of a struggle. The tracks indicated that two people walked side by side. Staring downriver, our vision was severely limited by the swirling, windswept shards of ice. The pieces tore into our exposed flesh and stung our eyes. Thaddeus and I could see no farther than a few painful yards ahead. The nearer we got to the falls, the more the falling water threw out a mist that clung around us in a heavy veil. But the most troubling of all were the sounds of the river underneath our feet. The thick plates of ice groaned as they changed pitch. These noises became much more violent with our every step. Thaddeus was frozen in concentration, as he stared down at the tracks. He stood ignorant of the looming silhouette that flitted in and out of sight as the mist rolled by. Grabbing my young friend so roughly that we nearly spilled, I pointed to the shape, as it rose up from the ice about a hundred paces before us. We crouched low to steady ourselves on the gyrating ice beneath our feet. It was as if the river was breathing. Trying to identify what it was that loomed before us, we stared into the ice—filled cauldron of the gusting winds that swirled round the shape that seemingly appeared and disappeared at will. The loud thumping and moaning that we heard earlier was now of such volume and quantity that I was sure the world was coming to an end. We walked and crawled our way closer to the shimmering form, as the suffocating mist found its way into our gaping mouths.

  The mist quickly froze on our extremities and hair. At times, I had to break the thick crust from my eyebrows in order to see. Even so, we crept closer and closer. The river seemed to sense our trespassing and protested by directing all of its power and force beneath our feet. The frozen surface undulated wildly under our feet. So much so, that we had to crawl on our stomachs, knowing full well that we could not keep our balance. For a while, Thaddeus and I remained prone, wide—eyed and gasping for air. We were very much like two terrified passengers taking a ride on the wrathful river. Through the shimmering mist, I caught sight of two men climbing over the skeletal remains of a dinosaur. The enormous carcass had been picked clean. I turned to Thaddeus and his expression verified that he was as astonished as I. We scratched and clawed our way across the jagged ice until we were approximately ten feet from the ribs of the giant beast. At last, we could see what was truly ahead of us.

  Of course, the skeleton was not that of a dinosaur. It was a boat. The twisted and splintered remains of an unknown ship had found itself pinned against an outcropping of rocks. The vessel was caught just below the surface of the rolling river was now frozen in place. Nature had abandoned the ship, leaving it little else to do but to stay there and rot in mute testimony to the river's powerful whims. The largest portion of the ship was underwater, but enough remained above the surface to suggest the ribs of a long extinct creature.

  Squinting into the mist, I could make out Holmes and Moriarty as they traversed the expanse of broken timber. Above the din of the falls, I heard their shouts, growls, and grunts. It was as if they were primal animals in a battle for their lives. Holmes appeared to be getting the better of his opponent. He tripped the professor and when Moriarty went down, Holmes pinned him with his long legs. Holmes dropped to his knees using them to pin Moriarty’s arms to the ice. Moriarty responded by swinging his head from side to side—and trying to bite Holmes’ legs!

  Scrambling past me, Thaddeus had managed to reach the wreck. I crawled hurriedly beside him. Amidst the growls and curses, Holmes kept straddling Moriarty, who was fast becoming more desperate. Thaddeus and I scrambled over the splintered beams, placing ourselves slightly above the two struggling men.

  ”Holmes!” I shouted. ”We're here! Let us help!”

  ”This creature is mine!” he roared, never raising his eyes from Moriarty.

  I looked down at Moriarty, whose eyes were glowing fire—red. The only thing stopping Moriarty from tearing into Holmes was Aramis, the shotgun. Holmes held each end of the shotgun in the crook of his knees. Thus, he was pressing the gun against Moriarty’s throat. This tactic kept the madman’s teeth away from Holmes.

  Moriarty continued to struggle and gasp for air. Sherlock Holmes smiled up at us, but there was a tinge of concern in his eyes. ”Grab his hands, men!” Holmes shouted hoarsely.

  We scurried to help.

  ”Moriarty, before you meet your maker, I'll give you one last chance to kill me,” said Holmes.

  Shocked, Thaddeus cried out in alarm.

  ”Be quiet!” Holmes growled to his young friend in response, ”and do as I've told you!”

  We scrambled down and grasped at Moriarty's hands.

  Holmes taunted the professor once again, ”Well, Professor? What's it to be? Do you die now? Or would you like to have one more chance to kill me?”

  Moriarty ceased his struggling and stared into Holmes’ blazing eyes. The professor nodded once. As Moriarty settled, Holmes reached into his pocket and took out the mallet and wooden stake. Instantly, the fear showed on Mo
riarty's face. With a snarl, the madman used his nearly superhuman strength to topple Holmes.

  ”Grab his legs!” Thaddeus cried. ”Doctor, get his legs. I can hold his arms! Hurry!”

  I released Moriarty's arm and crawled over him, throwing myself onto his struggling legs. Holmes, at last, righted himself. Then he dropped the mallet and stake and watched them fall to the ice. Holmes yelled, ”Watson, give me your tools!”

  ”Here!” I shouted, finally managing to find them, ”and hurry. I don't know how much longer I can hold on!”

  When Holmes placed the point of a stake to Moriarty's chest, he stopped struggling. ”This is your last chance, Moriarty. You'll find it much more appealing to deal with me rather than with the devil.”

  Moriarty looked at Holmes shrewdly. ”You say I'll have another opportunity to kill you?”

  ”Correct! Now what's your decision? Do you die now, or do you wish one more opportunity?”

  ”What is it you want?” Moriarty asked. His eyes narrowed speculatively but the red gleam remained.

  ”I want to know where Dracula is. That's all that I require. Once you've given me his location, you will have the knowledge that my possible death came about because of you.”

  “Do I have your word?” Moriarty asked.

  Holmes nodded. ”I have never lied to you.”

  ”Very well. Though I cannot see how it will serve you. After all, you will be dead. Surely, you don't expect these two imbeciles to confront the Master? Why, Sherlock, that would be cold—blooded murder! Their blood, or shall I say the lack of it, will be on your hands. Dracula cannot die!” Moriarty roared with laughter.

  ”We have waged many a battle together, Holmes,” the professor continued, ”and one of your many weaknesses is that you have always been true to your word. It will be an honour to kill you. My Master is outside of a small town called Cobleskill. Now release me and prepare to die!”

  Holmes smiled. ”Who said anything about releasing you?”

  Panic sounded in Moriarty's voice. ”Your word, Holmes, you gave me your word!”

  ”I did, Moriarty, and I will honour it. But if you recall, I said you will have the knowledge that your actions may have caused my death.”

  The sudden realisation that he had been duped caused Moriarty to shake with rage. Holmes hissed, ”I am so very sorry, professor. I thought you had understood my meaning. I suppose I could have worded it differently, but I don't recall saying anything about freeing you!”

  Sherlock Holmes raised the mallet in the air. Moriarty screamed, “Nooooo!” His body began to transform. I felt his legs shrink from beneath my weight. Suddenly I was flat on the ice. Moriarty’s legs had disappeared.

  Thaddeus screamed, “He’s changing!”

  Before our astonished eyes, Moriarty was turning into a bat. In the split—second that it had taken Holmes to bring the head of the mallet crashing down, Moriarty transformed into a winged creature of the night. The mallet’s violent arc splintered the wooden stake that Holmes was holding. The stake pierced nothing but the petrified rib of the ancient boat.

  ”You missed him!” Thaddeus cried out.

  Holmes rose to his feet. Our movements awakened the sleeping skeleton of the wrecked boat. Stuck half in and half out of the ice as it was, the massive frame began to shudder. Holmes straightened to his full height and darkened the giant moon with his silhouette. I didn't see what happened to the vile monster. Had it flown away?

  Suddenly, Holmes spun round. I saw that he held the loathsome creature in his hands while spreading its wings taut. The small head of the bat twisted and tried to sink its teeth deep into Holmes. The tiny mammal’s pointy ears were pinned back in fear, as its legs kicked helplessly in the cold air. Professor Moriarty was completely transformed into that small, furious animal. And Holmes held the thrashing monster aloft. The bat’s wings were nearly transparent with the moon acting as a back light. The creature’s wings vibrated with a hum as the stiff breeze caused the gauze—like flesh to billow like the sails of a ship.

  Holmes was standing above me. He turned and his back was silhouetted against the full of the moon. Still holding the squealing bat tightly in his hands, it appeared as though he were offering this evil creature to Diana, the Goddess of the Moon and of the Hunt. The scene was primordial.

  ”You vile creature!” roared Holmes. ”You'll not live another minute! Prepare to meet your true Master!”

  18

  The Scene Of The Crime

  Holmes’ eyes scanned the splintered beams of the boat. Slipping and falling, he climbed over the ribs until he came upon the one he wanted. The spar! It jutted out, broken in half, with the longest portion rooted in the ice. One end was a jagged spear. The bat screeched horribly as Holmes raised the infernal creature high over his head and brought him crashing down. The creature hit the pole with such explosive force that I felt the wreck wobble and shift ever so slightly. The stake tore through the creature’s flesh and exited the front of his body. The bat screamed, as Holmes raised the monster skyward and stabbed him back onto the spar savagely a second time. Holmes did that again and again!

  Wings fluttering weakly, the bat’s body finally quit struggling. The creature’s rapid and shallow breathing caused tiny wisps of vapor to escape from his mouth and wounds. The tiny grotesque feet trembled and clenched in tormented pain. As Moriarty's blood coursed down the length of the spar and dripped onto the ice below, a final stillness came over the bat. Holmes stared at the dying creature with detached curiosity before climbing over the wooden beams to retrieve his mallet and stake. As he stood on the icy surface, the wreck again shifted beneath our feet.

  ”Jump!” shouted Holmes. ”She's going over! Get off! Run back the way we came! Now! Go!”

  Thaddeus and I leapt off and began running, but I paused to look back at Holmes. He was again climbing onto the wreck. The rotted beams groaned and snapped, as the ship’s movement was clearly visible. She was sliding out and away from the rocks. The vessel was being torn away by the raging current below the icy surface.

  ”Holmes!” I shouted, as the boat shifted and floated ten feet farther away.

  Although we felt the ice shift below our feet, Thaddeus and I watched transfixed while Holmes scratched and clawed his way back to where Moriarty’s alternative form was impaled on the spar. With a mighty effort, Holmes centered the stake against the bat’s chest. Raising the mallet over his head, Holmes brought the wooden hammer crashing down against the stake. The ancient relic seemed to shiver with the force of Holmes’ blow. Down came the mallet again, thundering!

  The wreck twisted and turned into the current, before fading into the mist. It was most assuredly a cruel trick of the wind, for I could have sworn that I heard Holmes howling, as if he were baying at the moon! The wreck was now free from the rocks, and it bobbed perilously as the river once again claimed that which it had desired for so long: the boat and its crew. Now Holmes was the last living member of that phantom cast.

  I heard the boards snap and the wood splinter, as the wreck was torn from the edges of the ice. Its ravaged hull careened recklessly into the current of the churning waters.

  ”Doctor, look!” Thaddeus screamed while pointing into the mist. It was Holmes, breaking through the fog and running toward us.

  ”Go!” he bellowed, waving his arms frantically.

  Thaddeus and I turned and ran, tripping over the jagged chunks of ice that jutted through the crust. Panic set in, as the rumble and roar of the ice grew louder. Holmes caught up to us and reached for Thaddeus, when the young man slipped and started to fall. Both men hit the ice hard, but scrambled back onto their feet. Loud popping noises could be heard. The top layer of ice gave way to the water below. The lapping sounds of the hungry river continued to seek us out. The roiling water nipped at our heels as we struggled to maintain our balance and continued to run. Cracking ice exploded around us and the waters gobbled up the free—floating ice chunks and spat them out again.

  Holm
es ran up ahead of us. We followed directly behind him. Suddenly, he veered to the right, bringing us closer to the bank of the river. He stopped, waving us on and screaming, ”Go! Run for your lives!”

  First Thaddeus, then I, successfully reached the shore. We turned to help Holmes and saw him labouring, fighting for his balance as the surface became less solid. The ice was being ripped away from the shore and fed into the churning waters as it roared down the river. Holmes, with one last desperate ounce of strength, jumped. But his timing was all wrong. He sprang up and into the air just as the ice gave way beneath him. Fortunately, Holmes had fallen through the ice while close to shore. Thaddeus waded into the raging river and reached for Holmes’ outstretched hand. The tremendous force of the river's current made the rescue an exhausting one. I ran back to the river and threw myself flat on the bank so I could reach out and grab my friends. Holmes was buffeted by the chunks of ice and the flow of the water. Thaddeus braved the frigid waters and waded deeper, with arms outstretched as he struggled to grab hold of our exhausted friend.

  The current began to sweep over Thaddeus and Holmes. I leapt into the river, grabbing onto Thaddeus’ sleeve. It took all of my strength to pull them to safety. To this day, I don’t know how I did it. After what felt like an eternity, I dragged both men back to shore where we rested in the frozen snow, having exhausted the last of our energy.

  Our clothes were frozen solid and weighed heavily on us as we got to our feet and trudged our way through the drifts. All I could do was hope and pray that our sleigh was still there. Our boots were heavily crusted with ice, and this made our trek that much more difficult. Too exhausted to speak, we walked stiffly in silence. Unconsciously, I slowed my pace.

  ”Thaddeus, assist Watson and continue walking. Under no circumstances are you to stop! Do you understand?” Holmes said.

  Thaddeus nodded.

  ”Good,” Holmes said. “I'll run ahead and see if I can find our ride.”