Sherlock Holmes

by Keisuke Matsuoka

  Sherlock glanced at Ito uneasily. “What is all this?”

  “I hoped you might take a commemorative photo with us.”

  “That is a problem. I am supposed to be dead.”

  “Believe me, I had my own misgivings on the matter, but my daughters were quite insistent.”

  Asako had sidled up close to Sherlock at some point while he was talking to Ito, and was now staring up into his face. Her expression broke into one of pleasure. Though less obvious than her sister, Ikuko also glanced at him several times out of the corners of her eyes, while fussing over her bangs.

  “I will take care that the photographs do not leave this house,” Ito whispered into Sherlock’s ear. “It is rare that I have the family together like this. It would be a great favor to me.”

  Sherlock was taken aback. “You are not regularly together?”

  “We live under the same roof, of course, but I’m afraid that since Asako’s arrival Umeko has grown cold.”

  “That is understandable.”

  “And Asako is rebellious. She has been a handful for the servants. I cannot remember the last time I saw her so well-behaved. We seem like a family today.”

  “If your eldest son also lived with you I imagine the situation would be even more challenging. He is around five, I believe? I should congratulate you on having a son, but as the boy is not Umeko’s the situation must be complicated. Your second son is not Umeko’s, either, but as he is still a babe perhaps you have not yet reconciled yourself to his presence.”

  “How do you know about Bunkichi and Shinichi?”

  “Last night you referred to your children—brothers and sisters. And I noticed a photograph in your study in passing. Both of the boys resembled you. As neither bore a particular resemblance to Umeko, however, I assume that their mother…”

  “Enough, I understand. But please, will you take the photo? For the sake of our domestic peace?”

  At the photographer’s request they formed a line in front of the entrance to the house. Umeko inclined her head to Sherlock, her lips curving upward gently. She seemed quite agreeable to the prospect of the photograph, too. Perhaps she also was pleased to see her family together like this.

  Then Asako fastened onto Sherlock’s arm, and Umeko reproached her. She released him, her face momentarily twisted in dissatisfaction, but then stood by his side instead. Ikuko stood close on his other side. Each time he turned his attention her way she dropped her eyes in confused embarrassment.

  After all the fussing, the family was finally in position. Sherlock stood up straight, posing. At the photographer’s word, Sherlock Holmes and the Ito family were immortalized in photographic record.

  It was just as they finished that a carriage pulled up in front of the gate. The servants bowed their heads. Sherlock and Ito boarded the carriage together; Asako watched them go, smiling broadly and waving her hand. Ito looked pleased, but Sherlock was left feeling discombobulated. Pleasantries did not come easily or naturally to him.

  The carriage took them to the Emperor’s palace. The area—a sprawling tract of green surrounded by a moat—had once been known as Edo Castle. The building itself, which lay beyond a double-arched bridge, had been completely refurbished, although its exterior was an exact double of the Kyoto Imperial Palace which Sherlock had once seen in a photograph. It was a Japanese-style structure, made of wood, with a tiled roof.

  Ito told Sherlock that this building was known as Meiji Palace. It measured 5,800 tsubo in area, which was some 4.7 acres in British measurements. The palace consisted of three sections—the main hall, for courtly functions; the inner rooms where the Emperor engaged in government matters; and the Imperial Residences, which served as the Emperor’s home. Each section was connected to the next. A separate building, joined to the palace by a covered corridor, was reserved for the Imperial Household Agency.

  Near the entrance Sherlock saw an opulent carriage porch, with a traditional Japanese gabled roof. Their carriage, however, came to a halt to the right of the door, rather than directly in front of the entrance. Ito explained that the porch was reserved for guests of state and diplomatic envoys.

  Once they alighted, a contingent of servants, ranging from guards to what must have been staff, bowed toward them in perfect unison. Sherlock and Ito began walking forward. The carriage porch was a detached building, the interior of which was exquisitely decorated with Western ornamentations. Once through the carriage porch was an inner courtyard, across which awaited the massive main palace building.

  When they entered the palace, Sherlock observed that though it, too, was traditionally Japanese in style, it housed a huge Western hall painted in brilliant dizzying colors, with a raised, two-story ceiling. Though it was as splendid as the Palace of Versailles itself, the ceiling mural was in fact designed in Japanese patterns. The hall had wooden floors and the fixtures were Western in style, but the interior was decorated with an eclectic mix of Japanese and Western ornaments. Even the chandelier had an Oriental charm. The space was very exotic.

  Even when describing Western rooms, the Japanese calculated floor space according to how many tatami mats might fit inside. The audience chamber, Sherlock heard, was 160 mats in size. The Eastern and Western tomari-no-ma—or waiting chambers—each measured 175 mats in size.

  Around two dozen men in frock coats and tails stood in conversation inside the Eastern waiting chamber. They all looked to be in at least their forties. As Ito entered, they immediately turned their heads to attention and bowed deeply. Ito spoke to them in Japanese and the men resumed their conversation. No one paid Sherlock any special notice, just as Ito had predicted. He could not help but remark to himself that Ito had certainly become a man of stature.

  “Are they the other lords of the Privy Council?” Sherlock inquired.

  “Yes,” Ito answered him in English. “Though it would be more accurate to refer to them as counselors. In addition to the counselors there is a vice-chairman, a chief secretary, and three additional secretaries. The council was formed to deliberate on the drafting of the constitution. It has immense influence in the government.”

  “Then in a sense perhaps the head of the Privy Council is even more powerful than the Prime Minister.”

  “No. I sit third at court. That is one place lower than when I was Prime Minister. But now that the constitution has been successfully announced, I hope to return to my former glory.”

  But something seemed off. If the council was in session surely a table would have been prepared. Still, this was no mere social gathering. None of the counselors were smiling. They were engaged in what seemed to be an earnest discussion.

  “Mr. Ito,” he whispered. “Has something happened?”

  “Nothing in particular. It has already been dealt with. Do not worry yourself.”

  Just then a man, who appeared to be a member of the staff, rushed into the room, his face pale. He shouted something in Japanese and the room went silent. The expressions on the men’s faces grew stony. The air grew thick.

  Ito sighed, and called out to several men in Japanese. The men he picked out were quick to shout, “Hai!” and gather around Ito. He turned back toward the main hall and they marched with him. There were five men in total, likely the vice-chairman, chief secretary, and secretaries of the Privy Council whom Ito had mentioned earlier. Sherlock accompanied them.

  The group exited into the courtyard. Two Western men were walking toward them. One was in his fifties, with grey hair and a round face that sported a beard even fuller than Ito’s. He wore a frock coat with a stiff collar and gold buttons. The other man was a Russian officer, dressed in a white military uniform. He looked to be a few years younger than the man in the frock coat. Both men had their mouths set in hard lines.

  The vice-chairman and other council members stood to the side in a row, their presences visibly subdued. Sherlock joined them. Ito alone w
alked forward to meet the two guests.

  As soon as the man in the frock coat caught sight of Ito he began haranguing him in heavily accented English. “Chairman Ito! How long must we wait before you answer us in good faith?”

  Ito replied in conciliatory tones. “My deepest apologies, but we ask that you please give us a little while longer. It is taking longer than expected to reach our opinion.”

  The officer snorted. “As soon as that foolish judgment was handed down you should have begun an immediate retrial. Surely such a serious incident between our two countries demands an immediate response.”

  “Of course,” Ito began agreeing. “You are absolutely correct. However, in our constitution, the judiciary is a separate branch from the Privy Council—”

  The man in the frock coat broke in. “Chairman, did you not agree with us that Sanzo Tsuda should be executed? You say that the judiciary is a separate branch, but Japan remains an imperfect nation. We know that the legislature is at least swayed by the Privy Council. Do not tell me that you cannot exert that same influence over the judiciary.”

  What was this? For the first time in many ages Sherlock sensed a game afoot. The council vice-chairman and his four colleagues only looked on in silence. It seemed they did not understand English. Ito had been left to deal with the two Russians alone. Two against one hardly seemed fair play. Perhaps he might be of assistance…

  “Ambassador Shevich Dmitry Yegorovich, good morning. It is an honor to meet you.”

  Ito turned toward Sherlock, his eyes wide. The two Russian men also seemed taken aback.

  Shevich stared. “An Englishman? Who are you? How do you know me?”

  “You are generally well known, but in truth I only know of you from what I have read in the papers. It is clear from your deportment that you come from nobility, and in addition to Russian I also detected an Italian and Swedish accent in your English. The Shevich line is a long and distinguished one. And as a diplomat, I am certain that you have served in Rome and Naples, as well as Sweden.”

  “What’s this?” said Shevich, his expression growing increasingly stern. “You speak as if this is something you have only now surmised, but as you are accompanying Prime Minster Ito I wonder if you are not a spy from the British legation. The Japanese government has gone crying for help and Ambassador Hugh Fraser sent you, hasn’t he!”

  In a panic, Ito attempted to reason with the ambassador. “This is a misunderstanding. This gentleman is here to advise me on a completely separate matter.”

  “Taking advantage of your breakfast appointment with Prime Minister Masayoshi Matsukata in order to assault Chairman Ito with these questions is hardly becoming conduct for a man of nobility such as yourself,” Sherlock reproved Shevich. “Nor do I commend your bringing Lieutenant Colonel Kanevsky with you like a guard dog, to intimidate your hosts. Japan had no military men present at the meal. Using a show of force to personally intimidate the Prime Minister of another nation does seem uncouth, does it not?”

  The faces of the two Russian men flushed red. Shevich launched into an immediate slew of invective. “I knew it, Japan thinks it can cling to Britain’s skirts! Only the Prime Minister and a few of his closest advisors were present at today’s breakfast. How else would the British legation know this so soon?”

  Sherlock promptly lifted a forefinger to silence Shevich. “Please, lower your voice. Remember, we are in the Emperor’s home. No one has reported your meeting to me. I discerned all this upon first seeing you.”

  “What is this?”

  “You are unaccustomed to Japanese food—there are traces of miso soup in your beard and on your sleeve. That you were compelled to take Japanese food while in state dress tells me that you had a breakfast appointment. A man of your high position, overbearing as you are, might request a change in menu—unless of course your partner was a figure of considerable importance in the Japanese government. Then, you seem to be disappointed in the results of some trial. I gather discussions did not go as you had hoped. However, if your breakfast had been with a member of the judiciary your next port of call would undoubtedly have been a member of the legislature. And had your meeting been with a mere cabinet member your next target would have been His Prime Minister. You would have had no cause yet to harangue the head of the Privy Council here.”

  “From this you conclude that my meeting was with Prime Minister Matsukata? Still, someone must have told you there were no military men present on Japan’s side. You even knew the name of my companion, Kanevsky. How do you explain that?”

  “The names of Russian military officers are engraved on the edge of their buckles. Additionally, Lt. Colonel Kanevsky is wearing his full badges and honors. The rank of major has now been abolished in the Russian military, yet the lt. colonel wears a silver major’s badge. It is usually worn on the cap. I can only imagine that by including even his eliminated badges the lt. colonel endeavored to cut a more awe-inspiring presence. Had other military been present, however, such a display would have come off as ludicrous.”

  Kanevsky flinched awkwardly, glancing at Shevich out of the corner of his eyes.

  Shevich’s own eyes widened in surprise, before turning indignantly toward Ito. “I do not know what this man advises you on, but I expect you to take full responsibility for his insolence.”

  Sherlock rested his gaze on Shevich. “Chairman Ito is blameless. I spoke to you of my own volition. Your comments were unbefitting to a man of your nobility. However slight, you might attempt some compunction when—”

  Ito turned his gaze to Sherlock, in warning. “Mr. Holm…”

  He froze mid-sentence, blanching at his mistake. Sherlock, too, was momentarily taken aback, but he soon smiled sheepishly at Ito. As soon as he stuck his neck into an argument between the head of Japan’s Privy Council and the ambassador from Russia, he knew any hope of continuing to pass as a nameless Englishman had been lost. He certainly did not care to compound his crimes further with a series of false names and assumed identities.

  Shevich blinked. “It cannot be. Sherlock Holmes?”

  A look of disbelief crossed Kanevsky’s face. “Your death was reported in the papers some months back.”

  Ito broke in, his expression pinched. “The articles were a misunderstanding. The truth is that I invited Mr. Holmes here to advise the Privy Council. To avoid difficulties, however, until a correction is run I ask that you please keep knowledge of his presence here to yourselves.”

  Shevich furrowed his brow. “To avoid difficulties? What is really motivating you? You say advisor, but Sherlock Holmes is a detective by trade. There is but one matter on which he could be advising you. You have invited him here to train spies!”

  Anger flashed in Kanevsky’s eyes. “You have struck a secret bargain with the British. Behind our backs!”

  Ito shook his head. “Certainly not. We would never—”

  Sherlock interrupted. “You have hit the nail on the head, gentlemen. Japan has already refashioned itself as a modern nation. It is only natural they should have their own intelligence branch.”

  “Russia will not allow you to train spies behind our back!” Shevich roared.

  “But of course,” Sherlock said innocently. “As you see, nothing is being done in secret, nothing is behind your backs. All has just been laid bare, has it not? Japan may establish an intelligence agency under my advice, but they would certainly never release spies in Russia. Your being informed, now, should give you cause enough to trust their motives.”

  “The reports of Holmes’ death can only be subterfuge,” Kanevsky exhorted Shevich. “He must have faked his death on secret orders. The British are contriving to insinuate themselves into Japan’s intelligence network.”

  Shevich stared at Ito, incredulously. “You are playing a dangerous game, Chairman. Do realize of course that this is Britain’s first step toward colonization. You will soon find
yourself a puppet government to their queen. Japan will soon be beset with internal strife, just as it was with China. Be on your guard, lest you become a nation full of opium addicts.”

  “Worry not,” Ito said, soothingly. “Opium has been outlawed in Japan ever since the Edo Bakufu.”

  “It was outlawed in China as well. The English imported it by force.” Shevich turned on Sherlock fiercely. “I plan to consult with my own country, and inquire directly with the English authorities as to the truth of reports of your death. I expect no answers from the British legation. Undoubtedly they have been instructed to deny all knowledge. May you be prepared, when the time comes.”

  “There can be no crime in killing a man who is already dead,” Kanevsky added menacingly.

  “Undoubtedly,” Sherlock replied drily, secretly amused at how the ambassador and his lt. colonel were so unsparing in their threats. “But now that we have made each other’s acquaintance, I hope we may enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company until you receive your answer from England. I promise that I shall neither run nor hide.”

  Shevich drew close. “Mr. Holmes. The deplorable attempt on the life of His Imperial Highness and Successor to the Throne, Tsarevich Nicholas, has thrown this tiny Eastern nation into crisis. If Britain thinks to use that crisis as an opportunity to interfere, however, you will be disappointed. Russia will not cede Japan.”

  Finished speaking, Shevich turned on his heel. Kanevsky glared a moment longer before following.

  His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince? Sherlock turned toward Ito. “Has something befallen Tsarevich Nicholas?”

  Ito sullenly returned Sherlock’s gaze. He sighed deeply, stroking his long beard with the tips of his fingers.

  10

  At the rear of the courtyard was the state banquet hall, known as the houmeiden. It was spacious and elegantly decorated. At the moment, however, there was no one inside.

  Ito led him inside and closed the door behind them. Once they were alone, he let his anger fly. “What were you thinking! After all the trouble we took to conceal your identity!”