The Last Notes From the Dispatch Box of John H Watson, MD

by Hugh Ashton

  “ In that event,” I said to Holmes, “ I will take myself off for a few days.  I may not be as old as some, but I am feeling in need of somewhat less strenuous exertions than have been the case recently.  The twinges of rheumatism are creeping in and my wound starts to nag at me.  In any event, I must ensure that my patients have not completely forgotten my existence.”

  “ Anno Domini, Anno Domini,” he laughed.  “ Perhaps I shall see you in two or three days when the joys of performing Hippocratic ministrations have worn off.”

  As it happens, it was four days before I returned to Baker-street, when the colloquy that I described at the beginning of the remarkable affair of the Lady Frances Carfax took place, which concerned my sharing a cab and partaking of the delights of a Turkish bath.  As Holmes remarked at that time, it was impossible for him to leave London while Abrahams was in such terror of his life, and I therefore travelled to Lausanne alone, and thence to Montpellier, as described elsewhere.  Despite Holmes' protestations that he could not leave London, he nonetheless travelled to Montpellier, where he proceeded to criticise my actions in no uncertain terms ; in my opinion, somewhat unjustly.

  However, I held my peace, and following the successful, if somewhat macabre, resolution of the matter relating to the Lady Frances, my thoughts once again turned to Abrahams.

  “ Is he not still in danger ? ” I asked Holmes, after we had returned to Baker-Street.

  “ I persuaded him that the danger was not as serious as he believed, as long as he remains at Marlborough House.”

  “ And you have heard nothing from Count Orloff ? ”

  Holmes’ countenance grew serious.  “ Not from the Count himself, but I have received attentions from his henchmen while you were blundering about the Continent.”

  I bit off the retort that sprang to my lips, and merely enquired as to the type of attentions that he had encountered.

  “ To be sure, they were clumsy attempts,” he told me.  “ I was set upon by supposed footpads at one time, and I narrowly escaped being trampled by a team of horses in the Strand only the other day — an event which I cannot regard as being a mere accident.  There was also the small matter of my returning to these rooms just before my remove to the Continent a week ago, and discovering the room filled with gas that had escaped from that jet there.  Had I been smoking my pipe at the time, or had I been carrying a candle, I dare say that there would now be a small pile of rubble to mark the spot where this house had formerly stood.  Naturally, I opened the window and cleared the air.”

  “ And Mrs.  Hudson saw or heard nothing ? ”

  My friend shook his head.  “ She was absent on that evening, visiting her sister, and none of the servants will admit to having witnessed anything.”

  I confess to being more than a little mortified.  “ Why did you not tell me of this ?  I would be more than willing to assist you in this kind of matter, as you are well aware.”

  “ I value your support, Watson, more than I can say, believe me.  But with the best will in the world, we are up against some of the most ruthless villains of this type that can be imagined.  However, the advantage is not all on their side.  From the incident of the gas-jet onward, this house has been under the observation of the most skilful and discreet watchers of their kind.”

  “ You refer to the Special Branch of the Metropolitan Police ? ”

  “ No,” he smiled.  “ I refer to Wiggins and his gaggle of Baker Street Irregulars, who have been watching this house in shifts around the clock.  Should they discover anything, they have standing orders to summon a constable, and to pass on a code word to Scotland Yard, which will alert Gregson and his men.  However, nothing has transpired so far.  It is now time to stop acting as the hunted, and to play the hunter.  That, my dear Watson, is a role to which I believe you are better suited than that of victim-in-waiting.” He smiled.

  “ You have a plan, then ? ”

  “ I believe so,” he said.  “ It will involve some danger.”

  “ That will present no problem to me,” I told him.  “ As always, I am your man.”

  “ Excellent.  My plan is not to entrap those ruffians whose acquaintance we had the pleasure of making in the Whitechapel house, but to strike hard at the head ; in other words, we must ensure that Count Orloff's position in this country is rendered untenable, and thereby deprive the Okhrana here of any authority.  We must set a snare for him, baited with such a tasty morsel as he will not be able to ignore or refuse.”

  “ Such as ? ”

  “ Myself,” he replied simply.  “ Even you, Watson, would not present such a temptation as would I, who stole his prey from under his very nose.”

  “ And how do you propose to ensure that it is he who is trapped, rather than our Whitechapel friends ? ”

  “ The occasion must be one where Orloff will be welcome, but his bully boys will not.  Orloff is not a man to shrink from violence, and I have little doubt that he will be prepared to carry out personally whatever he deems necessary to ensure my removal.” The cool way in which Sherlock Holmes expressed these opinions excited my admiration.  There are few men of my acquaintance who could remain as calm and collected as my friend under such circumstances.

  “ And Gregson and his men will assist us ? ”

  “ No, they cannot do so.  Such an action would smack too much of the agent provocateur, and would cause unseemly diplomatic friction with Russia, which is something we can ill afford at the moment, as I am sure you are well aware.  No, this is something that must be handled by us two alone.  Are you with me still ? ” he asked, leaning forward with his eyes glittering.

  “ How can you ever doubt me ? ” I replied with some heat.  “ You know well that I am ready to undertake these adventures with you.”

  “ Many pardons, Watson.  You are a friend in a thousand — nay, in a hundred thousand.  I propose to spring my trap at the ballet.”

  “ A form of entertainment to which you are hardly addicted,” I smiled.

  “ It is true that my views in the past on the art have been somewhat less than complimentary,” he acknowledged.  “ However, it is a way of passing an evening to which the Russian people seem to be particularly addicted, and I happen to know that a famous ballerina from Petersburg, Mlle.  Bulkhanova, will be dancing the title role in Swan Lake later this week.  It has been made known to me that Orloff is susceptible to the charms of this particular young lady, and we may confidently expect him to attend the performance that night.”

  “ I still do not understand what you intend,” I complained.

  “ No matter,” he smiled.  “ All will be revealed.”

  The next few days passed with Sherlock Holmes seemingly uninterested in the case, spending much of his time engrossed in a study of the ancient Chaldean language.  In the evenings, however, he went out, brusquely refusing my offers to accompany him, and returned late, several times after I had retired for the night.  When I attempted to question him as to the destination of these nocturnal excursions, he simply shrugged his shoulders and held his peace.

  At the end of the week he addressed me at breakfast, asking me whether I was engaged that evening.

  “ Hardly,” I answered him.

  “ I had surmised as much.  In that case, maybe you will do me the pleasure of accompanying me to Covent Garden this evening ?  Evening dress and a revolver would be appropriate for the occasion, I fancy.  Be ready to leave at seven thirty.  If all goes well, we may enjoy a supper at Alberti’s after the performance.” With that, he returned to the toast and coffee before him, and declined to answer any further questions.

  At the appointed time, I was ready, and Holmes emerged from the bedroom, clad in impeccable evening dress, with an unaccustomed flower in his buttonhole.  I remarked on this addition to his wardrobe,
to which he replied with a smile that change was always welcome.

  We made our way to Covent Garden, and seated ourselves in the stalls where Holmes had previously reserved our seats in the centre of the third row.  Prior to the curtain rising, Holmes occupied himself by peering through his opera-glasses at occupants of the boxes on either side of the stage, pointing out to me those that he assumed would be of interest to me.  In truth, the Earl of This and the Marquess of That held very little fascination for me, and I was somewhat at a loss as to why Holmes considered these people to have any appeal at all.  Among those whom he pointed out was Count Orloff, who occupied a box reserved for use by the officials of the Russian Embassy.  “ Excellent,” I heard him mutter to himself as he lowered the glasses.  “ Excellent,” he repeated, and rubbed his hands together.

  At that moment, the lights dimmed, and the conductor appeared to applause.  I confess that ballet is not my favourite form of entertainment.  My ear for music is not keen, and I have to admit the way in which stories are told in ballet does not commend itself to me.

  Nonetheless, the prima ballerina, Mlle.  Bulkhanova, was of more than passing prettiness.  Though perhaps a purist might not describe her as “ beautiful”, there was certainly that about her person which would make any man look twice at her.  To my surprise, I saw Holmes gazing fixedly at her whenever she was on the stage, with what I would have sworn was a look of rapt adoration on his face, had I not known his aversion to the sex to be profound.

  At one point, I happened to glance up at the Russian box, and saw Orloff shooting besotted glances at the stage, interspersed with angry looks directed at the oblivious Holmes — expressions of such ferocity, indeed, that I was grateful for the distance between our places and the box.  Holmes appeared to be blissfully unaware of these attentions, and continued to fix his gaze on the stage.

  In the interval, we proceeded to the theatre bar to refresh ourselves, and I beheld Orloff in the crush of people awaiting their turn to be served.  He had not seen us, however, and I judged it to be better for us to leave the place before he saw us.  I therefore advised Holmes of this, explaining that I had observed the violence of the looks directed by Orloff towards Holmes throughout the performance.  To my dismay, Holmes not only ignored my words, but plunged into the crowd, seemingly making his way directly towards the Count.

  I refrained from following him into the crowd, and therefore was unable to see for myself in incident that provoked a giant bellow of wrath, together with a Slavic oath, which could only have proceeded from Orloff.  Following this, I heard two voices raised in altercation, one of which appeared to be that of Holmes.

  At length, my friend emerged from the crowd, the nosegay in his buttonhole somewhat disturbed, and his dress in slight disarray.  He was, however, smiling.

  “ Pardon me if we forego our refreshments,” he said to me.  “ It might be somewhat inconvenient to procure them at present.”

  I confess that I had been anticipating the pleasure of a brandy and water to assist me through the second half of the performance, but I guessed that Holmes wished to avoid any further friction with Orloff, and assented to this renunciation.

  We returned to our seats, and I endured the second half of the performance, which was, however, made more enjoyable by the sight of Mlle.  Bulkhanova.  As soon as the applause was dying away, Holmes plucked at my sleeve and hissed in my ear, “ Come now, and follow my instructions precisely.” His urgent manner and tone formed a strange contrast to the languid ballet-lover who had lounged beside me for the past hour, but I hastened to obey, without fully understanding the reason for this urgency.

  “ Do not concern yourself with your hat and coat and scarf at present,” he warned me as we hastened out of the theatre.  “ Stand where I tell you, and take this.” He handed me his police whistle.  “ You will know when to use it, I am sure.  In the meantime, stand here,” and he pointed to a small alcove in the wall of the alley beside the theatre.

  “ And you ? ”

  “ I shall be waiting here, by the stage door,” he smiled.

  “ For the delectable Mlle.  Bulkhanova ? ” I asked.

  “ Ah, so you, too, find her delectable ?  She does possess a certain charm, I suppose, to those whose tastes run that way.  Yes, I am going to wait for her, and for one other.”

  So saying, he took up his station by the door and waited.  As he did so, I heard the ring of heavy footsteps echoing along the alley.

  “ Not a word,” Holmes hissed to me.  “ Attempt to conceal yourself as best you can and keep the whistle to hand.  Blow it with all your might when I request you to do so, or when it seems prudent to you to use it.”

  I shrank into the shadows, as the massive figure of Count Orloff swaggered into view.  He stopped short when he beheld the figure of Holmes, elegantly lounging against the doorway, and smoking a cigarette.

  “ What are you doing here ? ” he growled.

  “ I am waiting for a friend,” my friend replied pleasantly, “ as I suspect are you.  May I offer you a cigarette ? ” He held out his cigarette case to the Russian, but it was waved away brusquely.  “ Very well, if you will not.” He replaced the case, and continued smoking nonchalantly.

  “ May I ask for whom you are waiting ? ” asked Orloff.

  “ Oh, you may ask freely.  However, I am under no obligation to supply you with the answer, I believe.  However, I fancy that we are waiting for the same person.”

  “ We shall see,” snarled the other, and took up his post on the other side of the doorway, ostentatiously avoiding the sight of his rival.

  At length, the stage door opened, and many of the member of the corps de ballet appeared, chattering and giggling like so many schoolgirls.  Holmes and Orloff scanned the crowd, but it was plain that the object of their search was not numbered there.

  A few minutes after this, the door opened again, and Mlle.  Bulkhanova appeared, dressed simply but elegantly, and carrying a large bouquet of orchids.  At the sight of her two admirers, she stopped and looked from one to the other with an air of amusement.

  “ I am flattered by your attentions, Your Illustrious Highness,” she addressed the Count in accented, but clear English.  “ My company for this evening is, however, claimed by this gentleman here,” motioning towards Holmes, “ who has presented me with these flowers, and who has so kindly offered to escort me to supper.” So saying, she moved towards my friend, and offered her arm to him.

  The effect upon the Russian was nothing short of dramatic.  Even by the light of the stage door, it was clear that his colour changed, and he started to breathe heavily.  He spat out some angry words in Russian, to which she replied with a few in the same language, but uttered in a tone of sweet reasonableness.

  He responded by moving forward, seizing her arm with one hand, and raising the other as if to strike her, but Holmes moved faster than the Russian, seizing the raised wrist of his opponent, and simultaneously gripping the other in such a way that Orloff cried out in pain and relinquished his hold on the ballerina.

  “ I will make you suffer for this,” Orloff hissed at Holmes through his clenched teeth.  “ And believe me, I have much experience in making others suffer.”

  “ I have no reason to doubt you,” replied Holmes lightly.  “ The name of Alexei Alexandrovich Orloff is well-known among those seeking to free themselves from the tyranny of the Tsar's rule.”

  “ They are but socialist and anarchist scum,” spat the Russian.  “ They howl like dogs when I have worked my will on them, as will you in a few minutes, Mr.  Sherlock Holmes, when you have felt the benefit of my attentions.  Stand aside, Mademoiselle.  Indeed, I would advise you to leave.  The sights and sounds I anticipate are not for delicate ears such as yours.  Ah, do not ! ” he interjected as Bulkhanova raised her hand to slap his face.  He caught her by the
wrist once more, bearing it down as she winced in pain.  “ Leave us.  It would pain me to use further force, so I am merely advising you to take yourself back into the theatre.  Good girl,” he said, as she re-entered the stage door.  “ And now, Mr.  Holmes,” advancing on my friend, “ this is a pleasure I have been promising myself for some time now.  Tonight's little adventures have merely served to whet my appetite.”

  His massive hands reached out as if to encircle my friend's throat, but Sherlock Holmes deftly stepped aside and avoided the grip.  As he stepped backward, however, he appeared to stumble and trip, and Orloff's mighty fist crashed down on his head.  I did not wait to see more, but faced along the alley to the street, blowing the police whistle as hard as I could.  Happily, two constables happened to be passing at the time, and when I breathlessly explained the situation to them, they sprang into action.

  I followed, to see Orloff bending over the prostrate body of my friend, and I feared the worst.  Ignoring Orloff and the constables, I dropped to my knees, and anxiously examined Holmes' pulse and breathing.  I was relieved to discover that he was not only alive, but conscious, as he opened his eyes, and essayed a faint smile.  “ Good man, Watson,” he said.  “ Your sense of timing, as always, is impeccable.”

  “ But you are hurt ! ” I exclaimed.

  “ A mere love-tap,” he smiled.  “ Listen to what our friend has to say.”

  Above our heads, Orloff was expostulating to the policemen that he was a diplomat, and was not to be arrested, and that in any case, he had only been coming to the assistance of the man whom he had witnessed trip and fall.  Here he indicated Sherlock Holmes, who had been listening to this farrago of lies with a sardonic smile on his lips.