Title Page
The Redacted Sherlock Holmes
Volume II
Orlando Pearson
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Published in the UK by
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© Copyright 2016 Orlando Pearson
The right of Orlando Pearson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The opinions expressed herein belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of MX Publishing or Andrews UK.
Dedication
For My Family
The Alcock Report
In chronicling some of the adventures in which I collaborated with Mr Sherlock Holmes, I have, wherever possible, been at pains to protect the identity of the clients involved. No one, for example, need ever know what prominent individual pawned the beryl coronet in the story of that name, just as the identity of the killer of the notorious blackmailer, Charles Augustus Milverton, is a secret which nothing will persuade me to divulge.
The lurid tale of marital intrigue which forms the start of this story would have fallen into a similar category had it not become inextricably linked with a matter of such great national importance that any attempt at concealing the identities of those involved would be in vain.
It was a cold and wet day in early 1899 and we had spent it indoors. Holmes was engaged in a chemical experiment, the main effect of which seemed to be the belching of sulphurous clouds of smoke noxiously, and at times blindingly, out of a test tube and across our living room while I buried myself in some medical research on the use of toxins as antidotes.
Just as it was getting dark, there was a ring on the bell below and the buttons brought up our new client.
Robert Munroe was no stranger to controversy. A newspaper magnate of international standing, he aroused fear and loathing across three continents, although those who had most cause to fear and loathe him were also those who did their utmost to ingratiate themselves with him and his employees. His personal life was also a cause of controversy. My reader may remember the story I penned under the title “A Scandal in Bohemia”, describing our encounter of 1888 with the glamourous singer and adventuress Irene Adler. After marrying her fiancé, the lawyer Mr Godfrey Norton, Miss Adler (as I shall continue to call her) was suddenly and mysteriously widowed when the couple had returned to London for Mr Norton to continue his legal career. Within a few months of her bereavement, Miss Adler had taken up with the much older Mr Munroe and the pair had scandalised London society by openly living together as a couple in Bryony Lodge even though remaining unmarried.
Such was the reach of the man’s powers that, as the short and unprepossessing Mr Munroe sat down before us, I had no idea whether he had come to threaten us or consult with us. To my surprise, however, he too seemed uncertain on how to start discussions. There was a prolonged silence and in the end it was Holmes who opened proceedings by asking “How may I help you, Mr Munroe?”
“As you may be aware, Mr Holmes,” said Munroe at last, “I have been engaged in an intimate friendship with your former adversary, Miss Irene Adler. This friendship has been a source of great happiness to me over the last ten years, but in recent months Miss Adler’s behaviour has become increasingly irregular. I wished to consult with you as a man of the world on what I should do.”
I think it is fair to say that during my entire association with Sherlock Holmes, I never felt a greater sense of curiosity as I felt when Mr Munroe said these words. Of all my friend’s antagonists, she was the only one who earned his admiration. Although this admiration did not translate itself into love (such an emotion was as unthinkable for Holmes as sand would be for a delicate time-piece), Irene Adler had always been for Holmes the woman - indeed I never heard him refer to her as anything else. Accordingly my gaze flitted from the media mogul before me to my friend next to me as I sought to gauge the latter’s reaction to Mr Munroe’s deposition.
Holmes’s face, I confess somewhat to my disappointment, showed no reaction at all. He merely asked in a calm voice:
“And what form has this irregular behaviour taken?”
“She has taken to locking herself into a cupboard several times a day.”
“And has she given any indication to you of her reasons for acting as you describe?”
“All my attempts at discussions with her on this matter are met with the response that some matters in life are too important to be worth discussing.”
“Is there anything special about the cupboard into which your wife secretes herself?”
“Nothing at all. It is a cupboard under the stairs and is used for the storage of cleaning products. There is no means of communication from the cupboard, it is too small to admit more than one person, and there are no signs that she has been seeking to tunnel out of the cupboard.”
“And did this irregular mode of behaviour start suddenly, or did it come upon her gradually?”
“As you will understand, Mr Holmes, although Miss Adler and I live in Bryony Lodge in St John’s Wood, I am frequently absent on business for extended periods, so I am not in a position to say precisely when this behaviour started. I first noted my associate’s habit of concealing herself at intervals during the day when I returned from America in August of last year. Since that time this behaviour has been at a constant levels and whenever I am at home she withdraws without explanation at regular periods during the day.”
“Is this really a topic you consider worthy of my attention? Is it not something that you might just need to learn to live with?”
“I have been married several times before, Mr Holmes. My experience is that when one thing happens which seems out of place, it is followed by others.”
“I see,” said Holmes. “I should warn you before I start, Mr Munroe, that if I investigate this, the outcome may be unwelcome to you.”
Munroe shrugged. “That is a risk I am prepared to take,” he said.
“And how is the rest of your relationship?”
During all the cases in which I have collaborated with Holmes, I had never heard him pose so invasive a question to any client. I was unsure if I should look at my friend to see whether he showed any embarrassment in posing it, or at Mr Munroe to assess his reaction to it, or, in accordance with the mores of our times, if I should avert my gaze altogether. I eventually decided on the latter course of action. There was a long pause before Mr Munroe answered.
“I guess it is a fair question you pose, Mr Holmes, although it is not the sort of questioning I am accustomed to answering even if my newspapers are good at asking it.” He paused again. I looked up from the elaborate detail of the carpet patt
ern on which I had been focusing the liveliest attention as I was eager to see how Mr Munroe looked as he continued his answer. In the silence before he started speaking again, his face passed through expressions of anger, resignation and eventually calm before he said “My relationship with Miss Adler in all other respects is functioning normally.”
“So what is it you want me to do, Mr Munroe?”
“Something must have triggered this behaviour, Mr Holmes. I want you to find out what it is. Maybe if I understand this, I will be able to deal with it - one way or the other.”
“Very good,” said Holmes. “If you leave it with me, I shall look into it to your satisfaction. I shall revert to you in three days.”
Mr Munroe had barely closed the outside door and Holmes was just reaching for his pipe when there was a ring on the bell below and the buttons brought up a telegram.
“Well, well,” said Holmes. “It is my brother coming to see us.”
“That would be for the first time since the Bruce Partington plans in 1895,” I ventured.
“It must indeed be a significant matter to make Mycroft want to consult with us,” observed Holmes. “His routine means he is seldom seen outside a circle of his small flat in Pall Mall, the high government offices in Whitehall where he works, and the Diogenes club where he spends his evenings. You may recall that at the time of the submarine mystery, I told you he often is the British Government in that he is the great clearing house for all government thinking. Nothing has altered since then in spite of two changes of prime minister and the election of a new governing party. So what could Mycroft want with us?”
“Does he say what he wants to see you about?” I asked.
“‘Must see you about Qarim is all his telegram says.”
Most of my readers will require no reminder of the war in Qarim although it is not a topic that has previously been mentioned in my writings on the activities of my friend.
Qarim’s despotic leader was accused of having constructed a gun that could fire shells of such a size and with such accuracy that it could be used to target the Suez Canal and thus threaten this country’s shipping links with its colonial possessions in India and the Pacific. Qarim’s neighbour, Majidstan, which had already been subject to one abortive invasion attempt by Qarimi forces, had also expressed concern about the potential for fresh Qarimi aggression, although Majidstan’s leader declined to provide this country with any military support. Such, however, was the perceived risk of Qarim to British interests that an invasion force was launched which conquered the country, toppled its leader and occupied it.
In spite of the rapid and largely bloodless achievement of the short-term objective to invade Qarim, no evidence was found to suggest that Qarim had in fact ever possessed the weapons it was claimed to have had, while the prolonged period of occupation cost many lives both British and Qarimi. After several years, British forces were withdrawn, leaving a chaotic and much more dangerous country behind.
The decision to invade Qarim had been politically contentious and, although it had been voted through in the House of Commons, there had been dissenters on both sides. The Prime Minister of the day, Charles Sedgefield, was a passionate advocate of the operation. In his speech to the House he had spoken of being “tough in Britain’s interests, tough on those who threaten British interests!” and his ardent oratory had been instrumental in many MPs taking the risk seriously and voting for military action.
After the eventual withdrawal of British forces, a committee of enquiry was set up to establish whether the intelligence which had suggested that Qarim owned such a fearsome weapon was sufficient to constitute a valid casus belli. The enquiry was led by Lord Alcock, one of the most experienced legal minds in the land, and was allowed ample time to interview the people who had made the key decisions. The hearings were completed in 1895 and circulated among those whose conduct was the subject of the report.
I, along with many others who follow the political events of the day, expected publication of the report to follow after a brief period of consultation and was curious to see who would be criticised and for what. By January 1899, however, there was still no sign that publication was going to take place within any reasonable time scale. Lord Alcock said he was ready to publish, but that he had to wait for all those individuals mentioned in the report to propose their amendments and for the amendments then to be accepted by everyone else. This meant that progress to final publication was going to remain slow.
Very few minutes passed before my friend’s brother, Mycroft Holmes (to whom I shall refer as Mycroft from now on while I refer to Sherlock Holmes simply as Holmes) was shown up to our living room. The passing of years had not been kind to Mycroft whose form was even more massive and ungainly than it had been four years previously. The arms of the chair he sat in were tight-pressed against his unwieldy frame which bulged in all directions, for all that his clear grey eyes retained their masterful stare. He came straight to the point.
“We are keen to press ahead with the publication of Lord Alcock’s report, but receive objection after objection from the former Prime Minister, Charles Sedgefield, about the text. He is not the only one who has made objections to the content of the report, but he is by far the most prolific.”
“What form do his objections take?” asked my friend.
“This is the curious thing, Sherlock. Other people have asked for the omission of items which show them in an unflattering light or have provided explanations or justifications for errors they are claimed to have committed. Mr Sedgefield’s objections in many ways do the opposite. They highlight faults in his own behaviour, claim responsibility for errors that others made, identify errors that were made during the build-up to the war that were not identified during the course of the hearings, and draw attention to aspects of the intelligence reports which call into question its plausibility even before the invasion was launched. He seems to want to be seen as the prime mover of everything that led up to the launch of the war though his stated view of the plethora of corrigenda he seeks to make is simply that he wants the report to be as accurate as possible and that he will not stint in his corrections of omissions and errata.”
I could understand that the former Prime Minister wanted a report that was as full and accurate as possible, but wondered whether his contributions were really of a magnitude to make a material difference to the report’s final conclusion. I put this to Mycroft, who turned and stared at me as an impatient teacher might goggle at a particularly dull student.
“Well, obviously the conclusion is not impacted by the former Prime Minister’s submissions. The conclusion was the first thing that was drafted and, as an experienced politician, he knows what it says without having to read it.”
“So a provisional conclusion has already been drafted even though no final version of the report has been produced?” I asked in some surprise.
Mycroft’s eyes grew wider still.
“My dear Dr Watson! Of course we have not written a provisional conclusion. We have, as you would expect, already written the final conclusion. Its drafting was complete long before any draft was made of the body of the report, or indeed before the hearings started.”
“And has this conclusion been shared with the former Prime Minister?”
“We have not shared the conclusion with the former Prime Minister. He knows that the conclusion to the report will say the same as all conclusions to government reports of a serious nature say.”
“And that is?”
Mycroft’s eyes almost burst from their sockets as he replied. “Well, obviously the report concludes that the Executive - that is to say the Prime Minister and his Cabinet - acted in good faith in taking the decisions that they did on the invasion and that they are not be blamed for the fact that the information on which they based their decisions proved to be inaccurate. It will, of course, also say that the seni
or members of our intelligence forces were acting in good faith when they passed on the information that they received from their subordinates. Finally, it will conclude that neither the Executive nor the senior members of the intelligence services can be blamed for failing to identify errors made by junior members of the intelligence service. Equally, those junior members of the secret services were gathering data in particularly difficult and dangerous circumstances, so no blame should be attached to them for their errors.”
“So will no one be blamed for any acts relating to the Qarim invasion and occupation?”
“The conclusion will highlight some errors in the commission of certain activities and in the transmission of data,” said Mycroft loftily. “It will find some lowly minion at whose door responsibility for these errors is to be laid. It would be particularly useful if blame could be attached to someone who is no longer alive, but if no such conveniently dead person can be found, then the report will say that the man in question has been moved to another department or has retired or, conceivably, has been subject to internal disciplinary procedures. A standard comment is for the quality of the note-taking and the archiving of notes in the relevant government department - in this case the War Office - to be criticised and to propose action to ameliorate this. The relevant paragraphs to recommend this are of course already in the conclusion - only the names to whom the errors need to be ascribed remain to be filled in.”
“So the only conclusion of a report that has taken many years to compile on a war that has cost hundreds of British armed service personnel their lives is that no one is to blame? And the only recommendation is that note-taking and transmission of data in government departments should be improved?”
“There are, of course a number of administrative matters where a call is made for improvements, but the quality of note-taking is the most material,” said Mycroft firmly, although he sounded a trifle defensive as he said it.
The Redacted Sherlock Holmes, Volume 2 Page 1