Sherlock Holmes and the Seven Deadly Sins Murders

by Barry Day

  And then it was as if I were watching some Lyceum melodrama from a box. Double doors at the end of the room swung inwards and into the room swept Uma, the Emerald Lady, followed by Khali, carrying a large basket embroidered with the insignia of Kor, which he set carefully on the ground and stepped back.

  I could not take my eyes off Uma. Her raiment—for one could hardly call it mere clothing—was a brilliant emerald green from the jewelled combs that held her upswept hair to the cloak that touched the floor. All that could be seen of her was the impassive mask of her face and the delicate hands emerging from her long sleeves and they, too, were decorated with emerald rings and bracelets.

  The woman glittered—all except for her eyes. From where I stood they seemed totally dead. Had Staunton drugged her in some way to keep her under his control?

  I turned towards Mycroft. Was it time to intervene? But a firm shake of the head confirmed my own feeling that the drama must play out a little further. Now both Holmes and Uma were at risk.

  With his ‘cast’ in place, Staunton looked positively smug. Turning towards Uma, he addressed her in what I presumed to be the manner he had chosen to indicate deference to her position.

  “Your Highness, I have brought before you, as I promised, the infidel who possesses the holy Book of Kor. May it please you to reveal to him the twin Guardians of Kor’s will?”

  Still seeming to be in some sort of trance, Uma turned her head slightly in Staunton’s direction.

  “You have done well, friend Smith, and it was well you did, for the Guardians were beginning to be angry and their anger is to be feared.”

  Then, abruptly, she clapped her hands once. Khali sprang forward and removed the lid of the basket before stepping smartly back.

  Then my blood froze and I distinctly felt Mycroft beside me shudder, too. For from the basket in perfect synchronisation rose two of the largest snakes I had ever seen in my life.

  They were King Cobras and fully four feet in length. Around their hideous heads their distinctive hoods were fully extended, so that they appeared to be two evil spirits peering out from beneath a rock. Even more disturbing was the way those heads were in constant motion, as though they were scanning the room in search of their prey.

  Now Uma approached the basket and, as she did so, she seemed to be chanting in some strange tongue. Whatever it was, the twin serpents clearly found it comforting, for they fixed their gaze solely on their mistress.

  Then I could scarcely credit what I was seeing, as she reached into the basket and picked up a snake in each hand and held them aloft. As a feat of strength alone it was something to be wondered at, for these were no ordinary creatures. As a spectacle it was both rivetting and horrifying and will be with me to my dying day. Uma stood there like some glorious pagan goddess—which, in a sense, of course, she was.

  Staunton moved closer to Holmes and pointed with his revolver to the knapsack at Holmes’s feet.

  “And now, if you please, the Book of Kor.”

  If I did not know that my friend must have some trick up his sleeve, I should have said that he presented the very picture of defeat, as he slowly reached down and unfastened the strap.

  “Careful, Mr. Holmes—just the Book.”

  Holmes reached inside the knapsack and brought out the by now all-too-familiar black leather volume.

  “Take the cursed thing, Staunton, and be done with it,” he said and tossed it casually in the man’s direction. As he did so, even from where I stood, I thought I caught a faint gleam in those deep set eyes.

  Staunton deftly caught the book one-handed, never taking his eyes off his adversary. Once he held it in his hand, a smile of utter triumph lit up that bland face.

  Then, as he thumbed through it, it vanished as suddenly as it had come, to be replaced by an expression of terrible fury. It was as though another person altogether had suddenly inhabited his body.

  “But this is not the Book of Kor!” he hissed.

  It was a different Holmes who answered him.

  “It is a Book of Kor. I do not think anyone ever promised that it was the Book of Kor. However, you may find the contents to be of more practical value. I believe they are derived from Mrs. Fernworthy’s Book of Botany for Beginners—an excellent treatise on the subject, so I am told.”

  I had heard of people being ‘possessed’ and now I saw it with my own eyes. All the frustration and failure in Staunton’s life seemed compressed into that one moment of public humiliation. His eyes blazed fire at the man who had brought him to this pass and the hand with the revolver slowly began to rise towards Holmes.

  At which moment Holmes said one word in a calm, distinct voice.

  “Kor!”

  And then things happened in such a blur that, even now, I have trouble sorting out the exact sequence in my mind.

  The statue that was Uma suddenly came to life.

  With a sudden dramatic gesture her arms were flung wide as she threw the twin serpents at Staunton and Khali. In her grasp they had been strangely somnolent. Now this rude shock enraged them. Each of them entwined itself around its new and reluctant host, their heads moved back in concert and—faster than the eye could see—they sank their fangs into their victim’s necks.

  In the same instant the two men screamed as one—a high pitched scream that told of indescribable pain. Staunton’s revolver fell from his hand and slid across the polished wood floor, where Holmes bent down to reach for it.

  I saw Uma shake her head, as if she were waking from a nightmare. Then her eyes widened with shock, as she saw the two bodies writhing on the ground. And perhaps with something else.

  The twin serpents had wreaked their vengeance but their anger remained unabated.

  While Holmes was busy retrieving Staunton’s revolver, he was unable to see what Uma and I could observe all too well. The serpents were in the process of unwinding themselves from their initial prey.

  Those malevolent heads rose and pivotted to scan the room in search of new targets. First they looked at their mistress and I had the distinct impression that they were questioning her about the way she had treated them. But then their lifelong training seemed to hold sway and, as one, they turned to the only other living being in that room of death.

  Sherlock Holmes.

  With awful majesty they moved in his direction and it was then that I remembered something I had read in the entry in Holmes’s Index.

  The King Cobra retains enough poison after its first strike to allow it a second. Holmes was doomed unless …

  It was the work of a second to step through the open window, point my service revolver and fire. The head of the cobra on the right exploded before my eyes.

  But even as I fired, I heard what I assumed was an echo and then—the second cobra suffered the same fate as the first.

  “Well done, Watson! You’re beginning to make a habit of saving my life, old fellow.” Holmes was at my side and reaching out to take my hand and Mycroft’s in each of his own. “And now you might take care of a very gallant lady—in your professional capacity, of course.”

  And, indeed, Uma looked about to faint, as I helped her to a chair.

  “Is it over, John?”

  “Yes, my dear,” I reassured her, “it’s all over.”

  Then, as sobs shook her body, I placed my arm around her shoulder. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.

  Behind me I was aware of other people entering the room and a familiar voice boomed—

  “Remarkable rifle, the Lee Enfield. Don’t know when I last had a chance at a shot like that. Mombassa, perhaps. Wait until Summerlee hears about this! Of course, the old fool will say I would have done better with a Webley …”

  So, it was Challenger who had fired that second shot?

  As I turned in his direction, he was smiling triumphantly and stroking his beard.

  “That’s right, Doctor, I was perched in that oak tree just outside the window. A second line of defence, you might say, covering your back.
But when I saw the mood those cobras were in, I couldn’t be sure you’d have time for a second shot. Perhaps we should take our sharp-shooting act on the music hall stage. I can see it now …” he sketched the imaginary billing in the air with his hands—“… ‘CHALLENGER & Watson!’” I could just see the comparative size of our names.

  “Over here, gentlemen, and please hurry.”

  It was Mycroft, who was kneeling over Staunton. As we joined him, it was obvious that, though Staunton was still barely alive, he was sinking fast. His eyes were flickering but he seemed to recognise Mycroft at least.

  Then, painfully, he spoke. We had to lean close to hear his words.

  “Glad it’s over at last … Perhaps these people are right about a second life … soon know … Try to do better next time …”

  Then the eyes glazed over. I reached past Mycroft and performed that function that transcends time and culture. I closed his eyelids.

  And in that room of death we all instinctively bowed our heads in a moment of silence for all the departed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was two weeks or so later and the weather had turned unseasonably cold—to the point where Mrs. Hudson without being asked, had lit a fire in our sitting room. Outside the gas lamps were just beginning to win their daily battle with the fading sun and a sharp wind gave notice of harsh days to come.

  Lestrade had just left after briefing us on the aftermath to that evening of horror at the Consulate.

  “After due consideration and consultation with Mr. Mycroft Holmes ‘ere, representing the ’Ome Office of Her Majesty’s Government …”

  Mycroft’s face might have been carved from stone and I had an idiotic vision of him on a pedestal in Pall Mall, somewhere near the Diogenes Club, with the legend—THE UNKNOWN DIPLOMAT.

  Lestrade continued in his best official tones—

  “… the official record will show that two dangerous snakes escaped from Regent’s Park Zoo, found their way into the Zakhistan Consulate and were the cause of the tragic death of two of the diplomats in residence. Fortunately, the coincidental presence in the neighbourhood of a contingent of police officers engaged in a training exercise …”

  “Ably led by Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” Holmes interposed but the Inspector chose to ignore him.

  “… was able to contain the situation …”

  “Through the use of a Lee Enfield rifle, which they just happened to have in their possession.” Now it was Challenger’s turn.

  “And what about the deaths of the three Sinners?” I asked, putting an end to what promised to turn into frivolity.

  It was Mycroft who answered me.

  “They will remain technically ‘open files’ of unsolved murders. The police have reason to believe that they were the work of a single individual who is no longer in this country. Investigations will continue.”

  Then, seeing my expression, he continued—

  “An unsatisfactory conclusion, I know, Doctor, but frankly, there would be nothing to be gained by dragging this through the public courts. You can hardly punish a dead man twice.”

  “And what of Uma?” I persisted.

  “I think I can answer that.” Holmes rose from his armchair and began to pace the room, coming to rest behind the chair in which she was sitting wearing the green dress in which I had first seen her.

  “Since nothing illegal apparently happened in that house that night, there can, by definition, be no criminal charges. And since I suspect that the Zakhistan Consulate may shortly be relocating its personnel …”

  I looked enquiringly at the Emerald Lady—as I shall always think of her—and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Forgive me for contradicting you, Mr. Holmes—for I and my people are eternally in your debt—but something did happen in that room that night that I cannot explain.

  “I got your note, of course …”

  That explained the second note, I thought.

  “… and I knew precisely what would happen and what I had to do. Staunton was suspicious, that I could see, but I burned it as soon as I had read it. As I waited for the summons, I was quite calm. And then, suddenly, the strangest feeling began to steal over me. I was the High Priestess of Kor. I was the incarnation of all the High Priestesses who had preceded me or would follow me. It was as though my destiny had led me to this one moment.

  “When I had the holy serpents in my hands, it was as though I was possessed by a force greater than myself. Someone seemed to speak to me. I heard no words but the message was clear. It told me that the traitors must be punished and I must be the means. I am sorry for Khali but the man you call Staunton had subverted him beyond recall …”

  “This ‘force’ you speak of?” I interjected.

  “You will think me foolish, gentlemen, but I could swear it was the voice of Kor—and something about it told me it was the last time I or any of us should ever hear it. Kor’s time with us is over. It is for us to make our way in this new world. I must return to my people one last time to tell them so and point the path.”

  By the time she had finished speaking her eyes were bright. As High Priestess or as some other kind of leader, her people were, indeed fortunate.

  Out of the ensuing silence a quiet voice said—

  “Madam, I would like you to have this in your own keeping. Personally, I detest people who borrow books and do not return them. It comes with the sincere regard of George Edward Challenger.”

  Then Challenger crossed the room and proferred that familiar worn black book. The genuine Book of Kor.

  Uma took it and ran her fingers over the raised lettering. She seemed to be speaking to the object in her hands as she said—

  “Whoever you were, you came to us from the elements. For so long you gave us a purpose and made us a people. But now it is up to us to make our own destiny. And Kor is free to return to the elements …”

  And with a movement of her arm that brought all too readily to mind her gesture of the other night, she threw the Book of Kor into the fire.

  All of us were so taken aback by what she had done that we watched mutely as the flames slowly licked at the pages, found them good and began to devour them. Perhaps there was something in the ancient ink but it seemed as if the flames began to sparkle and hiss and, if I were a superstitious man, I could swear that I saw visions in them, coming and going, as they vanished up that familiar chimney.

  Every face in that room was turned in that one direction and, as the glow from the fire slowly faded from their faces, there was a collective sigh, as of relief.

  Then Uma rose to her feet. For a moment she was a queen surveying her subjects.

  “Mr. Holmes—John—I can never thank you properly, so I will not even try. When I asked you earlier about your fee, I remember you told me that you never vary it, except when you remit it entirely …”

  “Which is this case I most certainly do,” Holmes replied gravely.

  “But you cannot refuse me the right to bestow on you both the High Order of Kor …”

  And she reached into her purse and produced two green leather purses fastened with silk cords, which she handed to each of us. I tipped out the contents and there, gleaming on my palm were two cufflinks set with emeralds. Holmes, I could see, had received the same.

  She smiled a little sadly.

  “I must admit that I have just invented that Order but I hope that it will mean that every now and then you will remember the Emerald Lady. And who knows—perhaps we may all meet again?”

  A moment later, as we all stood, she had left the room.

  With her departure we seemed to have said all there was to say. The only further surprise was that Challenger managed to bully Mycroft into accompanying him to the Explorers’ Club for dinner, where I could imagine the other members were due to be regaled with exaggerated stories of how he, George Edward Challenger had single-handedly exterminated a veritable nest of serpents, thus saving the civilised world.

&nb
sp; Then Holmes and I were left alone in that companionable silence that followed an adventure.

  I don’t know what was going through that complex mind but mine was full of a jumble of impressions from these last eventful days … Challenger’s booming voice … the sorcery of Holmes’s hands as he concocted Pascal’s Surprise … the revelation dawning in the eyes of the dying Staunton and the pity in Mycroft’s—and most of all, the mesmerising presence of Uma.

  “You’re quite right, Watson, it will make an excellent narrative in your collection one of these days but not just yet, I fear. Oh, don’t look so surprised. When a man fingers the cufflinks he has just been given, looks immediately at the bureau where his writing implements are kept, then flexes the fingers of his right hand, as though he held a pen in it, it is not difficult to see the old literary warhorse champing at the bit.

  “But there are too many people who would be hurt by such an account at this time, old fellow, not least the lady herself. We shall hear more of her in years to come, I fancy. The day will come when women of her mettle will lead nations but perhaps not in our time, Watson, perhaps not in our time.”

  “Promise me one thing, Holmes,” I said to change the subject. “No more cases involving snakes, if you don’t mind. I had enough of them with that ‘Speckled Band’ affair but this was …”

  “Monstrous?” And he laughed his distinctive silent laugh.

  Then he became serious once more.

  “But you know, there is a distinct pattern in life’s carpet and things repeat themselves endlessly—predictably even, if one can determine the pattern. The people we have been involved with found themselves on a particular point in the pattern when they were at Oxford. Each of them went his separate way—only to find himself back at what looked like an identical spot in the pattern.

  “I venture to suggest that those who are left will have learned a lesson from the experience that will last them the rest of their lives.”