The Criminal Mastermind of Baker Street

by Rob Nunn

  In the intermission, gambling picked up in the crowd surrounding the ring and Watson shouldered his way to Holmes’ corner. “Holmes, McMurdo is favored two to one after this round. Can you last five rounds with his energy?”

  “He will not last five rounds with his energy. He is already beginning to lag. I’m afraid we will not make it past three rounds. Wait until the end of the next round to place your bets,” Holmes warned before being called back into the ring.

  Round two started with McMurdo charging into Holmes, punching hard with both hands with a barrage of punches that would have downed most men. Holmes staggered back from the attacks and regrouped as the crowd roared for McMurdo to attack again. Holmes tentatively moved back into the fight, and swung a left as the short man came in, only to catch two more high hard hits to his head. Holmes tried to retaliate by throwing out a few tentative punches that were quickly batted away and returned with strong blows by McMurdo. The two men circled each other and Holmes feinted suddenly and threw a roundhouse swing that McMurdo easily went under, smashing a right to Holmes’ ribs, knocking him back. Counting down the seconds to intermission in his mind, Holmes staggered back towards his opponent, only to be met with a strong left hook. He reeled back on his heels, and the crowd cheered as they expected him to fall, but the referee called time for the round and Holmes staggered back to his corner.

  Instead of going back to consult with Holmes during this intermission, Watson worked the room for odds against his friend. Placing as many bets as he could at 7 to 1 odds, he turned back to the ring to watch what Holmes had promised would be the final round.

  When the third round started, McMurdo smelled blood in the water. Although his energy was waning, he was encouraged by Holmes’ poor showing in the second round and expected to end the match quickly. The opponent he met in the ring this round was hardly the same man. Standing tall and confident, his eyes staring coolly at McMurdo, Holmes blocked his initial volley and returned a strong cross to McMurdo’s mouth and a right to his chin to back the shorter man off. When he barreled back in again, McMurdo was met with a combination that caught him by surprise. McMurdo waded back in and landed a hard right to Holmes’ ribs while Holmes delivered another hard right to his opponent’s mouth. The two men circled each other, McMurdo’s ragged breathing contrasting sharply with Holmes’ cool demeanor. They moved back in at the same time, Holmes jabbing with his right, followed by a left cross and then moving back out. McMurdo shot out two tentative jabs that landed, but with little force. This back and forth continued until McMurdo noticed Holmes drop his left arm. McMurdo moved in again and landed a solid hit to Holmes’ ribs only to have his breath knocked out of him by Holmes’ right. He staggered back, and Holmes moved in with a cross-hit to McMurdo’s jaw that spun the man around and knocked him to the mat.

  The crowd cheered and groaned as the referee held Holmes’ gloved hand up to name him the winner of the match while Watson moved around the crowd to collect his winnings. After Holmes had changed back into his evening wear, he met up with Watson just as the next match was beginning.

  “How did we do?” Holmes asked.

  “A very nice take for less than fifteen minutes of work,” Watson chuckled. “And, Lord Backwater has asked for a meeting with you to discuss a delicate matter.”

  Holmes smiled. “A man’s work is never done, Watson. Please have Lord Backwater meet me in the side room.”

  Watson retrieved the man and brought him to meet with Holmes. “Lord Backwater, very nice to see you this evening,” Holmes greeted.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Holmes. And may I congratulate you on your victory, though it cost me,” he chuckled. “I should have known better than to bet against a man with such a reputation as yours.”

  Holmes smiled in response. “And what reputation is that?”

  “You have the reputation as a man who is able to handle discreet situations, and that is what I would like to speak with you about tonight,” Backwater said, glancing towards Watson.

  “Doctor Watson is a trusted colleague and anything you say in front of him will be treated with the same discretion as I would,” Holmes stated.

  Nodding, Backwater continued. “I have a... business opportunity with a gentleman in the States that would be frowned upon if my name were to be attached to it, and I am looking for someone to facilitate safe passage from America. I thought that you might be the man to handle such a situation.”

  “I welcome exchanges with our American cousins, predicting that our children will someday be citizens of the same worldwide country, but I am hesitant to extend too far into that country due to the resourcefulness of the Pinkerton Agency. Their tenacity surpasses anything we see here in England. I must warn you that unless a well thought out plan is in place, I am not interested in tangling with the Pinkertons unless I must. What sort of business opportunity and passage would you need?”

  Backwater pursed his lips. “I am not at liberty to say the business proposition and had hoped that you would provide the arrangements for passage.”

  Holmes nodded gravely. “Lord Backwater, while I admire your industrious spirit, I am accustomed to having mystery at one end of my cases, but to have it at both ends is too confusing, I fear.”

  “I must insist upon this level of secrecy, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Then I must decline the offer, Lord Backwater. Plus, I am currently working with a certain circus belle and fishmonger, so I would not be able to give your little problem the proper attention that I feel it would require. But you may rely upon my discretion on our conversation, and no others will know of it.”

  Disappointed, Lord Backwater said goodbye and left Holmes and Watson alone in the room.

  “Holmes!” Watson called out, “Lord Backwater is a leading man in London. Why wouldn’t you listen to his offer? Imagine extending your reach to America!”

  “I meant what I said, my dear Watson. The Pinkertons in America are a force to be reckoned with. And, while I agree that I am more than up to that challenge, it would divert my attention away from dealings here in London and I am not yet completely satisfied with my position in our criminal world.”

  “But why on earth would you mention a fishmonger to his lordship when you’ve just finished working with the King of Scandinavia?”

  Holmes smiled wryly. “I didn’t want Lord Backwater to feel that I was above his class. And anyway, the humbler of my works are usually the more interesting,” he smiled as they stepped back out to enjoy the rest of their evening.

  Chapter 3: This Great International Affair

  After spending an entire night out in the wind and rain, Watson returned to Baker Street early one morning in October of 1886. Bedraggled, weary, and the Jezail bullet throbbing in one of his limbs, Watson found Holmes already at the breakfast table.

  “Welcome home, Doctor. I presume that you have tended to our man in Grosvenor Square appropriately?”

  “Yes,” Watson sighed as he settled into his chair. “Mister Monken is mending and well-hidden. There is no reason to fear for him. He’s told me the story over and over, and I still don’t understand how he ended up under a furniture van.”

  “No need to worry, Watson. Now that you have our man on the mend, everything is quite cleared up.”

  “That is good to hear. Now, if I can just stay awake through my breakfast, I plan to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

  Appreciative of his friend’s work to mend one of his employees, Holmes meant to entertain Watson while he ate.

  “Have I ever told you of my early times in Montague Street before the time in our current rooms?”

  After five years of association, Watson had rarely been able to elicit from Holmes what had first turned his mind to crime other than their first conversation on the day that Holmes had hired him. Finding his friend in a communicative humor, Watson immediately perked up. “N
o! You arouse my curiosity, Holmes.”

  Sitting forward, Holmes lit his pipe. “I told you of my first encounter with deduction with Victor Trevor’s father?”

  “Your friend from college? Only that he was the man that put your life on a course towards deduction as a livelihood.”

  “That was only part of a larger story. I was an awkward and unsociable fellow while at university. I was more interested in working out my own little methods of thought than mixing with the other men of my year. Other than fencing, I had few athletic tastes, and my line of study was so distinct from that of the other men, that we hardly had any points of contact. In fact, Victor Trevor was the only friend I made during the time that I was at college. While we were visiting his father, he fell under a blackmailer, which ultimately led to his death. Victor was understandably heartbroken and did not return to university. He took to India and became a successful tea planter, but rumors of his familial affairs and my involvement followed me back to the university.

  “After some time of introspection and the loss of my only friend, I had learned that emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. This was convenient as my aloof manner and rumors surrounding my involvement with the tragedy at the Trevor estate had caused my peers to distance themselves from me, although they still remained interested in my keen abilities.

  “Upon graduating, I took rooms on Montague Street, just around the corner from the British museum. I set up as a consultant of all kinds, dealing with whatever clients I could find, from confounded detectives to old Russian women. But I spent my too abundant leisure time studying all branches of science which could make me more efficient in my line of work. These days were immeasurably useful, but extremely solitary.

  “During this time came the Musgrave ritual problem, that in which the butler found the ancient crown but died due to poor planning. This was a watershed moment for me, as I have told you. For two years after that, I dedicated myself to my studies, reading up on subjects of all natures, spending time in the lab at St. Bart’s and with a taxidermist in Lambeth. At the museum of London, I immersed myself in law, anatomy, botany, geology and chemistry. But most of all, I studied crime.

  “I pored over every police report and article on criminal activity that I could find, assessing the risk against the reward from the crime. I dissected every criminal report and would then map out the crime in my own mind. What were the possibilities of capture? How could the crime have been hidden or its discovery delayed?”

  “But where did your employees come from? Surely you couldn’t have formed your empire from a library and a laboratory?” Watson asked, all thought of exhaustion gone by now.

  “Of course not. I began to make associations with the more active participants in London’s underworld. I built up these associations into a form of trust, where the criminals felt that they could share their stories with me. I was always an eager audience to hear of their jobs. These new allies discussed ideas for future activities, and I would readily give feedback, making their heists all that much better. Once I gained a reputation among the criminal class as someone who could devise fool-proof plans, I was able to start charging a small commission on each planning session, building my business without getting my own hands dirty. Ironically, many of London’s lawbreakers came to trust me more once they saw that I was making a profit off of their work and my clientele picked up steadily.

  “After a particularly successful case where my men were able to relieve a lady of a valuable opal tiara, I knew that my organization had hit its stride. I had established a chain of command and was now planning and orchestrating crimes of my own free will, and many of the criminal class saw the benefits of working under my leadership. At this point, I had decided to move to a more respectable room and distance myself from the more suspicious members of my organization. This was also the time that I felt having a doctor on staff would be useful, and our partnership began.”

  “Fantastic, Holmes! I am amazed at your rare ability at crime,” Watson smiled.

  “Crime is common, doctor. Logic is rare.”

  The next day, the Secretary of State, Trelawney Hope, entered Holmes’ rooms, looking despondent, and laid out a case that could lead to dire circumstances for Europe, if not all-out war. A document had been stolen from Hope’s dispatch box, written by a foreign potentate. If this letter were shared with other countries, disastrous results would occur. Hope confided that a source from inside the government recommended that he seek out help from Holmes. It was said that he was discreet and that his nationalistic pride would encourage him to help his queen and country.

  Knowing there would be little if any financial gain to this endeavor, Holmes still agreed to take the case. Watson was surprised to see his friend’s patriotism outweigh his greed.

  “Now, Mr. Hope, I should be much obliged if you would tell me exactly the circumstances under which this document disappeared,” Holmes said.

  “That can be done in a very few words, Mr. Holmes. The letter was received six days ago. It was of such importance that I have never left it in my safe, but I have taken it across each evening to my house in Whitehall Terrace, and kept it in my bedroom in a locked dispatch-box. It was there last night. Of that I am certain. I actually opened the box while I was dressing for dinner, and saw the document inside. This morning it was gone. The dispatch-box had stood beside the glass upon my dressing table all night. I am a light sleeper, and so is my wife. We are both prepared to swear that no one could have entered the room during the night. And yet I repeat that the paper is gone.”

  “What time did you dine?”

  “Half-past seven.”

  “How long was it before you went to bed?”

  “My wife had gone to the theater. I waited up for her. It was half-past eleven before we went to our room.”

  “Then for four hours the dispatch-box had lain unguarded?”

  “No one is ever permitted to enter that room save the housemaid in the morning, and my valet, or my wife’s maid, during the rest of the day. They are both trusty servants who have been with us for some time. Besides, neither of them could possibly have known that there was anything more valuable than the ordinary departmental papers in my dispatch-box.”

  “Who did know of the existence of that letter?”

  “No one in the house.”

  “Surely, your wife knew?”

  “No sir; I had said nothing to my wife until I missed the paper this morning. Until this morning, I have never breathed one word to my wife upon this matter.”

  “Could she have guessed?”

  “No, Mr. Holmes, she could not have guessed - nor could anyone have guessed.”

  “Who is there in England who did know of this existence of this letter?”

  “Each member of the Cabinet was informed of it yesterday; but the pledge of secrecy which attends every Cabinet meeting was increased by the solemn warning which was given by the Prime Minister. Good heaves, to think that within a few hours I should myself have lost it! Besides the members of the Cabinet there are two, or possibly three, departmental officials who know of the letter. No one else in England, Mr. Holmes, I assure you.”

  “But abroad?”

  “I believe that no one abroad has seen it save the man who wrote it. I am well-convinced that his ministers - that the usual official channels have not been employed.”

  Holmes leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of him and sat quietly for some time. After some minutes, he leaned forward and said, “Now, sir, I must ask you more particularly what this document is, and why its disappearance should have such momentous consequences?”

  “Mr. Holmes, the envelope is a long, thin one of pale blue color. There is a seal of red wax stamped with a crouching lion. It is addressed in large, bold handwriting to-”

  “I fear that my inquiries must go m
ore to the root of things. What was the letter?”

  The Secretary of State hesitated.

  “If you cannot share that information with me, then any continuation of this interview would be a waste of time. I have a good many calls upon me and you are a busy man,” Holmes replied.

  Sighing in resignation, Hope continued. “The letter, then, is from a certain foreign potentate who has been ruffled by some recent colonial developments of this country. It had been written hurriedly and upon his own responsibility entirely. Inquiries have shown that his ministers know nothing of the matter. At the same time it is couched in so unfortunate a manner, and certain phrases in it are of so provocative a character, that its publication would undoubtedly lead to a most dangerous state of feeling in this country. There would be such a ferment, sir, that I do not hesitate to say that within a week of the publication of that letter this country would be involved in a great war.”

  Holmes, understanding the gravity of this situation, continued. ““Have you informed the sender?”

  “Yes, sir, a cipher telegram has been dispatched, and we have strong reason to believe that he already understands that he has acted in an indiscreet and hot-headed manner. It would be a greater blow to him and to his country than to us if this letter were to come out.”

  “If this is so, whose interest is it that the letter should come out? Why should anyone desire to steal it or to publish it?”

  “There, Mr. Holmes, you take me into regions of high international politics. But if you consider the European situation you will have no difficulty in perceiving the motive. The whole of Europe is an armed camp. There is a double league which makes a fair balance of military power. Great Britain holds the scales. If Britain were driven into war with one confederacy, it would assure the supremacy of the other confederacy, whether they joined in the war or not. Do you follow?”

  “Very clearly. And to whom would this document be sent if it fell into the hands of an enemy?”