Sherlock Holmes
MY FRIEND and COLLEAGUE
THE EXTRAORDINARY FINAL PROBLEM
by
Dr. John H. Watson
and
© L. Guy Campbell
__________________________________
Chapter Four
Moriarty’s Stronghold
____________
MY FRIEND and COLLEAGUE
THE EXTRAORDINARY FINAL PROBLEM
by
Dr. John H. Watson
and
© L. Guy Campbell
__________________________________
Chapter Four
Moriarty’s Stronghold
____________
And so it was that I found myself the next morning, alongside Holmes, in an hansom on our way through many of the same streets we traveled last evening. Holmes explained, “Wiggins has become invaluable to me, Watson! If I am not mistaken, the investigation by the resourceful lad will prove to be Moriarty’s eventual downfall. I do hope you brought along your service revolver, we’re going to be going into deep and dark, evil places before this day is done.” I assured Holmes that, indeed, my revolver was in hand, “But where are we going today, Holmes? Is it not wiser to travel under the cover of night?” Holmes laughed out loud and then, lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Where we are going, no amount of light or darkness will favour us well. It is to the unfathomable depths of crime that we are to venture.”
Ancient odours permeated the mildew, the dark and dank masonry literally oozed of some ancient evil of the kind concocted by the mind of man. Thick, dark mould and moss encrusted the masonry, brick by mortared brick, and a foulness I’ve never felt before accosted my senses. Light shone from a single glass pane high above in the roof. Precious little light was afforded, but enough to see that this was truly a house of horrors hidden beneath the busy streets of London and the passing people above who were, blessedly so, ignorant of the evil below them.
Holmes paced about the room, though it less resembled a room than a dungeon. Evil had truly had it’s way upon many souls in this horrid place. Circular in shape, and several meters in height, there was not a corner among the walls that could prevent a full view from Professor Moriarty’s desk, if you could call it such a thing. Massive in size and covered with carvings that represented evil from time out of mind, it was more like a towering lectern from which judgement on poor innocent souls was put down. I shudder to think of the misery that may have been bestowed upon the citizenry of England in this Godless place. Gargoyles and demons adorned Moriarty’s lectern, carved with intricate detail and precision, adding to the sense that this chamber was indeed the stronghold of, as Holmes often called him, the Napoleon of Crime.
I had a sense of urgency to leave this foul and stagnant place, but Holmes, unlike myself, appeared to have no apprehensions about lingering and investigating this whole dark dungeon to his complete satisfaction. Two entrances only, or, one entrance and one exit, were to be discovered. The entrance we took was found through complex maneuvering through the maze of tunnels and putrid waterways of the London sewers. We utilised all but two of the remaining matches in the matchbox that Holmes insisted we bring along, and many times I’d wished we brought a candle, but Holmes was wary of a continuously burning flame in the sewers. Enough light was to be afforded by the glass panels in the roof above for Holmes’ purpose, and apparently he gave no concern for the return trip through the dark, stagnant, and wasted filled sewer tunnels.
The other door, found high at the top of a circular wrought iron stairway to the right of Moriarty’s lectern, was of great interest to Holmes. Holmes made close inspection of the door’s hinges and the door’s lock, making an outline of the keyhole. These were of great interest to Holmes, though not a word was spoken during this investigation. The door was made from the cover of a ship’s cargo hold, heavy and thick, immobile without the aid of a key’s entry. This hollow, vacant space made for every sound’s amplification and echo. The rattling of the door’s hardware was a cacophony of sound as Holmes attempted, unsuccessfully, to find a way to gain entry. There was no doubt that, however much this dungeon of evil was Moriarty’s stronghold, the inner sanctum behind that door at the top of the stairwell was of even greater interest to Holmes, and sure to be Moriarty’s private quarters.
While Holmes’ interest in gaining access to Moriarty’s inner sanctum occupied him, I noticed how like a magistrates courtroom this chamber of horrors resembled! Moriarty had certainly passed judgement and sentence on his prey here in this very space. I swear that I heard the tortured wails and cries of his victims emanating from the mouldy stone and masonry. I shivered to think of the horrors that had been done in this dungeon!
Holmes whispered, “Watson, take notes on every item in this room. Pay close attention, old fellow, to the titles and authors of the books and manuscripts you come across. They may prove to be of great importance!” There were, upon close inspection, numerous academic periodicals, books and papers. I noted as much information as I could with trembling hands and little light.
I quietly observed as Holmes silently, as only Holmes can, observed other details and clues among the sparse surroundings. Many notes filled his own notebook, which I’m sure were much more detailed than my own, however much I tried to utilise what I’d learned from observing Holmes’ deductive reasoning and attention to detail. I climbed the stairwell and asked Holmes if I should strike a match to afford some additional light. “No, Watson.” Holmes whispered, “Our labours are done here, for now. We must preserve this dungeon, before our departure, so that even Moriarty cannot detect our having been present here.”
With that, we set about inspecting everything we had touched, and examined the sparse furnishings meticulously, assuring that nothing was left out of place. I paid particular attention to arranging the books and things that I handled and thumbed through. Satisfied, Holmes motioned to the same door, off the sewer entrance that we’d arrived through, and we made our way breathing as little as possible, through the winding corridors and tunnels of sewage until we exited upon the alley from which we’d entered.
Wiggins was waiting, as instructed, across the alley and rushed over to us. “I got your message from Mrs. Hudson, and hurried here just as you asked, Mr. Holmes!” said Wiggins. Holmes smiled at the boy, handed him a scrap of paper with the diagram of the lock to Moriarty’s inner rooms. Whispering instructions in the boy’s ear, Wiggins then took off at a full gallop and disappeared through the alleyways.
Ancient odours permeated the mildew, the dark and dank masonry literally oozed of some ancient evil of the kind concocted by the mind of man. Thick, dark mould and moss encrusted the masonry, brick by mortared brick, and a foulness I’ve never felt before accosted my senses. Light shone from a single glass pane high above in the roof. Precious little light was afforded, but enough to see that this was truly a house of horrors hidden beneath the busy streets of London and the passing people above who were, blessedly so, ignorant of the evil below them.
Holmes paced about the room, though it less resembled a room than a dungeon. Evil had truly had it’s way upon many souls in this horrid place. Circular in shape, and several meters in height, there was not a corner among the walls that could prevent a full view from Professor Moriarty’s desk, if you could call it such a thing. Massive in size and covered with carvings that represented evil from time out of mind, it was more like a towering lectern from which judgement on poor innocent souls was put down. I shudder to think of the misery that may have been bestowed upon the citizenry of England in this Godless place. Gargoyles and demons adorned Moriarty’s lectern, carved with intricate detail and precision, adding to the sense that this chamber was indeed the stronghold of, as Holmes often called him, the Napoleon of Crime.
I had a sense of urgency to leave this foul and stagnant place, but Holmes, unlike myself, appeared to have no apprehensions about lingering and investigating this whole dark dungeon to his complete satisfaction. Two entrances only, or, one entrance and one exit, were to be discovered. The entrance we took was found through complex maneuvering through the maze of tunnels and putrid waterways of the London sewers. We utilised all but two of the remaining matches in the matchbox that Holmes insisted we bring along, and many times I’d wished we brought a candle, but Holmes was wary of a continuously burning flame in the sewers. Enough light was to be afforded by the glass panels in the roof above for Holmes’ purpose, and apparently he gave no concern for the return trip through the dark, stagnant, and wasted filled sewer tunnels.
The other door, found high at the top of a circular wrought iron stairway to the right of Moriarty’s lectern, was of great interest to Holmes. Holmes made close inspection of the door’s hinges and the door’s lock, making an outline of the keyhole. These were of great interest to Holmes, though not a word was spoken during this investigation. The door was made from the cover of a ship’s cargo hold, heavy and thick, immobile without the aid of a key’s entry. This hollow, vacant space made for every sound’s amplification and echo. The rattling of the door’s hardware was a cacophony of sound as Holmes attempted, unsuccessfully, to find a way to gain entry. There was no doubt that, however much this dungeon of evil was Moriarty’s stronghold, the inner sanctum behind that door at the top of the stairwell was of even greater interest to Holmes, and sure to be Moriarty’s private quarters.
While Holmes’ interest in gaining access to Moriarty’s inner sanctum occupied him, I noticed how like a magistrates courtroom this chamber of horrors resembled! Moriarty had certainly passed judgement and sentence on his prey here in this very space. I swear that I heard the tortured wails and cries of his victims emanating from the mouldy stone and masonry. I shivered to think of the horrors that had been done in this dungeon!
Holmes whispered, “Watson, take notes on every item in this room. Pay close attention, old fellow, to the titles and authors of the books and manuscripts you come across. They may prove to be of great importance!” There were, upon close inspection, numerous academic periodicals, books and papers. I noted as much information as I could with trembling hands and little light.
I quietly observed as Holmes silently, as only Holmes can, observed other details and clues among the sparse surroundings. Many notes filled his own notebook, which I’m sure were much more detailed than my own, however much I tried to utilise what I’d learned from observing Holmes’ deductive reasoning and attention to detail. I climbed the stairwell and asked Holmes if I should strike a match to afford some additional light. “No, Watson.” Holmes whispered, “Our labours are done here, for now. We must preserve this dungeon, before our departure, so that even Moriarty cannot detect our having been present here.”
With that, we set about inspecting everything we had touched, and examined the sparse furnishings meticulously, assuring that nothing was left out of place. I paid particular attention to arranging the books and things that I handled and thumbed through. Satisfied, Holmes motioned to the same door, off the sewer entrance that we’d arrived through, and we made our way breathing as little as possible, through the winding corridors and tunnels of sewage until we exited upon the alley from which we’d entered.
Wiggins was waiting, as instructed, across the alley and rushed over to us. “I got your message from Mrs. Hudson, and hurried here just as you asked, Mr. Holmes!” said Wiggins. Holmes smiled at the boy, handed him a scrap of paper with the diagram of the lock to Moriarty’s inner rooms. Whispering instructions in the boy’s ear, Wiggins then took off at a full gallop and disappeared through the alleyways.
© L. Guy Campbell
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