Sherlock Holmes: The Army of Doctor Moreau

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I sent Fellowes off to report to Mycroft and returned to Baker Street expecting to find Watson, no doubt livid with irritation at my behaviour. Instead I found two other gentlemen entirely.

“Johnson!” I said. “You got my message then, I was concerned that it would arrive too late.”

“Nah, Mr Holmes, I got it all right, and I were only too happy to come, weren’t I?”

“Same goes for me,” said the other fellow, jumping to his feet and standing before me, nervously wringing his cap between his hands. I’m afraid he has a habit of that sort of thing. He has grown up to be somewhat in awe. Only natural of course, I was a dominant force in his childhood and inspired him to his current trade.

“Wiggins?” I said. “Good to see you, I heard of your success in finding the stolen ruby of Balmoor, congratulations!”

“It was a simple enough case, Mr Holmes, I’m sure you would have made short work of it.”

“No doubt,” I admitted, choosing not to mention that the location of the gem and the identity of its thief had been clear to me by the time I was halfway through reading The Times’ coverage of its loss.

Wiggins was a graduate of my Baker Street Irregulars. In fact he had always been their guiding hand, the others had looked up to him just as he had looked up to me.

For some time I had suspected he might consider a career in the police force, his enthusiasm for detective work was clear and I never doubted it was something that would continue to develop as he grew older. Thankfully he decided against such a mundane expression of his abilities and became a private agent instead.

One of the more predictable effects of Watson’s writings has been the burgeoning industry of independent detectives. They have always existed of course, merrily pandering to the public’s inane confusions with their limited skills. They were something I was quick to distance myself from, classing myself as a “consulting” detective, one that helped the official police force rather than just the braying public. Still, after my methods became so well known and my successes so widely discussed, the business of deduction became a boom industry. (I also believe the name “Sherlock” found a brief popularity amongst expectant mothers for which I can only apologise to the infants in question.) Private investigators sprung up all over the country ranging from large-scale operations with a sizeable staff to individual operators working out of their own parlours. It seemed that everyone had suddenly developed a skill for deduction and wanted nothing more than to share it. I had no doubt that the majority of such organisations were an exercise in wish-fulfilment and their owners would be out of business before the ink dried on their business cards.

If any private individual stood a chance at making a go of it though, it would be Wiggins, and I for one was pleased to see him try. I realised it might be appreciated were I to suggest as much to him. (I often forget these personal details when Watson is absent.)

“I was considerably impressed,” I told him, thinking the words through carefully, “and have no doubt that great things stand ahead of you.” I sat down in a vacant armchair. “That’s as long as you manage to survive the night of course.”

“I dare say all of us will have our work cut out managing that,” said Johnson, “but then, I never did take to the quiet life.”

“Dr Watson not here?” asked Wiggins.

“Not as yet,” I admitted. “No doubt he is sulking somewhere as he is wont to do. We’ll see him soon enough. Let me give you both some idea of what faces us.”

I prepared to give them all the details currently at our disposal. My brother might have wished me to show more discretion but knowledge is the most important thing in the world and I wouldn’t dream of letting them go into battle without it. However, I was stopped in my briefing by the sound of the bell.

Billy brought in Inspector George Mann, thankfully saving me the need to run through the details a second time.

“I am glad to have you with us,” I told him, having renewed our brief acquaintance. “No doubt Watson will be along shortly. He was an excellent advocate on your behalf.”

“Pleased to hear it,” he said and settled down with Johnson and Wiggins to listen to my summary of the case.

“I can see why the doctor was playing his cards close to his chest,” said Mann, once I had finished, “it certainly is a potentially inflammatory affair. If the details of this were to be leaked to the press …”

“Indeed.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “The last thing we need is the involvement of more reporters.”

The joke seemed to pass above their heads, a not uncommon experience for me.

“There would be rioting in the streets,” Johnson said. “People would go mad.”

“I sometimes think very little encouragement is needed on that score,” Mann said.

Wiggins nodded and gave a wry smile. “You’re not wrong there. People like a ruckus and no mistake.”

“We’ll have enough of one by ourselves tonight,” said Mann. “And I for one expect trouble from our guide as well as the man he’s leading us to.”

“You’re quite right,” I said, “and we all need to remember it. There is no doubting that, whatever happens, it benefits Kane were none of us to come out of those sewers alive.”

“You think he intends to double-cross us?” asked Johnson.

“Most certainly,” I replied. “I’d be exceptionally surprised if he didn’t.”

“All good fun,” he replied, “and I’d better mind myself and all.” He pulled a thick black stocking from his coat pocket. “On the slightest off-chance we do manage to survive the night, I’d better make sure the bugger don’t recognise me.” He pulled the stocking over his head. “My life wouldn’t be worth thruppence if it got around that I’d been fraternising with you lot!”

I confess it often slipped my mind that Johnson took a terrible risk simply being seen with me. He truly was a man from another world.

Downstairs the bell rang. Given the length and stridency of the tone it could only be Challenger.

Billy answered it and the professor’s voice echoed up the stairway like a sergeant major issuing the call to charge.

I checked the time. Kane would soon be here, but where was Watson?

That answer came soon enough when Billy entered alongside Challenger. “Telegram for you, Sir,” he said, handing it over and stepping as far away from Challenger as he could. It was clear he was quite terrified of the man. I have noticed people are often intimidated by such physical giants, and I always think it strange. What do any of us have to fear from brute strength? That’s what fire pokers and revolvers are for. It’s a powerful brain that should scare us.

I opened the telegram. It read:

HOLMES I HAVE YOUR FRIEND [STOP] HE WILL BE HELD

AS

INSURANCE AGAINST YOUR BEHAVIOUR [STOP] DO NOT MAKE ME TURN HIM INTO SOMETHING HE WILL REGRET [STOP]

“Like a confirmed bachelor, perhaps?” I muttered.

“What’s that, Holmes?” asked Challenger.

It was good that he addressed me by name as, given the volume of his inquiry, I might otherwise have assumed he was asking the question of Mr Goss, the gentleman who lived three doors down.

“It is our enemy playing his hand,” I said and offered him the telegram to pass around the room.

“What are we going to do now?” Johnson asked. “Surely we can’t call the hunt off?”

“Indeed not,” I agreed. “That is precisely what we can’t do.”