Sherlock Holmes in 2012: LORD OF DARKNESS RISING (8 page)

“Do you know, Sherlock,” Irene began, “I was not entirely truthful with you… .”

Sherlock lit his pipe, perhaps to hide the smile that was about to appear on his lips. “Not truthful, you say? But, my dear, there are so many things that could be hidden in someone’s past, which are simply to be discovered when time allows – they are not lies per se.”

“How very considerate of you to say so, however, I can no longer let my past lie in the darkness of my secret life.” Irene looked down to her lap.

“A secret life? My dear wife, you do intrigue me now. What could you have hidden behind such a splendid career?”

Not lifting her head, Irene went on, “I had always been attracted by the underworld schemes, I regret to say, but they aroused my curiosity and allowed me to beat senseless law-makers and—breakers at their own villainous games.”

Not looking at her and blowing some smoke toward the star-lit sky, Sherlock seemed to ponder Irene’s revelations before he said, “Is this the reason for you knowing so much about criminal manoeuvres – such as you did in Washington?”

“Maybe it is, Sherlock, but that’s only a minor knowledge of the inner workings of the criminal element with which I was well acquainted some hundred-twenty years ago.”

“And did you know anyone in particular in that century, perhaps a person that I encountered during my career with Scotland Yard?”

Irene remained silent and twirled the handkerchief between her fingers.

“You did know someone, didn’t you?”

Irene nodded. “I am ashamed to say that I knew Professor Moriarty – rather well, I might add. I’m sorry, Sherlock, but the lure of the game was much more than I could resist.” Her pleading eyes met Sherlock’s.

“I knew there had to be someone behind the man I despised, but I certainly did not expect that person to be you, nor did I ever expect this same person to become my wife some day.”

“Is that a reproach?” Irene queried.

“No, my dear, absolutely not. It only confirms what I suspected at the time…”

“Which was?”

“Moriarty was never a man as astute as you are.” He exhaled a breath of smoke out of his pipe. “Besides which, it is a delicious relief to know that I have you at my side now.”

“Are you saying that you consider me as some sort of trophy?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Sherlock chuckled. “No, my dear, I am only glad to know that I was somewhat smarter than Moriarty. If he had been alone in his malevolent enterprises, I would have been able to match and surpass his cleverness, but with you pointing him in the directions, which you knew could spell my defeat, I had very little chance to succeed.”

After a lengthy pause, Irene said, “Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I would, my dear, if there was anything to forgive, yet I don’t see the point in forgiving your astuteness and your curiosity, or raising the ante in a game that ended with our departure from that century. Do you?”

“I thought you would reproach my association with such a man…”

“No, Irene, not at all.” Sherlock re-lit his pipe. “Such a man is now doomed never to find me and for us never to speak of him again, would you agree?”

“You would not want to return to 1890 to find him and slay him now that you know I am no longer there to guide him?”

“If such was ever to cross my mind, Mrs. Holmes, you would be the first to know. But as it stands today, our dear professor is dead and buried. What’s more, I wouldn’t want to entice the wrath of the gods by unearthing or resurrecting his presence among the living.”

Irene exhaled a sigh of relief. For a fleeting moment she had thought that her revelation would have re-ignited a fire of vengeance in the heart of her husband and was glad for the outcome of their conversation. She also saw this exile as a means to keep Sherlock away from the time machine that was well hidden from any temptation he might have had to return to the past century. Yet, and in the end, Irene had to admit that she was in love with Sherlock and had been in love with him for years. All things set aside, she was happy to be where she was now.

A few days later, after spending most of their time visiting the city and the gardens, notably the Rose Garden, Sherlock and Irene took the funicular railway that brought them to the top of the Rimutaka Range overlooking the capital. There they visited the Botanic Gardens and took a stroll through the Victoria University of Wellington.

Leaving Irene one afternoon to do her shopping and while walking across the campus of the university, Sherlock inadvertently bumped into someone he thought was an older student.

“Oh, I am very sorry, sir,” the younger man said, stopping beside Sherlock.

“No, no, by all means, my dear fellow – my fault entirely – I didn’t look where I was walking.”

For a fraction of a second both men looked at each other, a sign of recognition lighting the man’s eyes. “Do I know you?” he asked Sherlock. “I apologize for my forwardness, sir, but you look awfully familiar. Have we met?”

“I don’t think that would have been possible, sir, since I have only been in the city for a couple of days.”

“Yes, I must have been mistaken… , sorry. My name is Watson, Dr. John Watson.”

As if he had been hit by lightning, Sherlock froze and stared. “Did you say, Dr. John Watson? Impossible!” he exclaimed.

“I can assure you it is my name, sir,” Watson countered, seemingly taken aback by Sherlock’s apparent disbelief. “And may I ask what’s yours?”

“When I will tell you, you might not believe me, but there it is; my name is Sherlock Holmes.”

Dr. Watson exploded in a roar of laughter, much to Sherlock’s astonishment. “I knew it! The minute I laid eyes on you, I knew it was you – but you are absolutely correct, I cannot believe this serendipitous encounter. You are here in the flesh. Here in New Zealand – my Good God – it cannot be true!”

“And yet it is, Doctor. I have travelled many miles just a few days ago with my wife and only landed here to have a rest for a time.”

“How long will you be in town then?” Watson asked.

“That I don’t know, Doctor, but if you would do me the honour to meet with me again at my hotel when it will be convenient, I would be most interested to know how you came to live in this fair city.”

“Oh that’s simple, Mr. Holmes. My great-grandfather, as you are probably aware, went to the Far East when you – I mean the Mr. Holmes my great-grandparent knew – disappeared, and married my great-grandmother in New Delhi. They moved to England before the First World War, but then took refuge in New Zealand as soon as they heard that a German invasion of Europe was imminent. My father was born in Auckland but died several years back in the days that followed my obtaining a doctorate in engineering science and technology. I only came to Wellington at the beginning of the November trimester.”

“However simple you may think this summary of your parentage and of your academic prowess may be, Doctor, my offer still stands; I would like to know a lot more about life on this island and in New Zealand – that is if I may impose on your time, of course.”

“By all means, Mr. Holmes, I would be delighted to sit down and visit with you and your wife.” He paused. “May I ask her name, sir?” then shook his head. “I don’t know… , please forgive me, sir, I shouldn’t have asked… , I am very sorry.”

“So like your great-grandfather,” Holmes replied, “you always apologize when there isn’t really any need.” He smiled. “I have had the immense pleasure of marrying Miss Irene Adler in Washington, D.C. before we left the United States… .” Sherlock stopped. Watson’s gaze didn’t leave the man before him. “What is it? Do you know Miss Adler?”

Watson shook his head emphatically. “No, Mr. Holmes, I have never had the pleasure, of course, but since I have all of my great-grandfather’s notebooks, and I have read them all, I know only one Miss Irene Adler – she was the diva that captured your heart during the Bohemian Affair, wasn’t she?”

“Shall we say that Miss Adler at the time “captured” my admiration during that affair, yes, but she captured my heart, as you described, once I realized that she was free to love again and that her integrity was no longer at risk.”

“Mr. Holmes, this is more – much more in fact – than a serendipitous encounter. I will need to discuss these and other extraordinary matters with you at length, indeed, but for now, you will have to excuse me, I must go and give my lecture… .”

“Absolutely, Doctor.” Sherlock then extracted a business card that he had picked up at the hotel’s reception from his jacket pocket and handed it to Watson. “Here is the address of our lodgings. We are staying in their “Guest Room” for the time being.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.” Watson looked at the card and since he could not find a mobile number on it, he asked, “Do you have a cell phone or a mobile?”

“Yes, but it is a New York number… .”

“Never mind then, sir. I will call the hotel tonight and if convenient, we can then make arrangements to meet later. Will that suit you?”

“Yes, yes, Watson… . I mean, yes, Doctor, that will be perfect.”

John Watson couldn’t help but smile at the faux pas.

“I’ll be talking to you then, Mr. Holmes,” he said, walking away and then trotting rapidly towards one of the campus’s buildings.

Left alone in the quad, Sherlock looked after the young man.
He
even
looks
like
my
friend,
he said under his breath.

An hour later Sherlock was back at the B&B to find Irene unpacking a number of shopping bags and hanging several new outfits in the wardrobe. “Sherlock… , you’re back!” she burst out, turning to him for a moment before hanging another pair of trousers in its place.

“Yes, my dear… . I see that you must have bought nearly half of the clothiers in town,” he remarked, taking a seat near the window. “Perhaps we should endeavour to find a house as soon as possible…”

“A house, Sherlock? What ever for? We hardly know this city; wouldn’t you want to wait a while?” She turned and came to stand before her husband.

He took her hand. “What I meant, my dear, was that maybe we should need a house fairly soon to store all of your purchases…”

Irene’s reaction was instantaneous; she plunged ahead and kissed Sherlock amorously, leaving him no time to continue with the bantering.

“Is that how you intend to punish me when I decide to flatter you with a tease,” Sherlock asked when Irene resumed her matronly stance before him.

“No, Sherlock, this is the way I will shut you up when you deserve to close your mouth to such irritating remarks as my buying too many clothes for
us.
Do you realize that half of these purchases are for you?”

“For me?” Sherlock chortled.

“Yes, for you, my husband. I want you to feel comfortable in your clothes and in your surroundings, Sherlock. Summer is at our doorsteps in this island, and as you may have noticed, people here dress fairly casually, that is when they are not working in some office or other where a shirt and tie are required.”

Sherlock continued to smile. He was definitely not used to this sort of enticing charm and care, which Irene was bestowing upon him ever since she came to find him in Washington. He was delighted with the attention he was getting – to say the least. “Alright, my dear,” he said, standing up, grabbing hold of her hand once again, and leading her outside onto the veranda. “Let’s sit down for a while, shall we?”

“Yes… , that’s an excellent idea. Shopping is exhausting in this century, don’t you know?” She sat down across the table from her husband. “In London or in Europe for that matter, the tailors would come to me – I didn’t have to step out of my hotel or out of my house to purchase a new outfit, but now, it is I who has to go to every shop and choose everything from hats to shoes in the merchant’s premises – quite tiring, don’t you know?”

“This is why I never go shopping,” Sherlock replied with a broad grin on his face.

“And now you will not have to do any of it, my dear husband – your slave has done it all!”

Sherlock’s laughter accompanied Irene’s giggle for a few moments before Sherlock said, “I must relate something that happened to me while you were exhausting yourself buying half of Wellington…”