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Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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enemies. They
might even have let him pursue some of his other interests –
beekeeping, for example – on the side.
Instead, Holmes goes haring off on a journey that seems to
have nothing that resembles an itinerary and he asks Watson
5
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to accompany him. Why? The most incompetent criminal
will surely work out that where one goes, the other will quite
probably follow. And let’s not forget that we are talking here
about a criminal like no other, the master of his profession, a
man who is equally feared and admired by Holmes himself. I
don’t believe for a minute that he could possibly have under-
estimated Moriarty. Common sense tells me that he must have
been playing another game.
Sherlock Holmes travels to Canterbury, Newhaven, Brussels
and Strasbourg, followed every step of the way. At Strasbourg,
he receives a telegram from the London police informing him
that all the members of Moriarty’s gang have been captured.
This is, as it turns out, quite false. One key player has slipped
through the net – although I use the term ill-advisedly as the
big fat fish that is Colonel Sebastian Moran has never been
anywhere near it.
Colonel Moran, the finest sharpshooter in Europe, was wel
known to Pinkerton’s, by the way. Indeed, by the end of his
career, he was known to every law enforcement agency on the
planet. He had been famous once for bringing down eleven
tigers in a single week in Rajasthan, a feat that astonished
his fellow hunters as much as it outraged the members of the
Royal Geographical Society. Holmes called him the second
most dangerous man in London – all the more so in that he
was motivated entirely by money. The murder of Mrs Abigail
Stewart, for example, an eminently respectable widow shot
through the head as she played bridge in Lauder, was com-
mitted only so that he could pay off his gambling debts at the
Bagatelle Card Club. It is strange to reflect that as Holmes sat
reading the telegram, Moran was less than a hundred yards
away, sipping herbal tea on a hotel terrace. Well, the two of
them would meet soon enough.
From Strasbourg, Holmes continues to Geneva and
spends a week exploring the snow-capped hills and pretty
6
Moriarty-text-ac.indd 6
11/08/2014 13:14:21
villages of the Rhône Valley. Watson describes this interlude
as ‘charming’, which is not the word I would have used in
the circumstances but I suppose we can only admire the way
these two men, such close friends, can relax in each other’s
company even at such a time as this. Holmes is still in fear of
his life, and there is another incident. Following a path close
to the steel-grey water of the Daubensee, he is almost hit by
a boulder that comes rolling down from the mountain above.
His guide, a local man, assures him that such an event is quite
commonplace and I am inclined to believe him. I’ve looked
at the maps and I’ve worked out the distances. As far as I can
see, Holmes’s enemy is already well ahead of him, waiting for
him to arrive. Even so, Holmes is convinced that once again
he has been attacked and spends the rest of the day in a state
of extreme anxiety.
At last he reaches the village of Meiringen on the River
Aar where he and Watson stay at the Englischer Hof, a
guest house run by a former waiter from the Grosvenor
Hotel in London. It is this man, Peter Steiler, who suggests
that Holmes should visit the Reichenbach Fal s, and for a
brief time the Swiss police will suspect him of having been in Moriarty’s pay – which tells you everything you need
to know about the investigative techniques of the Swiss
police. If you want my view, they’d have been hard pressed
to find a snowflake on an Alpine glacier. I stayed at the
guest house and I interviewed Steiler myself. He wasn’t just
innocent. He was simple, barely taking his nose out of his
pots and pans (his wife actually ran the place). Until the
world
might even have let him pursue some of his other interests –
beekeeping, for example – on the side.
Instead, Holmes goes haring off on a journey that seems to
have nothing that resembles an itinerary and he asks Watson
5
Moriarty-text-ac.indd 5
11/08/2014 13:14:21
to accompany him. Why? The most incompetent criminal
will surely work out that where one goes, the other will quite
probably follow. And let’s not forget that we are talking here
about a criminal like no other, the master of his profession, a
man who is equally feared and admired by Holmes himself. I
don’t believe for a minute that he could possibly have under-
estimated Moriarty. Common sense tells me that he must have
been playing another game.
Sherlock Holmes travels to Canterbury, Newhaven, Brussels
and Strasbourg, followed every step of the way. At Strasbourg,
he receives a telegram from the London police informing him
that all the members of Moriarty’s gang have been captured.
This is, as it turns out, quite false. One key player has slipped
through the net – although I use the term ill-advisedly as the
big fat fish that is Colonel Sebastian Moran has never been
anywhere near it.
Colonel Moran, the finest sharpshooter in Europe, was wel
known to Pinkerton’s, by the way. Indeed, by the end of his
career, he was known to every law enforcement agency on the
planet. He had been famous once for bringing down eleven
tigers in a single week in Rajasthan, a feat that astonished
his fellow hunters as much as it outraged the members of the
Royal Geographical Society. Holmes called him the second
most dangerous man in London – all the more so in that he
was motivated entirely by money. The murder of Mrs Abigail
Stewart, for example, an eminently respectable widow shot
through the head as she played bridge in Lauder, was com-
mitted only so that he could pay off his gambling debts at the
Bagatelle Card Club. It is strange to reflect that as Holmes sat
reading the telegram, Moran was less than a hundred yards
away, sipping herbal tea on a hotel terrace. Well, the two of
them would meet soon enough.
From Strasbourg, Holmes continues to Geneva and
spends a week exploring the snow-capped hills and pretty
6
Moriarty-text-ac.indd 6
11/08/2014 13:14:21
villages of the Rhône Valley. Watson describes this interlude
as ‘charming’, which is not the word I would have used in
the circumstances but I suppose we can only admire the way
these two men, such close friends, can relax in each other’s
company even at such a time as this. Holmes is still in fear of
his life, and there is another incident. Following a path close
to the steel-grey water of the Daubensee, he is almost hit by
a boulder that comes rolling down from the mountain above.
His guide, a local man, assures him that such an event is quite
commonplace and I am inclined to believe him. I’ve looked
at the maps and I’ve worked out the distances. As far as I can
see, Holmes’s enemy is already well ahead of him, waiting for
him to arrive. Even so, Holmes is convinced that once again
he has been attacked and spends the rest of the day in a state
of extreme anxiety.
At last he reaches the village of Meiringen on the River
Aar where he and Watson stay at the Englischer Hof, a
guest house run by a former waiter from the Grosvenor
Hotel in London. It is this man, Peter Steiler, who suggests
that Holmes should visit the Reichenbach Fal s, and for a
brief time the Swiss police will suspect him of having been in Moriarty’s pay – which tells you everything you need
to know about the investigative techniques of the Swiss
police. If you want my view, they’d have been hard pressed
to find a snowflake on an Alpine glacier. I stayed at the
guest house and I interviewed Steiler myself. He wasn’t just
innocent. He was simple, barely taking his nose out of his
pots and pans (his wife actually ran the place). Until the
world
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