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Authors: David Stuart Davies
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going mad,” he repeated softly. “And do you know, I think I have found that stimulation. You will not have heard of a young man called Sherlock Holmes?”
I shook my head again.
“No, of course not. Very few people have — yet. But they will, I am sure, with your help.”
“With my help?” I parroted the words back at him.
“The full story, please, Walker. Questions later. Sherlock Holmes is a private detective. He is also a brilliant fellow. He is the greatest mind fighting on behalf of law and order in London today. His intellectual capacity is as great as mine. We are twins, he and I, and we stand like two colossi facing each other across the great divide. He solves crimes, and I commit them. He is younger than I — by some five years — and so I have a march on him at present, but his greatness will come. This delights and also concerns me. His activities, so beautifully crafted and shrewdlyconceived, are a delight to perceive, but at the same time he causes me problems. Already, he has ‘interfered’ in a number of my schemes, causing them to fail. The nature of this paradox fascinates me. I could easily dispose of this thorn in my flesh, of course. A word from me and he would soon be shuffling off this mortal coil. However, not only would that be too easy, but it would also remove the challenge and the problem. And they are so stimulating. A nice dilemma, eh, Walker? I have thought long and hard about this situation. I felt sure that I could come to some delicious compromise regarding myself and Mr Sherlock Holmes, who, by the way, I am sure, at present at least, has no notion of my existence or my role whatsoever.
“Well, I have decided to conduct an experiment that will give me both the pleasure of seeing Mr Holmes’ talents develop and his career progress, while at the same time reduce the real danger he poses to me and my organisation. I intend to place him under the microscope, to use a metaphor a writer like yourself will readily appreciate. And this is where you come in. In simple terms, you are to be my spy in his camp. You are to befriend him, share lodgings with him, become his associate, and then report on his dealings to me. You will, while delighting me with tales of his brilliant work, be able to alert me if he is sniffing too close to my territory.”
“You are mad!” I cried. “This is a preposterous scheme.”
Moriarty frowned, and when he responded to my outburst, his voice was full of anger. “I had hoped that, by now, whatever view you have of my moral nature, you would be aware of the thoroughness of my planning, the efficiency of my scheming and the reliability of my visions. Otherwise, sir, you would not be trapped here with me now. A man I have watched and waited for since learning of your disgrace in Afghanistan. A man I have lured into my web by means of my operatives. A man who is now completely at my mercy. Do you call that preposterous?”
As he spoke, he leaned forward, his face thrusting into mine, his roaring voice filling the room. Not for the first time in his company I was lost for words.
“My plan is audacious, it is dangerous, it is unique,” and now he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “but it is not preposterous. Even as we speak, action is being taken to bring about all I have conceived.”
“How on earth can this work? If the man is as brilliant as you say, he will discover the trick.”
“Ah, yes, that is part of the fun, the entertainment. There is always a danger. What is life without there being ‘always a danger’? But it will be your job to minimalise that danger. You will be his true friend in all things except your allegiance to me. When the crime has nothing to do with me, you will do all you can to help Holmes bring the perpetrator to justice. When the crime involves my organisation, you will inform me of Holmes’ progress and do all in your power to hinder him. Think of it, my dear Watson — oh, and Watson it will be, near
I shook my head again.
“No, of course not. Very few people have — yet. But they will, I am sure, with your help.”
“With my help?” I parroted the words back at him.
“The full story, please, Walker. Questions later. Sherlock Holmes is a private detective. He is also a brilliant fellow. He is the greatest mind fighting on behalf of law and order in London today. His intellectual capacity is as great as mine. We are twins, he and I, and we stand like two colossi facing each other across the great divide. He solves crimes, and I commit them. He is younger than I — by some five years — and so I have a march on him at present, but his greatness will come. This delights and also concerns me. His activities, so beautifully crafted and shrewdlyconceived, are a delight to perceive, but at the same time he causes me problems. Already, he has ‘interfered’ in a number of my schemes, causing them to fail. The nature of this paradox fascinates me. I could easily dispose of this thorn in my flesh, of course. A word from me and he would soon be shuffling off this mortal coil. However, not only would that be too easy, but it would also remove the challenge and the problem. And they are so stimulating. A nice dilemma, eh, Walker? I have thought long and hard about this situation. I felt sure that I could come to some delicious compromise regarding myself and Mr Sherlock Holmes, who, by the way, I am sure, at present at least, has no notion of my existence or my role whatsoever.
“Well, I have decided to conduct an experiment that will give me both the pleasure of seeing Mr Holmes’ talents develop and his career progress, while at the same time reduce the real danger he poses to me and my organisation. I intend to place him under the microscope, to use a metaphor a writer like yourself will readily appreciate. And this is where you come in. In simple terms, you are to be my spy in his camp. You are to befriend him, share lodgings with him, become his associate, and then report on his dealings to me. You will, while delighting me with tales of his brilliant work, be able to alert me if he is sniffing too close to my territory.”
“You are mad!” I cried. “This is a preposterous scheme.”
Moriarty frowned, and when he responded to my outburst, his voice was full of anger. “I had hoped that, by now, whatever view you have of my moral nature, you would be aware of the thoroughness of my planning, the efficiency of my scheming and the reliability of my visions. Otherwise, sir, you would not be trapped here with me now. A man I have watched and waited for since learning of your disgrace in Afghanistan. A man I have lured into my web by means of my operatives. A man who is now completely at my mercy. Do you call that preposterous?”
As he spoke, he leaned forward, his face thrusting into mine, his roaring voice filling the room. Not for the first time in his company I was lost for words.
“My plan is audacious, it is dangerous, it is unique,” and now he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “but it is not preposterous. Even as we speak, action is being taken to bring about all I have conceived.”
“How on earth can this work? If the man is as brilliant as you say, he will discover the trick.”
“Ah, yes, that is part of the fun, the entertainment. There is always a danger. What is life without there being ‘always a danger’? But it will be your job to minimalise that danger. You will be his true friend in all things except your allegiance to me. When the crime has nothing to do with me, you will do all you can to help Holmes bring the perpetrator to justice. When the crime involves my organisation, you will inform me of Holmes’ progress and do all in your power to hinder him. Think of it, my dear Watson — oh, and Watson it will be, near
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