Chapter 4
The following day, classically, Yon was awake before Sherlock. He walked into the living room, settled into a chair, and picked up a newspaper. The detective probably moved into the bedroom during the night. When he saw the next chair, the events of the evening came to mind. He felt his ears flush and decided to read. He turned to a new page focusing on murders and accidents. As he read what had transpired, he was intrigued by a specific article. It was murder. The American who arrived in England with Drebber, Joseph Strangerson. He was killed with a knife in his own room. Absolutely no clues. The police were stumped. That's all it said. Except, of course, how nice and kind and all that Joseph was. He grunted under his moustache before folding the paper and placing it on the table next to the medicine bottle.
Though he didn't try to think about it, he recalled last night in his head. It kept nagging at him. How his masking device went off and Sherlock saw his true eye colour. Most interestingly, he didn't react particularly. No fear or resistance. Curiosity, maybe. Though his mind might have been clouded by something else. Maybe it was the drug. Yes, that was exactly it. He shouldn't be thinking about it so much. The detective was simply out of his mind, unable to think properly at the time. He probably won't even remember today.
The door creaked and Sherlock entered the room. Dressed simply in a white shirt, dark brown trousers with suspenders, bare feet and hair, as if he had just climbed out of bed. Though it was an absolutely common occurrence for a detective. Now, however, they were much more dishevelled than they used to be. He rubbed his eyes wearily before settling down in his chair and lighting his pipe. As soon as he stretched, there was a quick knock at the door, and Mrs Hudson came in with a tray of food. On it was a plate of bread, two eggs, a piece of bacon and a cup of black coffee.
„Your breakfast,” she said, placing the tray on the table on top of a stack of books.
„Poisoned, Nanny?” the detective asked.
„You're poisoned enough,” she replied, before leaving again. In doing so, she remembered to smile pleasantly at Yon.
Holmes had just finished his breakfast when Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson came in without knocking. They looked exhausted.
„Gentlemen, I have been expecting you. Though I thought you'd arrive a little earlier,” the detective greeted them, looking at his pocket watch. The inspectors looked at each other hesitantly. „Which one of you was hungry? I'm sure you stopped by a little pub on the corner of Weymouth Street on the way. What's his name again? By the green dragon, if I'm not mistaken. They serve delicious meat pies, to which they add a special spice blend that is specific in its particular aroma,” he sneered.
„Sherlock, let them breathe,” Yon interjected. The inspectors breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes they had no idea how to deal with the detective.
„Holmes, you must help us. Clearly, young Charpentier, our only suspect is innocent. He was in custody during another murder,” the men explained.
„And you don't know what to do next,” Sherlock finished for them.
„Exactly.”
„Happy to help. But first I must ask you to be patient. I'm expecting a special guest. In the meantime, may I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?” he offered. The inspectors exchanged questioning glances before nodding agreement. Lestrade settled for tea, while Gregson had coffee. After a moment of quiet, with the men just discussing things, Mrs Hudson interrupted them.
„Holmes, there's a cab waiting for you outside,” she said in a normal tone.
„Thank you, Nanny. Could you tell him to come up and help me with things?”
„Are you going to move away?” she asked.
„You'd love that. Now go before he disappears,” he urged. Mrs Hudson turned on her heel and followed the driver.
Holmes, meanwhile, stretched slightly, got up, put his hands in his pockets, and stood beside the door. Within a good two minutes, footsteps could be heard heading towards them. The coachman entered the room, trying to determine who among those present had requested his services. That is until he realized who was sitting on the couch. As soon as he realized they were Scotland Yard inspectors, he turned and started to run. He almost would have, if Sherlock hadn't quickly put the cuffs on his hands.
„What's that?” was all the driver and the rest of the attendees could muster. Cold sweat ran across the coachman's brow and he tried one last escape. He tried to push the detective aside and get to the door. But Sherlock simply caught him by the collar from behind, jerked his arm, and the cabman lost his balance and fell backwards to the ground. By then he knew there was no escape. Holmes helped the man to his feet and brought him a spare chair to sit in. Inspectors and Yon, none of them knew what was going on.
„Inspectors, John, it is my pleasure to introduce the murderer of Enoch Drebber and Joseph Strangerson,” Holmes smiled triumphantly.
„What?” „Are you serious?!” the inspectors blurted out together, incredulous at what they had just witnessed. Even Yon didn't want to believe it, but he tried to look calm and detached.
„Uh, is that true?” Lestrade asked the driver.
„Yes, it's true,” he admitted with a defeated sigh.
„Are you sure?” Gregson asked.
„Yes, I am. My name is Jefferson Hope and I confess everything. If you'll let me, I'll tell you.”
„Well, we're listening,” the detective prompted, handing him an extra cup of tea.
„It all started in Colorado, America. I fell in love with a girl there who was adopted at a very young age by a group of Mormons. Of course, she had to live by their very strict rules. At the time, I was passing through there for the war as a recruit and got to know her. Of course, we fell in love and planned to go away together. We even got the blessing of her adoptive father, who didn't much like certain Mormon rules and, like a good father, wanted only the best for his daughter. And that wouldn't work in the community. Unfortunately, the Mormon priests decided otherwise, and my dear Lucy had to marry Drebber or Strangerson. But each of them already had at least five wives, and they didn't treat them very well. They treated them like ordinary things that could be owned and simply replaced. I wanted to help her escape, but the community uncovered our plan and I was banished under the impending death penalty.
Poor Lucy didn't want to marry anyone else, but what weight did her single opinion carry over the entire community that was slowly driving her and her father mad and paranoid. They set a deadline for them to decide who to marry, and if she didn't decide for herself, they would choose her husband. During that time, we hatched a new escape plan. And we almost would have if we hadn't been attacked at the border. I was shot, her father executed as a traitor, and Lucy was forced to marry Drebber. During my time in rehab, I heard that she had died a week after entering into that ghastly marriage. She died of a broken heart. On the same day, I vowed to take revenge for her death. I watched them and waited for the right opportunity. Eventually, the community in the states was dissolved.
Somehow, however, Drebber found me on his heels and decided to flee America. I've chased him halfway around the world, across various states to here, plotting my plan. Drebber had not stayed long enough in any previous land for my revenge. He was almost always one step ahead. I knew I mustn't rush things, or he might run away again. So I found the perfect job. Nobody notices the drivers. One day, I watched Drebber celebrate something and he got very drunk on the occasion, almost speechless. I made sure I was the only driver within his reach and after hiring me I drove him to Lauriston Gardens, where I knew there were empty unoccupied houses. I helped him out, for he would not have been able to stand on his own in that state.
Inside, as he slowly began to suspect something, I finally introduced myself. He recognized me instantly, and I'll never forget the look in his eyes. I slammed the door and took two pills from my pocket. One contained cyanide, along with a mixture of several other poisonous substances, while the other was completely harmless. Vitamin C.
„Let God alone decide between us,” I said, giving him a choice. The pills were completely identical. Even I had no idea which was which. Backing up. He didn't want to choose. So I pulled out a knife and pressed it to his throat. At that point, he seemed to have reassessed his situation, choosing a pill bet instead and choosing one. I took the other one, and we had no choice but to wait for the effects of the poison to show. These came early enough, and he understood that he had made the wrong choice. I was so excited about my revenge that it made my nose bleed. His body, on the other hand, was convulsed by horrible convulsions and he fell to the ground. I wiped my nose and went into the next room, remembering a case in Austria where the victim had written a name on the wall and it was quite confusing for the investigation at the time. And as my nose continued to bleed, I took advantage of that by writing a bloody „RACHE” on the wall. I thought I'd be able to confuse the police, too. Before I left, I looked at the engagement ring, the only thing I had left of Lucy, and I thought to myself that it was finally over. Subsequently, I put the ring back in my pocket, rolled Drebber onto his back, and left. It wasn't until late that I realized the ring must have fallen out. The police were already there when I went back for him,” he explained.
„What about Strangerson?” Sherlock asked.
„I initially thought my revenge was complete, but when I found out he was in town, I knew he, too, had to pay for his actions against Lucy and her father. But the sly fox was more careful, and he locked himself in his room. I found out what window he lived in and used a ladder to get there. It was night and he was already asleep. I woke him up, introduced myself, informed him of Drebber's fate and gave him the same choice. But Joseph lunged at me, and in self-defence, I stabbed him when he tried to strangle me. Then I ran. Revenge was accomplished, though not as I had originally intended. I would add that I was standing in the harbour, ready to return to America, when a little boy ran up to me to see if Jefferson Hope was around and that he was wanted at 221B Baker Street. So I came because I didn't think there was anything suspicious about it. I came here and went to help with the luggage and the next thing I know, I'm wearing handcuffs. Plus, so fast and skilful. You don't just see that.”
„Before the inspectors take you away, I have one last question for you. Who was your accomplice?” the detective asked.
„I don't like to drag anyone into my problems, and when I saw your ad in the paper, I didn't really know what to do. I would have gone for the ring myself, but if a friend of mine had not herself offered to pick it up for me,” he replied. With this, the inspectors took him to Scotland Yard.
The following day there was a trial when Jefferson Hope was sentenced to several long years in prison. Unfortunately, the same evening after the trial, an aneurysm caught up with him and he died by morning. Everyone but Sherlock was taken aback. One case was solved. One chapter completed.