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alexs_storybook) wrote2013-04-01 11:44 am
alexs_storybook) wrote2013-04-01 11:44 am
Entry tags:
FIC: OEAM Big Bang: The Case of the Stolen Heart, Chapters 15-19
Title: The Case of the Stolen Heart
Author: alexcat
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Type: General Fiction
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, literary or historical, though the original story is my own creation.
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of brutally murdered bodies.
Beta: Larry
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson
Archive: OEAM, Alex's Story Book, Ao3
Author’s Note: This is my 2013 OEAM Big Bang
Spoilers: No
Summary: Holmes and Watson take on London's most famous unsolved murders.
~~~~~
Chapter Fifteen – Waiting and Waiting
Holmes never changed his mind once it was made up unless incontrovertible scientific fact said that he was wrong and I knew he wouldn’t change it this time. Besides, he was right much more often than he was wrong.
“So we wait?’
“Yes, we wait for more messages from him. This was just the opening salvo.”
“What did he mean by ‘it’s over’ then?”
“The killings are done. At least the Ripper killings. Now it’s on to the next phase.”
“Which is?”
“I expect he wants us to try to catch him while he tries to kill us.”
“Well that is nice to know. I suppose we must catch him before he does this then.”
Holmes nodded and smiled. “That appears to be the idea.”
“And us means?”
“Probably you and Mrs. Hudson. He wouldn’t go after Mycroft unawares. So it will be you two.”
I sighed. “Should we send Mrs. Hudson to Mycroft for protection?”
“Do you think she would go, Watson? She’s as stubborn as you are.”
We decided the best thing to do was to carry on. Moriarty would think he’d already defeated us if we ran and hid from him and I wasn’t about to start hiding now. There would be no reason to let the police in on our secret, they’d just try to hang the murders on me or Holmes and that was the last thing we needed. Or they’d think we were crazy, which might not be far from the truth, as far as I could tell.
Holmes did actually go visit Mycroft at this time. If we failed in the ‘game’ then someone would need to know what had happened to us and would need to figure out a way to punish James Moriarty for his crimes.
Now that we were ready or thought we were, life got very quiet and very routine. Even though we said nothing to Mrs. Hudson, one or both of us tried to be around the house as much as we could. I still had patients to attend to and some shifts at the hospital but Holmes stayed in most of the time, which was his usual habit anyway. Only a very interesting case or a night at the opera would get him out of the house.
I must be honest. I thought that it was over and that maybe Holmes really had imagined all of it. The message in the classifieds was not directed to us specifically and I’d never seen this man, Moriarty, so maybe it was just a flight of fancy on Holmes’ part.
Days passed and nothing happened; days turned to weeks. London was still in the grip of Ripper fever though Jack had not struck again. There were still suspects being questioned and rumors flying that it was everyone from one of the witnesses to someone high in the government or royal family who’d killed all those women in Whitechapel to cover up some indiscretion.
Holmes did not relax though I did. He still combed the papers every day for something from Moriarty and he still carried a gun when he went out. I have to admit that I almost always carried mine and had since getting back from Afghanistan, but being armed was unusual for Holmes.
November passed quietly as did December. Every time someone was killed in the East End, it was said to be the Ripper though neither the police nor Holmes thought they were. I had to agree. The East End was a violent and dangerous part of London any time and now that everyone was jumpy and frightened of the Ripper, it was even more so.
There were articles in the paper about all sorts of suspects. One even mentioned a Russian anarchist who’d formerly killed prostitutes in Paris then moved on to London to ply his grisly trade but I never read that he was caught or even questioned.
After the first of the year, I read an article about a man named Montague John Druitt who had been fished out of the River Thames on December 31st and identified by his brother. He’d supposedly died about four weeks previously and there was some hint that some at the Metropolitan Police felt he was the murderer since he’d just lost his job as a teacher and he feared that he’d inherited insanity from his mother. I could see no connection though rumors to this day abound in London.
Another memorable thing happened on New Year’s Day, 1889. Tucked into the classified section of one of the smallest papers in London was a notice: To my dear friend, the heart wants what the heart wants, does it not? Perhaps we can find YOUR heart’s desire soon.
I was the one who found it and even though it seemed to be an innocuous note about love, a chill ran through me. I knew as soon as I read it that it was from him; whether that was simply a murdering fiend or Holmes’ criminal genius didn’t even matter at this point.
“Holmes, read this.”
He was reading another paper and looked at me, irritated at first then I handed him the paper and pointed to the note. He read it quickly.
“I do think our man has contacted us again. I do not, however, know what he means.”
“Can he be referring to Miss Kelly’s heart?”
“Of course he is. He’s rubbing our noses in it, I dare say.”
“Holmes, I want to catch this killer.” I was angry and getting tired of the whole thing.
“Watson, I want to catch Moriarty. The killer is just a cog in the wheel.”
“But the killer is the monster who did these things,” I argued.
“And Moriarty is the man who paid him and told him exactly what to do. Moriarty had someone pen the Jack the Ripper letters and the one From Hell as well just to tease us. He did this all as a game. I find that much more fiendish than a string of murders.”
I did not agree. What kind of man would do these things for money? Over the next few years, I’d find that there were people who would do most anything for money. This was just my first real experience with it.
It would not be my last.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Sixteen – The Kidnapping
After the initial excitement of the letter wore off, things settled back down into routine yet again. We were still vigilant but it was hard to stay as alert as we needed to be when life was so very normal.
On the other hand, it was also rather unnerving to spend all of my time waiting for something horrid to happen to someone I cared about. Mrs. Hudson was no fool and never had been. She knew that we were after Jack the Ripper and she knew that something more sinister than that was going on with Holmes. She stopped even trying to go out without me and my trusty Webley accompanying her.
January passed and February arrived. Ripper fever was winding down a little though there were still reports in the papers of suspects and witnesses. It seemed that everyone in all of Britain had met with Saucy Jack at least once and all were anxious to tell someone. And the police still seemed anxious to accommodate them.
On the fourteenth of February, Valentine’s Day, we read this in the paper:
Has someone stolen your heart? Would you like it back?
I wasn’t sure this one was for us but Holmes was. The notes were sounding more ominous all the time. We decided to go to the paper that printed it and ask about the message.
“Are you the person who takes the messages for the classified ads?” I asked the young man who let me into the office.
“I am he. If you’ll just write it on this paper, it’ll go in the morning edition tomorrow.’
“Actually, I am more interested in someone who came in and placed an ad yesterday.”
“Yesterday was busy, what with Valentine’s Day coming and all.”
I showed him the ad. “That one came in by courier. A boy no bigger than this,” he held his hand about three and half feet off the floor, “brought it in already wrote out. Just like that. He paid for it and left.”
I sagged. Nothing there then.
I was reading the evening papers and waiting for Holmes to finish an article so we could switch papers when I heard someone knocking on the door downstairs. I got up and started over to our door to open it and peep out when I heard Mrs. Hudson scream.
I dropped the paper and ran down the steps. She stood there on the landing, still screaming and staring at what lay on the floor in front of her.
It was a box with a heart inside it.
A human heart.
I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms as Holmes arrived at the bottom of the steps.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Hudson. I’m here,” I murmured to her.
Holmes asked me with his eyes if the heart was what he thought it was. I nodded and kept my arms around Mrs. Hudson.
Holmes retrieved the box and its contents and hurried up the steps with them while I escorted Mrs. Hudson to her own kitchen.
I found a bottle of whiskey and poured her a little in a glass.
“Drink this slowly. It will calm your nerves a little.”
“Mr. Watson, was that what it looked like?”
“I think it might have been.”
“Whose?”
“That I do not know. I think I will stay down here tonight. I can stay in the sitting room.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to calm myself a bit. I suspect the whiskey will help.” She smiled weakly and held her empty cup out for a bit more.
I stayed anyway, setting myself up in her rocking chair after she went off to bed. The serving girl didn’t live there and had already gone when the delivery was made. I had not asked her about the delivery yet; it could wait until the light of day.
When I did ask Mrs. Hudson, she told me that it had been left on the doorstep and that one of the neighbors had seen it as she was coming home and knocked on the door then handed it to Mrs. Hudson and left to have supper with her daughter.
I went upstairs after the girl came to help Mrs. Hudson. I told Mrs. Hudson to find one of us immediately if she needed anything. I smiled at the sweet kiss she gave me on my cheek before I left her.
Holmes was sitting at the table with the heart on a plate in front of him.
“Having breakfast?” I asked.
“It has been preserved in alcohol. Not wine like the kidney sent to Lusk.”
“And you think it’s Kelly’s heart?” I asked, knowing his answer.
“Don’t you, dear Watson? Why else send us a heart?”
I shook my head. Holmes might enjoy the challenge of the hunt but I surely was not enjoying this one at all. I will admit that I was beginning to believe Holmes’ version of things more and more. Whoever was doing this was enjoying himself immensely at our expense, something that was becoming intolerable. I hoped Holmes was becoming as fed up as I was but Holmes is nothing if not patient when it comes to his quarry.
The problem was that I was beginning to feel like we were the quarry, not the other way around.
That did not change when on February 20th, one of the Baker Street Irregulars, as we called Holmes’s band of street urchins, came running in the front door downstairs and took the stairs up in about three steps. It was little Dickie Trent.
“Mr. ‘olmes! Doctor Watson! Redheaded Tom is gone! Somebody fetched him yesterday, said his mum were sick! And he ain’t nowhere today. His mum, she ain’t ailing and she said he never come ’ome!”
Holmes appeared calm but he wasn’t. I could tell the slight change in his voice, the way he looked at me.
“Perhaps he went to play with some other boys and didn’t want to tell you and the others. Maybe he was afraid you’d get mad.”
“Not Tom, sir. Tom don’t like many on account of his red hair. They pick on him, sir. We’re used to it an’ never pick on him for that.”
Holmes knew that telling the boy to go home would not be with keeping them safe. We weren’t even sure that Dickie had a home.
I had an idea. Mrs. Hudson had a back room that she used for storage. It had no outside door and was warm and as safe as any place I could think of. I ran downstairs and asked her if the boys could stay a day or two. I promised that Holmes would pay for all they ate and anything they damaged.
She smiled and patted my hand. “Mr. Holmes can pay if he likes but I’d take them in anyway. Sometimes they run letters to post for me or sweep the front steps. I’d be glad to help them. I’ll find blankets and pillows for them.”
Not two hours passed and the whole lot of them showed up, even Wiggins, who was the ‘leader’ of the group and a little older than the others.
We combed the papers but there was nothing that day.
Not one word.
The next day, we found it in the first one we checked.
Dear friend, I’m afraid I’ve stolen your heart again! Unless you want it returned the way I returned the first one, come to the place where you lost it. He is getting impatient.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Seventeen – Back to the Streets
“Miller’s Court. That is where he is waiting for us,” Holmes said as he put the paper aside.
“Let’s go.”
“If we go in too quickly, we may find young Tommy in the same manner we found Mary Jane Kelly.”
I shivered at the thought.
“We can’t just sit here.”
“No, we can’t, but we can’t leave Mrs. Hudson and the boys alone either. Moriarty surely has someone watching us. I shall send for Mycroft.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mycroft?”
“He will see that they are protected.”
“Your errand boys are sequestered. Who are you going to send?”
“I shall go myself. You wait here until Mycroft sends someone. The person will use the code word Meerschaum. If he doesn’t use that, shoot him. After the man comes to guard Mrs. Hudson and the children, you meet me at Miller’s Court.”
I didn’t like it at all. Holmes was putting himself in grave danger by insisting on doing this but what else was there to do? I seldom was able to persuade him to change his mind or his actions.
So I agreed.
Holmes armed himself with his regular pistol, with another one I didn’t know he had, added a knife and left without another word.
I went down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. Around her dining room table were five boys ranging in age from eight or so to the oldest, Wiggins, who was a young teen. They all had full plates of breakfast sausages and bacon and eggs with rolls and jams. Mrs. Hudson was busy bringing more food to the table and looked up at me when I stepped into the doorway.
I motioned for her to come to other room.
“Oh, Dr. Watson, you might as well talk in front of them. They’ll listen at the door anyway,” she answered as she poured some milk for the smallest boy.
“Very well, Holmes is out and I am leaving for awhile. Mr. Holmes’ brother is sending someone to watch over things here until we get back. I am waiting on his arrival to leave.”
I expected her to argue but she just nodded. “You and Mr. Holmes be very careful. I’ll never be able to find any renters for those rooms if something were to happen. Who’d want a place with holes in the wall?”
She referred, of course, to the bullet holes in Holmes’ chamber where he’d shot the letters ‘VR’ into the wallpaper in a fit of boredom.
“I’ll tell him that,” I answered with a smile.
I was reloading my Webley when someone knocked downstairs. I hurried down the steps and got the door. It was Mycroft Holmes and another very large man.
“Meerschaum to you, my dear Watson!” Mycroft was certainly of good cheer. One would think he was sending me to a party instead of possible injury or even death.
I knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door and left her and her charges in his care. I took a cab to Whitechapel. It was bustling, as it was the middle of the day. The police no longer had the street condoned off so I could walk into Miller’s Court easily and I did so without anyone bothering me or even noticing me, it seemed.
But things are not always like they seem.
I walked over to the room that Mary Jane Kelly had been butchered in. The still broken door stood open. I took my weapon out of my pocket and walked into the room. Little had been disturbed but it had been disturbed. Maybe someone had come to find souvenirs and taken some things.
Then I saw the note on the table. The paper was old and brown, as if it had been there a long time. But it hadn’t. I looked at it. Written in the same hand as I’d seen before was this note: The writing is on the wall, Dr. Watson
I started to run for Goulston Street, the place where the bloody apron piece was found under a scribbled note about the ‘Juwes’. I found the place and there was another note for me.
No need to hurry now. I’m sure he’s lost his heart already!
Looking back, I should have been afraid but I was angry, more than angry, enraged that this thing that called himself a man had the nerve to tease and make jokes after the horrible things he’d done.
I had no idea where to go next but to the murder site that went with the apron, the place Catherine Eddowes was found at Mitre Square. I ran to that locale. There on the ground sat a pair of worn boy’s boots.
Redheaded Tom’s boots.
Where next? Berner Street? The next place on the list of sites? I ran again. My leg was aching as it does when I use it too much or when I’m very upset. I was glad I’d brought my cane as I hobbled along at a strange gaited run.
As I stopped at the site, I saw him round the corner in front of me. Was it Moriarty? Was the killer a henchman? I pressed on and when I rounded the corner I saw – nothing!
There were doors and such but nowhere to simply disappear so quickly unless he’d been ready for me. I stopped running and took a second to catch my breath.
I began walking down the street slowly and scribbled on one door was this: Buck’s Row. Not the next one in the chain but what most considered the first one, Polly Nichols. I began to run again, hoping to finally find him.
I remembered that someone lived near where she was found and I knocked on the door. A woman came to the door.
“What d’ ya want?” She did not look at all pleased.
“Have you seen a man and a redheaded boy about in the last few minutes?”
“I was havin’ me a nap. Now off with ya.” She closed the door in my face.
I crossed to the Essex Wharf manager’s home and his wife said she’d seen nothing either. I decided the stable yard would be where I’d hide if that’s what he was doing. I slipped into the stable yard and looked around. One stable was open and the door seemed to be still moving a little.
I took out my gun and walked slowly toward the stable.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Eighteen – Jack the Ripper
There he stood in the doorway of the stable. He looked like he’d been described. He was shorter than I am, about five foot eight, with sandy colored hair and moustache. He wore a sailors’ cap and short coat. His eyes were striking, a strange blue so light as to be almost transparent. And he was smiling at me.
I pointed my pistol at him.
“You’re Watson.”
“You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”
“You can call me Jack if you wish.”
“And are you Jack?”
“Some of the time.”
“Where is the boy?”
“The redheaded boy? The boss has him. He’ll have your Holmes soon too but me, I get you, Dr. Watson.”
Before I realized what was happening, he produced a knife. It was shiny and appeared to be about six inches long, sharp on both sides.
“I’m not defenseless like all those women were.”
“But I’m going to carve you up just the same.”
“I don’t think so. Not this time.” I took a step toward him. “Why did you do it?”
“The money was good and I like to use my knife. Pity he didn’t let me carve up the last one. I heard she was a sight.” He grinned and flashed the shiny blade at me.
“Who did?”
“Why, the boss himself did her. Said he did that one for Holmes.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you kill me, whoever you are. Not this time.”
“I’m really good with this knife, Dr. Watson.”
“Not good enough, I think.”
He moved toward me. He was quick, very quick but my little pistol trumped his knife this time and I shot him. Right through the heart. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. I kicked the knife away and aimed the gun at his heart while I checked his pulse.
Nothing.
I looked around and saw no one so I dragged him into the empty stable and covered him with straw. I needed to find Holmes and young Tom. Then I’d come back for him. I headed back toward Miller’s Court. I would return for the body later. I left his knife with him.
When I arrived at Miller’s Court, Holmes stood in front of Mary Jane Kelly’s room with little Tommy. The boy looked scared and held on tight to Holmes’ hand.
“Ah, there you are, Watson. I was growing concerned.”
“Where have you been?”
“I was chasing Moriarty. I got the child but I’m afraid Moriarty will have to wait until another day.”
“We need to send for someone to check the barn across from where the first woman was killed. I – the killer is there.”
“Alive?”
I shook my head, not wanting to go into detail in front of the boy.
“Our cab is still waiting. Maybe we should go.”
I nodded. We’d stop by the police station on the way back to Baker Street. The shock of what had just happened was beginning to set in. I’ve never killed many men but I have killed a few and it always leaves me rattled. To have had a knife wielding monster come at me was a second reason for the shock. I actually began to shiver.
As it turned out, we did not stop by the police station. Holmes decided that I needed to go straight home and once there, he sent one of the boys out to fetch Lestrade.
Mrs. Hudson came upstairs with tea and fussed over me though she never even asked what the matter was.
Lestrade arrived within the hour.
“Are you sure it was him?” He asked when I told him my tale of Jack and his knife.
“As sure as I can be.”
“And you killed him?”
“I checked. He’s dead.”
He asked a few more questions, clearly unsure if he believed me. He did say that he’d personally go to Whitechapel and check for the body. It was out of his district but he’d have a friend from the Metropolitan District accompany him.
“I’ll send word when I return,” he said as he let himself out and departed.
The boys were still downstairs and Holmes called down for them to come up.
“Boys, you have done an extraordinary job this time. You took care of Mrs. Hudson and one of you was even in grave danger so you all will be paid a guinea this time in appreciation. Dr. Watson and I appreciate your bravery and your help.”
He gave them all their money and sent them on their way. I was surprised at his kind speech though I refrained from saying so. The boys must have seen him as a titan by now and maybe he was. To them anyway.
After we were alone, I finally asked him what I wanted to ask since finding him and little Tommy outside Mary Jane Kelly’s.
“What happened to you? Where did you find the boy? Were you in danger?”
Holmes sipped his tea and answered me.
“All in good time, my dear Watson. Perhaps you should rest first. You’re awfully pale.”
I wanted to argue with him but he was right. The day had taken its toll on me. All that running had made my leg hurt and fear was beginning to set in as it often does after the actual danger has passed. I drank my tea and promptly fell asleep on the sofa.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Nineteen – Professor Moriarty
It was quite dark when I awoke to the sound of Mrs. Hudson tapping on the door.
“I have some dinner for you,” she called through the door.
Holmes appeared from his bedchamber and let her in, even thanking her for bringing us food and tea. She had made us a platter of cold meats with bread for sandwiches and had sent a bottle of wine to go with it.
I realized that I was actually starving, not having eaten since breakfast. I stuffed myself quite well and had more than my share of the wine.
Homes and I settled in for a smoke after dinner. He loaded his pipe while I had a cigar. I seldom smoked but today was surely an exception to the normal. The cigar soothed my nerves as the pipe seemed to soothe Holmes’.
“All right, Holmes. Tell me what happened while I was chasing the man with the knife.”
Holmes sat back in his chair and puffed on his pipe then he began to speak:
I sent Mycroft to Baker Street and headed for Miller’s Court. There was a light burning in the house when I arrived and the door was closed. Little Tommy Flynn was sitting at the table. He was tied up and gagged but otherwise unharmed.
I looked around to make sure he wasn’t attached to some sort of trap or weapon then I untied him. He was actually very brave for a little boy, didn’t even cry. I had no choice but to take him with me when I set out to find Moriarty, who I was sure was waiting for me.
He was actually watching me and he met us at the door with a pistol as Tommy and I stepped out.
“So we meet at last, Mr. Holmes!”
“James Moriarty. We have met before, you know. Many years ago at the university.”
“So that was you then. I admit you were rather unimpressive.”
“You were quite the opposite, as I recall. The mathematical community was all aflutter over the young genius.”
He smiled at me.
“Academia does not pay very well. I find that my skills are much more profitable now. I have many enterprises that pay quite handsomely and I never actually have to get my own hands dirty.”
Then he laughed very loudly.
“Except in this case and I must admit that I really enjoyed the work. Did you? Did you and your lapdog enjoy the artistry of what I did to that filthy prostitute?”
I had suspected that he killed Mary Jane Kelly all along. She’d been butchered for show, to show me and you, Watson.
“She was actually quite pretty for a doxy, wasn’t she? Oh yes, I forgot. She had no face when you saw her, did she?”
He motioned with the gun for us to go with him. We did. He herded us into a carriage. We started riding west. He sat facing us with the gun pointed at us.
“It was so easy. She was willing almost until I cut her throat. Almost. She did fight me a little and yelped ‘Murder’ before I could shut her up. That just made it more fun.”
I wondered if he intended to kill us but figured that if he did, he’d do it there on Miller’s Court. He did seem to be awfully theatrical.
“Capturing the boy was easy too. For street children, they surely are a trusting lot. Is that your fault? Are you compromising their safety with your little jobs?”
I said nothing. What was there to say? He had been watching me and all my acquaintances carefully for some time. That was quite apparent.
“Your man Watson is dead by now. I sent my man with the knife to meet him when arrives. My man is very good. You’ve seen his work too. I was particularly pleased with the Eddowes woman. The kidney was a lovely touch, don’t you think?”
“What do you want with me?” I asked.
“I want to show you what true brilliance is about. It’s not about universities or solving silly little crimes. It’s about power. The power to grant life or death to people you don’t even know. The power to control banks and shipping companies, politicians and businessmen – that, dear Mr. Holmes, is what brilliance is about.”
“Why bother with me?”
“You are trying to stand in my way. You have the potential to damage my empire, though I must admit, your hits so far are quite miniscule.”
I laughed at him. His face turned an ugly color but he made no move to harm me.
We pulled up in front of a nondescript warehouse and he motioned us to get out. A man appeared from inside the warehouse to open the double doors and Moriarty motioned with his gun for us to go it.
The warehouse was mostly empty but for a few tables set out in the middle of the floor. We moved closer and I saw his trophies. There were jars with body parts, many more than I could account for with the Whitechapel murders. There were hearts and other organs in jars as well as a finger or ear here and there.
“Do you like it?”
“Not particularly.”
“I hope to put part of Watson here today. Maybe his hand since he’s a surgeon. Or his brain. That would make a nice specimen but his brain certainly is not up to par with yours. Maybe I shall wait for you to put a brain in my collection. Or perhaps I shall add it now?”
He grinned at me and for a moment, I was sure he was going to do just that, then he laughed and turned away.
“No! I enjoy playing with you too much right now. Perhaps when I grow bored.” He motioned for his driver. “Take these tedious people back to Miller’s Court.”
He looked straight at me. “We will meet again, my friend. You can depend on it.”
“And we were driven back to Mary Kelly’s house where you found us,” Holmes finished.
“So he gets away?”
“It would appear that he does this time. But I will catch him someday! That much I can promise you.”
We were about to go to bed when someone knocked on the door downstairs. Mrs. Hudson let him in and I heard him climb the stairs. It was Inspector Lestrade.
“How are you this evening?” He asked me in a sort of odd way.
“I’m better than I was. What did you find? Did you get the body.”
Lestrade colored a little and cleared his throat. He started to say something then stopped.
“Well, man, out with it,” Holmes said.
“Dr. Watson, sir, there was no body in that stable. We looked over the whole barn and there was no body and no knife either.”
“I did shoot him. I assure you he was dead too.”
“Well, if he was, then the dead walk because he was not there.”
“You found no blood, nothing?”
“Well, there was this one crumpled piece of paper but I don’t think it means anything.”
He handed me a wadded up, yellowing slip of paper that looked as if it were torn from a larger document. Scrawled on it were three words written in what looked like blood: Until next time
The End
~~~~
Bibliography:
Jack the Ripper: The Complete Casebook by Donald Rumbelow, 1988, Contemporary Books, Inc.
The Complete History of Jack the Ripper by Philip Sugden, 1994, Robinson Publishing, LTD.
Casebook: Jack the Ripper: A comprehensive Jack the Ripper site with a very complete history of the case, including photos, maps and news reports.
Jack The Ripper 1888: A good site as well, even allowing you to book Ripper walking tours for yourself when you visit London.
I also read all the pertinent Wikipedia articles about the case, any modern news articles that came up on a search of ‘Jack the Ripper’ as well as watching several online documentaries.
I did watch ‘From Hell’ after I finished writing as well.
Author: alexcat
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Type: General Fiction
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, literary or historical, though the original story is my own creation.
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of brutally murdered bodies.
Beta: Larry
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson
Archive: OEAM, Alex's Story Book, Ao3
Author’s Note: This is my 2013 OEAM Big Bang
Spoilers: No
Summary: Holmes and Watson take on London's most famous unsolved murders.
~~~~~
Chapter Fifteen – Waiting and Waiting
Holmes never changed his mind once it was made up unless incontrovertible scientific fact said that he was wrong and I knew he wouldn’t change it this time. Besides, he was right much more often than he was wrong.
“So we wait?’
“Yes, we wait for more messages from him. This was just the opening salvo.”
“What did he mean by ‘it’s over’ then?”
“The killings are done. At least the Ripper killings. Now it’s on to the next phase.”
“Which is?”
“I expect he wants us to try to catch him while he tries to kill us.”
“Well that is nice to know. I suppose we must catch him before he does this then.”
Holmes nodded and smiled. “That appears to be the idea.”
“And us means?”
“Probably you and Mrs. Hudson. He wouldn’t go after Mycroft unawares. So it will be you two.”
I sighed. “Should we send Mrs. Hudson to Mycroft for protection?”
“Do you think she would go, Watson? She’s as stubborn as you are.”
We decided the best thing to do was to carry on. Moriarty would think he’d already defeated us if we ran and hid from him and I wasn’t about to start hiding now. There would be no reason to let the police in on our secret, they’d just try to hang the murders on me or Holmes and that was the last thing we needed. Or they’d think we were crazy, which might not be far from the truth, as far as I could tell.
Holmes did actually go visit Mycroft at this time. If we failed in the ‘game’ then someone would need to know what had happened to us and would need to figure out a way to punish James Moriarty for his crimes.
Now that we were ready or thought we were, life got very quiet and very routine. Even though we said nothing to Mrs. Hudson, one or both of us tried to be around the house as much as we could. I still had patients to attend to and some shifts at the hospital but Holmes stayed in most of the time, which was his usual habit anyway. Only a very interesting case or a night at the opera would get him out of the house.
I must be honest. I thought that it was over and that maybe Holmes really had imagined all of it. The message in the classifieds was not directed to us specifically and I’d never seen this man, Moriarty, so maybe it was just a flight of fancy on Holmes’ part.
Days passed and nothing happened; days turned to weeks. London was still in the grip of Ripper fever though Jack had not struck again. There were still suspects being questioned and rumors flying that it was everyone from one of the witnesses to someone high in the government or royal family who’d killed all those women in Whitechapel to cover up some indiscretion.
Holmes did not relax though I did. He still combed the papers every day for something from Moriarty and he still carried a gun when he went out. I have to admit that I almost always carried mine and had since getting back from Afghanistan, but being armed was unusual for Holmes.
November passed quietly as did December. Every time someone was killed in the East End, it was said to be the Ripper though neither the police nor Holmes thought they were. I had to agree. The East End was a violent and dangerous part of London any time and now that everyone was jumpy and frightened of the Ripper, it was even more so.
There were articles in the paper about all sorts of suspects. One even mentioned a Russian anarchist who’d formerly killed prostitutes in Paris then moved on to London to ply his grisly trade but I never read that he was caught or even questioned.
After the first of the year, I read an article about a man named Montague John Druitt who had been fished out of the River Thames on December 31st and identified by his brother. He’d supposedly died about four weeks previously and there was some hint that some at the Metropolitan Police felt he was the murderer since he’d just lost his job as a teacher and he feared that he’d inherited insanity from his mother. I could see no connection though rumors to this day abound in London.
Another memorable thing happened on New Year’s Day, 1889. Tucked into the classified section of one of the smallest papers in London was a notice: To my dear friend, the heart wants what the heart wants, does it not? Perhaps we can find YOUR heart’s desire soon.
I was the one who found it and even though it seemed to be an innocuous note about love, a chill ran through me. I knew as soon as I read it that it was from him; whether that was simply a murdering fiend or Holmes’ criminal genius didn’t even matter at this point.
“Holmes, read this.”
He was reading another paper and looked at me, irritated at first then I handed him the paper and pointed to the note. He read it quickly.
“I do think our man has contacted us again. I do not, however, know what he means.”
“Can he be referring to Miss Kelly’s heart?”
“Of course he is. He’s rubbing our noses in it, I dare say.”
“Holmes, I want to catch this killer.” I was angry and getting tired of the whole thing.
“Watson, I want to catch Moriarty. The killer is just a cog in the wheel.”
“But the killer is the monster who did these things,” I argued.
“And Moriarty is the man who paid him and told him exactly what to do. Moriarty had someone pen the Jack the Ripper letters and the one From Hell as well just to tease us. He did this all as a game. I find that much more fiendish than a string of murders.”
I did not agree. What kind of man would do these things for money? Over the next few years, I’d find that there were people who would do most anything for money. This was just my first real experience with it.
It would not be my last.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Sixteen – The Kidnapping
After the initial excitement of the letter wore off, things settled back down into routine yet again. We were still vigilant but it was hard to stay as alert as we needed to be when life was so very normal.
On the other hand, it was also rather unnerving to spend all of my time waiting for something horrid to happen to someone I cared about. Mrs. Hudson was no fool and never had been. She knew that we were after Jack the Ripper and she knew that something more sinister than that was going on with Holmes. She stopped even trying to go out without me and my trusty Webley accompanying her.
January passed and February arrived. Ripper fever was winding down a little though there were still reports in the papers of suspects and witnesses. It seemed that everyone in all of Britain had met with Saucy Jack at least once and all were anxious to tell someone. And the police still seemed anxious to accommodate them.
On the fourteenth of February, Valentine’s Day, we read this in the paper:
Has someone stolen your heart? Would you like it back?
I wasn’t sure this one was for us but Holmes was. The notes were sounding more ominous all the time. We decided to go to the paper that printed it and ask about the message.
“Are you the person who takes the messages for the classified ads?” I asked the young man who let me into the office.
“I am he. If you’ll just write it on this paper, it’ll go in the morning edition tomorrow.’
“Actually, I am more interested in someone who came in and placed an ad yesterday.”
“Yesterday was busy, what with Valentine’s Day coming and all.”
I showed him the ad. “That one came in by courier. A boy no bigger than this,” he held his hand about three and half feet off the floor, “brought it in already wrote out. Just like that. He paid for it and left.”
I sagged. Nothing there then.
I was reading the evening papers and waiting for Holmes to finish an article so we could switch papers when I heard someone knocking on the door downstairs. I got up and started over to our door to open it and peep out when I heard Mrs. Hudson scream.
I dropped the paper and ran down the steps. She stood there on the landing, still screaming and staring at what lay on the floor in front of her.
It was a box with a heart inside it.
A human heart.
I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms as Holmes arrived at the bottom of the steps.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Hudson. I’m here,” I murmured to her.
Holmes asked me with his eyes if the heart was what he thought it was. I nodded and kept my arms around Mrs. Hudson.
Holmes retrieved the box and its contents and hurried up the steps with them while I escorted Mrs. Hudson to her own kitchen.
I found a bottle of whiskey and poured her a little in a glass.
“Drink this slowly. It will calm your nerves a little.”
“Mr. Watson, was that what it looked like?”
“I think it might have been.”
“Whose?”
“That I do not know. I think I will stay down here tonight. I can stay in the sitting room.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to calm myself a bit. I suspect the whiskey will help.” She smiled weakly and held her empty cup out for a bit more.
I stayed anyway, setting myself up in her rocking chair after she went off to bed. The serving girl didn’t live there and had already gone when the delivery was made. I had not asked her about the delivery yet; it could wait until the light of day.
When I did ask Mrs. Hudson, she told me that it had been left on the doorstep and that one of the neighbors had seen it as she was coming home and knocked on the door then handed it to Mrs. Hudson and left to have supper with her daughter.
I went upstairs after the girl came to help Mrs. Hudson. I told Mrs. Hudson to find one of us immediately if she needed anything. I smiled at the sweet kiss she gave me on my cheek before I left her.
Holmes was sitting at the table with the heart on a plate in front of him.
“Having breakfast?” I asked.
“It has been preserved in alcohol. Not wine like the kidney sent to Lusk.”
“And you think it’s Kelly’s heart?” I asked, knowing his answer.
“Don’t you, dear Watson? Why else send us a heart?”
I shook my head. Holmes might enjoy the challenge of the hunt but I surely was not enjoying this one at all. I will admit that I was beginning to believe Holmes’ version of things more and more. Whoever was doing this was enjoying himself immensely at our expense, something that was becoming intolerable. I hoped Holmes was becoming as fed up as I was but Holmes is nothing if not patient when it comes to his quarry.
The problem was that I was beginning to feel like we were the quarry, not the other way around.
That did not change when on February 20th, one of the Baker Street Irregulars, as we called Holmes’s band of street urchins, came running in the front door downstairs and took the stairs up in about three steps. It was little Dickie Trent.
“Mr. ‘olmes! Doctor Watson! Redheaded Tom is gone! Somebody fetched him yesterday, said his mum were sick! And he ain’t nowhere today. His mum, she ain’t ailing and she said he never come ’ome!”
Holmes appeared calm but he wasn’t. I could tell the slight change in his voice, the way he looked at me.
“Perhaps he went to play with some other boys and didn’t want to tell you and the others. Maybe he was afraid you’d get mad.”
“Not Tom, sir. Tom don’t like many on account of his red hair. They pick on him, sir. We’re used to it an’ never pick on him for that.”
Holmes knew that telling the boy to go home would not be with keeping them safe. We weren’t even sure that Dickie had a home.
I had an idea. Mrs. Hudson had a back room that she used for storage. It had no outside door and was warm and as safe as any place I could think of. I ran downstairs and asked her if the boys could stay a day or two. I promised that Holmes would pay for all they ate and anything they damaged.
She smiled and patted my hand. “Mr. Holmes can pay if he likes but I’d take them in anyway. Sometimes they run letters to post for me or sweep the front steps. I’d be glad to help them. I’ll find blankets and pillows for them.”
Not two hours passed and the whole lot of them showed up, even Wiggins, who was the ‘leader’ of the group and a little older than the others.
We combed the papers but there was nothing that day.
Not one word.
The next day, we found it in the first one we checked.
Dear friend, I’m afraid I’ve stolen your heart again! Unless you want it returned the way I returned the first one, come to the place where you lost it. He is getting impatient.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Seventeen – Back to the Streets
“Miller’s Court. That is where he is waiting for us,” Holmes said as he put the paper aside.
“Let’s go.”
“If we go in too quickly, we may find young Tommy in the same manner we found Mary Jane Kelly.”
I shivered at the thought.
“We can’t just sit here.”
“No, we can’t, but we can’t leave Mrs. Hudson and the boys alone either. Moriarty surely has someone watching us. I shall send for Mycroft.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mycroft?”
“He will see that they are protected.”
“Your errand boys are sequestered. Who are you going to send?”
“I shall go myself. You wait here until Mycroft sends someone. The person will use the code word Meerschaum. If he doesn’t use that, shoot him. After the man comes to guard Mrs. Hudson and the children, you meet me at Miller’s Court.”
I didn’t like it at all. Holmes was putting himself in grave danger by insisting on doing this but what else was there to do? I seldom was able to persuade him to change his mind or his actions.
So I agreed.
Holmes armed himself with his regular pistol, with another one I didn’t know he had, added a knife and left without another word.
I went down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. Around her dining room table were five boys ranging in age from eight or so to the oldest, Wiggins, who was a young teen. They all had full plates of breakfast sausages and bacon and eggs with rolls and jams. Mrs. Hudson was busy bringing more food to the table and looked up at me when I stepped into the doorway.
I motioned for her to come to other room.
“Oh, Dr. Watson, you might as well talk in front of them. They’ll listen at the door anyway,” she answered as she poured some milk for the smallest boy.
“Very well, Holmes is out and I am leaving for awhile. Mr. Holmes’ brother is sending someone to watch over things here until we get back. I am waiting on his arrival to leave.”
I expected her to argue but she just nodded. “You and Mr. Holmes be very careful. I’ll never be able to find any renters for those rooms if something were to happen. Who’d want a place with holes in the wall?”
She referred, of course, to the bullet holes in Holmes’ chamber where he’d shot the letters ‘VR’ into the wallpaper in a fit of boredom.
“I’ll tell him that,” I answered with a smile.
I was reloading my Webley when someone knocked downstairs. I hurried down the steps and got the door. It was Mycroft Holmes and another very large man.
“Meerschaum to you, my dear Watson!” Mycroft was certainly of good cheer. One would think he was sending me to a party instead of possible injury or even death.
I knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door and left her and her charges in his care. I took a cab to Whitechapel. It was bustling, as it was the middle of the day. The police no longer had the street condoned off so I could walk into Miller’s Court easily and I did so without anyone bothering me or even noticing me, it seemed.
But things are not always like they seem.
I walked over to the room that Mary Jane Kelly had been butchered in. The still broken door stood open. I took my weapon out of my pocket and walked into the room. Little had been disturbed but it had been disturbed. Maybe someone had come to find souvenirs and taken some things.
Then I saw the note on the table. The paper was old and brown, as if it had been there a long time. But it hadn’t. I looked at it. Written in the same hand as I’d seen before was this note: The writing is on the wall, Dr. Watson
I started to run for Goulston Street, the place where the bloody apron piece was found under a scribbled note about the ‘Juwes’. I found the place and there was another note for me.
No need to hurry now. I’m sure he’s lost his heart already!
Looking back, I should have been afraid but I was angry, more than angry, enraged that this thing that called himself a man had the nerve to tease and make jokes after the horrible things he’d done.
I had no idea where to go next but to the murder site that went with the apron, the place Catherine Eddowes was found at Mitre Square. I ran to that locale. There on the ground sat a pair of worn boy’s boots.
Redheaded Tom’s boots.
Where next? Berner Street? The next place on the list of sites? I ran again. My leg was aching as it does when I use it too much or when I’m very upset. I was glad I’d brought my cane as I hobbled along at a strange gaited run.
As I stopped at the site, I saw him round the corner in front of me. Was it Moriarty? Was the killer a henchman? I pressed on and when I rounded the corner I saw – nothing!
There were doors and such but nowhere to simply disappear so quickly unless he’d been ready for me. I stopped running and took a second to catch my breath.
I began walking down the street slowly and scribbled on one door was this: Buck’s Row. Not the next one in the chain but what most considered the first one, Polly Nichols. I began to run again, hoping to finally find him.
I remembered that someone lived near where she was found and I knocked on the door. A woman came to the door.
“What d’ ya want?” She did not look at all pleased.
“Have you seen a man and a redheaded boy about in the last few minutes?”
“I was havin’ me a nap. Now off with ya.” She closed the door in my face.
I crossed to the Essex Wharf manager’s home and his wife said she’d seen nothing either. I decided the stable yard would be where I’d hide if that’s what he was doing. I slipped into the stable yard and looked around. One stable was open and the door seemed to be still moving a little.
I took out my gun and walked slowly toward the stable.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Eighteen – Jack the Ripper
There he stood in the doorway of the stable. He looked like he’d been described. He was shorter than I am, about five foot eight, with sandy colored hair and moustache. He wore a sailors’ cap and short coat. His eyes were striking, a strange blue so light as to be almost transparent. And he was smiling at me.
I pointed my pistol at him.
“You’re Watson.”
“You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”
“You can call me Jack if you wish.”
“And are you Jack?”
“Some of the time.”
“Where is the boy?”
“The redheaded boy? The boss has him. He’ll have your Holmes soon too but me, I get you, Dr. Watson.”
Before I realized what was happening, he produced a knife. It was shiny and appeared to be about six inches long, sharp on both sides.
“I’m not defenseless like all those women were.”
“But I’m going to carve you up just the same.”
“I don’t think so. Not this time.” I took a step toward him. “Why did you do it?”
“The money was good and I like to use my knife. Pity he didn’t let me carve up the last one. I heard she was a sight.” He grinned and flashed the shiny blade at me.
“Who did?”
“Why, the boss himself did her. Said he did that one for Holmes.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you kill me, whoever you are. Not this time.”
“I’m really good with this knife, Dr. Watson.”
“Not good enough, I think.”
He moved toward me. He was quick, very quick but my little pistol trumped his knife this time and I shot him. Right through the heart. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. I kicked the knife away and aimed the gun at his heart while I checked his pulse.
Nothing.
I looked around and saw no one so I dragged him into the empty stable and covered him with straw. I needed to find Holmes and young Tom. Then I’d come back for him. I headed back toward Miller’s Court. I would return for the body later. I left his knife with him.
When I arrived at Miller’s Court, Holmes stood in front of Mary Jane Kelly’s room with little Tommy. The boy looked scared and held on tight to Holmes’ hand.
“Ah, there you are, Watson. I was growing concerned.”
“Where have you been?”
“I was chasing Moriarty. I got the child but I’m afraid Moriarty will have to wait until another day.”
“We need to send for someone to check the barn across from where the first woman was killed. I – the killer is there.”
“Alive?”
I shook my head, not wanting to go into detail in front of the boy.
“Our cab is still waiting. Maybe we should go.”
I nodded. We’d stop by the police station on the way back to Baker Street. The shock of what had just happened was beginning to set in. I’ve never killed many men but I have killed a few and it always leaves me rattled. To have had a knife wielding monster come at me was a second reason for the shock. I actually began to shiver.
As it turned out, we did not stop by the police station. Holmes decided that I needed to go straight home and once there, he sent one of the boys out to fetch Lestrade.
Mrs. Hudson came upstairs with tea and fussed over me though she never even asked what the matter was.
Lestrade arrived within the hour.
“Are you sure it was him?” He asked when I told him my tale of Jack and his knife.
“As sure as I can be.”
“And you killed him?”
“I checked. He’s dead.”
He asked a few more questions, clearly unsure if he believed me. He did say that he’d personally go to Whitechapel and check for the body. It was out of his district but he’d have a friend from the Metropolitan District accompany him.
“I’ll send word when I return,” he said as he let himself out and departed.
The boys were still downstairs and Holmes called down for them to come up.
“Boys, you have done an extraordinary job this time. You took care of Mrs. Hudson and one of you was even in grave danger so you all will be paid a guinea this time in appreciation. Dr. Watson and I appreciate your bravery and your help.”
He gave them all their money and sent them on their way. I was surprised at his kind speech though I refrained from saying so. The boys must have seen him as a titan by now and maybe he was. To them anyway.
After we were alone, I finally asked him what I wanted to ask since finding him and little Tommy outside Mary Jane Kelly’s.
“What happened to you? Where did you find the boy? Were you in danger?”
Holmes sipped his tea and answered me.
“All in good time, my dear Watson. Perhaps you should rest first. You’re awfully pale.”
I wanted to argue with him but he was right. The day had taken its toll on me. All that running had made my leg hurt and fear was beginning to set in as it often does after the actual danger has passed. I drank my tea and promptly fell asleep on the sofa.
*
~~~~~
Chapter Nineteen – Professor Moriarty
It was quite dark when I awoke to the sound of Mrs. Hudson tapping on the door.
“I have some dinner for you,” she called through the door.
Holmes appeared from his bedchamber and let her in, even thanking her for bringing us food and tea. She had made us a platter of cold meats with bread for sandwiches and had sent a bottle of wine to go with it.
I realized that I was actually starving, not having eaten since breakfast. I stuffed myself quite well and had more than my share of the wine.
Homes and I settled in for a smoke after dinner. He loaded his pipe while I had a cigar. I seldom smoked but today was surely an exception to the normal. The cigar soothed my nerves as the pipe seemed to soothe Holmes’.
“All right, Holmes. Tell me what happened while I was chasing the man with the knife.”
Holmes sat back in his chair and puffed on his pipe then he began to speak:
I sent Mycroft to Baker Street and headed for Miller’s Court. There was a light burning in the house when I arrived and the door was closed. Little Tommy Flynn was sitting at the table. He was tied up and gagged but otherwise unharmed.
I looked around to make sure he wasn’t attached to some sort of trap or weapon then I untied him. He was actually very brave for a little boy, didn’t even cry. I had no choice but to take him with me when I set out to find Moriarty, who I was sure was waiting for me.
He was actually watching me and he met us at the door with a pistol as Tommy and I stepped out.
“So we meet at last, Mr. Holmes!”
“James Moriarty. We have met before, you know. Many years ago at the university.”
“So that was you then. I admit you were rather unimpressive.”
“You were quite the opposite, as I recall. The mathematical community was all aflutter over the young genius.”
He smiled at me.
“Academia does not pay very well. I find that my skills are much more profitable now. I have many enterprises that pay quite handsomely and I never actually have to get my own hands dirty.”
Then he laughed very loudly.
“Except in this case and I must admit that I really enjoyed the work. Did you? Did you and your lapdog enjoy the artistry of what I did to that filthy prostitute?”
I had suspected that he killed Mary Jane Kelly all along. She’d been butchered for show, to show me and you, Watson.
“She was actually quite pretty for a doxy, wasn’t she? Oh yes, I forgot. She had no face when you saw her, did she?”
He motioned with the gun for us to go with him. We did. He herded us into a carriage. We started riding west. He sat facing us with the gun pointed at us.
“It was so easy. She was willing almost until I cut her throat. Almost. She did fight me a little and yelped ‘Murder’ before I could shut her up. That just made it more fun.”
I wondered if he intended to kill us but figured that if he did, he’d do it there on Miller’s Court. He did seem to be awfully theatrical.
“Capturing the boy was easy too. For street children, they surely are a trusting lot. Is that your fault? Are you compromising their safety with your little jobs?”
I said nothing. What was there to say? He had been watching me and all my acquaintances carefully for some time. That was quite apparent.
“Your man Watson is dead by now. I sent my man with the knife to meet him when arrives. My man is very good. You’ve seen his work too. I was particularly pleased with the Eddowes woman. The kidney was a lovely touch, don’t you think?”
“What do you want with me?” I asked.
“I want to show you what true brilliance is about. It’s not about universities or solving silly little crimes. It’s about power. The power to grant life or death to people you don’t even know. The power to control banks and shipping companies, politicians and businessmen – that, dear Mr. Holmes, is what brilliance is about.”
“Why bother with me?”
“You are trying to stand in my way. You have the potential to damage my empire, though I must admit, your hits so far are quite miniscule.”
I laughed at him. His face turned an ugly color but he made no move to harm me.
We pulled up in front of a nondescript warehouse and he motioned us to get out. A man appeared from inside the warehouse to open the double doors and Moriarty motioned with his gun for us to go it.
The warehouse was mostly empty but for a few tables set out in the middle of the floor. We moved closer and I saw his trophies. There were jars with body parts, many more than I could account for with the Whitechapel murders. There were hearts and other organs in jars as well as a finger or ear here and there.
“Do you like it?”
“Not particularly.”
“I hope to put part of Watson here today. Maybe his hand since he’s a surgeon. Or his brain. That would make a nice specimen but his brain certainly is not up to par with yours. Maybe I shall wait for you to put a brain in my collection. Or perhaps I shall add it now?”
He grinned at me and for a moment, I was sure he was going to do just that, then he laughed and turned away.
“No! I enjoy playing with you too much right now. Perhaps when I grow bored.” He motioned for his driver. “Take these tedious people back to Miller’s Court.”
He looked straight at me. “We will meet again, my friend. You can depend on it.”
“And we were driven back to Mary Kelly’s house where you found us,” Holmes finished.
“So he gets away?”
“It would appear that he does this time. But I will catch him someday! That much I can promise you.”
We were about to go to bed when someone knocked on the door downstairs. Mrs. Hudson let him in and I heard him climb the stairs. It was Inspector Lestrade.
“How are you this evening?” He asked me in a sort of odd way.
“I’m better than I was. What did you find? Did you get the body.”
Lestrade colored a little and cleared his throat. He started to say something then stopped.
“Well, man, out with it,” Holmes said.
“Dr. Watson, sir, there was no body in that stable. We looked over the whole barn and there was no body and no knife either.”
“I did shoot him. I assure you he was dead too.”
“Well, if he was, then the dead walk because he was not there.”
“You found no blood, nothing?”
“Well, there was this one crumpled piece of paper but I don’t think it means anything.”
He handed me a wadded up, yellowing slip of paper that looked as if it were torn from a larger document. Scrawled on it were three words written in what looked like blood: Until next time
The End
~~~~
Bibliography:
Jack the Ripper: The Complete Casebook by Donald Rumbelow, 1988, Contemporary Books, Inc.
The Complete History of Jack the Ripper by Philip Sugden, 1994, Robinson Publishing, LTD.
Casebook: Jack the Ripper: A comprehensive Jack the Ripper site with a very complete history of the case, including photos, maps and news reports.
Jack The Ripper 1888: A good site as well, even allowing you to book Ripper walking tours for yourself when you visit London.
I also read all the pertinent Wikipedia articles about the case, any modern news articles that came up on a search of ‘Jack the Ripper’ as well as watching several online documentaries.
I did watch ‘From Hell’ after I finished writing as well.