The Adventure of the Christmas Surprise

The Adventure of the Christmas Surprise by Vincent W. Wright

The cold of London can have a curative effect on the nerves as well as a damaging one on the mind. There are those who lavish in its restorative power when staying in by a warm fire, but others who suffer from a sort of enclosed sickness that causes them to nearly go mad. Sherlock Holmes is the latter, and I the former.

It was not long after my marriage that I made it a point to spend a winter evening with my friend and discuss those things one does when not involved with a case. My wife was visiting some acquaintances in the north, and I would be along after her in a day or so. Holmes was happy to accept my sudden appearance, but I knew something was amiss with him.

His fame had taken a decidedly upwards turn after revealing the involvement of the Vicar of Stowmarket in the disappearance of the Spanish trade ship El Menear, but Holmes wanted no part of it. He had told me once that the work itself had rewards which transcended glory, and I never doubted his conviction.

1890 was a particularly busy year for Holmes, and I had done my best to go along with him every chance I could without neglecting my callers. But December had been unkind to his thirsty brain, and ennui had set in. He sat puffing at his newest churchwarden while I read the agony columns and enjoyed a bracing cup of tea. Outside, the occasional winter gust pressed against the walls of our building, and intermittent swirls of snow blew past the window panes, but Holmes was unaware of such things. As he stared longingly into the fire, I decided to break the silence.

“Here’s a line from someone in Croydon talking about his lost copy of The Sign of the Four, Holmes,” I said from the comfort of my old chair.

“Seems he left it in the lobby of an East End hotel called The Bard’s Bed, but when he returned, it was missing.”

“A book?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Watson, it was only The Sign of the Four in the magazine. It was without that dreaded second ‘the’ in book form.”

“You’re right, Holmes. Forgive me for getting it wrong,” I said with less than an honest tone. “And let me once again thank you for writing to the different publishers about it.”

“I did convince some of them to change it. Seems my name carries some weight,” he said as he rose from his seat. “Besides, it makes for a better title.”

The number of visitors to the door had certainly increased with each published narrative. Calls could come at any time of day, and it usually kept Holmes busy. Lately, the weather had given him fewer cases, and though the calm could be a welcome change, I knew he would not fare well without some mental stimulation. The quietude was broken that evening, however, when the sound of a light knock caused us to look toward the door.

“Who would be out on a night like tonight?” Holmes said with a scoff.

I rose and stepped over to crack the door open. Standing outside of it was a thin, smartly dressed man with a thick black mustache and hair to match, leaning against the frame. His face was flushed, and he was breathing very hard. With one final step he was inside but suddenly slumped forward.

“Holmes! Help me!” I cried as the man fell into my arms.

He leapt forward and we grabbed the man, helping him to the nearest chair. As I opened his collar, I saw that the man’s lips were moving. He seemed to be muttering something.

“Quick, Watson, some brandy,” said Holmes

I dashed to the tantalus and grabbed a bottle.

“Tilt his head back, Holmes,” I said, dribbling some of the liquid into his mouth. “What kind of fool goes out into this weather without a coat of some kind?”

The man coughed several times.

“He seems to be coming around,” I said, grabbing a blanket from the settee. “Sir, can you hear me?” I spread the blanket over him as Holmes went to stoke up the fire. The man coughed again after I gave him a small slap on the cheeks. He opened his eyes, coughed once more, and cleared his throat. After blinking several times, he was alert enough to pull himself forward.

“Oh, dear me, did I make it before him?” the man asked in a weak voice.

“Make it before whom?” Holmes asked.

“Mr. Holmes,” the man said, grasping at my friend’s lapels. “We are in danger, sir! I beg of you to lock your doors as quickly as you can.”

“Please, sir, try and calm yourself,” said I.

“I cannot, Doctor. He will be here any second.”

“You were followed?”

“More chased than followed, Mr. Holmes.”

“Who is this mysterious aggressor?” Holmes asked.

A loud pop in the fireplace caused the man to jump. “I’m afraid I don’t know his name. Oh, please sir, lock your doors or we will all die,” he begged.

Holmes stepped over to the window and looked down at the street.

“There doesn’t appear to be anyone down there.”

“He was right behind my cab. I don’t understand.” The man’s face turned ash white. “Perhaps he’s already in the stairwell. Yes, yes... that’s it! He must be just outside!”

Holmes looked up at me. “Watson, my revolver is in the top right drawer of the bureau.”

I grabbed the pistol from the drawer and walked to the door, putting an ear to it. I listened with all my power for many seconds, but heard nothing.

Looking back I shook my head.

“Sir, might I suggest we move to the far corner,” Holmes said.

Once they were as far from the door as possible I twisted the knob and pulled it open with as close to one movement as I could manage. I aimed, but there was no one there.

“Empty. I think we’re safe,” said I, shutting the door.

“I tell you he was just feet behind me,” the man said, his hands shaking with fear.

“I truly appreciate your warning, but there seems to be no danger.”

“But...”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mallory. If he comes in, I’ll make sure he’s stopped cold,” I said while slipping the gun in my pocket.

“Watson, how could you possibly know this gentleman’s name?” Holmes asked, his eyes wide open.

“Oh, well it’s very simple. I, uh, I saw his picture in the paper yesterday.”

“I don’t recall that.”

“Well, you read the same paper as I. Strange that you don’t remember him in it.”

“Nothing escapes me, old friend. But, perhaps this did. Forgive my question.”

“Again, Mr. Holmes,” Mallory broke in, “our lives are in danger. You seem to be taking this rather cavalierly.”

Holmes stepped forward and stared hard into our guest’s eyes. “Mr.

Mallory, I assure you that this is not the first time that someone has threatened to kill me, whoever this person may be. I get something by post seemingly every month with a threat of some kind. I have even had attempts made on my life, but as you can see, I still exist.”

“I do not think you should take this lightly, Mr. Holmes. I believe my information to be quite good.”

“I have no doubt you think so,” Holmes said, re-taking his seat. “Now, aside from the fact that you are married, have a taste for caviar, knew someone named Julian who has died, and most likely walk with a cane, I know nothing about you. Please take a seat again.”

The man forced a smile and shook his head. “I am familiar with your ability to deduce. I must admit I feel rather stupid, for I am at a loss about everything except the married part.”

“I never tire of making the deductions,” Holmes sighed, “but I do grow weary of explaining them. Yes, the married part is easy. You are wearing a wedding band. As for the rest - you have a small piece of caviar tucked between your lateral incisor and canine on the left side. There is a letter in a woman’s hand sticking out of your jacket coat pocket, and the few words I can make out read ‘the death of Julian.’ It also appears that your right leg is about an inch shorter than your left. Add that to the circular dry patch on your palm, and I’d say you’ve used a cane with some regularity.”

“Perfect, sir, but it seems you left out how I make a living,” he said. It did not go unnoticed by me or Holmes when he tried to hide pushing the note farther into his pocket.

“I confess that I see nothing to help with that.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to see,” Mallory said. “My family is quite well-off, Mr. Holmes. Coal mining in Donnington. Investing in wheat. That sort of thing. I have never had to work. That wealth has allowed me to live comfortably,” he said, looking down at his milky palms. “This evening, my wife and I were attending a party in Mortimer Street. It was the regular meeting of the Fitzrovia Idealists Society. Every 22nd of the month. Caviar was on the tables.”

“And your leg?” I asked.

“I fell from a horse when I was nine. Severely broke my leg. Left it shorter, but I have never liked using a cane. I have managed just fine without one, except on nights like tonight when it aches so. Damn thing chaps my palm, though. This weather is no help.”

“I understand all too well,” I said. “My leg throbs in this weather.

Pressure changes.”

“And yet, you don’t seem to have a cane with you,” Holmes said, looking around the floor.

“I don’t, but I did. I lost it somewhere in the chase.”

Holmes rested a forefinger on his lips. The flames reflected in his intense stare as he held back a curious smile. “Tell me about the note.”

“Well...”

His words were interrupted by the sound of someone dashing up our stairs. Seconds later, the door burst open and a large man in a dark blue suit and black overcoat and hat stood with a pistol pointed at us.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the man said with a toothy grin. “Would you all mind standing, please?”

We rose silently, but after a moment Mallory let out a small whimper and buried his face in his hands.

“Thank you,” the man said. He stomped the snow from his boots and unbuttoned his coat with his other hand, never taking his eyes off of us.

“I see you failed, Mallory,” the man said as he removed his hat. “Mr.

Holmes. Dr. Watson.”

Mallory looked up with a confused look on his face and furrowed his brow. “Failed? I don’t...”

“My good man,” Holmes interrupted, “you seem to have an advantage over us. You know us, but we have no idea who you might be.”

“They call me Snook.”

“Unusual. Perhaps you could tell us why you’re here.”

“Suppose it won’t make a difference, since you’ll all be dead soon. I’m here to make sure you are never a pain to my boss again. She is tired of your meddling.”

“She?” asked Holmes calmly.

“Lady Miriam Carlyle, that’s the she.”

Mallory took a step forward, and the man concentrated his gun on him.

“How dare you say such a thing? Miriam is a wonderful person. She isn’t involved in anything Mr. Holmes would have to be a part of.”

“All I know is what she hired me to do, Mr. Mallory. I don’t have any care for what you say.”

“You were at the meeting tonight,” Mallory said, pointing a shaking finger at him. “The one standing in the back of the room.”

“Good memory, sir. Yes, I was.”

“And you were the one who attacked me,” he said, taking another half-step forward.

“If I had done so proper, you wouldn’t be talking or standing, sir. I held back because of my orders.”

“Your orders from her to kill us?” asked my friend.

“No, Mr. Holmes. Told me to kill Mr. Mallory here at this address if he didn’t do his job. But, I’ll just take care of the lot of you since he didn’t.”

“I don’t believe a word of this!” Mallory said through clenched teeth.

“How dare you slander her name like this.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Mallory? ‘Cause if you are, I don’t appreciate it.”

Mallory turned to Holmes. “It has to be lies. Miriam would never do anything like this. She is incapable of harm. I swear it.”

“You know her one way, and I another,” said Snook. “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll all step over by the fireplace we can make short time of this.”

“Your hat appears to need relined, and your gun is at least ten years old,”

said Holmes. “Further, you are missing a button on your overcoat. It looks

as though things have been somewhat rough lately. If it’s money for which you’re doing this, I assure you I can pay you more than she will,” said Holmes.

“Yes, whatever you want,” said I.

“You needn’t take notice of any of that, sir,” Snook said. “And if you have that kind of scratch here, I’ll be looking for it after, don’t you worry.”

Mallory took another step toward the man.

“Easy there, Alden,” the gunman said, refocusing his aim.

“I just want to ask you a question.”

“No harm, I suppose.”

“Why does she want me killed? I have been her loyal friend for twenty years.”

“No idea,” Snook said with a shrug. “Just know that’s what she paid me for.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Mallory said, shaking his head. “She never let on anything was wrong. The meeting was wonderful. Everything went just perfectly. And our friendship... I am so confused.”

“No concern of mine, Alden. Now, over to the fireplace like I said.”

Holmes and Mallory slowly stepped in front of the screen.

“Doctor, please join them,” he said, motioning with his gun.

I walked over and stood behind them, making sure to hide putting my hand in my pocket.

“Fine. Anything you’d like to say before? It is Christmas-time and all.”

“Just that if you’re going to do this you might want to close the door.

Guns make a terrible noise. Besides, that wind is cold, and it nearly extinguished our fine fire,” Holmes said, allowing me to cock the gun without notice.

Snook reached back and pushed the door closed.

“Should I pull the shutters, sir? It will diminish the sound, as well.”

“I’ll take care of that, Mr. Holmes,” Snook sneered. He walked past us with the barrel still at our chests. At the window, he turned briefly, and in that moment I jumped out and fired. He let out a short yell and fell prone with a sickening thud. He struggled to get up but failed, and his body went limp.

Holmes ran over and grabbed his gun. “Excellent shot, Watson. The campaigns served you well.”

I stood motionless for a moment staring at the body. It had been a long time since I had taken a life. The sensation was familiar, but still unpleasant.

“Mr. Mallory, you look like you need to sit,” Holmes said.

“Just for a moment, please. You understand that this isn’t the sort of thing I’m accustomed to.”

“Of course. Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I could use a drink, I think.”

“Certainly. Watson, can you assist Mr. Mallory here while I check on our visitor?”

“I think I should do that, Holmes.”

“Nonsense. You’ve had quite a shake from this. Have a seat and collect yourself. I’ll see to him.”

I sat and took several deep breaths, then placed the still warm gun on the table.

“Please give me a moment, Mr. Mallory, and I’ll get something strong for both of us.”

“He’s dead,” Holmes said, kneeling over the body. “It appears the threat is gone.”

“I still don’t understand this,” Mallory said. “No one will ever convince me that Miriam had anything to do with this.”

Sherlock Holmes sat on a dining chair and crossed his legs. “This is something the police will have to bother with now.”

“Holmes, you’re not just going to let the man lie there, are you?”

“My dear Watson, it will be nearly impossible to find anyone to locate an officer for us at this hour, and even harder to find an officer on our own.

The man will be no less dead in the amount of time it takes me to find out everything I need to know about tonight’s events. Besides, his heavy clothing will soak up any blood.”

“It just seems particularly callous.”

“I understand your position, Doctor, but for now I wish for Mr. Mallory to continue with his story.”

“But this man tried to kill us!” Mallory cried.

“And I am not surprised. Lady Carlyle runs a vast criminal organization.

It was inevitable that she would figure out who was causing her such grief.

I have been on her trail for years. Now I can pin her for attempted murder...

with your help, of course.”

“I shall not say a word against her until I can speak to her.”

“Then perhaps you could tell me what happened tonight?”

Mallory looked from Holmes to me, and then to the body.

“Never mind him, sir.”

Mallory rested his elbows on his knees and took a deep breath. “This can’t be happening. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Like what, sir?”

Mallory sat up, closed his eyes, and ran his hands over his hair. “Nothing, Mr. Holmes.”

“Very well. You were saying?”

“Well,” he said after clearing his throat, “I arrived at the party early, as I usually do. Miriam wasn’t there yet, and I did my usual job of seeing who was present and determining the mood of the crowd. It’s helpful to Miriam to have a feel for things before she enters. What of that drink, Doctor?”

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“When did she arrive?” Holmes asked. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“About twenty minutes after I did. She made her way around the room, and I was never far behind. I kept one ear on the room and the other on her conversation. By all appearances, it was a normal function. No troublemakers, no reporters, that sort of thing. Just before the official meeting was to start, I noticed the man in the blue suit at the back of the room.”

“Him?” I asked, motioning toward Snook.

“Yes. He never moved. Didn’t talk to anyone that I saw. He was out of place. Once I realized he was going to remain in that same spot, I lost interest in him. Oh, thank you, Doctor.”

“When was the meeting over?”

“It started at 7:30 and ended about nine. Standard business. Same as always.”

“And the man?”

“Well, I never saw him again. People began leaving. I figured he went out with whomever he came with.”

“But he hadn’t, had he?”

“No,” Mallory said, glancing over at him. “I was getting my coat after I had placed Miriam in a cab. The place was dark. I prefer to leave last just to be sure all is well. As I was making my way toward the front door, I thought I heard a sound. Like a boot scraping along. I turned and looked, but saw no one. I called out, but nothing. I assumed it was the wind. As I turned once again, I heard quick steps behind me, and before I could look around to see who it was, I was being held. He had pinned my arms to my back with one hand. It happened very fast. His other arm was around my neck. He wasn’t choking me, but I still had trouble breathing. Fear, I suppose.”

“That’s only natural,” I said.

“His breath was hitting my neck. I wasn’t in any pain, but terribly scared.”

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

“He did. He said to have fun in Baker Street.”

“So, you were coming here tonight?”?” Holmes asked, his eyebrow arched.

Mallory stared blankly at him for a moment and then swallowed. He looked over at me with fear in his eyes.

“Given all that has happened I suggest you tell him everything, Mr.

Mallory,” I said.

Mallory looked back at Holmes. “All I’ll say is that I was going to be in the area.”

“I see,” said Holmes. “Anything else?”

“He said to do what I was told or we would all die.”

“And you don’t know this man?”

“No. I swear it.”

“This is most unusual, wouldn’t you say, Watson?”

I had been preoccupied. My mind had been back and forth between the body and Mallory’s account. What had started off as a peaceful evening had spiraled into horror.

“Watson?”

“Dreadfully sorry, Holmes,” I said, snapping my head around. “My concentration is divided.”

“Stop worrying about him, old boy.”

“It’s just that I can’t believe there’s a dead man lying here. In front of us.

And I killed him. This is not the kind of evening I was hoping for.”

“What specifically were you hoping for?”

“As always, I prefer a visitor. A chase, or a puzzle of some kind. But this... this is too much.”

“Come now, Watson. Chances are good that in the next few days no one would stop in. People will be pre-occupied with the holiday. It would likely have been a week before we had a knock. All of this has made it an exciting evening, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not the word I would choose, Holmes. Now a man is dead, and at this time of year. No, this is not what I was expecting.”

“Not much we can do about it now. Once we are finished with Mallory, we’ll try to get an inspector here to help sort all of this out. Now, Mr.

Mallory,” Holmes said, turning back to him, “please continue.”

“Well, sir,” Mallory said while looking at the deceased, “I ran toward the door. I could hear him coming, but I was some feet ahead of him. I beat him to the door and tried to close it on him, but he managed to push it open. I ran down the sidewalk and saw a cab. I called for it. As I leapt in, calling out your address, I looked back and saw that he had found one, as well. It must have been a sight, this chase.”

“My address? Why my address?”

Sweat had formed on Mallory’s forehead and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

“Well,” he said, looking back at Holmes,’ “this is the most famous address in Baker Street. Must’ve just naturally come out.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Holmes said with a grin. “Did you come straight here?”

“I did. The other cab kept up. Mine stopped and I jumped out. I knew he wasn’t far behind. I made for the stairs, but found my legs had nearly given out. I heard him yell at the cabbie that he wouldn’t be long and not to go too far. What I recall next was being in here. I can’t imagine why he didn’t follow me up.”

“Mr. Mallory,” I broke in, “what do you think this all means?”

“I’m not sure. Obviously I’m aware of you both, but I had no plans on ever coming here.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Holmes. “Pray continue.”

“I have a good life. No problems or controversies. And I don’t believe Miriam is this evil person you and he referred to. It simply isn’t possible.”

“But it is possible that she could have a life of which you are unaware, is that not true? You don’t spend every moment with her. You can’t be sure of her activities all the time.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Holmes, but I’ve known her for so long and with such closeness. I just can’t see it.”

“Were you two ever romantically involved?” I asked.

“Oh no, sir. Never. I don’t see her that way. Besides, she is twenty years older than me. She’s a beautiful woman, but my heart belongs to another.”

“Did she write the letter that’s in your pocket?”

Mallory stared down at the floor for a moment as if ashamed. He pulled the folded paper out.

“May I see it?”

“These are words between friends, Mr. Holmes. I would prefer you didn’t.”

“When did she give it to you?”

“Tonight, just before the festivities.”

“Has she written to you before? And why couldn’t she have just told you what she wanted to say? She knew she was going to see you.”

“She has only penned something once before. It was a congratulatory piece about my upcoming wedding. I assumed this was also important if she took the time to write it.

“So it’s been some time since she last did so.”

“Yes. I admit it’s confusing, but I still believe it harmless.”

“Have you read it?” asked I.

“I didn’t have time.”

“Sir, I think it’s imperative that I look at it. This can’t all be a coincidence. And if you say you don’t have any kind of a romance with her, then there can nothing too personal in it. If there’s business, I’ll ignore and forget it. But you must allow me.”

Mallory turned it over and over in his fingers before handing it to Holmes.

“Watson, be a good man and toss another log on the fire.”

As I rose, Mallory settled back in his chair with a heavy sigh and a frown.

“Watson, this has just taken a most incredible turn,” Holmes said.

“What is it?”

“Yes, what does it say? It’s my letter and I have a right, damn you.”

Holmes turned the paper toward us. Written across it was the message

“You must kill Sherlock Holmes tonight. Avenge the death of Julian. M. ”

“What? How did... I don’t understand.”

“Well, it looks to me as though you were to be the one doing the killing tonight. Had you read the letter beforehand, then that man wouldn’t have had to come up and do it.”

“No. I swear I wouldn’t have. I am not capable of it.”

“Not even if your beloved Miriam asked?”

Mallory sat quietly for a moment looking down, his eyes darting back and forth. “No. Not even then, Mr. Holmes,” he said, shaking his head.

“It seems to me the man you saw at the meeting tonight was there to keep an eye on you. To see if you would read the letter. To see if he was going to have to get involved and do what you couldn’t. He didn’t follow you up because he was waiting for you to come down after.”

“Who is this Julian?” I asked.

“Lady Carlyle’s son,” Holmes said. “He died last month at the hands of a man she had hired me to stop. He was killed before I could catch my prey.”

“I knew nothing of this, Holmes!”

“My dear fellow, I have been involved in many cases without you. There are several that will never be known, as they exist only in my memory, and

there they will stay.”

“This is incredible! Why would you not involve me?”

“Often it is simply out of fear for your life. Other times I am hired to do a job by myself. I promise you that I have always wanted my companion’s assistance, but sometimes it wasn’t feasible.”

“This hurts our friendship,” I said sternly. “I want you to know that.”

“I never intended for you to find out. Please don’t be angry with me, my friend. I did what had to be done.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Holmes. Julian died in a horse riding accident at Oxford.”

“That was the story given to the world, sir.”

On the street below we could hear the sounds of a carriage. Holmes stepped to the window and gave out a short laugh.

“The night just keeps getting more interesting,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“Another visitor, Holmes?”

“Precisely, old chap. And a surprising one.”

Mallory and I stared at the door while Holmes retook his seat. We could hear the sounds of two people coming up the stairs, one a light step and one heavy. A moment later the door opened to reveal a beautiful woman dressed in a blue evening gown, white gloves, and fur stole. Standing behind her was a large hulk of a man.

“Ah, Lady Carlyle,” Holmes said, as we all stood to greet her.

“No time for pleasantries, Mr. Holmes,” she said. Upon seeing her former ruffian lying on the floor her jaw tightened and she cursed through clenched teeth.

“Pay no attention to him, ma’am. He’s dead.”

The woman looked at her companion and nodded toward the body. He stepped past us and grabbed the corpse. With a grunt he slung it over his shoulder and headed outside.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Holmes asked.

“You need not worry yourself with reasons for my whereabouts or doings, sir.” She looked over at Mallory, who was standing at my side. He wrung his hands and looked down.

“Mir... Lady Carlyle. I have heard the most awful things tonight. Things that cannot possibly be true.”

“Alden, you and I will speak in my carriage. Go wait for me outside.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his head still bowed like a regretful child.

“Now, gentlemen, I’ll be going. I’m sure our paths will cross again, Mr.

Holmes.”

“What of Mr. Mallory?” I asked.

“I think that is something we should not ask, Watson. I am curious, however, as to how you knew to come here tonight, Lady Carlyle.”

“Again, it is none of your business, but I’ll humor the question,” she said.

“This whole thing was supposed to be done quickly. Since it wasn’t, I decided I needed to see to it myself. Now, I’ll bother you no more.” She turned and disappeared down the stairs.

Holmes closed the door behind her. He motioned for me to follow him to the window where we both crouched down under the sill.

“What are we doing, Holmes?”

“In just a few minutes I shall have all of this taken care of. You and I will be able to put all of this out of our minds and go back to a quiet evening.”

“What?” I asked, astonished. “How can we act as if nothing happened? I killed a man tonight, you and I were almost done in together, and then there’s Mr. Mallory. I fear for his life.”

“Please, Watson, trust me.”

“If you say so, Holmes.”

Upon hearing shouting, Holmes jumped up and pressed against the window. I stood next to him and strained to see what was happening.

“There!” Holmes pointed down at the street. Lady Carlyle’s carriage had just pulled away when a large policeman turned the corner, blowing his whistle and chasing after them.

“That puts an end to all of this, my friend.”

“Wait just one second, Holmes! How did you know to have a policeman here? And how in God’s name did you signal him?”

“I’m afraid I can’t reveal that just yet. In time, I promise.”

“If you had access to the police, then why did you allow this Snook to remain upon our floor?”

“All I can tell you is that once you know, it will be something you’ll never forget. Until then I have to again insist that you trust me. This whole affair is not over yet.”

“This whole evening has been utterly unbelievable. Confusing, as well.

But, I’ll take your word that you’ll tell me everything.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“The deception is hard for me to accept, Holmes. Secrets and lies and all.

It’s not something we’ve done in the past.”

“Have a brandy, old chap. Then get some sleep. Tomorrow will bring answers and peace.”

I rose the next morning after a restless night. The events of the previous evening had weighed heavily upon my mind. But, I had a busy day before me. I needed a strong cup of coffee and a good breakfast before starting off. Upon reaching the table, I found I would be eating alone. My meal was laid out, and a fresh newspaper lay folded on my chair. As I opened it, a small slip of paper fell from between the pages and into my lap. After reading it I let out a tremendous laugh.

My dearest Watson,

I must admit to you that I figured out the ruse you had arranged for me for the holiday. Having someone come over to kill me and leaving me to figure out who he was and why he was doing it. It would have been splendid if it had worked. I heard of your plot days ago through an acquaintance - Snook. He was only recently hired by Lady Carlyle - who does NOT run a vast criminal organization! -

and happened to overhear you talking to Mr. Mallory. He is an old acquaintance of mine, and came to me with the information. From there the counterplot was born.

Snook is fine, by the way. I had loaded blanks into the revolver. He was not harmed. In fact, he was the policeman who appeared on the street last night. Quite the versatile actor, I must say. I’m afraid Mallory was not terribly convincing. He didn’t even bring a weapon with which to threaten me. You must try harder on the details, old chap. I set out to return the gift by having yours compromised. It all worked out beautifully. Everyone (all were people I know) was in on

the ruse except for you and your friend, Mr. Mallory, but I am sure that by now Lady Carlyle must have told him. I truly appreciate the thought, and I hope now that you know you can enjoy all of this in hindsight.

Happy Holidays, my friend.

Sherlock Holmes

Upon finishing my breakfast I turned over Holmes’s note and wrote on the back. I slipped it back into the re-folded newspaper and sat it on his chair before leaving. It read simply...

Happy Holidays, Holmes

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