Chapter X

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A Tangled Web

* Baker Street
Judging by the noise of the traffic from the street below, it was dark but not late when I awoke in Holmes's suite in the Langham.  At present, the room's only illumination came from the street lamps outside.

My darling Holmes, my lost love, had come back to me and was sleeping soundly in my arms just as he always did, and I felt only a wondrous elation at his return.  As I gazed on my adored one I was filled with such a torrent of love that it was impossible not to reach out and touch him - and I did - running gentle, feather-light fingers through his soft hair.  He knew I always loved the feel of it, especially when it was free of the lime-cream he habitually used to hold it in place and soft and natural as it was now.

With his head resting on my shoulder, legs entwined with soft genitals resting against my thigh and an arm across my ribs I felt such comfort that I never wanted to move from the spot.  Lost in the realm of dreams, my dear one seemed so peaceful sleeping in my arms that I had not the heart to disturb him.  He trusted me so, and I vowed always to be worthy of that trust.

Holmes stirred a little before subsiding again, and I wondered what were the dreams that filled his mind; did he see visions of Moriarty and death at the Reichenbach Falls, or were his dreams peaceful?  I hoped the latter.

He stirred again and this time his eyes opened.  As he beheld me he gave a small, startled gasp of pleasure, smiling up at me in delight before once more relaxing.

Reaching over, I struck a match to light a lamp beside the bed so that I might better gaze on his dear features.

"Dearest John," he murmured, "I dreamt that I was back in the comfort of your arms, and now I awaken to the reality - and the reality is sweeter by far than the dream!"

I smiled openly at him, my face no doubt portraying every ounce of feeling in my heart for he smiled back at me and sighed luxuriously.

"You are back where you belong, my dearest Holmes."

"Oh, yes!"

At that point he pulled back to look upon me most seriously.  "My dear John, I have had six long months to remember your love for me; your companionship, your care and your consideration.  I know that I have sometimes treated you most callously, and this I deeply regret, but I say now that I never meant to hurt you, my friend."  He stroked my face.  "Oh, John, with you my spirit is at peace, and I now realise that I will never know this most tender of feelings anywhere else but in your arms.  You are my strength; without you I was lost.  All of you, all that you are, is dear to me and I do love you... so very much."  He choked on those last words and I saw him swallow hard.

"My darling Holmes, I..."

Before I could utter another word his soft lips claimed my own and he was kissing me gently but insistently, his tongue licking at my lips, seeking entrance to my mouth - and he was welcome.  So very, very welcome.

"Oh, Holmes!" I murmured breathlessly when he finally released me.

The naked yearning in his eyes brought forth in me the most tender of feelings and I stroked him lovingly, letting my hands express all that was in my heart.  I believe I kissed every inch of his beloved features and he mine.  In this way we spent some time once more acquainting ourselves each with the touch and feel of the other.

"My dear and handsome doctor, only you understand me.  Only you accept me as I am, with all my flaws and weaknesses.  You are balm to my nerves and a stimulant to my senses.  Your faith in me, your love for me, have always been the cornerstone of my existence.  You know that I have no time for false modesty; I have been blessed with brains, but sometimes when I sense that my powers of deduction are failing me, it is your faith and your unfailing support which give me strength to continue so that, together, we prevail.  It is you who give me inspiration, my dear John.  With your love I even found I no longer needed the stimulation of cocaine."  His eyes drifted away to look across the room and his expression saddened.  "Without you... Forgive my weakness, my dear, but without you..."

With dawning horror I realised what he meant.  Taking his left arm I examined it closely.  In the lamp light I could see the puncture marks from the syringe, and I wondered that I had failed to notice them earlier, but then I had been much too preoccupied to notice much of anything.

"Oh, Holmes, no..."

He tried to pull his arm away from me, but I held it and stroked my hand down his forearm over the puncture marks of the needle; marks which I had once thought never to see again.  I pressed my lips to them, kissing all the marks I could see whilst he ran gentle fingers through my hair.

"It's all right, my dearest Holmes.  It's all right," I soothed. "I am with you and I will not leave you.  If you felt the need of cocaine when we were apart, I understand, but we are together again and, together, we shall prevail, for you are also my strength, dear friend, and I could not love you more."

He pulled me closer, embracing me.  "My John!  My dear, sweet John, you have the gift of healing in your hands and in your heart," he touched his finger to my lips and ran it over them as I kissed it, "even in your lips.  You are an angel of mercy, my dear, and I need no artificial stimulants when we are together.  I need only you, dearest friend.  Only you."

For that I hugged him hard, rocking him a little as I kissed his cheeks, his closed eyes and soft lips.

It was hunger that eventually drove us from the comfort of Holmes's bed.  After we had cleansed ourselves and dressed we went for a stroll in the cool autumn air.  I felt ten feet tall as I once more strode proudly beside him arm in arm.  We found a relatively new restaurant and celebrated our reunion by treating ourselves to a three course meal and a bottle of the proprietor's best champagne.

We spoke of many mundane subjects and caught up on six month's worth of news, but mostly we simply enjoyed being together.

Since the restaurant was not overly bright and our table was located in a quiet corner, we allowed our legs to touch and occasionally brush against each other as we had in the past. Throughout the excellent meal I had eyes only for my Holmes and the feel of his legs secretly pressing against my own warmed my whole being.

When we eventually left the restaurant Holmes took my arm as we walked the block back to the Langham.  Once back in his suite he poured us each a brandy and we sat close together on the settee.

"We must talk, dear friend, for I owe you an explanation for both my extended absence and unexpected reappearance in your life, and indeed you have every right to castigate me for my unpardonable behaviour."  He reached out to take my hand in his.  "Please allow me to explain, my dearest Watson, as best I may, and then you may pronounce judgement on me in whatever manner you see fit."

Glancing from our joined hands to his large eyes, now gazing anxiously at me, I hastened to reassure him.

"I am here, Holmes.  We are together once more and I will not leave you again even if you should demand it."  I squeezed his hand, offering him my unconditional support and he smiled briefly at me.

"Thank you, dear friend, for your unqualified acceptance.  Not a day has gone by in the last six months when I have not thought of you constantly and longed for your presence.  Thoughts of you have sustained me.  Oh, my dear Watson, would that I could have come back sooner!  I shall never forgive myself, my brother be damned!"

His uncharacteristic outburst shocked me.  "Your brother?" I queried in astonishment.

He sighed.  "Yes.  Brother Mycroft."  He shook his head sadly.  "He does not know what we are to each other.  He would have had me stay away perhaps for years, but I could not do that to you, or indeed to myself.  I had to see you; had to know that you were alive, that you were all right.  I knew how much you loved me, that you cared for me so very deeply and so I... feared for you, my courageous friend.  I thought of how I would feel if the tables had been turned and it had been I believing you to be dead and lost to me for the rest of my life."  He squeezed his eyes shut as though to block out the pain of that vision.  "The thought was painful beyond belief."  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  "My brother has much to answer for!" he declared vehemently.

Shifting closer, I allowed my leg to rest against his, gazing into his troubled eyes.

"You see it was all my brother's scheme," he continued, "and I was a fool to go along with it.  A willing dupe, if you prefer.  My brother wished for people to believe that Sherlock Holmes, unofficial consulting detective, was dead in order that I might undertake some covert government work in Europe.  He said that I could make a miraculous reappearance in a couple of years or so but in the meantime it was essential that I serve my country by playing the espionage game for the government."

With his free hand he reached out and stroked the back of his hand down my cheek.  "Had I been on my own with no one to care if I was alive or dead, as my brother believed, I would have gladly gone along with his scheme.  But there was you, my dearest," his fingers ran gently along my jaw, "and for what I did to you I will never forgive myself!  Hah!  To think that I once judged Mr. Neville St Clair harshly for his treatment of his wife!"  He shook his head.  "What I have done to you is far, far worse than anything poor St Clair ever did!"

His hand on my face trembled and I clasped it and brought it to my lips, kissing it repeatedly.  "My dearest Holmes, you are alive - that is all that matters to me," I proclaimed with some little fervour.

He nodded and seemed calmed by my words.  "To start at the beginning, it was my brother's plan that I go to Europe, alone of course, fake my own death by whatever method I chose and then work for him under a new identity."

His eyes shut in remembered pain.  "Oh, my dear, now you see why I should not have allowed you to accompany me to Europe.  I should have been alone when I ‘died'.  Forgive my weakness but I could not bear to part with you."  He sighed.  "And then there was Moriarty and his confederate..."

"Then you knew all the time that he was following us."

"Yes, and he played right into my hands.  The only difficulty was..." His voice trailed off.

"Me?" I inquired tentatively.

He gave a tiny, wistful smile.  "Yes, you, my dear.  You could not be allowed to witness my ‘death'.  I had to devise a scheme whereby I could rid the world once and for all of Moriarty and at the same time successfully fake my own death beyond a shadow of a doubt."

In dawning comprehension, I stared at him in horror.  "You?  Holmes, you wrote me the note about the sick English lady at the hotel?"

"Yes.  I disguised my handwriting and paid the boy to deliver it to you only when we had almost reached the falls and not before.  I needed the maximum length of time to dispose of Moriarty and climb out of the falls before you could return from the village."

"Oh, God, and I blamed myself for your death!  Blamed myself for leaving you to face Moriarty alone and die at his hands!  You have no idea how I have blamed myself for your death, Holmes!  I knew that if we had been together we could have defeated him; we could have won! Oh, Holmes, how could you?  How could you let me believe that you had died when you knew how much I loved you?  It almost destroyed me!"  My own anguish was reflected in his grey eyes as six month's worth of black grief poured out of me.  "Holmes, if you truly loved me, how could you do this terrible thing?  Tell me, Holmes, please!  Make me understand why you chose to deceive me!  To lie to me!  To make me go on believing that you were dead!"

"I know that it was wrong of me, my dear," he admitted.  "I know now that it was the vilest, most despicable act that I have ever committed.  No matter that I truly believed it would be for a week at most for I intended to communicate with you at the earliest possible moment, I deliberately, willingly and knowingly deceived you into believing me dead, and for that I am not worthy of your forgiveness, or your trust.  My dearest Watson, you see before you a contemptible and ignoble creature who is unworthy of either your love or respect.  Whatever judgement you pronounce on me this night, it is no more than I deserve for betraying your trust," he gave a convulsive swallow, "and your love," he continued, "and you have every right to despise me."

My mind in a fog, I remained motionless, stunned by my dear one's words.  In silence, I sat there, my vocal cords paralysed.  At the same time I wanted to beat him to a pulp and strangle him for hurting me so badly - indeed hurting both of us so dreadfully, for I now realised that he too had paid a high price for his folly - I also wanted to take him in my arms and tell him that all was forgiven.  However, my tongue was frozen and no words would come.

He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again they were filled with tears.  "I almost called out to you."  As I gazed at him in bewilderment he continued, "Yes.  I watched you from my hiding place.  When I saw you searching for me and calling out desperately to me I then began to realise the enormity of my actions and the price we would both have to pay for my mistake.  Then I saw your face and I saw the anguish written there, my dear one, and I wanted desperately to call out to you, to let you know that I was all right.  Your grief was a stabbing pain in my heart and not a day has gone by since that terrible time when I have not felt your pain."

As he spoke I once more relived those terrifying moments on the edge of the Reichenbach Falls when in desperation I had called his name, numb with dread, my mind refusing to believe that my dear Holmes might very possibly be lying dead at the bottom of that dreadful chasm, his body broken beyond recognition.

Holmes took a deep sighing breath.  "I told my brother two months ago that I was resigning, that I was not cut out for espionage!" He spat the last word out with some vehemence.  "However, he insisted that I finish my current assignment, that they were depending on the information only I could provide for them."  His voice was laced with bitter sarcasm.  "That assignment is now complete.  Of course, my brother is not pleased that I will undertake no further assignments, but it is of no matter; the country will survive without my help.  I am back where I belong."

"But, Holmes, they found two bodies at the base of the falls and the second was identified as you by your clothing."

"Quite.  That is as I planned it.  You will recall the air gun of which I was most leery before we left for the Continent?"

"Yes."

"Moriarty did not go to Switzerland alone.  He was accompanied by a confederate."

"You killed his confederate too?"

He nodded.  "It was not a pleasant business."

"But, Holmes, how did you get out of there?  I saw the tracks and so did the police.  There were no tracks leading down."

"It is not as inexplicable as you think, my dear fellow.  How often have I said that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth?"

I chuckled.  "I know - the Sherlock Holmes maxim!"

"Quite.  So you know that I did not go back down the way that I had come."

I gazed at him in astonishment.  "You mean you climbed up out of that awful place?"  He nodded.  "But how did you manage it?"

"With extreme caution, my dear fellow, and I don't mind telling you that there were times as I climbed that I fancied I heard Moriarty's voice screaming at me from out of the chasm."

He gave a slight shiver as the memory replayed and I squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"As dangerous as the climb out of the chasm was, there was more danger awaiting me when I reached the top.  Moriarty's confederate was taking pot shots at me with the air gun.  He had me pinned down, and a pistol is no match for an air gun with a telescopic sight.  I was in extreme peril and I knew it.  Desperate measures were called for.  Of course it would have been of no use to surrender; a paid assassin does not take prisoners and he would simply have shot me.  However, it was getting dark and I managed to elude him in the darkness, work my way around behind him and surprise him.  At the very last moment he saw me, but a pistol is faster to aim than an air gun and I was lucky.  I will never forget the look of surprise on his face."

He shivered again as the memory replayed.  "You know that I abhor killing, even ones such as they."  I nodded.  "I was forced to exchange identity with him.  I then had to carry his body back to the chasm and hurl it over."

My heart went out to him, appalled at the thought of the danger he had been in, and I had not been by his side to help him.  "Oh, my dear Holmes, I should have been with you!"

He shook his head.  "You were safe from them and that was all that mattered to me.  Had Moriarty's confederate escaped I feared that he might take revenge on you for the death of his leader and I knew also that my own life would have been in deadly peril as long as he was alive and in possession of that air gun."

"So what did you do with the gun?"

"I kept it."  He rose and went to fetch a large port over in the corner.  Opening it, he displayed its contents.  "It dismantles as you see.  Indeed it is a most ingenious weapon.  I knew Von Herder, the blind German mechanic who constructed it to the order of the late ‘Professor' Moriarty."

He demonstrated to me how it fitted together before dismantling it once more.  It was the most deadly and amazing weapon that I had ever seen and, to be quite frank, I never wanted to see its like again.

"What will you do with it?" I asked as he once again returned it to its case.

"I intend to hand it over to Scotland Yard."

He took my glass and poured us each another brandy and we sat down on the settee once more.

Deciding to change the subject, I inquired if he had yet been back to Baker Street.

"No.  I desired to speak with you first, to see if you..."

"I understand, but you do wish to move back to Baker Street?" I inquired, unable to keep the eagerness from my voice.

"Oh, indeed!  It is my fondest wish that we move back to Baker Street together, but I had to see you first so that I might attempt to explain to you..."  He closed his eyes and swallowed nervously.  "My dearest friend, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my callous treatment, would you consider moving back into our old lodgings once more?"  Before I could answer he continued, "And if you will but allow it, I will do all in my power to make amends for the unnecessary pain and suffering that I have caused you."

All the dreams which of late had so tortured me with visions of my dear friend returning had come true, and I closed my eyes and whispered my gratitude to God for giving me a second chance at happiness.  When I opened them again his eyes were downcast, staring at the toes of his boots.

Rising to kneel on the settee over him, I tilted his face up toward me, noting his apprehension as I forced him to meet my gaze.  Observing the sorrow in his eyes, I knew then with certainty that I was not the only one who had suffered because of the choices he had made.  I also knew that there was only one choice that I could possibly make.

"My dearest Holmes, I forgive you."  He looked at me as though his ears deceived him so I claimed his sweet, pliant lips.  When I released him his expression as he gazed at me was still a little uncertain as though he could hardly believe his good fortune.

"Can you... truly forgive me, dear friend?"

In answer, I kissed him once more, sweetly, lovingly, passionately with my whole heart and soul.  Finally, somewhat breathlessly, I asked him, "Does that answer your question, my dear Holmes?"

He hugged me without mercy, murmuring endearments, raining kisses on my face and swearing undying devotion - rapture indeed after the grief that I had borne.

Eventually I took the liberty of asking him if he had yet seen his brother since he had been back in London.  His answer rather surprised me.

"If you will come with me now, I plan to see my brother tonight."

"Now, Holmes?" I asked in astonishment.

"Indeed.  Will you accompany me?"

Admittedly, I found the elder Holmes brother somewhat formidable.  "Holmes, I have no wish to be the cause of a rift between you and your brother.  Perhaps it would be best if you and he were to discuss your differences alone."

"Not in the least," he insisted.  "There is nothing I wish to say to Mycroft which can not be said in front of you.  He sent me to Europe on an espionage mission for the government.  I will grant you that the mission was an important one, however, it was not vital to country or Empire and could have been undertaken by any competent person with half a brain.  I will grant you that my brother does not know about us, and perhaps if he had, he would not have demanded that I undertake such an assignment."  He took a deep breath.  "Be that as it may, I intend to inform him tonight."

"About us?" I asked in horror.  "Oh, surely not, Holmes!" I protested.  "I thought we agreed at the start that our relationship should be kept as secret as possible, even from your venerable brother."

"Yes, and look where that got us!" he declared with some irony. "No, my dear Watson, it is high time that we told brother Mycroft.  He will understand once we make our position clear."

"But, Holmes, how do you know that he will understand?" I asked with much misgiving.  "After all, he might thoroughly disapprove."

"Because, my dear Watson, he and I - and you - are of a kind."

As I gazed at him in dawning comprehension he gave a tiny smile and nodded at me.

"Holmes, am I to understand that...?"

"Yes," he said simply.

I was stunned.  I had simply thought of Holmes's brother as a reclusive misanthropist, albeit an eccentric, and every bit as much a genius as his younger brother.

"I... had no idea," I muttered.

"Of course not.  Brother Mycroft does not advertise his partiality any more than you and I."

"Of course.  But why could you not tell him previously about us since, as you say, he shares our partiality?"

"An excellent question," he mused.  "Perhaps because I did not wish to give him, or his venerable friend, knowledge of me that they might one day hold over me like a sword of Damocles."  He gave a reassuring smile.  "Do not concern yourself, my good Watson.  My brother will understand, as will his intimate friend, or he is not the brother I know."

At that moment responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders.  "If you say so, Holmes," I conceded.

Curious about Mycroft and his friend, I inquired if they had been together for very long.

"Oh, indeed!"  He gazed at me in that sly manner of his.  "For a good number of years now," he added.  "You will no doubt meet him tonight."

"Do they then lodge together?"

"No, that is not possible."

"Oh, but Holmes, if they are together tonight, then perhaps we should call some other time," I protested.  "Besides we can hardly call on them unannounced."

"On the contrary, my friend, forewarned is forearmed and I have no intention of forewarning my brother of my plans to call on him tonight.  No, not at all.  You see, my dear Watson, there is not a shred of doubt in my mind that the idea to have me become an espionage agent for the government was not my brother's idea alone.  So tonight we shall confront them - both of them!" he added.

As I gazed on his determined countenance my mind was reeling.  Surely Mycroft could not have discussed so confidential a matter with anyone except a most senior government official, perhaps even a minister.

Holmes had obviously been following my train of thought.  "You shall see tonight, my Watson, but I must bind you to secrecy for, should it become known, it would cause a scandal of such monumental proportions that the whole country - nay the whole Empire - would literally reel in shock."

"Well, it will not be the first such secret that I have kept," I sighed ruefully.

"Indeed, my friend, indeed."

Abruptly he rose.  "Come, Watson!  We are off to Kent!"

As he spoke he was packing his few belongings into a single suitcase and shortly thereafter he had checked out of the hotel and we were in a four-wheeler bound for Charing Cross station and the twenty past eight train to Kent.

When Holmes informed me that Mycroft lived in Kent I must admit to being surprised for I knew that he lodged in Pall Mall opposite the Diogenes Club.  I said as much.

"Quite correct, my dear chap.  Mycroft still lodges in Pall Mall - during the week.  However, it being Friday night he will be at the home of his distinguished friend in Kent.  It is a small affair with only a single housekeeper so the four of us shall be alone."

"Do you intend to spend the night there then?"

"Oh, yes, and I have no doubt that we shall be given a comfortable bed for the night," he covered my gloved hand with his own, "if you would do me the honour of sharing it with me?" he added.

"Oh, Holmes, you know that nothing would please me more, but..."

"Shh, dear friend.  Do not concern yourself.  All will be well."

He sounded so certain that I had to believe him and trust in his judgement.

In the dim confines of the four-wheeler with the blinds down we embraced warmly.

"Holmes," I ventured after a while, "I recall from that affair of the Greek interpreter that your brother is as observant as you are. Will he not notice that you have been kissing?"

"Hah!  On what evidence, pray tell, do you base that deduction, Doctor?"

His eyes twinkled merrily and his lips bore a lovely, turned-up smile.  He was teasing me, and, oh, it felt good to hear his teasing again!  I played right along.

"On the fact, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, that your sweet lips are slightly swollen," I murmured, kissing him, "very soft," another kiss, "and appearing very... much... kissed."  I punctuated my words with more kisses.

"Indeed!  And quite true no doubt!  And I also have no doubt whatsoever that Mycroft will deduce the same from your appearance, my good doctor!"

"Oh, I hardly think so, Holmes.  After all, he doesn't know me that well and hopefully will have forgotten what I look like."

He chuckled.  "You don't know my brother, he never forgets a face! My dear, there is no way we can conceal the fact that we have been indulging in a great deal of lip and tongue work."  He nuzzled my ear. "Mm..." he murmured appreciatively.  "After all we have six month's worth of kisses to catch up on, and I, for one, intend to indulge for as long as my lips hold out!"

I laughed delightedly.  "And mine!"

We laughed together, sharing our joy in this nonsensical conversation.

"And yours!" he agreed.

*** * ***