Chapter 7

Molly had already opened the curtains, letting enough light into the room that Melinda needed no additional help to see the words on the page. She was able to quickly scan and pass over several pages of entries dealing with nothing out of the ordinary. But, when she turned the page again, one entry jumped out at her, mainly because a thick circle had been drawn around it ink.

In the main, Holmes has few laments, and those he does have seem petty sometimes. For instance, his recently published article about the scientific nature of detective work received quite a bit of criticism, especially from a chap by the name of Moriarty. Homes did not receive this criticism well, beginning a litany of Moriarty's faults that, at their end, seemed mainly to sum up to "he should stick to his own field!"

He also seems to feel that, in the main, there is no real overall challenge in his practice of scientific detection. Given a few days and minimal evidence, he thinks there is no crime he cannot solve... and I have to admit, given what I have seen, his observation seems spot on! Holmes thinks that there will never be an opponent with the combination of wits and knowledge to give him what he longs for — a true "game" between equally matched opponents. To use a chess metaphor — if Holmes is the grandmaster of scientific detection, he waits without hope for a grandmaster of crime against which to truly match himself.

'There it is, then, ' Melinda thought while nodding her head, 'the first mention of that chap Moriarty!' She tapped her finger on the entry, wondering what John had been thinking when he circled it. 'Is it a clue to some thought that he may have about what's happened? Or the beginnings of a timeline that starts with this first reference to Moriarty? Perhaps there are other entries that are circled later on in the text!' With that thought, Melinda found herself flipping through the pages, looking for other passages that John may have highlighted.

Another circled passage presented itself just a few pages from the first.

It always amazes me the variety of people that Holmes has within his circle of acquaintances that pass along information and news about things most of us have no clue. A case in point happened today as I was striding toward our lodgings and a man turned toward me on the sidewalk and laid a hand on my arm.

I cannot say that I reacted kindly toward the bloke, mainly because of his appearance. He had the dirty, unkempt air of those who, either of their own choosing or due to unfortunate circumstance, have no way to earn their own living and must then beg for it on the streets. Though he wore a full-length woolen coat, it was dirty and patched in many places, as if it had seen much hard use. The watch cap he wore was blackened with soot and dirt, and when he lifted it briefly in greeting, I could see a definite line above which the cap had kept his bald scalp much cleaner than the grimy face which lay below.

I moved quickly to pull away from his grasp, but he gripped tighter and leaned close, apparently so that only I could hear the growly rasp of his words. "You are the chap that lives with that bugger Holmes, right? The doctor?" I was taken aback for a moment, not understanding how the man might know of my living arrangements. Perhaps taking my furrowed brow as a sign of anger, the man lessened his grip on my arm and tried to smile, though doing so did nothing to improve his appearance or my disposition. Though I did not speak, he continued to talk in an urgent tone. "I done what your fancy friend wanted and found out about them lads down by the docks. But ev'ry time I tried to get in to see 'im, all I got was the back of that lady's hand, so's I ain't goin' back." Thank goodness for Mrs. Hudson's vigilance! "But I got what he wanted, see!" He produced a tightly wrapped handkerchief from inside the pocket of his coat and pressed it into my very reluctant right hand. "Since I can't get to 'im, I'm askin' you to take it, and let 'im know that Tom Butcher kept his word." He leaned even closer to me, looking into my face with a feverish intensity. "Just tell 'im he was right, and give 'im the hanky. He'll know exactly..."