The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes Read Online Free

hansom, ignoring the first two, and then wasted no time jumping into the third, urging haste, whilst brandishing a slip of paper to the driver for the Strand end of Lowther Arcade. It was only a matter of seconds before Moriarty’s men were upon our tail, desperately attempting to keep pace. My driver, likely hand-chosen by Holmes himself, whipped the steeds into action, forging a path through the unsuspecting traffic. Our pursuers, though inconvenienced by the resulting mêlée of horses and carriages, were unfazed by such obstacles, impossibly carving a passage with frightful ease. I had my fare ready, and tossed it to the cabbie before he drew to a halt, as the sharp whistle of bullets suddenly caused an explosion of splinters behind me. I leapt from the carriage, weaving amongst the traffic, and narrowly avoiding a particularly eager cabbie. I dashed through the Arcade, aware of the pursuers still hot upon my heels. Again I owed myself to Holmes’s keen sense of preparation, for not a moment had passed before I leapt into the waiting brougham, than I saw the murderous stare of my momentarily defeated opponents. I kept my revolver at hand and maintained a vigilant guard until we reached the relative safety of Victoria.
    Exiting my carriage I scoured the area for any sign of danger, for it was abundantly clear from my assault that Moriarty was no longer concerned about discretion.
    As I entered the station it did not take long to find my luggage, which had been sent on unaddressed the previous evening. Holmes had reserved us a first-class carriage, the only one marked ‘engaged.’ My only source of apprehension was that Sherlock Holmes had yet to appear. The station clock ticked ever closer to our departure, so I decided to search amongst the travellers for my elusive friend. I took no comfort in the knowledge that my pursuers were nowhere to be seen: for if they were no longer preoccupied with me, they must be hounding Holmes’s every step. I waited until the last possible moment before accepting the futility of my plight, and returned worriedly to my seat. I had no choice but to trust in the powers Holmes had so often demonstrated, and now that Moriarty was upon my track, I could not stay in London; I had to remain confident that even with such a daunting pursuer, Holmes would eventually join me at some stage of the journey.
    Incapable of freeing myself from anxiety, I stared out of the window, often straining to look down the carriage, as if expecting to see Holmes impossibly clinging to the outside of the train with a glint of triumph in his eye. My rather fanciful delusion went unfulfilled, so I reluctantly took my seat in the dining carriage. I did not have the stomach for breakfast, and the usual calming affects of morning tea were insufficient in alleviating me of my apprehension. Rather unsatisfied, I returned to my carriage, only to find that my privacy had been invaded by a thoroughly unkempt Italian priest, whose command of the English language was, to my surprise, inferior even to my Italian. Alas, I soon realised any attempt to educate my new companion upon the ways of the English class system was futile, and such was my boredom I found myself briefly lecturing him on Fredk W. Burton’s latest work upon the Putrefactive Decomposition In The Intestinal Tract . Though giving me cause for momentary distraction, my educative desires waned, and I found myself drifting back into the steady, monotonous bumps of our great rail network, before being startled by a most familiar voice.
    â€œThough I appreciate your attempts to enlighten me upon the way in which poisonous bodies derived from our food pass along the alimentary tract, Watson, I am still rather insulted to find you in such a state of relaxation. But not to worry, our connection at Canterbury is in five minutes.”
    I had seen my great friend transform himself on many occasions but the apparent ease which he achieved this feat