“I was under the impression you were here to help me, Mycroft.”
His brother stared at him silently. He took a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Sherlock.
“I take this to mean you’ve finally deigned to procure a letter of introduction to a ship captain for me,” Sherlock observed.
“Though I am but a minor government worker responsible for auditing the books, some have recognized my talents and consult me now and then on a few trivial matters. I had to call on several favors to arrange for the ship. It is a smuggler’s ship, of course.”
“Dear Captain Leroy Cartlett,” Sherlock read at the top of the page. After the initial pleasantries, obligations and requests, Sherlock finally arrived at the final port of call at the bottom of the letter. A cry involuntarily escaped his lips. “Yokohama?!”
“The ship will dock at Calcutta and Shanghai along the way, but I advise you to stay fast within the hold. By no means are you to go ashore. The moment you are identified it would lead to an international incident—you would be sent to the dock, and I would certainly lose my post. Even your entrance into Italy was illegal. It is fortunate enough you were not arrested in Florence.”
“I don’t like it,” said Sherlock, staring at Mycroft. “Why must I go to Japan?”
“Tokyo is developing into a modernized city, with a capable police force. You can expect law and order when you arrive. Once you land, you must visit the residence of Lord Hirobumi Ito.”
“Ito…”
“Under no circumstances are you to approach the British legation. Remember, you are presumed dead.”
“Have you contacted him already?”
“No. Even a letter is out of the question. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, the British authorities would know immediately.”
“But why must it be Hirobumi Ito?”
“Are you a fool?” Mycroft’s voice rose in anger. “If you want to pass yourself off as a dead man and conceal your identity, you will need a patron with enough clout to avert the eyes of justice. Japan has implemented a constitution in recent years and has introduced a Diet. Lord Ito was their first Prime Minister. And he himself was once a stowaway. It was during that period we made his acquaintance. He will certainly sympathize.”
“Only a quarter century ago, Ito and his fellow countrymen were assaulting foreigners en masse in the name of joui. This so-called modernization may be superficial only.”
“Joui was a tragedy, but you must allow that it was the Japanese refusal to submit to Western rule that has permitted them to maintain their independence. Not even the British Empire can interfere directly in Japan’s laws and government. It is the only place where a dead man can find refuge from the British police.”
“Kindly remind me as to when I earned the enmity of the British police. If you recall, I risked my own life to depose of Professor Moriarty—a criminal of the highest order.”
“Lord Ito might say something similar. He and his fellows pursued joui for the future of their country.”
“The two are not the same. With Moriarty’s death, peace has been restored to the streets of London. If it came out that I were still alive, however, his network of criminals would burrow underground. By convincing the world of my death I have arranged for justice.”
“In your own mind, yes, but in the minds of the police you are a suspect in a murder investigation.”
The windowpane, battered by the rain, flashed with lightning. A slice of Mycroft’s face was illuminated in the stark light. A heavy rumble shook the glass.
Sherlock had already accepted his fate. He still could not stop himself from taking the truth hard. “I am a suspect?” he muttered, almost in disbelief.
“Naturally,” said Mycroft. “There were no witnesses, and Moriarty now rests at the bottom of the falls. You have no recourse by which to prove self-defense. There is also the matter of the letter you left behind, which suggests murderous intent.”
“I never wrote that I meant to kill him.”
“I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence. I believe those were your words. As the possibility remains that you struck first, the police are duty-bound to construct a case against the deceased. Their hands are tied.”
“But Moriarty was not alone. One of his confederates lay in ambush atop the cliffs.”
“Then unfortunately, unless that man is apprehended, you have no hope of returning to society. I don’t expect you have a mind to turn yourself in.”
“Moriarty was a dangerous criminal. I included all necessary proof in the letter that I passed to Watson.”
“The fact that he is a dangerous criminal does not give you the right to kill him. Sherlock, I understand that you were willing to barter your own life to dispatch this man. But you survived. In society’s eyes, meanwhile, you are dead. To be plain, then, though you are alive, you must consign yourself for the time to the indignities of death.”
Another peal of thunder shook the cabin. Sherlock waited.
“Law and order are absolute,” Mycroft intoned softly and soberly. “That, more than anything, is the meaning of civilization. And that is why you must flee to a country beyond the reach of the British police. Watson insists that your actions were heroic. Only with yourself and the deceased Moriarty do his words carry any weight. There are legal questions as well. Moriarty’s younger brother has also launched a defense of the professor.”
Sherlock started. “His brother?”
“He hopes to prove Professor Moriarty’s innocence and restore his good name. He insists his brother was murdered, by none other than Sherlock Holmes.”
“There is a brotherly resemblance, I see.”
“Or perhaps he learned what occurred from the man atop the cliff.”
“Until after Moriarty’s fall, I had no notion that there was another man atop the cliff. I chose to hide and affect my own death under the belief that there were no witnesses.”
“That was a miscalculation. Not only was there a witness, but this witness is a member of the syndicate you face.” Mycroft stared off into space with a grave expression. “I must confess I myself am not entirely satisfied. Did Moriarty truly make an attempt on your life?”
Another flash. Sherlock inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?” he asked flatly.
“One of Moriarty’s own agents lay waiting atop the cliffs, and even now his brother acts feverishly to restore his good name. Was this criminal Moriarty truly as isolated, as driven to desperation by your pursuit, as you say?”
“The evidence I had collected would have made things quite impossible for him. It was the gallows for him, without a doubt.”
“If that is the case, then you had no need to kill him. You could have seen him put in custody, and left the courts to decide his fate.”
“Had he been allowed to live, he would have used his genius to devise some elaborate means of escape. He even bragged to me that he possessed intimate knowledge of the lost reaches of the South American continent. Eventually he would have returned to London to resume his criminal endeavors.”
“Perhaps, but he must not have been as pressed as you say if he had liberty still to flee. This means he might have turned his hand to crime again at a later date. Certainly this is a more consistent way to look at it. Likely Moriarty believed he could overturn whatever evidence you brought against him. He only feigned being rounded off in order to arrange a private meeting with you. In fact, it was he who planned to kill you. It may even be that it was Moriarty who first thought to pass himself off as dead.”