In the late afternoon we assembled in the hotel smoking-room. Cigars were in full blow, sending up blue spirals with nothing in the still air to trouble them. Holmes and I stared through the window in the direction of the Reichenbach River. The famous Falls were set too deep in the mountainside for the roar of tumbling waters to reach our ears. Before dining I left Holmes and stepped outside. All the familiar landmarks met my eyes. I determined I would reconnoitre the immediate area of the Falls in the morning for the ideal spot for the photograph. This would best be undertaken without Holmes tugging impatiently at my elbow.
On the morrow, at my request, the hotel delivered a supply of English newspapers to our room. I provided my comrade with an ounce of shag from our stock of Bradley’s. He sat smoking the pipe, framed by an unmatched view of the icy peaks rearing above us. He looked up and waved a hand around him.
‘Watson, how small we feel in the presence of such elemental forces! How clear it becomes that we are merely a tray full of chemicals and three buckets of water.’
I reflected on how it took a vast mountain range to make my comrade break into a statement of such rare modesty. I left Holmes on the terrace reading contentedly through the pile of newspapers. To retain our anonymity I decided against the electric funicular in favour of a two-horse drag. Despite the reassuring information from the Master of the Victoria, well short of my destination I paid the fare and waited until the cabbie set back.
Alone with my thoughts and unburdened by cumbersome photographic equipment, I wended my way along the same thin path I had taken fourteen years before. In the early summer light the Alps were as beautiful as I remembered them. The meadows and high rocky ground blazed with spring flowers - cowslips, Lady’s Mantle, vivid blue spring gentian and Edelweiss. Higher up in rocky areas lurked the tall Common Monkshood pointed out by Holmes on our earlier climb. Despite its beautiful blue blossoms it was one of the most deadly plants of European and Himalayan flora. In ancient times people coated spears and arrowheads with its poison, strong enough to kill wolves.
The gorge began to narrow, leaving a sliver of sky half way between blue and green. The torrent burst into view. There, in my imagination, was Holmes’s Alpine-stock still leaning against the rock, there the ledge on which Holmes had placed his farewell note fluttering beneath his precious silver cigarette case. I could recall the words almost by heart.
My dear Watson,
I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very high opinion which I had formed of his abilities. I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you. I have already explained to you, however, that my career had in any case reached its crisis, and that no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this.
Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict the gang are in pigeonhole M, done up in a blue envelope and inscribed ‘Moriarty’. I made every disposition of my property before leaving England, and handed it to my brother Mycroft...
believe me to be, my dear fellow,
Very sincerely yours,
The letter had ended with greetings to my now-deceased wife Mary.
I reached the site I had in mind for the photograph, a wide rock platform. It was not the exact spot where the death struggle took place but the camera angle would work better to show the terrifying force of the plunging waters. A short distance away stood the ruins of a building where I could hide the photographic apparatus, tucked away from the spray, until Holmes arrived to take up his position. Perhaps it was the result of my exertions or the effect of the rushing waters on my brain but in my imagination I could picture crouching figures behind every jutting bush and rock.
I retraced my footsteps down to our hotel and greeted my comrade with a ‘How are you, Holmes?’
The unusual dilation of his pupils caught my attention. He thrust a newspaper at me.
‘Watson, I deduce from your question they do not sell the English edition of the Journal de Genève at the Reichenbach Falls.’
Concerned by his tone, I grasped at the newspaper and saw the headline, ‘ICEMAN EXPOSEDBY MELTING GLACIER - PRESERVED NATURAL MUMMY OF MAN WHO LIVED ABOUT 3,200 YEARS AGO.’
The article continued,
Ice-melt at the Rosenlaui Glacier has revealed the mummified corpse of an iceman some 1.65 metres tall. Initial examination by the University of Berne pathology department estimates he weighed about 50 kilogrammes at death and was about 45 years of age. Intestinal contents show two meals, one of chamois meat, the other of red deer and herb bread. He was clad in a cloak of woven grass and a coat, a belt, a pair of leggings, a loincloth and shoes, all made of leather of different skins. Other items found with the Iceman were a copper axe with a yew handle, a flint-bladed knife with an ash handle and a quiver of 14 arrows with viburnum and dogwood shafts.
I looked up at Holmes. ‘This is a wonderful discovery, Holmes, why we should - ’
‘Watson!’ Holmes exploded, ‘not that wretched iceman and his copper axe - the piece below!’
The headline blared, ‘WORLD’S MOST FAMOUS CRIMINAL AGENT RETURNSTO MEIRINGEN’. The report continued:
For the first time since the epic struggle on the 4th of May 1891 (as reported in this newspaper), during which Mr. Sherlock Holmes ended the life of the arch-criminal Professor Moriarty, he has returned to Meiringen, accompanied by his amanuensis Dr. John Watson. The notable pair arrived in Switzerland earlier this week at the invitation of the Rector of Berne University. The University conferred an Honorary Doctorate on Mr. Holmes for outstanding services to the Natural Sciences. The Journal understands that Dr. Watson has been commissioned by the mass circulation Strand Magazine to take a photograph of the eminent Consulting Detective at the very ledge overlooking the Reichenbach Falls where the epic struggle took place. All Europe remembers the events of that day. By his actions Sherlock Holmes rid the world of the Number One enemy of propriety and justice and made it a safer place for all.
My heart thumped.
Sir George Newnes had kept strictly to his word not to reveal our movements to the London newspapers but had informed the Journal de Genève, no doubt in the hope of increasing the Strand’s circulation among English-speaking residents on the Continent. The Reuter Agency or the Central Press Syndicate would be bound to pick up the report for distribution to news-sheets worldwide.
‘Holmes,’ I spluttered, ‘perhaps Moran will fail to hear about our presence here. After all, he is far away in the midst of the Indian Ocean.’
‘Perhaps,’ came the uncertain reply.
During the first few nights at altitude I sleep fitfully. That night I was even more restless than usual. At last I fell into a slumber. A light tap at the door made me sit up abruptly.
‘Very sorry to wake you up,’ came Holmes’s voice. ‘Turn just the one table-lamp on, there’s a good fellow. News has arrived from London. When you are dressed, meet me on the terrace where we can be alone.’
I joined Holmes in the dim pre-dawn light.