Keisuke Matsuoka - Sherlock Holmes - A Scandal in Japan

He could see the streets of London in his mind: the soft light of the gas lamps in the mist, their reflections in the wet cobblestones. Moriarty might be gone, but even now his brother worked to restore his name. His remaining men still prepared to act. London would never see a day when crime was no more. Perhaps even now, lost souls continued to visit Baker Street, unaware of Sherlock’s death. What cases weighed upon their shoulders? What anxieties troubled them?

Sherlock shrugged himself free of his reverie to find Ito looking at him oddly. With a faint smile, the detective said, “Now is not the time for reminiscing.”

Ito returned the expression. “I promise we will return. You and I, both.”

An ear-splitting explosion filled the air. Water rained down on them, even though they stood as far as the hill. The sky was lit a crimson red. The Timur, in the northeastern corner, was now engulfed in flames. Balls of fire rolled across the deck before erupting into columns of flame. Their light was reflected in the sea below, where sailors treaded water, shouting for help. The rescue boats of the police and the fishermen drew closer to them.

“Let us go, Mr. Ito. The hour is afoot.”

“Indeed it is.”

Inoue called out, “Take this with you, Ito!”

It was his cane, the one with the hidden blade inside. The two Japanese men looked into each other’s eyes. Ito gripped it solidly, as if he were receiving a samurai’s sword.

Now the ocean wind that blew from the sea carried the heat of the flames. Sherlock and Ito began running. As they descended the hill, a flurry of emotions swept through the detective’s mind. In the past he had disparaged Watson’s writing. Now, he swore he would write his own memoirs someday. But before one could write his life, one must live it. Life was in the living, not its results.

The small Russian steamboat was aerodynamic, shaped like an oversized canoe. Lt. Colonel Kanevsky and four other sailors were aboard. Sherlock and Ito huddled into the back. The boat was larger than the Aurora, the steam launch Sherlock had once chased down the Thames, but it was also much faster. They dashed over the black waters as if gliding over pools of ink. The boat’s incandescent bulbs illuminated their immediate vicinity, but did not penetrate far beyond that, with the mist and smoke from the multiple explosions. The boat pitched and lurched each time they struck a piece of floating debris.

Another column of water shot into the sky. Flames erupted from the ship to the Laskar ‘s starboard side. The mast tipped over and began to burn.

Kanevsky shouted over his shoulder. “They have got the Kliment !”

“Now we finally know where all the ships were located,” Ito whispered in Sherlock’s ear.

“Indeed. There are only two left now. The Arsen, which is behind the Laskar, and the Walery, to its starboard.” Sherlock leaned forward and shouted. “Lt. Colonel Kanevsky, are you sure the explosives are being detonated by pulling wires?”

“Absolutely certain. I spotted a wire stretched beneath the water.”

“They must be very long.”

Kanevsky nodded. “They are being pulled from the deck of the Laskar .”

“The crew wouldn’t notice if they pulled the wires from the deck?”

“No. If the wires are wound around the balustrades, Chekhov or Denikin could loiter on the deck, and would only need to slightly lean over the edge to give the wires a tug. After the first explosion there would be chaos, and no one would be paying them very much attention. Besides, with it so dark, how would anyone see the wires in the first place?”

“The Arsen and the Walery haven’t sunk yet. The wires must be stretched between them and the Laskar. You should warn all the boats not to travel between th—”

Another flash lit up the sky. An explosion rang out, and then a huge wave rolled their way. The steamboat tilted hard. Sherlock grabbed the mast. The steamboat nearly capsized before suddenly and violently righting itself. The shaking almost tossed all of them into the water.

Kanevsky peered through his binoculars. “That was the Arsen. Only the Walery left.”

“And the Laskar. So long as any other ships are still there Tsarevich Nicholas will remain aboard. It must seem more dangerous to disembark than to stay. The captain of the Laskar is likely waiting to see whether or not the Walery, too, will fall.”

“So their evacuations will begin as soon as the Walery sinks.”

“Yes. We must close the distance to the Laskar before then.”

“The crane to lower the lifeboats is on the starboard side.”

“Then we should get there posthaste.”

Kanevsky shouted at the sailors in Russian. The sailors grew more frantic. They scooped shovelfuls of coal into the stokehold, over and over again. The headwind grew stronger as their steamboat accelerated. Laskar ’s forward port grew steadily near.

But while the Laskar ’s silhouette loomed larger and larger amid the darkness, they were still too far away.

Just then, another blast reverberated in the air, with a blinding flash of light. Jagged waves struck their boat, rocking them violently left to right.

Sherlock peered in the direction of the blast. A plume of smoke billowed from the side of the ship anchored to the Laskar’s rear starboard. The ship slowly began to tilt to the side.

“The Walery is sinking!” Ito shouted. “The Laskar ’s evacuations have to begin!”

“How much longer?” Sherlock asked Kanevsky.

“Five minutes.”

“Hurry. If we are not on time, all our efforts will have been wasted.”

The captain would be last to evacuate. The Tsarevich, however, would likely demand he go first. His lifeboat may have even been prepared before the Walery was sunk. If so, the boat would be rapidly lowered into the water. But perhaps Nicholas would wait until the boats containing his guards had also been set on the water. No. It was obvious they had to make for land. Nicholas’ lifeboat would launch without waiting for the others. Unfortunately, his closest advisors were sure to be aboard as well.

Sherlock clenched his jaw. Watson had once written, of the hour and quarter they spent waiting in an underground bank vault to set an ambush, that it felt the night must have almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. Sherlock had called this mere exaggeration, but he felt he now understood the expression. Time passed quickly while he was active. Being forced to wait, however, constrained by the physical limitations of the boat’s speed, was infuriating. The steamboat represented the collective knowledge of all mankind—surely it could go faster! Even a marlin was faster than this!

The Laskar ’s silhouette was now so large they had to crane their necks upward to see it. At last their steamboat passed the ship’s bow and they circled around to the starboard side. They slowed their speed. Their vicinity was lit up by the boat’s incandescent lights. Sherlock looked over the side, shocked.

The water was entirely blanketed with lifeboats. The vessels were manned with a disorderly mix of sailors and men in plain clothes. It was impossible to tell who was aboard which boat. The lifeboat crane, meanwhile, continued to lower yet more boats into the water.

Their steamboat pulled alongside one of the lifeboats. Kanevsky yelled out in Russian. The young sailor who answered them seemed bewildered. The sailors peered about and pointed in various directions. They called out in loud voices to the other boats. The voices from those other boats, however, responded with equal confusion.