Tony Richards - The Astonishing Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in the Twenty-First Century

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Holmes announced to the gathered, waiting people, “I know that you all want to get back to work, so I’ll not keep you long. But I feel that this is the appropriate time for … a history lesson.”

“Yes,” he continued, ignoring the shocked glances that were cast in his direction, “every nation has its history, which in part defines it. Mine does, and so does yours.

“Kuala Lumpur prides itself on being an extremely modern place, and so it should. You have succeeded, in a few decades, in lifting yourself out of the undeveloped murk of the Third World and transforming this place into a New World city. It is a remarkable achievement, and I heartily applaud it. But the past, like an old scar gained in childhood, cannot easily be left behind.”

He was pacing slowly past the desks as he was speaking, the gaze of every occupant fixed on him uncertainly.

“You think of yourselves, these days, as Christians, Buddhists, Moslems and Hindus. And perhaps some of you are none of those things, but agnostics or deniers. But before such beliefs, there were far earlier ones, thoroughly more primitive. Some of which still exist to this very day.”

He swept an arm out in the general direction of the Great Unknown.

“Beyond these gleaming towers, out beyond these crowded streets, there are vast areas of jungle that have never felt civilisation’s touch. Deep and tangled, foetid places that a clean ray of sunlight barely ever touches. Murky and mysterious places which know nothing of modernity at all. Yet in these places, some people still dwell. They are the ancient tribes.

“These people know nothing of either modernism or monotheism. Names like Jesus and Siddartha, if they ever heard them, would be meaningless sounds tapping on their eardrums. No, their take on the divine is far more primitive that that. They are pagans. And to be more specific, many of their beliefs are animistic.”

He paused, seeing that many of his audience were not familiar with the word.

“They believe that creatures have a soul, and in some cases a godly one. Certain creatures become sacred to these misbegotten folk – they come to worship them. A great snake, perhaps. Or a slinking panther living in a nearby cave. Or else, some enormous breed of lizard science has no knowledge of as yet. These childlike tribespeople worship such beasts devoutly. Pray to them, make sacrifices to them. Kneel down and are humble in their presence. And in the course of time – this is not merely my belief, since I have seen it demonstrated – if enough centuries pass, a connection is made between the worshipped and the worshipper. The latter might take on, for instance, some of the physical aspects of the object of its devotion. How, I do not know. Perhaps by some ghastly osmosis, or even crossbreeding of some heinous type. And it is not unknown for the two parties to communicate, either by some secret language or by telepathic means.”

When he saw how shocked the young workers were looking, Holmes smiled bitterly.

“It may all sound fantastic, and yet we had proof of it last night. What I and my colleagues brought down might have been a quite extraordinary reptile, yes. But it was still merely a reptile. It had not the wit, on its own, to specifically target and then murder Cedric Lam. Neither had it the wit, on its own, to go after Miss Chencup. Someone here instructed the beast to do it. Somebody in this room is a descendant of one of those ancient tribes, and brought the lizard here into the city and then let it loose.”

Horrified gasps went up from the audience. A few of the young women put their fingers to their mouths.

Holmes looked around at them all with a steely gaze.

“In this building’s parking lot is a Toyota people carrier, its back seats folded down. It is the vehicle that was used to transport the creature from the jungle to the very heart of Kuala Lumpur. There is still mud on its axles.”

His pace was becoming even slower, now, the direction of his movements condensing in one direction.

“Then, there is the matter of dietary habits. I thought them, when I first noticed them, to be gaily-coloured sweets. But candied locusts are a delicacy in this part of the world – I remarked as much to your supervisor only yesterday. Yes, a delicacy. An occasional treat. But somebody here seems to eat them every day.”

At his desk, the blind and disabled Mr Abil Suvu had stiffened, becoming very still. The Englishman was walking closer to him.

“A fire during childhood, at your home. I believe that is supposed to be the cause of your afflictions?” Holmes asked. “But tell me, what kind of fire is it that damages the hands and blinds the eyes, yet leaves the whole remainder of the face untouched?”

He stopped in front of Suvu, bending slightly down.

“When I went to shake your hand yesterday, I dropped my own palm slightly before we made contact. And yet you grasped it truly, and your grip was firm. Your hands are not damaged, and you are not blind. And so, what are you?”

The great detective’s arm lunged forward, and he snatched the dark glasses off Mr Suvu’s face.

Then, even he reeled back.

Yells and screams resounded through the office. Between one instant and the next, everyone was jumping from their desks and trying to put some distance between themselves and the thing Holmes had revealed.

Mr Suvu’s face might be normal. But the eyes were very definitely not. They were not human eyes, were very small and round and red, and stood out from the man’s face on a pair of scaly turrets that moved independently of each other.

They were, in fact, lizard’s eyes.

Some of the young female inductees were wailing uncontrollably, forcing their way out past the uniformed men at the door. Who in their turn looked confounded, almost stunned, and had forgotten their duties altogether.

Suvu took advantage of that. He hissed, and his tongue came flicking out. Then he surged forward exactly in the same way that the lizard of the night before had done. He rammed Holmes aside, went scuttling past the uniformed men – who sprang away from him – and was out into the corridor.

Holmes was after him in a flash. He could hear the policemen behind him recover their wits and join in the pursuit, but that was academic now. This semi-man was moving very fast. And as he ran, he seemed to be pulling both his gloves off.

There were several loud explosions behind Holmes, and he felt bullets whizzing past his shoulders. Several of the uniformed men, afraid that the miscreant would get away, had obviously opened fire. He could hear Penchit telling them to stop, but too late, since the act was done.

None of the shots hit Suvu. But the end of this corridor terminated with a sheet of plate glass, a massive window looking out across the town. And it shattered.

Suvu had kicked off both of his shoes too. He’d been wearing loafers – there were no socks underneath.

He reached the shattered glass. Stretched his arms out past the new-formed opening. Attached his fingertips to the side of the building. And pulling himself up, disappeared from view.

He was climbing the outside of the Tower Two with no visible form of support. His hands and feet had to have suckers on them, just like the lizard they had killed a night.

Holmes should have paused, but he’d been expecting something of this nature. And so he continued on.

Penchit ground to an astounded halt, watching the man do that. Why was he not stopping? There was a twenty-five storey drop below that shattered window, and no possible way of pursuing the culprit.

His astonishment turned to horror, though, when he saw what Holmes did next.

Holmes reached the opening in a few more strides.