The Baker Street Letters (35 page)

Dear Mr. Holmes:

I am not fooled.

That you survived Reichenbach Falls was never a surprise to me.

That the interests of Dr. Watson's literary agent in the afterlife should have led him finally to the exploration of cryogenics (though he must have gone to great pains to keep it so well from the public), and that he should have passed this information on to you, and that you should have used your own intense, though narrow, scientific focus to bring the investigation to a successful conclusion while pretending retirement in Sussex does not surprise me either.

That you should then use that knowledge to make yourself available to what you hoped would be a more civilized and yet still intellectually challenging time, follows naturally.

I don't know precisely when you revived, but I am sure you find today's London eminently satisfying on the second count, but disappointing on the first.

And I know that your current guise as a self-centered lawyer is just that, a disguise.

I am not fooled, and I shall have my forefather's revenge. I shall take from you what you value most.

Your Humble Servant,

Moriarty

“Self-centered lawyer.” That was annoying. And the fact that the letter writer seemed to think he was communicating with both Reggie Heath and Sherlock Holmes at the same time was odd; all of the other letters had been intended simply for Sherlock Holmes, period.

But the letters not written by either schoolchildren or people from other cultures were almost always just jokes. Taking such things seriously was his brother's quirk, not his own, and Reggie had already wasted too much time on this one.

“It's just a prank,” said Reggie. He gave the letter back to Lois. “Send it on to Nigel with the others.”

Reggie took the lift down to the lobby. He left his own vehicle at Baker Street—the undercarriage of the XJS had begun to make noises on even small bumps—and he caught a Black Cab to take him to Shoreditch Police Station.