Out of Memory:

Coming Before

by Copper Beech

T. S. Eliot said April is the cruelest month, but Holmes and I were not finding it so. We settled into what passed for a comfortable routine and I was looking at the start of spring and to the beginning of the Trinity term.

Spring brings with it the clichés of poets and pundits alike. But when the first warm clear day of the season presented itself, I wanted to indulge in them myself.

The earliest flowers were making a showing and I had it in mind to call Mrs. Hudson and tell her so, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Good morning, Mary," said Dr. John Watson.

"Uncle John," I replied in an incredulous tone, "I didn't know you were coming."

"Nor did I, until yesterday when I got a telegram from Holmes."

"Holmes sent you a telegram?"

"Yes."

"What did it say if I might be so bold to ask?"

"Come at once if convenient, if inconvenient come all the same."

I laughed. It was one of Holmes' old lines. He tried it on me once and if I'm not mistaken, at least twice now on friend Watson.

"Well," I said, "maybe we had better go find Holmes and see what why he summoned you."

We found Holmes in his laboratory.

"So, Watson," he said when we had both entered the room, "I see my telegram reached you."

"Yes Holmes, it did. But why did you send it? Do you want me to record your adventures for The Strand?" he asked with a laugh.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," said Holmes.

We both stared at Holmes, but Uncle John spoke first. "You do? You want me to write about one of your cases?"

"Yes," replied Holmes, "one very specific case."

How it was my turn to speak. "And which case it that?"

"The case of the untimely train."

"I don't believe I am familiar with that case, Holmes," said Uncle John.

I looked at Uncle John and gave a shrug that indicated I knew nothing more than he.

"Nor should you," said Holmes.

"And why is that?"

"Because it has not yet taken place."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Holmes," said Uncle John, and though I was loath to admit it, neither did I. "How can I write about a case that has not yet happened?"

"You once wrote about one that did not take place," replied Holmes.

Yes, I thought, "The Final Problem."

"But I wrote that story the way I thought it happened," he protested.

A light went on in my mind. Holmes wanted his biographer to create a story that would create a false impression in the minds of his readers. Or more specifically, the mind of one particular reader."

"Holmes," I interrupted, "what is this story about and for whom is it intended?"

"It is about," said Holmes, "the theft of jewels aboard a train. And the tale is intended for one Alexander Greenfield."

"But why?" asked Uncle John.

"Because, my dear Watson, I want to catch a thief."

"And how will my writing a story help you to catch this man?"

"By presenting him with a challenge he cannot resist," replied Holmes.

"Then it is a challenge I shall not resist."

"Good man. I knew I could count on you Watson," said Holmes.

And so began our adventure. Holmes explained to friend Watson exactly what details to include in the story. And Uncle John, for his part, wrote a most believable account of an early adventure of Sherlock Holmes.

When the story was finished and all approved, it was sent to be published in The Strand Magazine. Then we waited. We waited for it to be published. We waited for it to be read. We waited for Greenfield to act. And act he did.

It was Tuesday afternoon when we got the call from young Lestrade. Holmes' plan had worked and the man in question was in police custody. All that remained was for Holmes to explain how it all fit together. "You see, Watson," he began in response to Uncle John's question, "Greenfield has been wanted by Scotland Yard for what seems like most of his life. Young Inspector Lestrade has been trying nearly since he joined the force. He decided this would be the year to put that demon to rest.

"He contacted me and asked my advice. I gave it some consideration and decided on this plan."

"Holmes," I interrupted, "why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because Lestrade asked me not to or at least not until the case was solved."

"And why not?"

"I believe he was embarrassed by his failure, Russell. The fewer people who needed to know, the better."

"I see," I said somewhat mollified.

"Please continue, Holmes," said Uncle John.

"Your story was designed to make Greenfield think there was treasure to be had, when there in fact, was none."

"Do you mean there were no jewels?" Uncle John asked.

"No, Watson, there were not."

"Holmes, weren't you concerned some other thief would go in search of the jewels?" I asked.

"I considered it Russell, but there being no jewels, there was nothing to lose. Remember, Greenfield was not to be arrested for attempted theft of the jewels, but for past indiscretions. This temptation was to make him surface."

"Not unlike Col. Sebastian Moran," stated Uncle John.

"Just so," replied Holmes, with the trace of a smile.

Uncle John left for London that afternoon. And after he was safely on the train headed for home, we did the same. We arrived at the cottage in time to take a walk before supper.

"Holmes," I said as paused to sit and look out over the Channel, "it was good to have Uncle John here."

"Yes," he replied, "I rather enjoyed it myself."

"Do you miss your friendship with him?"

"It's still, there, Russ. It's just in abeyance at times. But yes, I do miss it from time to time."

"You have been friends for a long time."

"We have."

"Holmes," I began, unsure of my course, "do you miss your former life?"

"Which life do you mean, Russell? My life in London or my life in Sussex before we met?"

"Both, I suppose."

"The answer to the first is not often. The answer to the second is not at all."

I gave him a smile. A genuine one. Not one of relief or release from nervousness, but a natural one. His statement matched my own. We were both quiet for a time, and then the sound of my stomach rumbling made us both laugh. It was a signal it was time to return home for supper. And that we did, just ahead of the setting sun and Mrs. Hudson's setting of the table.