The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes by Kieran Lyne Page A

to.”
    â€œTo not to? As in not to fall … Holmes, you are infuriating!” I exclaimed, as he allowed himself a minor chuckle at this most dramatic of anti-climaxes.
    â€œI apologise,” said Holmes. “Professor Moriarty was indeed generous enough to allow me to write you the note which you read, and I truly did believe my career to be at an end. It was both skill and fortune which allowed me to survive, but I was quite prepared for a more final conclusion.”
    We both remained in a thoughtful silence. Though I was hurt that my closest of friends had deceived me in such a manner, and for such a prolonged duration of time, I could not help but be awed by the sacrifice he had been prepared to take.
    â€œI am surprised you have not asked how I managed to survive Watson,” said Holmes after a prolonged period of reflection. “Having scribed such a convincing, yet inaccurate account I thought you would wish to know the details.”
    â€œIf you are willing to talk about such events now Holmes then please by all means.”
    I can scarcely recall such an ordeal, even from our adventures together. Even for an experienced campaigner, the terrible image of Holmes and Moriarty grappling and teetering upon the edge of that dreadful abyss sent the tingling sensation of horror shivering down my spine. Though I pride myself on my ability to crack on in such perilous conditions, I confess I was more than pleased not to have heard the terrible last cry of Moriarty as he plummeted into that seething cauldron.
    â€œYour tale is a remarkable one, Holmes, but I do hope you will provide as sufficient an explanation as to why you have deceived me for so many years,” an air of bitterness still ringing in my voice.
    â€œWatson, if I keep apologising we shall be here until dawn,” said he. “I know your practice has been more than a trifle dull, and I truly did take to my pen when I heard of poor Mary’s untimely death; but I could not risk my position.”
    â€œNo, I understand, old chap.”
    â€œSpeaking of Mary, if I may,” said Holmes, to my surprise, “I cannot help but notice that you have used my lodgings to dispose of those rather heartfelt gifts I had purchased for you both during my exile.”
    â€œThose were from you?”
    â€œCertainly; this Vigor’s home exercise horse for instance,” said he, pointing to a ridiculous wooden contraption. It bore more resemblance to a mechanical crate than a horse; its foolish bouncing mechanism was most uncomfortable and it would have been the height of embarrassment to be seen upon such a device.
    â€œHolmes, unless one had suffered a rather unfortunate blow to the skull, why on earth would one wish to possess such a contraption?”
    â€œThe advertisement clearly stated that it is a complete cure for obesity, hysteria and gout. I assumed being both loving husband and a doctor, that you would have been quite cheerful at the prospect of your wife avoiding such issues. I hear even the Princess of Wales has one.”
    â€œAnd that ridiculous male corset?”
    â€œI recalled Mary’s culinary talents and thought you may have gained a few pounds, which you may have wished to remain a private affair. After all, it is of the highest importance that a doctor at least appears to be healthy.”
    â€œHolmes, what would be said of me if my former servicemen heard that I wore a corset? I would never be able to show my face at the club again.”
    â€œYou are supposed to wear it beneath your clothes Watson, so as to conceal the item. Surely you do not believe I purchased such gifts simply for my own amusement?”
    â€œOh no Holmes, I am sure the image of me bouncing up and down on a wooden box, wearing what most would consider a female undergarment would not amuse you in the slightest.”
    â€œWell, entertainment is limited in the afterlife, Watson,” said Holmes. “Now, to business,