3 Holmes in Danger

Chapter 3 Holmes in Danger "And that," concluded Sherlock Holmes, "was my conversation with Professor James Moriarty. I'll admit it had an unpleasant effect on me. He's no bully making idle threats, Watson. He has this soft, precise way of speaking, which left me with the impression that he meant every word." "Can you not tell the police that he's threatened you?" I asked. "It wouldn't do any good. He's not going to attack me himself. That's never been his style. The danger will come from his agents. correction. The danger is coming from his agents. He held up his injured hand as proof. You've been attacked already.

Holmes nodded. "Professor Moriarty is not a man who lets the grass grow under his feet. I went out at around midday to do some shopping on Oxford Street. As I was crossing Welbeck Street, a two-horse van came straight toward me at a furious pace. I leapt out of its path, managing to save myself by the breadth of a hair. Had my reflexes been even a fraction slower, I wouldn't be here talking to you now." "Goodness me, Holmes! That's terrible! Did you manage to get a look at the van or the driver?" He shook his head. "It flew around the corner onto Marylebone Lane and was gone in an

instant." "You're going to have to be careful, my friend —at least until these men have been arrested." "I couldn't agree more," said Holmes. "Not half an hour after the van incident, as I was walking along Vere Street, a brick fell off the roof of one of the houses and shattered into fragments at my feet. I immediately summoned the police and, together, we entered the house and examined the roof.

"We found a pile of slate tiles and bricks on the roof, placed there in preparation for some repairs. The workmen claimed the wind had caused one of the bricks to topple off. Of course, I knew better. There wasn't a breath of wind up there, Watson. Still, I couldn't prove anything. "I decided to complete my journey in a cab. Avoiding my home on Baker Street, I went to my brother Mycroft's rooms in Pall Mall, where I spent the rest of the day. This evening, as I walked over here to see you, I was attacked by a ruffian armed with a bludgeon. I punched him in the mouth, scraping the skin off my knuckles in the process. He's now confined to a cell at the local police station, but he won't say a word about who hired him. No connection will ever be found between the gentleman who attacked me and our friend the former professor of mathematics.

"Now do you see, Watson, why the first thing I did on entering your rooms was to close the shutters? It's the same reason why I asked if I might leave the house by a less obvious route than the front door." I have often admired my friend's courage, but never more so than on that evening as I listened to him calmly describing his horrifying day.

"You'd better spend the night here," suggested. "Not a good idea, my friend. You may find me a dangerous guest. My plans are in place and everything is ready. I don't need to be around when the arrests happen. The best thing I can do right now is to get out of the country for a few days and let the police do their job. I would appreciate your company, Watson, if you can spare the time." "My doctor's surgery is quiet at the moment," I said. "I'd be pleased to join you." "Would you be able to leave tomorrow morning?" "If necessary."