Holmes sat back and reached for his pipe. He let out rings of smoke as he puzzled over the facts.
He looked at Watson. Watson was looking out of the window onto the street. Or so it seemed. He very well knew that Watson was puzzled by the latest series of events too.
It is not everyday that a crime left him clueless. He had long since assumed that the London crime world had lost its creativity. He was proved wrong here and it didnt agree with him at all.
"Read me the facts once more, will you Watson?", he said as he closed his eyes and tried to focus and arrange his thoughts.
"The first murder happened five weeks ago. The cleaners by the river found a floating body. They found no injuries. They assumed that it was a case of drowning - an accident or at-most a suicide. The yard was informed. The coroner examined the body and gave his judgement the next day. He found strychnine inside the body. It was clearly a homicide. How the strychnine was administered is still a puzzle.
The second body was washed ashore three days later. The subject of both the incidents was a young man in his twenties. Once again, forensics showed Strychnine.
Five bodies have been found since. All seven have been killed using the same Modus Operandi. All seven were young men in their twenties. There was nothing to identify the five people with. The Yard sent out their photographs across the Kingdom but nothing has come of it.
The most startling aspect of it all, was that the Coroner estimates that they were killed at the same time. They were all killed six weeks back, at about the same time. But it appears that their bodies have been let go at different times."
Holmes struggled with the facts. He clearly had nothing to play with. The murderer left no clues. Nothing to track him by, except his Modus Operandi.
"I have been on this case for five weeks Watson. Seven people have been killed, and I am yet to make a conjecture as to where this beast might lie lurking." - Holmes lied back on his chair as he struggled with his frustration. Watson observed Holmes' discomfort. It was unnatural, this. He rarely saw his friend admit defeat.
Holmes calmed himself and resolved to arrange his facts - "Why would he drown their bodies?", he thought. "And why would he drown them at different points of time? He killed seven people. Surely that is a handful for one man to accomplish. Are we looking at a gang of killers then? A religious ritual?"
He pulled the leash around the facts and tried to discipline them.
"Seven people have been murdered. All of them at the same time. All of them have been killed using the same poison. The murderer(s) then let go of the bodies one at a time. It leaves us with three questions then:
1. Why were they killed?
2. Why were they killed in that exact manner?
3. Why were the bodies disposed of at different points of time?
There is very little to explain the first question. Let us try and understand 2 and 3. Clearly, the expertise with which the mode of administration of Strychnine tells us that the person was proficient at poisons. The expertise shown in concealment shows that the person was quite proficient in the use of poisons. Could he be a Chemist? Or a doctor may be?
The bodies were disposed off at different points of time. This was clearly a way to confuse an investigation. He could have as well buried the bodies and delayed the investigation much further. Why did he choose a complicated procedure?", he thought as he focussed on the issue.
"Is he taunting us Watson?", he said out aloud, his eyes still closed.
"Why would he do that, Holmes?", Watson asked, almost absentmindedly. He looked forlorn. Lost. Like the case bothered him more than it should.
"He is playing with his game, Watson. He is challenging us to find him and understand his motives."
"What sort of a person would kill for a Challenge, Holmes?"
"Ah! You bring up the most important facet of this case. The only one that will help us understand the criminal. His Psychology. Would you like to venture a guess as to how this beast's mind functions Watson?"
"I leave that to you Holmes" - Watson said, as he turned his gaze away from the window for the first time.
Holmes smiled. Watson could sense the condescending tone of the sentence that Holmes was about to spout. "OK then. Allow me to give you a glimpse of the killer's thought process. Let us proceed along an hypothesis that this Modus Operandi has been chosen solely to challenge and puzzle the investigators. The newspapers are agog with speculations. He is now the most wanted man in London. Let us assume that this is what he wanted. He wanted attention. He wanted adulation - albeit a perverted version of it. He must therefore be a person starved of adulation."
Watson sat down, all ears as he handed Holmes his Coffee.Black and bitter, just as Holmes liked it.
Holmes sipped his Coffee and continued with his discourse.
"So, to continue from where we left, this person must therefore be someone who is starved for appreciation. I would say he is someone who desperately needs to assert his presence. Someone who has for long lived under the Shadow of a greater individual, and has been ridiculed and ignored all his..."
Holmes spluttered. He reached out for the glass of wine on the table near his Chair.
The table moved. He could see Watson moving the table farther away with his walking stick. Holmes turned and looked at Watson. There was an unmistakable gleam in Watson's eye. It was one he saw often when Watson won a race at the derby or a bet on a boxing duel. It was Watson's victory smile.
Holmes could feel his Chest tightening. It was unmistakable. He had studied this phenomenon tens of times in chemistry manuals. Strychnine Poisoning.
He struggled to reach for a drink. His tongue was parched. He could barely move now.
"Why?", was the only word he could utter.
Watson stood up, held Holmes by his shirt collar, lifted him up and spoke looking into Holmes' eyes.
"Exhaustion, Holmes. Pure and simple exhaustion. I waited five weeks for you to figure this out. You didnt. You struggled for five weeks to find someone who was right next to you. I played with you for five weeks. I saw you struggle with your facts. I am exhausted of playing my own game. This is the only way it could end. Tomorrow another body will be found on shores of London. This time it will be that of the greatest detective the world has ever seen.
You can see the newspapers screaming that out cant you, Holmes? You can see the Yard and the whole of London recoil in horror as they find out that the greatest detective in the world has been outsmarted, cant you Holmes?"
Holmes couldnt keep his eyes open anymore. The end was near. Watson bent forward and whispered into Holmes' ear: "So you see Holmes, as you quite often say, it is all quite elementary."
