The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes by Kieran Lyne

him back into the wilderness.
    Upon arrival, I instructed the driver to wait on the opposite side of the road, directed away from the entrance to the Bagatelle. I had no desire to risk my position, or indeed my life, with the unnecessary ruse of attempting entry in disguise. Lord Balmoral had provided me with a description of the young aristocrat, and so I had no choice but to tediously await his departure.
    I had sat in my carriage for a considerable length of time before movement finally began to formulate in the entrance; but, unexpectedly, I noted that it was only Sir John Hardy and a man, who must have been Mr Winston Murray, who vacated the premises, into two separate carriages. There was no sign of Ronald Adair or Colonel Moran.
    Disturbed by this turn of events, I awaited five more minutes before urging my driver toward Park Lane. As we rounded the corner, I knew instantly that tragedy had struck. The Adair residence was ablaze with light; crowds had swarmed together in the streets like moths drawn to the flame.
    I stepped out of my cab and approached a nearby constable.
    â€œI am not at liberty to divulge any further information, Inspector Lestrade’s orders,” said he, dutifully.
    â€œBut I am a friend of the Honourable Ronald Adair; may I not speak to Inspector Lestrade? I am perhaps the last person who saw the victim alive. My name is Wilson.”
    I have to say that, although I have often been rather discourteous to Lestrade in the past, it was a familiar pleasure to be in his presence upon a case once more, if only to be amused by his somewhat odd appearance. He combined a bullish physique with rather rodent-like features, and was famed for his headstrong instinctive attitude toward detection. Though clearly he had gained little in the art of deduction, it was at least clear from the tweaking of his wire-thin moustache and control of the situation that he had lost none of his commendable vigour and zealous temperament.
    â€œInspector Lestrade, sir,” said my escort. “This gentleman, Mr Wilson, claims to have information regarding the victim.”
    â€œAh yes, thank you, Mayhew,” said he, then to me, “Please follow me; we shall go somewhere slightly more private.” I followed Lestrade out of the hallway and into one of the small downstairs smoking-rooms. It was adequately furnished, though clearly not used for entertaining guests.
    â€œYou received my wire, Lestrade?” I enquired.
    â€œIndeed I did, Mr Holmes; a pleasure to have you back amongst us, sir,” said he, grasping my hand firmly.
    â€œI should think so, three unsolved murders this year alone, and from my brief exposure to this residence, soon to be a fourth.”
    â€œWe can’t all go on holiday for three years and return at our leisure, can we?”
    â€œQuite, but I must say it appears that you need the practice far more than I.”
    â€œWell, why don’t you show off like you used to then? I assume you aren’t here by coincidence. How about you inform me of what is going on here tonight? I tell you it’s a real corker, and I, for one, am stumped.”
    â€œYou are quite right, Lestrade, I am not here by coincidence; currently I am pursuing a case on behalf of my brother, Mycroft. There are some highly suspicious activities occurring within the upper-strata of the British Government, and it appears that the Honourable Ronald Adair was rather embroiled in it. I cannot tell you the details, Lestrade, but if you provide me with the facts, I can give you the method of murder and the identity of the murderer himself.”
    â€œWell, it’s good to see you’ve lost none of your confidence, Mr Holmes. See what you make of this one. The Honourable Ronald Adair returned here at ten o’clock this evening, from the Bagatelle Card Club. He entered his sitting-room, found upon the second floor; a fire had been previously lit and the window opened as it smoked. His