The Devonshire Epicurean Society

I was watching my poor friend, and yet - found it near impossible to take my eyes off of the unfortunate Miss Adler! The passing years had done little to dim her renowned beauty - the soft auburn hair, the intelligent blue eyes, and, most enticing - her petite, shapely figure and fair skin, now presented in the wickedest, most sinful manner imaginable! I rapidly felt a "stirring" in my loins, one such as I'd not known since I was a young lad! If I hadn't been both a married man, and a Christian one...

The infernal tempter continued: "How long has it been, man, since you've enjoyed yourself with one of the 'fairer sex?' How many years? How much longer will you continue to deny yourself the pleasure, living instead the solitary life of the ascetic intellectual, Holmes?"

It was then that I'd noticed something fascinating, yet dreadful to observe, overcoming Holmes' features. He said nothing, but - both by the expression on his face, and knowing him as well I did - I was certain that there was a titanic, powerful struggle occurring within, for the very sanity and soul of my dear friend. How many years, indeed, I couldn't help but wonder, had it been since he'd known the company of a compatible woman, "in the Biblical sense?" He'd always publicly eschewed such romantic notions and pursuits as mere "distractions" from his pursuit of his life's work; yet - still, I had my doubts about these convictions!

I'd suddenly remembered a former case we'd investigated almost a decade ago now, one in which a highly-principled, yet misguided contemporary of mine, a Dr. Henry Jeckyl, had attempted to prove the existence of the dual basic nature of man - one side good, the other, opposite one inclined towards evil - using himself as a "guinea pig" with the most disastrous of results! (see:"The Adventure of The Diabolical Doctor") Was that what was happening to my good friend now - had Holmes, indeed, his own "dark side," his own Edward Hyde kept hidden away all these years, denying it even to himself? And, was this malign alter ego now about to finally emerge to take total control?

Most likely sensing this him self, Moriarty persisted. He lifted a kitchen ladle, and scooping up some "sauce" from the bottom of the pan enclosing Miss Adler, he lifted it up, and proceeded to pour it onto her exposed genitalia, basting it! She gave a languorous shudder, almost as if in sexual ecstasy!

"Care to have a 'taste' before cooking?"

I broke away from the spell first, imploring him! "Holmes, for God's sake, man -look away!! Don't evenlistento the fiend!!"

After another long moment, Holmes did just that, sharply averting his eyes in an expression of either extreme disgust, or sublime desire! He then stared directly into Moriarty's evil countenance.

"Professor", he began slowly, "when I first had occasion to become aware of you, I thought you merely to be a 'criminal mastermind.' Then, with the passage of time, I discovered you to be both a blackguard and a scoundrel. But now - now that I see you clearly for who you really and truly are, I admit that I've greatly underestimated you! You, Sir," he came close to spitting out the words, "are the most FOUL and VILE creature alive - the very DEVIL Himself!! 'Get thee behind me, Satan' - and release Miss Adler AT ONCE!!"

"So," Moriarty fumed, "you reject my mostgenerousoffer, do you? After all the trouble and resources spent, to bring you a rehabilitation of your integrity? You spurn me?!"

"You're asmadas you areevil, Professor!!" Holmes declared.

"Then", the arch villain continued, "we have nothing more to discuss, save for the 'settling of old accounts'!"

He backed away from the poor woman, and - reaching underneath the table - withdrew a formidable-looking military saber, its' keen edge glinting in the electric light.

"It's 'endgame,' Mr. Holmes! As I'd already explained - there's only the three of us now, plus the woman!" He paused. "May I presume you've come suitably prepared?"

Holmes stepped back from the table and Miss Adler, grasped the head of his elegant cane and, pulled out a sword-blade! He swished it about a few times in the air, testing its feel.

"I await your pleasure, Professor!"

"Mypleasure, Mister Holmes," Moriarty snarled, "is to see to your imminentdemise!'En garde', Sir!!"

And at that, the two antagonists quickly advanced towards each other, to duel with their chosen weapons!

"Holmes...!" I warned.

"Stay out of this, Watson - and, look to Miss Adler! This is between the two of us, now!"

They went at it, and each other, with both a vigor and a viciousness born out of both a deep mutual enmity, and yet a curious and perverse respect! "KLING!CLANG! KLENG!" sounded metal against metal, the only other sounds in the thickly walled room being the symphonic music record, the crackling of the open-hearth fire, and the pitiable whimpering of the captive Miss Adler! I tried in vain to free her from her damnable bondage, but - the twining-cord proved too tough for my humble pocket-knife, and the only other objects in the room sharp enough to do justice - aside from the combatants' weapons - were some butcher knives, obviously meant for the most dire of purposes, across the way near the oven, and I couldn't reach them! I could do little but cover the dear lady's nudity with my dress-coat, and watch them in awe.

Holmes' renowned prowess as a "stick-man" was tested against Moriarty's reinvigorated strength. One's skillful parries and thrusts were barely enough to counter the other's brutal, powerful lunges and slashes. Their shadows were silhouetted against the brick walls by the light source, making them seem larger than life! In the process, they exchanged curses and insults!

Holmes:"Monster!" "Degenerate!"

Moriarty:"Fool!" Meddler!" Hypocrite!"

At one point, the fiend had almost "turned the tables" on Holmes, cornering him very close to the oven's mouth! Sensing victory at hand, he tried to force him into it!

"Die,damnyou, DIE!! Andstaydead this time!!"

But, Holmes quickly rallied, and pushed Moriarty back away, regaining "the high ground" once again.

Infuriated, the madman took a wide swing at the great detective, and - after he'd dodged it just in time - Moriarty's blade slashed open a gas feed line for the demonic oven, starving it of fuel for its fire. The gentle hiss of invisible gas escaping into the room sounded a warning!

Finally, Holmes cornered the Professor near the oven, and deftly knocked the saber out of his hand. Then his sword "snicked" Moriarty's chef's jacket buttons aside, opening up his tunic, pinning him at the throat with the blade tip! A triumphal smile played upon his lips.

"Now, Professor," he mocked, "You were saying about endgame, and settling old accounts? Watson!" He glanced at me. "Cover the man, whilst I free Miss Adler!"

I came over towards him, training my revolver on the villain, as Holmes used his cane-sword to cut the lady's bonds. When he removed her gag, she started crying and sobbing uncontrollably, her delicate body shaking as he wrapped his own cloak about her. "There, there, my dear woman," he soothed, "it's all but over, now! We shall see to your safety from here on in!"

Watching this, I'd but took my eyes off of Moriarty for a moment, as we heard:

"So - you think you've won, do you, Holmes - Watson?"

As we turned to regard him, we saw him take a particularly lethal-looking handgun of some unknown, foreign manufacture from inside his ripped tunic and level it at us!

"Meet the future of modern weaponry, gentlemen! It's a 'machine pistol' - an automatic sidearm that holds an ammunition clip of twelve rounds! I can get off three or four shots to your one, from your antiquated revolver, Doctor! You forget, Holmes, that I always prepare a contingency plan, to fall back on in case of a reversal of fortune! The three of you, will not leave this building - alive!"

"Moriarty, don't be a damned fool!" I cried. "There's gas issuing from a ruptured line! If you fire that, we'll all go up in flames - we'llallbe dead!"

"Then," the fiend replied, "perhaps it's for the best! We'll all perish, together!"

"Holmes!"

"Yes, I know, Watson! Make haste - and, run for the front of the building! Keep your weapon trained on him!"

I did as he commanded, as the three of us - Holmes, Miss Adler, and myself - backed away as quickly as we could towards the street entrance, all the while keeping an eye on the mad professor!

"To paraphrase Milton," he cried after us, "'Tis better to burn in Hell, than serve time in Heaven!!" He took aim with the pistol.

"WATSON!"

"YES, I'M COMING - "

"RUNFOR IT!!"

"CRACK-BANG-CRACK-CRACK!

KWAA-FOOM!!

The sudden gas explosion knocked us all three - Holmes, Miss Adler, and myself - off of our feet just as we'd barely managed to escape through the shop's front entrance, with a concussive blast that literally threw us into the street outside! This was accompanied by a huge, billowing wave of flames, as debris - bricks, mortar, glass, store fixtures, cakes, and breads - came raining down all about us! We'd covered and hid ourselves from the barrage as best we could - the lady, still wearing only Holmes' coat, being the most vulnerable, as he tried to shield her with his own body. As we waited for the dust to settle, we turned back to view what was left of the bakery.

Very little, indeed. It was a veritable funeral pyre of flames, and burning material. It seemed quite certain that nothing - and, most importantly, nobody- could've withstood either the blast, or the ensuing fire. We gazed upon it in wonderment.

"Mad!" I declared of the now surely dead Professor Moriarty. "Mad, and consumed by his own hatred - for you, Holmes!"

"As fitting an end as one could conceive of, for so diabolical a fiend!" agreed Holmes.

We slowly got to our feet, and surveyed our injuries. I'd apparently suffered some superficial cuts and bruises, as well as considerable damage to my rented eveningwear. I briefly wondered how I was going to explain this to the haberdashery! I next regarded Holmes, who seemed at first to be no worse off - until I'd noticed a slight trickle of blood trailing down his upper right arm!

"Holmes!" I said in alarm, "you've been hit, man, by one of Moriarty's bullets! Let me have a look at that!"

"It's quite all right, Watson," my friend observed, though speaking through clenched teeth, as he clutched at it with his free hand, whilst still holding onto the woman, "it's only a flesh wound, passed through the meat of my arm!"

As he staggered upright, I glanced over Miss Adler's condition. Though dirty and disheveled, as were we all, she seemed to have weathered the ordeal rather well, I'd thought. Still, she was shaking and trembling, racked by sobs, barely able to speak.

"Oh GOD! THANK YOU! Thank youboth, gentlemen - Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson!! If it hadn't been for the two of you, I'd - I'd..." her dreadful, narrowly-escaped fate had reappeared before her, and she broke down into tears yet again.

"There, there, my dear woman - it's all over, all behind us now!" He drew his coat closer around her, protecting what was left of her modesty, then glanced sharply at me. "Watson," he inquired, "do you still have your medical kit?"

I checked my outer coat-pocket - my personal "traveling" version was still there. "Yes, I have it."

"Then, please - 'the needle', if you'd be so kind?"

I regarded him suspiciously. What a time for...

"No, not THAT one! A mild sedative, if you'd please, for Miss Adler, here! And," he grimaced a bit while switching arms to hold her with, "morphine for myself, if you'd have some?"

I unfolded my kit, and prepared two hypodermics as requested. By now, the explosion had begun to attract a sizeable crowd of onlookers from further up the street, and we instructed them to summon the nearest city fire brigade lest the surrounding buildings became engulfed. Some of them quickly did so, and inside of thirty minutes, a horse-drawn water-pumper and ladder wagon came hurrying down the narrow street, alarm bell clanging.

* * *

It was almost an hour after the explosion, just past midnight, when several hansom cabs carrying both Inspector Lestrade and his men came racing up the street. As they came to a halt, they all leapt out beside us, to view the gradually dying fires being extinguished by the firemen. The intrepid Lestrade spoke first.

"Awful sorry, Mr. Holmes - the delay was unavoidable, our train got switched onto the wrong track somehow, so we got off in Cheltenham, and caught a ride with a lorry-driver headed into town." He took in the scene of fiery devastation. "GoodLord!What inblazeshappened here?"

"The 'spectacular end' - of a notorious criminal career, Lestrade!" Holmes grimly remarked.

"Then - Moriarty? He's...?"

In reply, my friend simply turned back to view the smoldering ruins.

"That's onehellof a way, to escape justice!" the inspector offered. He then observed the barely-clad Miss Adler, slumped in both fatigue and sedation, in Holmes' arms.

"Oh,crikey- not twice in one night!"

"I'll explain all later, Inspector - right now, this poor woman must be sent straightaway to Queen's Mercy Hospital, I believe that's the nearest one to us, to the critical-care ward, before she goes into shock!"

"Yes, right! Alright, Miss, please come this way." Lestrade said as he assisted Holmes in gently helping Miss Adler into one of the waiting hansom cabs. "Don't you worry none, we'll find you some more decent and proper clothing, and you'll be there before you know it! Careful, now..." as he lifted her up and into it.

The driver wheeled it around, and headed off at a fast trot, as both Holmes and I caught the next one out, and away from the scene.

* * *

CONCLUSION/EPILOGUE:

And, so ended the dreadful affair of both Moriarty's return, and "The Devonshire Epicurean Society".

Well, almost - not quite, however.

During the subsequent raid on the Devonshire mansion, there was found a large dog kennel, containing four or five rather large, vicious, hungry mastiffs, to whom - it was later learned - were fed the inedible "left-overs". A makeshift crematorium was also discovered, to dispose of any skeletal remains.

The weeks to come were a flurry of both scandal and horror by the public. The exact details of this venal group's crimes were mercifully kept out of the Fleet Street papers, by gentle - though thorough - persuasion by both Holmes and Scotland Yard. Instead, they referred to the discovery of the fates of previously missing young women as the work of an entirely new breed of criminal, in the wake of the now infamous "Jack the Ripper" serial killers. The perpetrators, most prominently those of noble rank, strenuously denied any knowledge of the "ingredients" of their ghoulish dinners, feigning indignation in return! As often happens in such events, through subtle influence from the "very top" - in effect, the Crown - no charges were brought against any of them. "Rank had its' privileges," indeed! Their parts in the gruesome affair gradually faded from the limelight. Other charges, from "accessory to murder," to lesser ones, were successfully brought and prosecuted against the Clemstra woman and several other of the "kitchen staff", and they ended up serving time in one or two of His Majesty's prisons.

As for the cannibal "chefs," Gurgurant and Ludovico, they were deported to their home countries of both Germany and Spain, respectively, where their eventual fate remains a mystery to this very day. The diabolical Msr. Dolcett was also extradited to France, where a most sensational trial was promised. However, after some delay, a group of noted physicians of the day, mainly psychiatrists, including our good friend Dr. Freud, examined his mental state and declared him mentally unfit to stand trial. Whereupon, the French justices ordered him confined to their most prominent asylum for the criminally insane, where much to both Holmes' and my regret, he remains to this day, virtually unpunished! It is said he spends much of his waking hours sketching and painting - as "medically-ordered therapy" - some of the most morally-unsettling and revolting scenes, involving mainly nude, beautiful young women being "tortured" by both skewering and roasting them alive on demonic spits, as well as other sadistic methods. And, much like his notorious countryman and predecessor, the Marquis de Sade, said "artworks" are then smuggled out of his keep, and sold on a clandestine black market, to the most depraved of "collectors", where they fetch quite a tidy sum, so I've heard.

Of worthy note: at that time, as well as of this writing, there were (and are still) no laws on the British books prohibiting cannibalism! The same alarming situation existed on the Continent, as well. Holmes' brother Mycroft, through his Whitehall and Diogenes Club connections, lobbied both the Prime Minister, as well as our new king, Edward II, to enact new legislation to remedy this. While efforts were made, and debate began in Parliament, the effort eventually proved fruitless. Even though the House of Commons approved it unanimously, it soon stalled out in the House of Lords, either inexplicably or, indeed, expectedly, and the campaign eventually died out.

As for the underground "cannibal café society" revealed to us by the evil Professor on that fateful spring evening, there were actually some indications - mysteriously-disappearing young girls and women, shadowy gatherings at night, whispered about in only elite circles - of such a hideous network in various countries, notably France, Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, and most ominously, Germany. Of course, there was never enough hard evidence found to stand up in court, especially now that their ringleader - Moriarty - was gone from this life. "A conspiracy of silence", Holmes termed it.

On the matter of further criminal charges, it was my very real worry that both he and I - due to our charade at that awful dinner party - might formally be charged with "desecration of the dead." However, after some formal negotiations with both the Yard, and the King's Bench, with Lestrade serving as our go-between, it was understood that these said indignities were unavoidable as a matter-of-course during our investigation, and we were eventually cleared.

As for the most unfortunate family of the poor, dear Miss Audrey Ermine, Holmes took it upon himself to formally notify them of her death, avoiding any upsetting details, other than to gravely offer that it had occurred under "the most dreadful of circumstances." The humble Mr. Ermine and his equally dear wife took this news as best they could, but it was heart wrenching still, as they grieved and mourned for their tragic loss! Because Holmes had received some of the reward monies offered by both the families of the missing young girls, and the police, he offered to pay for both her funeral service and burial, at their home in Yorkshire - closed casket, of course. During the church choir's rendition of the traditional hymn "Jerusalem," as I stood next to my friend in the pew, I'd thought - just for a moment or so - I'd caught a glimpse of a tear in the corner of his eye! I could scarce believe it as, save for that fateful night, I'd practically never before seen such a public display of outright sentiment on his part! Then, I'd remembered that this particular song was one of Holmes' favorites, and thought nothing more of the matter.

And as for the rescued girls and young women - most were all joyously reunited with their respective concerned families, and worked to put the awful affair behind them as quickly as possible. But - most curiously, at least several of them soon voiced the genuine, sincere desire to return to the scene of the crime, and even resume their intended fates as prospective "girl-roasts!" Once again, our eminent colleague Dr. Freud was called in to consult, and after examining the young ladies, pronounced his diagnosis of "brain-washing" by the fiendish Dolcett and his accomplices, and prescribed a lengthy regimen of what he termed "de-programming," a revolutionary new psychiatric concept for its time, as the only cure.