It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write thesethe last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts bywhich my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes was distinguished. In anincoherent and， as I deeply feel， an entirely inadequate fashion， Ihave endeavored to give some account of my strange experiencesin his company from the chance which first brought us togetherat the period of the “Study in Scarlet，” up to the time of hisinterference in the matter of the “Naval Treaty”—an interferencewhich had the unquestionable effect of preventing a seriousinternational complication. It was my intention to have stoppedthere， and to have said nothing of that event which has created avoid in my life which the lapse of two years has done little to fill.
My hand has been forced， however， by the recent letters in whichColonel James Moriarty defends the memory of his brother， andhave no choice but to lay the facts before the public exactlyas they occurred. I alone know the absolute truth of the matter，and I am satisfied that the time has come when no good purposeto be served by its suppression. As far as I know， there havebeen only three accounts in the public press： that in the Journalde Genève on May 6th， 1891， the Reuter’s despatch in the Englishpapers on May 7th， and finally the recent letter to which I havealluded. Of these the first and second were extremely condensed，while the last is， as I shall now show， an absolute perversion of thefacts. It lies with me to tell for the first time what really took placebetween Professor Moriarty and Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
It may be remembered that after my marriage， and mysubsequent start in private practice， the very intimate relationswhich had existed between Holmes and myself became to someextent modified. He still came to me from time to time whenhe desired a companion in his investigation， but these occasionsgrew more and more seldom， until I find that in the year 1890Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes 835
there were only three cases of which I retain any record. Duringthe winter of that year and the early spring of 1891， I saw in thepapers that he had been engaged by the French government upona matter of supreme importance， and I received two notes fromHolmes， dated from Narbonne and from Nimes， from which Igathered that his stay in France was likely to be a long one. Itwas with some surprise， therefore， that I saw him walk into myconsulting-room upon the evening of April 24th. It struck me thathe was looking even paler and thinner than usual.
“Yes， I have been using myself up rather too freely，” heremarked， in answer to my look rather than to my words； “I havebeen a little pressed of late. Have you any objection to my closingyour shutters？”
The only light in the room came from the lamp upon the tableat which I had been reading. Holmes edged his way round the walland flinging the shutters together， he bolted them securely.
“You are afraid of something？” I asked.
“Well， I am.”
“Of what？”
“Of air-guns.”
“My dear Holmes， what do you mean？”
“I think that you know me well enough， Watson， to understandthat I am by no means a nervous man. At the same time， it isstupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognize danger whenit is close upon you. Might I trouble you for a match？” He drew inthe smoke of his cigarette as if the soothing influence was gratefulto him.
“I must apologize for calling so late，” said he， “and I mustfurther beg you to be so unconventional as to allow me to leaveyour house presently by scrambling over your back garden wall.”
“But what does it all mean？” I asked.
He held out his hand， and I saw in the light of the lamp thattwo of his knuckles were burst and bleeding.
“It is not an airy nothing， you see，” said he， smiling. “On thecontrary， it is solid enough for a man to break his hand over. IsMrs. Watson in？”
“She is away upon a visit.”
“Indeed！ You are alone？”
“Quite.”
“Then it makes it the easier for me to propose that you shouldcome away with me for a week to the Continent.”
“Where？”
“Oh， anywhere. It’s all the same to me.”
There was something very strange in all this. It was notHolmes’s nature to take an aimless holiday， and something about836 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
his pale， worn face told me that his nerves were at their highesttension. He saw the question in my eyes， and， putting his finger-tipstogether and his elbows upon his knees， he explained the situation.
“You have probably never heard of Professor Moriarty？” said he.
“Never.”
“Ay， there’s the genius and the wonder of the thing！” he cried.
The man pervades London， and no one has heard of him. That’swhat puts him on a pinnacle in the records of crime. I tell youWatson， in all seriousness， that if I could beat that man， if I couldfree society of him， I should feel that my own career had reachedits summit， and I should be prepared to turn to some more placidline in life. Between ourselves， the recent cases in which I havebeen of assistance to the royal family of Scandinavia， and to theFrench republic， have left me in such a position that I couldcontinue to live in the quiet fashion which is most congenialto me， and to concentrate my attention upon my chemicalresearches. But I could not rest， Watson， I could not sit quiet inmy chair， if I thought that such a man as Professor Moriarty werewalking the streets of London unchallenged.”
“What has he done， then？”