1"
The"first"murders"
Sherlock Holmes became a detective in 1877, four
years before I met him. At first he enjoyed every
case, but soon he began to find the work easy. Ten
years later he was famous, but he was unhappy and
bored.
'The modern criminal is so painfully slow and stupid,'
he often said. 'I need an interesting case, Watson,
one which will make me think. Are there no clever
thieves or murderers in the world these days?'
It is dangerous for a very intelligent man like Holmes
to become bored. Some days he grew violent and
once he shot several bullets into the walls of his room.
He also began to use cocaine.
Does my reader know about cocaine, I wonder?
Perhaps it is no longer used in the world of 1976. It is a
useful medicine, and doctors rightly give it to patients
who are in pain. But Holmes had no disease of the
body. He used cocaine as a drug, because he
enjoyed it. It made the long days seem more
exciting. Soon he needed it every day, and could
not live without it.
I told him to stop, but he only laughed at me. 'My
dear fellow, I wish I could! Only bring me an
interesting case, a difficult problem, and I shall forget
my cocaine!'
One day in 1888 a note arrived from Scotland Yard.
When Holmes opened it, he laughed and jumped to
his feet. 'Inspector Lestrade wishes to see me,' he
said. 'The police need my help, Watson. You know, of
course, that someone is murdering women in
Whitechapel?'
'Of course,' I replied. 'The newspapers are full of it.
Three women are dead, and the police seem unable
to find the killer. Everybody knows this. Life is cheap
on the streets of White chapel for women of that
kind. What can interest you in their miserable
deaths?'
'It is an extraordinary case, Watson,' Holmes cried. 'I
have been studying it. I knew the police would need
my help. Shall I tell you the facts?'
'Please do!' I said. Was this going to be one of
Sherlock Holmes's great cases? I hoped that at last
he had found something to interest him.
'The women who died were poor, and neither young
nor beautiful,' he told me. 'So they were not killed for
money or for love. Why were they killed? That is one
mystery. There is another. Each woman was killed
with a knife. The word "killed", Watson, cannot
describe the violent and terrible ways in which they
were murdered. They were cut up like meat. The
stomach of one was opened, the head of another
almost cut from her body. But this is not the worst.
There are things that even the newspapers will not
describe.'
He showed me a doctor's report on one of the
bodies. As I read it, a sick feeling carne over me.
'What man could do this?' I asked. 'What possible
reason could he have to do this to a woman? Why,
Holmes, why?' He smiled coolly at me.
'Why indeed? That is the real interest of this case. In
themselves, these deaths are not important. Women
like that are murdered every week. But why does this
killer cut them up? Why rip the bodies to pieces with
a knife? That is the question which makes this case so
exciting!,
If anyone can stop these terrible murders, Holmes is
that man, I thought. This case could become his
greatest success.
At that moment somebody knocked at the door.
'Ah, come in, Inspector,' Holmes said. 'I understand
you have finally decided to ask me to help you
catch this Whitechapel murderer.'
Inspector Lestrade did not look very pleased. 'Not at
all, Mr Holmes,' he said. 'I was just passing Baker
Street, and I know you find these cases interesting.'
'How kind!' Holmes said. 'Please tell us. When did you
arrest the killer? I am a little sad, I must say, to find
that you have done it all without me.'
'We haven't arrested anyone yet,' Lestrade said, 'but I
am very hopeful, Mr Holmes. You see, I have in my
pocket a letter from the killer himself The smile left Holmes's face. He was suddenly serious.
'May I see the letter?' he asked.
It was written in red, and the name at the bottom
was 'Jack the Ripper'. I still remember something of
what it said:
I love my work. My knife is nice and ready for the next
job. I can't wait to rip again.
Holmes turned to Lestrade. 'What are you doing to
stop this murderer?' he asked. 'It is clear that he will
kill again very soon.'
'Every extra policeman that we have will be in
Whitechapel at night,' Lestrade said. 'And we have a
little surprise for Jack the Ripper.' He looked at us
importantly. 'Some of our best and bravest
policemen will be dressed in women's clothes,' he
said. 'We will stop at nothing to catch this criminal.'
There was a moment's silence. Then Holmes and I
looked at one another and we both began to laugh.
We could not stop.
Lestrade turned very red. 'I see you are amused by
murder,' he said. 'You do not wish to work with us.
Well, I am a busy man. I must leave you. Goodbye,
Mr Holmes. Goodbye, doctor.'
Holmes stopped laughing imme