February 1891 a woman called Flora White was killed with a knife in Whitechapel. Everyone thought that the murderer was Jack the Ripper. I alone knew that this was not true. I was sure that 'Jack' had not killed the last two women to die on the streets of Whitechapel.
Soon after this, Holmes left for France. He sent me a strange letter from there which worried me very much. I could not understand a word of it and began to wonder if he was taking cocaine again. This was his letter:
If you remember the Berlin case of 'one in three', Watson, everything will be clear to you because . . . the famous German professor in Paris is no longer alive. I heard he was recently killed while studying flora in the White Mountains of my favourite island. Letters and books are appearing soon. Read them quickly but carefully, as I cannot always follow or understand him myself. Last night I dreamt and the next day suddenly understood this problem. The time comes when he and others will be free - not an easy escape.
About three weeks after that, I was sitting alone at home one evening. My wife was away on a visit. Suddenly, the door opened, and Holmes came in. He then ran to the window, closed it and locked it.
'Holmes,' I cried. 'What has happened? You look terrible!' He looked old and ill, and he was shaking with tiredness. 'What is it?' I asked. 'Are you afraid of something?'
'Of someone,' he said. 'Did you not get my letter?'
'Yes, but I didn't understand it. What is wrong?' Holmes looked at me sadly. 'You didn't understand it. Is your wife here?'
'No, she is a way. Do you want to sleep here? I shall make sure that you are in no danger.'
He shook his head. 'I cannot rest anywhere. If I sleep, he will win! I cannot stay here. I would bring evil into your house. But you can help me, Watson. I must leave the country tomorrow. Will you come with me?'
'Where are you going, Holmes?'
'Going? I am not going anywhere. I am trying to escape from him. But he will find me again. Everywhere I go, he will follow me.'
'Who is he, Holmes?' I asked. 'Professor Moriarty, of course!' 'But Moriarty is dead,' I said.
'Dead!' he screamed. 'He is trying to kill me! How can he be dead?'
'But you told me that he was dead.'