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 immediately.
'Inspector,' he said, 'I want very much to work with you. Let us meet this afternoon to discuss our plans.'
This made Lestrade much happier.
When he had left, I said to Hol