'And your letter, telling Lestrade that I was the
Whitechapel murderer. What rubbish! How Scotland
Yard would laugh! But I have the letter here - 1 saw it
in your cook's hand and took it from her while you
were calling the cab. You have failed, Moriarty. I
have enjoyed making you run around Europe with
me, but now you must die.'
He took out a long knife.
'Holmes!' I cried. 'I am Watson, your friend, Watson! I
have tried to save you - save you from yourself and
from the police!' He held up the knife and stepped
towards me.
'If you kill me,' I screamed, 'Moriarty will win! That is
what he wants! Kill your only friend, and Moriarty has
won!'
I closed my eyes and waited for the pain and the
darkness. It did not come. I opened my eyes and
saw that Holmes was looking at me. He had put the
knife down. The look in his eyes was sadder than
anything that I had ever seen. He seemed to see far
into both the past and the future, and to find them
sad beyond words