Doctor Who_ All-Consuming Fire - Andy Lane [85]
Now, as I met his gaze, I tried to fathom something of the depth of purpose, the iron will, the phenomenal intellect that Professor Moriarty must possess. I failed. He could have been a minor bank manager or a crusty old prelate. He was unimpressive.
His head oscillated slightly from side to side. Holmes had described the phenomenon before, and even imitated it for me, but I still found myself slightly hypnotized by the motion. I found myself grasping for a stray butterfly of memory. I had read descriptions of symptoms such as his before, in an article by the French neurologist Gilles de la Tourette. The tics and twitches of the head, allied with the phenomenal quickness of thought and the relaxation of 'moral' guidance, were typical symptoms. Could it be that Professor Moriarty suffered from a minor form of Tourette's Syndrome?
'I do not intend to spend my time scrabbling around the floor for you, Mr Holmes,' Moriarty said quietly. 'I have done what I set out to do, and traced my missing men. They are beyond my reach now. Naught else remains. I shall return to England.'
'Really?' Holmes snapped back. 'You surprise me. Are there no dacoit or thuggee gangs with whom you can debate unusual techniques of murder?
Can you not spare a few weeks to travel to China and discuss plans for world domination with the Si Fan's Council of Seven?'
'Such sarcasm,' Moriarty whispered. 'You should take care. It may be the death of you.'
'Should I take that to be a threat?'
'I do not issue threats, Mr Holmes. Merely predictions.'
'Then I shall reply in kind. I shall see you in the dock ere long, Professor.
You have my word on it.'
Moriarty smiled: a thin, wintry flexing of the lips.
'Of what worth is the word of a drug addict?'
Holmes flinched. Moriarty turned to leave.
'Professor?'
He glanced over at me.
'Doctor Watson?'
I waved a hand to indicate the cavern and, in a wider sense, all that had occurred there.
'You seem remarkably unaffected by all of this. Does it not surprise you in any way?'
He thought for a moment.
'I have no expectations, therefore nothing that occurs in the world is a surprise. But, if it makes you feel better, the mathematics of folding higher dimensions are relatively simply. I am currently writing a paper on the subject. Perhaps I could send you a copy?'
'I cannot promise to understand it,' I rejoined.
'Nobody will understand it, apart from myself' He did not appear to be boasting.
'You don't want to be understood?' I was intrigued. Perhaps this provided the key to his character.
He gazed at me for a few long moments, his head moving like a cat eyeing up a bird, or a cobra preparing to strike.
'I merely wish to be noticed,' he said finally, and smiled slightly. He knew what I was digging for.
'That's hardly an excuse for your crimes,' Holmes interjected.
'It is not meant to be an excuse,' Moriarty said, still gazing at me. 'It is meant to be an explanation.'
He took a step toward me and held out an object in a thin hand. It was a page torn from a notebook, covered in a thin, spidery handwriting.
'You may find this advance preview of my paper useful,' he said.
And with that he left.
'If you've finished playing dominance games,' Bernice shouted from where she crouched, near to the scattered remnants of one of the fires, 'then you might be interested in this.'
I crumpled the piece of paper up and shoved it into a pocket. Holmes and I walked over to join Bernice whilst Roxton set to work cleaning the rifle with which he had shot the rakshassa. Moriarty's footsteps echoed for some little while as he climbed up the stairs towards the Nizam's palace.
Bernice was bending over the body of Surd, which. looked larger in death than it had in life. I bent and quickly checked the cadaver over. Most