The Confrontation

 

Utterson was kind enough, thanks to Holmes’s investigation, to offer us an invitation to Jekyll’s wedding. Watson and I carefully devised a plan because, despite not hearing anything of Hyde since his last confrontation with ‘Holmes,’ I remained unconvinced that he was actually gone.

I got to the church early, taking a seat in the balcony. Once the other guests began to filter in about forty minutes later, I kept a careful eye out for Watson. He chose a pew closer to the back and glanced up at me. Our eyes met and we nodded to one another.

The wedding began not fifteen minutes later. Everyone took their positions and, as the traditional music began to play, Emma walked down the aisle on Utterson’s arm. When they were in front of the priest, Utterson kissed her hand, then placed it in Jekyll’s, and took his place as Jekyll’s best man. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Henry Jekyll appeared to be in complete control. Our plan would still commence, however.

When the priest said, “Let anyone who thinks these two should not be joined speak now, or forever hold their peace,” I heard the faint creak of the church’s door opening. As the priest opened his mouth to continue, I heard a loud voice say, “I wish to contest this union.”

There were numerous gasps and everyone turned around to see who would dare stand in a house of God and interrupt a wedding. I smirked to myself, because I knew exactly who would dare it.

When Jekyll turned and saw who the voice belonged to, his eyes narrowed. My hand involuntarily went to the Punjab lasso at my hip, but I forced myself to be still. This was still Jekyll, after all. An angry Jekyll, but then, we were disrupting his wedding day.

“On what grounds are you contesting this union, Detective?” Jekyll demanded.

Sherlock Holmes caned up the aisle. “I doubt that you would want me to say it aloud, Henry.” He came right up to Jekyll and Emma and removed a vial I knew was labeled HJ-7 from his coat. He spoke quiet words I knew only Jekyll and Emma would hear and only Jekyll would understand.

The people in the church began to murmur curiously. I caught Watson’s eye again and we exchanged a worried look. Suppose this didn’t work? Suppose Jekyll - alone - had been able to do what Holmes and I had only accomplished together? We hadn’t figured it as likely, but then, splitting one’s mind through chemical means wasn’t likely, either. The three of us had been counting on the emotional turmoil it would cause Jekyll if someone contested his marriage to be enough to turn him into Hyde. Or, as Holmes hypothesized, get him to begin showing signs of holding back a transformation, which any of the three of us - Holmes, Watson, or myself - would recognize so as to remove Jekyll from the scene.

Finally, Holmes stepped back from the couple, gave a slight bow, and went to the first pew, where the guests grudgingly made room for him. I heard Jekyll attempt to make a joke about Holmes’s appearance, and then the priest pointedly asked if he may continue.

It happened as he got to the last lines after the rings were exchanged. Jekyll swayed slightly, regained his footing, and swayed again. No one appeared to notice except Holmes, Watson, and me. But then Jekyll nearly fell into Utterson and I barely caught the words, “Help me out of here, John.”

“Henry?” Utterson and Emma both echoed.

Jekyll looked at Emma, then around, and shook his head wildly. “No. No! Not now! Ah!” He grabbed his abdomen and doubled over, pain contorting his features. “John, get me out of here . . .”

Emma went to move closer, but Jekyll ordered her, through gritted teeth, to stay away.

“Henry . . .” Holmes said, already on his feet.

“Get me out of here,” he repeated. Then he seemed to find a burst of strength, straightened, and attempted to run down the aisle to the door of the church.

“Henry!” Emma shouted.

“No! Not now, not like this! This will kill me! Dear God, please don’t let her see me like this! Not on our wedding day!”

“Henry!” Emma shouted again as Jekyll tripped and fell, sprawling out on his stomach in the aisle.

A man I recognized as Simon Stride approached Jekyll and knelt down, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. I couldn’t help wondering why Stride was there. Unless he was invited out of respect for the late Sir Danvers.

Before I could speculate further, I saw Jekyll’s head move and before I could shout a warning - before any of us could shout a warning - Stride was grasped by the throat.

“Henry!” Utterson yelled sharply.

“There is no Henry,” he said, getting to his feet and turning around, squeezing the other man’s throat so he gurgled grotesquely. “Only Edward Hyde.”

“No! Henry, let him go,” Emma begged.

Stride managed to choke out, “You’re a monster.”

That, strangely, seemed to infuriate Hyde. “I’m the monster?” He laughed. A cold chilling laugh that I’m sure sent a shiver up and down the spines of all the ladies, and many men, present. “No, I think not, Stride. For at least my wickedness is out there for all to see. You, however, are truly the worst kind of monster. A hypocrite who pretends to be both worldly and good. Yet inside, you are ugly as sin!”

Distantly, I realized Holmes was carefully trying to approach Hyde; Watson was moving as well, to cut Hyde off from leaving the church. My hand tightened around my lasso again, but I knew this was Holmes’s fight now. No longer were they two wolves. This time they were hunter and prey.

Hyde noticed the stealthy movement around him and focused his glare on Holmes. “Don’t move.”

Holmes stopped. Hyde stared at him thoughtfully. “I know you . . . Don’t I?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Holmes replied. “I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean when I say I was not quite myself at the time.”

“Ha! I knew you were the one to steal the formula, even before showing it to Jekyll today. Yet you blamed its disappearance on me. I should release this . . .” he looked at Stride disgustedly, “ . . . and kill you instead.”

Hyde’s grip seemed to loosen around Stride’s throat and everyone but Holmes and me got an expression of relief on their faces.

“But then, I’d rather kill you both,” Hyde said a moment later, snapping Stride’s neck impossibly quickly and letting his body fall to the ground.

Emma and several other ladies let out short screams. Utterson cried out, “Henry, what have you done?”

Hyde whirled on Utterson. “There is no Henry. Only Edward Hyde!” he repeated viciously.

“No! That can’t be true,” Emma cried, pushing her way past Holmes to stand before Hyde. Holmes tried to grab her arm, but she slipped past him too smoothly.

Hyde glanced at his hand and hers before grabbing her roughly. She let out a short cry that was cut off when Hyde sneered, “We appear to be married, my dear. Shall I carry you off to our bridal bed?”

“Hyde, stop!” Holmes shouted, moving several steps closer. “She’s no part of this. Don’t harm her!”

“Then don’t come near me! Do not touch Edward Hyde, or before God, she dies!”

I watched Holmes, paralyzed by indecision for perhaps the first time in his life. There was no way to discreetly give or to surprise Hyde by injecting the perfected serum into his veins if Holmes couldn’t come any nearer. We knew it would save him, but Holmes wouldn’t risk another life, especially not that of another woman.

Surprisingly enough, Emma seemed to know what to do. The tension left her body as she said, “Henry . . . I know you can hear me. Please, let me go. I know you, and I know you do not want to hurt me. Please.” She slowly turned so she was fully facing Hyde and put her hand on his cheek, caressing it as she looked into his eyes. “Please. For us. For our love. Let me go.”

Hyde blinked and I saw his hold on Emma loosen as he staggered back a step. Holmes reached forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her away and placing himself between her and Hyde. Hyde . . . or had Jekyll regained control?

“Henry?” Holmes said questioningly to the man who had fallen to his knees. “Is it you?”

“Yes. Dear God, what have I done?” Jekyll looked up. “Holmes . . . I have to be freed from this Hell.”

“Henry, I have the perfected serum here. This can - -”

“No! No more serums, no more chemicals.” He looked past Holmes and focused on Utterson. “John, come here.”

Utterson stepped forward cautiously. He stopped a foot or so closer to Jekyll than Holmes was.

“You promised. Do it now. I can’t fight him much longer.”

“Henry, I . . .”

“You promised!” Jekyll yelled.

Holmes looked from one man to the other. “Don’t throw your life away like this, Henry,” he said harshly. I suddenly realized that Jekyll had extracted the same promise from Utterson that Holmes had from me. Should he fail in his attempts, Utterson was to kill him. “What about everything you hoped to accomplish?”

Jekyll looked at Holmes, then gazed sadly around the church. I knew not only what Jekyll saw, but how he felt about the scene in front of him. Stride’s body, Emma in tears, the guests cowering away, fearful of the man they had once so respected and admired. “Whatever I could have hoped to accomplish has vastly been outweighed by the horrors I have accomplished. I can’t go on this way, Holmes. You don’t have the blood on your hands that I do.”

Then, before Holmes could protest, Jekyll stood, grabbed the sword at Utterson’s hip, and ran it through himself. Again, several ladies let out screams, and Emma ran to Jekyll’s side as he fell.

“Watson!” Holmes yelled.

Already moving, Watson was on Jekyll’s other side in seconds, but the man was already losing too much blood. Almost before Watson could find and apply pressure to the point of entry, Jekyll had breathed his last. Holmes knelt to close the man’s eyes and Emma bent down to kiss her fallen love’s lips one last time. “Rest, my tortured love. No one can harm you now.”

Holmes stood after Emma murmured her sentiment of love, and I saw a single tear escape, unchecked, down his cheek.