Epilogue

We were driving along with the top of the Corvette down to take advantage of the late sun.

Mike was leaning out to scrutinize passers-by for criminal tendencies.

I was letting my mind go into neutral as I turned over the events of the last few days. What should I have done differently? What might I have done better? How could I have done any of it without the shadowy man at my side? And why was I more and more beginning to feel that there was something in Holmes’s insistence that all of this had happened before in some other time and place that was becoming increasingly real to me? That was a three Jack Daniels problem for another time.

I turned to say so to Holmes and found to my surprise that he looked more ectoplasmic than usual. To be perfectly honest, he was fading before my eyes. Seeing my surprise and concern, he leaned across and would have touched my arm, if he could.

“Old fellow, something tells me that my time here is run. I sense that I am needed elsewhere.” Then, seeing my obvious distress— “But never fear, that same something tells me that neither time nor space shall ever quite separate the old firm. I hope I have been of some help. And as for you, Watson, I never cease to learn from you.

“If you ever need me, Watson, all you have to do is whistle. You know to whistle, don’t you? You put your lips together—and blow.”

“But Holmes,” I cried, “that’s what Bacall says to Bogart in To Have and Have Not. How did you …?”

But I was alone in the Corvette, except for Mike in the shotgun seat, who was baying at the sky.

THE BEGINNING …