A
Study In Satin
by Tigger
Date: March 10, 1911 Entry in the Journal of Miss Sherla Joan Holmes Location: The Basel Mountain Lodge Hotel, Basel, Switzerland. Time: 7:13 A.M. My Dear Doctor Watson: Even as I come to view my transformation as a bright new adventure, I am forcibly reminded that the every situation in this world does have it less attractive aspects. The cloud that supports the silver lining, if you will. I must tell you that I am rather offended by myself, but I am sitting here, listening to Katrina and Irene sleep, because of a nightmare. Can you credit this, old friend? I am unable to sleep because I am still badly unnerved by, of all things, a bad dream -an invention of my own subconscious mind. Well, I suppose that is one positive aspect of the incident. It took the creation of my own mind to cause me such distress. I am writing now in an attempt to exorcize this demon of my own making so that I may proceed with my plans. It began when we'd all retired for the night. As expected, we arrived in Basel too late to make connections with the train to Brienz, and so we bespoke a suite of rooms at the better of the two hostelries serving the railroad passengers. After a light dinner in the public room, we returned to our suite. I wanted to spend the night in Katrina's room, but since she is now "Karl", Irene said I was to remain with her in the other bed chamber. We did not want a hotel maid barging in on Irene's two "youngsters" and find them in bed together, or worse, engaged in lovemaking that might prove Karl to be Katrina. The beds were comfortable and warm, but I was most restless. I do not know why, but I was unable to settle my mind to sleep for several hours. Finally, well after one o'clock in the morning, Morpheus claimed me . . . ~---------------~ . . . . From his rocky perch, he watched as Watson and the constables walked away at last. Soon, he would be able to able to covertly negotiate his way carefully down from his hidden ledge back to the path. A brisk two-hour walk across the mountains would see him safely away from Meringen and whatever henchmen Moriarty might have brought with him on this foul mission. It would still be necessary to hide until the still- dangerous remnants of Moriarty's gang could be neutralized, particularly Moran and Gilbert, but time would be his ally once they believed he had died along with their happily-departed leader. Slowly, Holmes allowed his breathing, so long all but suspended, to return to normal. Rising to his knees, he put his head over the ledge to reconnoiter his path to the ground, when a huge rock missed exposed target by bare tenths of an inch. Instincts that had preserved his life through a thousand near fatal incidents saved him yet again as another heavy rock crashed off the ledge very close to where he had lain an instant earlier. *Up there . . . on the ledge . . . the silhouette of a man against the sun.* The arms raised another rock above the head, shading the glare and revealing a strangely shaped head and oddly stooped and rounded shoulders. An icy chill ran down Holmes spine as his mind screamed, *It CAN'T be! Moriarty is DEAD!* Holmes tried to move, but just as he reached his handhold, a small rock caught him full in the chest, knocking the breath from his body. His hands clutched at the moss-slick rock, and somehow managed to find purchase. With great care, he moved one foot down to find another foothold. A spray of small stones heralded another attack. Holmes looked up and what he saw froze his soul. A final rock glanced off his hand. Holmes felt his grip fail and then give way as the world slowly began to slip away, and the rushing rapids at the foot of the falls rushed up to catch him - his eyes fixed on the now feminine figure above him on the cliff . . . "NOOoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO" "Sherla! Wake up!" A sharp voice stung her ears and a sharper blow struck his. . . her face. "SHERLA!" "Wha. . where. . " Sherla's eyes came open, but could not reconcile what she saw with what her mind expected. Then a shadowed figure lit a bedside lamp and Sherla recognized, "Irene?" A comforting hand settled on Sherla's perspiring forehead. "Yes, dear. You were having a bad dream. . .a real curtain-call of a nightmare from the force of your thrashing and the sound of your screams. Heavens, child, but you are still shaking. Come, get up and sit in the chair by the fire while I get you a drink of water." The door burst open to admit a wild-eyed Katrina, a small revolver held in her hand. "What happened?" she shouted. "I heard a scream!" "Sherla has had a nightmare," Irene said as she handed her ward a filled glass. Katrina hurried to her lover and went down on one knee before Sherla. "Are you all right? It must have been a horrible dream for I have never heard you scream like that." Sherla took a deep drink from the water, holding the glass in two unsteady hands. "It was. . . it was so real and yet it wasn't. The ending was . . . wrong. . . It didn't really happen that way," she said, almost to herself. Irene came over and took the chair next to Sherla's, and reached across to help her steady the glass. "Perhaps if you told us about the dream, and about what really happened, it might help." After a few moments consideration, Sherla nodded. "It was about the first time. . . the first time I came to Meringen. . .and to the Falls of Reichenbach. I had arranged the destruction of his organization in England - Scotland Yard was to have taken him along with his entire gang. Moriarty knew that only my testimony would put him in prison, and had sworn to prevent, by any means possible, that outcome. So it was necessary to remove to the Continent for my own safety until Moriarty was safely in custody. Except that they missed getting Moriarty and one other gang member. The law successfully destroyed his London organization, but he escaped, and followed Watson and me to the Continent. It was in Meringen that I received word of Moriarty's escape, and knew that it would come down to he and I. "Watson and I stayed at a hotel down in Meringen, and undertook at day's hike to the small village of Rosenlaui. We had stopped to look upon the Falls when a stripling male caught up with us carrying a message for Watson. It indicated he was needed for an Englishwoman who was dreadfully ill, but would permit no Swiss physician to attend her. I urged him off, stating that I would continue on to our original destination and would meet him later back at the hotel." "It was a ploy?" Irene asked. "Your foe had caught up with you and used that note as a means to separate you from your friend?" "And so I had surmised myself. Not wanting Watson to be in the way, I sent him off. Moriarty arrived but moments later. We talked, rather amicably for two men who would shortly be at each other's throats, and I wrote what I thought would be a last note to Watson, setting it on a nearby boulder beneath my cigarette case." "Then you fought, and the world believed that you both were killed falling into the rocky chasm of the falls." Sherla nodded again. "Only I did not fall, thanks to my skill in certain Oriental fighting and wrestling techniques. Moriarty did, and until he gloatingly appeared in my rooms not two months ago, I had believed that he had been killed on the rocks for I saw him hit one before being carried away beneath the rushing waters. I can only deduce now that it was but a glancing blow of no real significance." "But why did you let the world believe you were dead if you had beaten the criminal?" Katrina asked, her face alight with curiosity and excitement. "Because Moriarty was not the only one who had escaped the police. His primary assistant, a former army officer by the name of Colonel Sebastian Moran, was still at large and would make my life not worth living if I returned to London. I decided to simulate my own death until such time as I could neutralize the threat that he, and Colonel Gilbert on the Continent, posed for Watson and myself. I hid on the ledge and allowed the police to reach the conclusion the evidence indicated. It seemed that everything was going perfectly, that is, until it came time for me to make my way back down the slippery rock cliff from my ledge to the path. Moriarty had not been alone. Moran had been with him. He was above me, higher up on the cliffs, and threw large rocks down at me in an attempt to sweep me from what poor hand and foot holds I could find, and thus hurl me down to share his master's watery grave at the foot of Reichenbach Falls." "But you did escape," Katrina breathed, a look of worshipful awe in her lovely eyes. "Barely. Not knowing if Moran had anyone else with him, I raced across the mountains to safety, whereupon I contacted my brother Mycroft who provided me with funds. It was not a bad three years, waiting for Moran to become vulnerable, for I met many great people and learned many things. Even did some trail- blazing as a Scandinavian explorer." "But finally you returned," Irene stated. "Yes, there was a murder that, based on the descriptions of it in the press, I knew had to have been committed by Moran. I returned to England and let myself be seen, setting myself out as a stalking horse to draw from hiding my deadly prey. Moran took the bait and was eventually hanged for the murder that brought me back to England." "You said that the dream was not the same," Irene said "What happened in the dream that was different that what actually took place." Sherla drained her glass before answering. "In the dream, I got two glimpses of the person throwing the stones and it wasn't Moran." "Who was it?" Irene asked. "Moriarty," Sherla said, her breathing shaky, "The figure on the cliff changed into Moriarty even though I "knew" he was dead. He threw the rock hit me - the first one that struck, anyway. Somehow, in the dream, I managed to hold on. Then, I looked up again, just as another rock struck home and I fell. And I saw. . I saw. . " Katrina started to move to Sherla's side, but Irene stopped her. "Get it out, Sherla," she ordered firmly. "I threw the rock. . I mean. .it was Sherla who threw the rock that killed ME. . .I mean, that killed Sherlock. Then you hit me and woke me just as I was about to hit the raging waters. It was. . . It seemed. . .so real. I could feel myself falling - could feel the impact of the stone on my chest - could feel my hands and feet slipping from the wet rock hand-holds. I could SEE myself." Sherla found that she was shaking again, and Irene reached over to pull Sherla into her arms. "There, now," Irene said gently. "The dream is over, you are all right, and what you dreamt never happened. Relax, now." "This is so. . .so damnably lowering," Sherla rasped out in disgust, her voice breaking. "I am frightened by something that never happened. How could *I* even dream something like that?" "Perhaps, darling, you should simply take it as a warning. You will again face this monster, and there seems to be a strange symmetry about this approaching conflict. I am not saying this dream is a premonition, but perhaps you should ensure that you do not take any part of this endeavor at all casually." "I have not been, but I think I will redouble my efforts to be prepared, Irene," Sherla hugged the comforting body that was holding her own and sighed. "The part that still has me shaking is the image of Sherla looking down at me as I fell." "Not all that difficult to understand, dear. Sherla lives and Sherlock - at least the male Sherlock - does not. That fact also devolves from that confrontation at the Falls. I should think that interpretation obvious." "But he. . .I mean, I am still alive! I resisted the urge to end my life, and I have come to accept Sherla as my future, haven't I?" "Have you, Sherla? Only you can answer that question. I think you have made amazing progress, given who you were and where you started. Perhaps, deep in your subconscious, some small part of you feels that Sherlock stands between you and your future happiness as Sherla." Sherla thought about that and shrugged, her eyes tightly closed. "I have never given much credence to the theories of Freud and his colleagues, but perhaps I should reconsider that once we are finished with what we must do in Switzerland. Thank you, Irene, for being her for me. Emotion is a dual-edged sword, and one Sherlock never had to deal with." "You are most welcome, dear. Now come back to bed. Tomorrow. . no, it is already today, isn't it? Today will be a long day." "Could Katrina stay with me. . just for the rest of the night?" Sherla asked, knowing she was still shaky. Irene gave both young women a stern look. "Oh, very well, but we are going to SLEEP, are we not?" "Yes, Tante Irene," the two chorused in perfect synchronicity. ~---------------~ Well, John, I managed to sleep a few more hours, cuddled as I was between those two women I have come to love. Yes, I said 'love'. One of those silver linings I mentioned earlier. I am going to spend my remaining hours before we arrive in Brienz reviewing my plans and precautions. As I have mentioned before in this journal, I have a great deal to live for and I wish to enjoy all that this new life can afford me. I, and those whom I have come to love, MUST survive this encounter, as much as Moriarty must finally meet his fate. If this was a warning, then I shall use it to best effect. End of Journal Entry. ~--------------~ Excerpt from the Experimental Journal of Professor Moriarty March 11, 1911 Progress to Date: Professor Buchner now has been, how shall I put this delicately? . . fully integrated into our little research project. Over the past few days he has watched in rather appalled fascination as a phase two chimpanzee repeatedly attacked "her" brother in an attempt to force sexual congress. Sadly, both are now dead. The feminized animal suffered a fatal bite to her throat as she attempted to rape her partner. The male died shortly thereafter, his testicles crushed in the female's death throes. The expression on Dr. Buchner's face as he watched both animals die was most gratifying. I do not believe I shall have to motivate him further. Dr. Buchner has reviewed Professor Haber's and my experimental journals, and has conducted some basic tests on the herbal preparation. He has proposed two courses of inquiry that he feels may increase our knowledge of the biological mechanisms involved with three key effects of the herbs. His first proposal distresses me for it will take a significant period of time to show results. He wants to take an elderly subject all the way back to puberty, and then continue the administration of the drug beyond that point in time. In truth, I have conducted this experiment while in South America. The subject always ceased to regress at some point, whereupon the drug, for reasons I was never able to determine, became toxic. Something to do with the transformed physiology perhaps. Buchner is more concerned with tracking various biochemical indices during the transition, and comparing those indices to comparably aged animals of both genders. What he hopes to learn from this experiment is not clear, but as he points out, the changes involved are complex and fundamental, and something might arise from this basic research that will help us. The problem, from my perspective, is that he wishes to make this transition slowly, allowing sufficient time to assure biochemical stabilization after each administration of the drug. He estimates that the total regression will require something on the order of six weeks. His second, and to my mind, more interesting line of inquiry is to look more closely and see if a female to male transition might be developed. He postulates, based on both my and Haber's work, that the rejuvenation effect is inextricably linked to the gender change effect. However, he points out that my entire efforts to date have been to *prevent* the gender change. However, he thinks it may be possible to regress age while female, say to the point where the drug withdrawal is survivable, and then reverse the gender change without reversing the rejuvenation. I challenged the Doctor with the issue that, should such a reversal be possible, would not the natives I encountered in South America have done this? His response was that perhaps the reversal was beyond their ken, lacking as they were in advantages of modern science. Another possibility is that they are simply too backward to recognize, as have Europeans and most other civilized societies, the inherent inferiority of the female of the species. Which is, of course, a hard truth and one I had always puzzled about while conducting my researches in the Amazon. How could a tribe that was more than seventy five percent young, nubile and attractive females, been left unconquered by their more masculine and warlike neighbors? Surely, I had always thought, they would be too weak to protect themselves. Surprisingly, Buchner had a rather insightful response to that question when I mentioned it during our interview. Dr. Buchner surmises that there were, in fact, hostile tribes in the past who attempted to enslave the formerly-male women. However, they would have soon fallen victim to the rejuvenation potion themselves. As I recall, the women of the tribe were all extremely skilled with a from of blowgun. Quite possibly, they used this to administer the drug to their opponents whereupon they had the distasteful choice of an agonizing and humiliating death, or begging entry to the tribe and becoming women. In any case, the women's tribe would have become taboo among the other tribes for what clear thinking warrior would wish to die such a death, or worse, become a woman? Buchner proposes to work with test animals - female test animals - at a wide spectrum of maturity levels. He believes that with certain fermentation processes, he can reverse the gender change effect. The issue will be to determine what is the best age for this reverse transition to be attempted. Unfortunately, this brings up a significant, but easily remedied problem. I am out of chimpanzees, and I never had any females in any case. I have a good many of the smaller African monkeys, but they are not very highly developed in my opinion. I am not willing to endanger my own life on a process that has only been tested on these monkeys. I have dispatched my supply man to order more chimpanzees, and to include a equal number of females in this purchase. Buchner will proceed with his testing using the greens, and by the time he has a workable treatment, the more advanced primates should be here. Once the process is proven on animals who were female-by-birth, we shall regress and transform a male animal, and see if we can then safely reverse the gender change. The final test will, of course, be on human subjects. How many will be used in that process will depend upon the state of my reserves of South American herbs, but I will conduct at least two such tests. The first subject will be chosen from my loyal minions, just to ensure that the entire transition - elderly male to pubescent female and finally to pubescent male - is survivable. An excellent way to repay such excellent service - if it works. And if it does not? Then they will have performed an even more excellent service for me. In any event, conscripting one of the locals to fill this requirement might call undue attention to this area before I am ready to deal with such minor annoyances. Assuming that experiment is successful, the second test will be conducted using Dr. Haber as the subject. Naturally, someone possessing a high level intellect must be subjected to the process before my own matchless brain is put at risk. In truth, I should rather die than live less than I am - less than I should be. Of course, once these experiments are complete, and I am once again young and at the height of my powers, every other person associated with this project will die. Oh, I shall reward them handsomely for their efforts - their deaths will be quick and painless - perhaps even pleasurable - but only I will know the secret of eternal youth and life. Only Moriarty will possess that knowledge and the nigh-to- infinite power that knowledge portends. Only Moriarty will rule! End Journal Entry.
