This story started out as a random scene I started writing. I ended up writing from that scene to the end and then I wrote the beginning. Seriously, the only way I could have written this story more backwards was if I had written the last sentence first and so on. So I apologize ahead of time for any problems with the flow of the story. Enjoy.

Note: due to a very helpful review sent by KCS, I have reposted this chapter with a few minor details and stuff added. Thanks, KCS :)

No Greater Love

"Well, Holmes," said I, seating myself gratefully on the sofa, "I for one am glad that this whole thing is over."

"Yes, quite," Sherlock Holmes replied as he hung up his coat and hat. "A rather unpleasant business." He sprawled himself in his favorite armchair and lit his pipe. The past several days had been spent solving a robbery that had turned into cold, brutal murder. This morning had found the two of us testifying in court against the culprit, Charles Murdock, a man who was apparently responsible for many other thefts all over the country. He had been found guilty and was sentenced to hang at the end of the week. Justice had been served once more by Sherlock Holmes. I was just glad to sit down and get some decent rest.

A few days later, I came to the breakfast table to find that Holmes was not yet up. I was not too surprised at this. The man had slept deucedly little since the case began. Mrs. Hudson entered with her usual cheery countenance, carrying with her the breakfast tray. I thanked her as she set it down, the delicious smells rising out of the covered dishes. Replying to my thanks, she left the room.

As I sat down and began to butter a piece of toast, my eye fell upon the morning newspaper and a headline featured on the front page. "Murderer Escapes Prison" it read. Curious, I began to read. Thus it was that when Holmes arrived at the breakfast table, I was still staring at the paper.

"Something the matter?" he asked, sitting down and helping himself to eggs and toast.

"That fellow, Murdock, escaped from prison last night."

Holmes stared. "Escaped?"

"That's what it says. The police are actively searching for him, but have found nothing as yet."

"Hm." Nothing more was said on the matter and we ate out excellent fare in relative silence save for some trivial conversation about varies topics of interest. Holmes, though in a seemingly good mood, was not overly talkative.

A week or so went by. Holmes solved a few minor problems presented to him. Murdock remained at large though the matter was not of much interest. He had been proven guilty. That was enough for me and, apparently, for Sherlock Holmes.


In a dirty, abandoned warehouse, Charles Murdock smiled wolfishly, his dark eyes gleaming. At last, his plans were made with fool-proof accuracy. He would have his revenge. Sherlock Holmes was the one man in England smart enough to catch him. After tonight, he would very much regret that fact.


One evening for no apparent reason, I was feeling restless. The evening being very nice, I decided to go out on a short walk. Holmes, being busy with a chemistry experiment of some kind, declined my invitation to come with me. At least, I assumed that the absent "Mmm" coupled with a dismissory hand-gesture meant no. It is always hard to tell with Holmes. At any rate, I found myself walking slowly along the street alone, enjoying the evening air. I had just rounded a corner when a rather rough-looking fellow addressed me.

"Excuse me, sir, do you have a light?"

"Certainly," I said. I pulled out my matches and was about to strike one when something slammed into the back of my head, sending me into darkness.

To Be Continued . . .

Please review. I would say sorry about the cliffhanger, but it wouldn't entirely be sincere since I can be a totally evil writer.