By John Pirillo
"Men strive against men, until they realize that all men are one and the same, just images of their own self, good or bad, but all on the same path of knowledge that eventually leads to personal liberation." Professor Moriarity
I had to wonder. If this Moriarity had a brother named Sherlock, and then did all the others as well? Perhaps this explained the inexplicable rivalry and darkness between the two men. Two souls intimately bound, but on such different roads in life that they were bound to clash sooner or later, as all family members do.
But in the case of Holmes and Moriarity, their clashes took on proportions of gods, seizing all about them in a frenzy of destruction and madness.
Before you go ranting about how Holmes would never do that, you must remember that one has already done so. In the Baker Street Universe one Holmes was not only bad, but evil as well. Can you imagine that brilliant intellect turned astray...how much different than Moriarity than could he have become?
The interview continues now:
Finally, able to breathe once more, if a bit tightly after the revelation, I managed to relax my tensed body enough to go to the next question. Please bear in mind that in between these sessions are sometimes hours of time for the necessary recharging, or perhaps for some moments of meditation and thought as to what to pursue next.
If I say nothing else about Professor Moriarity as he calls himself, or the Black Hand, he is a gentleman and a man of honor...to me.
"Okay. Now I'm really in uncharted waters." I replied to him, his eyes looking like dancing pools of light at that moment, as he gave me a look of amusement that only one such as he could achieve.
Morina shifted uncomfortably on her own chair, and whether from concern for our comfort, or discomfort with the direction of our interview, got up and headed out of the room. We could hear her preparing something, though what we didn't know at that time.
"It's okay, lad. Swimming is sometimes best done, when you fear sinking into the depths instead."
I nodded. One thing was for sure. This Moriarity was not like my James, nor like the terror of the Conan Doyle stories. At least the stories I had read. Perhaps he was an extension of yet another Conan Doyle, who turned another path with his writing. At that thought I hurriedly scribbled some notes to myself to look into that possibility and its ramifications.
"Please, Professor Moriarity."
"Morey. Please use my name Morey."
"Professor Morey."
"No, just Morey."
"Morey."
He nodded.
"Did you always know that Sherlock Holmes was your brother?"
He considered that question a long time and I'm sure his answer, which comes next, will tell you why he so carefully considered his response. "Yes and no."
He leaned forward in that same conspiratorial manner he used when becoming intimate with me with the facts. "You see, I was separated from my true parents at birth. I never knew my real father or mother."
"That must have been traumatic."
"Oh, it was, but only once I'd found out I had a brother and knew of all the years of his companionship I had missed. And..." (Here he sighs deeply and his eyes moisten.)..."And to find him only once he's become my worst adversary.
He shook his head, mopped his eyes clear with his sleeve, and then paused to reflect further. "And to know that there could only be one of you alive in your world. That drains a man of heart and spirit."
"I'm sorry for your loss, sir."
He nodded, and then dismissed my words with his next. "Do not be. He was a rogue, a scoundrel, a thief and a murderer of the worst proportions. He alone was responsible for the death of thousands of innocent children and women."
I almost cried out at the horror of those words. He examined my face, and then went on. "A grave is a grave, whether for young or old, male or female. The loss is the humanity. All those souls who might have accomplished..."
He shrugged. Not able to say more.
Suddenly he relaxed when Morina came back in and wrapped her arms about his shoulders and hugged him from behind. "Oh Daddy, if I had only known!"
"I had to protect you." He pleaded, his eyes wetting yet again. "You are all I have of worth in this world and the next, and I would not have you become tainted like my brother had become."
She sat down next to him and too his hands. "I could never be like anyone else but you. You are the flag I follow, the ship I sail upon."
At that moment he broke down and I turned off my cell phone.
Okay, I'm back. I won't tell you what happened during the break. This is something he made me promise not to tell. I will only say that yet again it reminded me of how different this man was from the villainous ones I have written about. This gives me hope that in all of God's vast universe there is hope for good to sprout and take root even in the hardest of soils.
"Are you okay with continuing now?" I asked, my hand poised over my voice recorder app activation button.
He nodded, blew his nose in a pink hanky, and then shoved it into his pocket. He noted my glance and smiled. "Never let anyone think they've got you pegged son, or else they will be using that assumption to nail you to the wall of ignorance for the rest of your life."
"Spoken from experience?"
"Not mine." He laughed, his deep eyes turning crinkly with laughter.
Morina giggled her eyes not on him, but on me. I blushed and activated my cell phone again. It only had about ten minutes more of charge left. So I decided to take a big plunge. Time was nearing for me to catch the bus to the airport and return to America. I think as I thought those words Morina was catching them in her own mind, for she gave me a look of the utmost disappointment, which I couldn't figure out at that time, but later on...after further correspondence did.
"Very well." I looked at Morina. "How old is your daughter?"
"You can't tell?" He asked, a bit surprised. "Knowing my age, what do you think she should be?"
"You look to be in her early twenties."
Morina laughed a deep rich laugh that warmed my soul and shook her head.
Moriarity didn't laugh. "You see, Mister Pirillo, both the blessing and curse of such a long life as I've had is that you can have many daughters. I've had to bury many." He paused, his eyes beginning to water again, and then caught himself. "But no, she is not that young."
She leaned across the table and took my hand which was near the cell phone. I felt this electric shock go up and down my spine. Her eyes widened at the same time. Moriarity caught the exchange and gave us both a look of surprise and confusion.
"I'm one hundred and twenty three in July." She told me in the sweetest voice I have ever heard or probably ever will.
I glanced at my watch, not wanting to show my surprise and...I feel like a scoundrel now for writing this...and my disappointment. How could I ever fall for a woman who was so much older than me?
Yet again, her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat and she let out a light moan, as if struck. I felt like a cad, though at that moment I couldn't pinpoint why.
She got up suddenly and left the room.
Moriarity got up. He put his hand out. I took it.
"I think it best I see to my daughter's needs." He spoke. "See yourself out."
He turned to leave, and then looked back. "We'll meet again." He told me with certainty. Then he left the room, leaving me to my own contrivances. I gathered up my cell phone, took a last hit of the excellent tea that Morina had made for us, and headed for the front door. As I closed it I looked back and I'd swear that I saw her inside watching me, a look of intense longing in her face, but when I went to wave at her, she vanished from my view. A most peculiar and disturbing thing.
You'd think that with all my writing and fantastic stories, such an event wouldn't have such an impact on me, but my heart, let alone my soul had been more deeply affected by her presence than I had realized at the time.
And so ends my first interview with Professor Moriarity.
I'd like to say that my flight back to America was a happy one, but it was not. Our flight was diverted to an alternate landing port because of a bomb threat. To top it off, we couldn't leave the plane for hours and the bathrooms were locked to us because of the threat.
Who would put bombs in toilets? What madness has our world descended into when a man or woman can't relieve themselves in peace?
I leave you with these thoughts. That the Black Hand truly did have a basis in fact, though not the facts I had assumed, but rather a more lofty history and one I am grateful to write about.
Before I left on my plane a courier found me and put in my hands a large manila envelope. I opened it and found a diary. It was titled, "Diary of the Black Hand."
"Dear Mister Pirillo." The note with it said.
"I assume you still have many questions about the Black Hand and I have no further need of this, so am supplying you this with the hopes you will think kindly of me after doing so, as much of what I reveal was not so bright at the time.
"Morina gives her regards.
"Your friend. I hope.
"Professor Morey Moriarity"
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