“Birth of Modern Europe”

Mr. Meyers

Daniel Berger

June 1, 2004

Final Draft

The Diamond Jubilee

It was a rainy Tuesday, I remember. It had been raining for a few hours, as Mrs. Hudson had warned earlier in the morning. Holmes had told her, “The weather is one of very few fields of science in which the most advanced postulates and theorems result in ‘predictions.’ I am by no means a betting man, Mrs. Hudson, but I will take your odds against any storm at any time.” The paper had arrived late that morning, the front page filled with the largest front headline that either Holmes or I had ever seen. It read, “Delegates From All Over The Empire Arrive,” in preparation for Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee, which was to take place on the following Saturday. Holmes and I had discussed the festivities in great detail, the schedule of which was posted in the paper that day.

Holmes was always very skilled in determining which stories in a newspaper would be of any importance to anyone, especially himself. He wouldn’t only read it, but he could, i n a ten second glance, tell you the impact of the stories. One read, “Winchester Shot-Gun released”. Holmes, though never driven by monetary concerns, had invested heavily in this product in ‘93, when their first model came out. By now, his stock in the corporation had grown to the point where he was in a position to purchase all of Baker Street. In a single motion he would turn the page and, turning his head at the neck, read it, taking in the nouns from the page and looking for something of interest; if there was none he would repeat his motion. He stopped at an article towards the middle of the paper. He read me the headline: “Massacre in Constantinople,” and muttered to himself as he completed the article.

“Imperialism, my dear Watson, is a dangerous trade. The Romans and the Greeks, two of the greatest empires the world has ever seen, imploded when they started to become overambitious in their conquests,” Holmes told me. I agreed with him. The entire situation in the Ottoman Empire was looking bleak; they seemed to be collapsing from the inside.

“Even the strongest navy in the world is not invincible. Empires fail when they become careless in their acquisitions. When—” Just then, a knock came at the door. It was Mrs. Hudson, bearing a telegram.

“Who is it from?” I beckoned, as the rain outside was accompanied by lightning and thunder.

“Inspector Lestrade. Get your boots, and quickly! This is a matter of national security.”

As we hopped into the hansom cab, Holmes told the driver we were headed to 10 Downing Street. Although most Prime Ministers have resided at 10 Downing Street, the building officially is the home of the First Lord of the Treasury. While most Prime Ministers held both offices, Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, the current prime minister, keeps offices there although he does not have both titles. We arrived shortly at the yellow-white building, and were rushed in to see Prime Minister Cecil, whom neither Holmes nor I had previously met. “Mr. Holmes, I hope that you are as dependable as my advisors tell me,” Prime Minister Cecil said.

“That depends, of course, upon what your advisors have told you,” Holmes replied. “Just tell me the facts.”

“Sir, our Queen is in grave danger. I have here a ransom note received by her majesty just last night, by post,” the Prime Minister said, as he handed the note to Holmes.

If the Jubilee begins, will be felt an inferno

The giant asleep can be attacked just as easily as a sleeping mouse.

“This weekend’s Diamond Jubilee is their target; the note says that if the Jubilee commences, it will be an inferno. We have all of Scotland Yard on alert for any suspicious behavior, but we really don’t know what to make of it all. First of all, we’re not really sure how to deal with an attack, should it happen. Our only option is to have an immense number of policemen around to keep the entire situation under control.”

I turned to one of the Cecil’s advisors and said, “Before I begin, do you have any suspects right now?” Sir Richard Ashton Cross, the Secretary of State for the Home Department began to answer when Holmes cut him off. “Elementary, my dear Watson. When operating an empire, there are many circumstances and situations to keep in mind. Who are your long term enemies? Who are your short term enemies? Who has the means to make this attack? And, most importantly, why would they make such an attack?

“From where Britain stands today in world affairs, I would assume that the culprit here is from a Colony; the Queen, you see, is the figurehead of the British Empire. Assassinating her would be much like symbolically destroying the empire.”

Secretary Cross interjected, “some of our suspects include people from India–remember that our queen is the Empress of India, and that there was an insurrection less than 50 years ago there.”

Holmes, examining the paper, calmly said to Cross, “I assure you that this ransom note was not written by an Indian.”

Secretary Cross continued, “There is another suspect, from South Africa. Apparently they do not respect the costs that go into controlling our vast empire.”

Holmes, annoyed at the ignorance of the Home Department’s secretary, turned to the Prime Minister and said, “I assure you that this note was not written by a Southern African. If I may continue, Secretary?”

Cross was not pleased with Holmes’ taking over of the investigation, which left me puzzled because Holmes was called in to solve the case in the first place. Cross gave somewhat of a nod, and Holmes continued. “This note was written on paper that was created with clay pigment, a commodity that exists in the outer islands of Cyprus. The ink, it seems, contains very powerful and long lasting dyes found most commonly in Jewish texts, containing Gum Arabic and tannic acid. Cyprus has a very small Jewish population, although there is so much trade going on in that area that it seems possible a terrorist could possess them. The handwriting is indicative of someone to whom English is not their native language; it would appear that the curvature of his letter ‘J’ is similar to a letter of the modern Greek alphabet, the native language of the colony. Also, the English is not proper; “will be felt an inferno”–this is indicative of Greek construction. I assume, Secretary Cross, that you have a suspect from Cyprus?”

Cross looked through his notebook, turning a few pages and finally settling on an individual. “Why yes, in fact, I do, one Christos Papadopoulos. He was responsible for the attempted assassination of the grand vizier back in eighty-”

Just at that instant, one of the policemen ran into the room and said at the top of his lungs, “There’s been an explosion near St. Paul’s!”

“By golly the Queen was there today!” exclaimed the Prime Minister.

“Not to worry, Queen Victoria is in good shape.” We all rose up and, as orderly as a group shaken as ours could, entered police hansom cabs.

________________________________________________________________________________

We arrived at St. Paul’s Cathedral about twenty minutes after we left, approximately an hour after the explosion itself. Papadopoulos, Holmes’ suspect, had chosen an odd method of showing how serious he was. Instead of destroying a building, he blew up a tree behind the Cathedral, which had been extinguished by the rain by the time we had arrived. An odor of sulfur filled the air. Holmes reached out and scratched the surface of the now charcoal tree, revealing a yellow-red color. Holmes asked me what I made of it; I hadn’t the faintest idea.

“It’s quite basic chemistry, Watson. The odor is that of sulfur and the surface under the tree itself is also that of sulfur. A bomb was made using sulfur. This particular sulfur is found, like the paper, only on the outer islands adjacent to Cyprus. It would appear as though Papadopoulos is our man.”

“Very well, Mr. Holmes. But how can we stop the bombings from happening during our Celebration?” asked Prime Minister Cecil, as the rain subsided. “Clearly his aim is to stop us from having the celebration, and that we should take his ransom note seriously.”

“What I see here is a criminal who created a whole series of bombs, but with an defective fuse. I believe that this tree was not intended to explode right now, as it serves no purpose for his cause other than the insignificant reason you have just mentioned. Yes, the Gazette will cover it, but as far as they are concerned, the tree was struck by lightning. The paper will be too full of descriptions of the Jubilee to have space to question what happened. But we have a job to do, and that is to find the remaining bombs in the Cathedral, and I believe the palace as well. Premier Cecil, get the Queen out of Buckingham, leave for Windsor and don’t come back until I command such. Watson, I need you to go find Toby. And I’m going to need clearance to walk around both the Cathedral and the Palace, and into the Queen’s most private quarters. If there are more sulfur bombs inside this edifice, Toby will find them.”

“Very well Mr. Holmes,” the Prime Minister replied. “Are you sure I won’t be needed further in the investigation?”

“I’m almost certain,” Holmes answered. “There is only one more thing I ask of you, and that is to have as many policemen as possible around the Palace and the Cathedral, and on full alert. We will not give in to the terrorists’ wishes; on the contrary, if what I believe is to occur, they’ll spend tomorrow night in gaol.”

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. Holmes. I’ll see to it that the Queen is removed from Buckingham,” said the prime minister as he and Secretary Cross walked away.

Holmes and I spent the rest of the afternoon navigating around St. Paul’s Cathedral and Buckingham, searching every inch of the palace with Toby. As per expected, the royal family was not keen about a mutt walking through their chambers, no matter how safe he was making it for them. Toby found two bombs in the Cathedral, and two in Buckingham—the two in Buckingham were in the Quadrangle; unlike the Golden Jubilee of a decade prior, the Queen’s plans called for an outdoor cocktail hour for this unusually cool July. I asked Holmes, “How are these bombs to be ignited? There is not a switch nor a fuse nor any visible way to ignite them by distance.”

“Clearly they are to be ignited in person.” Holmes called over one of Inspector Lestrade’s top officers, a bomb expert, and gave him very explicit directions. The bombs were to be removed by the expert and the expert only, and in their place a dummy bomb was to be placed. “The only problem with this plan is that to catch these perpetrators, we will have to do so in the act. You do own a morning coat, Doctor Watson?”

________________________________________________________________________________

That evening, Holmes and I arrived back to Baker Street at approximately eight o’clock. We had Mrs. Hudson prepare dinner, and Holmes opened up his personal files, looking for information about Papadopoulos.

“Ah, yes, Papadopoulos. He was born in Rizokarpaso, a small city on the easternmost part of Cyprus in 1862....he later became part of a small terrorist organization known as CLF, the Cyprus Liberation Front. Historically, as you undoubtedly know, Cyprus has been a pawn, seemingly being a territory of whatever empire dominated the region, be it the Greeks, the Romans, the Egyptians, the Persians, and until 1878, the Ottomans. During the Russo-Turkish War of 1877 and 1878, the Ottomans determined that it would be in their best interest to have the land be in possession of an ally (the British) instead of risking losing it to the Russians.”

“I was unaware of this agreement,” I interjected. Holmes continued, “in 1878, a contract was created that allowed the British total autonomy and control over Cyprus for a rental fee, while the Ottomans put their flag on it. When the British took over, a petition was presented to them from the Kingdom of Greece, asking for unification. The petition was denied. The very first name on that petition was Papadopoulos. Since that date he has become consumed with the cause of liberating Cyprus from British rule. He was the mastermind behind an attempted assassination of the Ottoman Grand Vizier in 1887, but failed and he himself had to hide from authority; he was believed to have ended up somewhere in eastern Russia, although apparently that information is outdated.

“Regardless, Watson, while this may be the case during which we receive the most scrutiny, I believe that this case will be one of our smoothest. Our culprit was particularly sloppy-sulfur is arguably the worst chemical imaginable to use for a bomb, as it has a very distinct odor. For a man of Papadopoulos’ reputation, the work is exceedingly amateur.”

The next day was the day of the festivities. We arrived at Downing Street at approximately eight o’clock AM. Holmes gave Lestrade his revised copy of the day’s itinerary. Needless to say, the Prime Minister was not happy about some of the changes Holmes had made. The biggest change Holmes made was by far the most controversial among the people in charge. He decided that, in case of the worst, the Queen should not be present at her own ceremony until it is deemed safe. The Queen would be nearby, and available to return as soon as the situation was settled. Until then, however, she must not be present.

The original plan for the morning was very similar to that of the Queen’s Golden Jubilee, another festive occasion held a decade earlier. The Queen’s day began with a trip to Frogmore, where Prince Albert, her husband, was buried. The plan continued with a procession through the streets to St. Paul’s Cathedral, where George Eastman himself, of the new Eastman-Kodak Company, had been hired to take photographs. The plan finished at Buckingham, where an outdoor cocktail hour at the Quadrangle was to take place before a royal banquet in the Great Hall. There were a reputed thousand different types of flowers at the cocktail hour, to impress the fifty foreign kings and the governing heads of Britain’s colonies that were to be in attendance.

“There are too many variables in the Quadrangle,” Holmes maintained. “Although this is one of the coldest Julys on record, and I’m sure it would be a beautiful celebration, we cannot risk the welfare of the Queen. We can blame this switch on yesterday’s thunderstorms. While I believe I will have captured all of Papadopoulos’s henchmen–and I believe he has two assistants--the chance of an attack occurring by a stray attacker are far smaller indoors.”

“Very well, Mr. Holmes. I don’t know how the Kodak Company is going to like your changes for the Cathedral, though.” Prime Minister Cecil added.

“There is absolutely no fluctuating on that matter. If Kodak is going to take pictures of the Jubilee, we cannot have photographs taken of a false queen. They have been preparing their pictures in the Cathedral for months now, trying to get their fine lenses accustomed to the light. It’s a sunny day, Prime Minister, and the enormous increase of light will ruin the film.”

“Very well, Mr. Holmes, but how do you plan on explaining this to the press?”

“God save our Queen, but she is 78 years old, and has not the strength to walk up the 259 steps necessary to enter to the Whispering Gallery, her intended destination. We will have the ceremony outside instead.”

“I suppose that seems right,” said a very unhappy Prime Minister.

“Oh, and one more thing.” said Holmes. “Watson and myself will not be in attendance at the banquet. Our job is to catch your criminal, not to take advantage of the Queen’s hospitality.”

“I was told to invite you myself,” replied Cecil.

“That’s really not necessary. Besides, I have met quite a few of the Guests and wish it not be known whom I have met and why I have met them,” Holmes said indignantly. Although I could only think of a few guests that we had met–the King of Bohemia and** Queen Victoria herself–I kept quiet.

“As is your wish, Mr. Holmes.”

“Watson and I are going to the Cathedral, where we plan on meeting a very frustrated Papadopoulos in the act. I will then have one of your policemen take him to Scotland Yard, and put him in a cell where tomorrow we can interrogate him,” Holmes stated. “Afterwards, we will go to the Palace, where I will capture his assistant. I hope you enjoy the festivities.” Holmes began to walk away before adding, “Oh, also I will need an undercover officer to meet Watson at the Cathedral. Have him be there as soon as possible.”

Holmes and I left Downing Street and traveled to the Cathedral by hansom cab. Holmes had taken with him an enormous leather bag, which he opened in the cab to reveal its contents: about six different sets of street clothes of a ruffian. In the cab, Holmes, a master of disguise, changed into one set and, taking out a piece of charcoal, made himself absolutely filthy. If you had put me in this cab with this man, and not told he that he was a great detective, I would have given him five shillings and wished him well. He had the driver stop a block from the Cathedral.

“All you need to know, Watson, is that I when I find Papadopoulos, I am going to scratch my head. By then, you will have been met by the undercover officer. At the sign, the two of you must apprehend him. I assume you have your old army revolver with you?”

“But of course.”

“Good. I would like you to take the ammunition out of it. If a bullet should be fired from that gun, then Papadopoulos’s mission is not a complete failure. However, I need it to be known to him that you have one.”

When we arrived, Holmes left from one door and told me to leave from the other side. We walked the block to the Cathedral, which by now was starting to be mobbed with many people. The field on the side of the Cathedral was beginning to be filled with people, as they expected to see the Queen in only an half hours’ time. As I walked through the mob of people, I made sure to keep my eyes on Holmes, who blended in with the people far better than I. He continued through the maze of people, pushing through to the front. It was there that I was approached by the undercover officer. Finally, I saw Holmes enter the edifice himself, the police officer at the front bribed by the bag of shillings that was given to him.

With the undercover officer as my entry into the building, I saw Holmes walk deliberately towards one corner of the Cathedral, where a 50-year old looking man sat, reading a newspaper. Holmes sat next to the man, and began to speak to him. I was within earshot.

“Excuse me sir,” Holmes began, sounding like a homeless man. “Have you a shilling to spare?” The man looked blankly at Holmes.

“Go ask the Queen for one of her diamonds,” the man responded, turning the page and lifting the paper up to cover his entire face. A box of matches slipped out of the man’s pocket. Holmes calmly scratched his head.

The officer and I snuck up behind the man, who turned around just as I took out my gun. Holmes said, “Christos Papadopoulos, I presume? Come with us, Christos, We have a few questions to ask.”

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It is quite an honor to be apprehended by someone such as yourself. I have underestimated you. However, I think you should know that apprehending me is only half the threat,” said Papadopoulos in a thick Greek accent.

“Oh, I’m well aware. But sulfur for the bombs? Isn’t that a bit amateur?” The policeman put a pair of handcuffs on Papadopoulos, and we escorted him out the back of the building without causing much of a commotion. All three of us walked a block away from the Cathedral, just as the drums and music began for the Queen’s festival. The ceremony, as per Holmes’ adjustment, was taking place outdoors. I snuck a glance at the ceremony at the Cathedral: it was quite a sight. The Queen has been brought in an open Landau. Indian Cavalry and hundreds of soldiers escorted her. Eleven prime ministers had gathered around the chapel, each of whom was wearing their native apparel. In particular, the Indian Prime Minister was wearing a beautiful shawl. The opening speech was very muddled; it began, “I present to you, her highness, Victoria, Queen of England and Scotland and Empress of India...”just as we left. The cheering and noise of the people in the streets made the rest of the speech inaudible, their cheering was deafening, unlike any other sound I had ever heard. The entire crowd seemed to be united in joy over the Queen...the Queen’s double, that is.

Holmes and I took a Hansom cab to Buckingham, where we assumed his two henchmen would be waiting. In the ride, Holmes changed again, this time to the same exact outfit that Papadopoulos had been wearing, long brown pants and a yellow buttoned-down shirt. The castle was surrounded by police, as befitting the importance of the welfare of the guests. To enter the grounds, Holmes and I were escorted by a policeman to Lestrade himself, who gave us full access.

We entered the quadrangle, which was filled by so many different types of flowers it looked like a jungle–although the cocktail hour was no longer there, the flowers had not been moved. Holmes had taken a revolver, I had loaded mine, and two policemen also carried guns with them. The four of us silently walked trough this jungle of a thousand flowers, looking for the two henchmen Holmes had predicted. We came across two men, cursing angrily, obviously trying to light one of the bombs that was no longer active.

“In the name of Scotland Yard, raise your hands above your head!” exclaimed one of the officers.

“I am nothing but a gardener!” exclaimed one of the terrorists.

“Yes, a gardener with matches, gasoline, and your nose in a fake bomb. Please, handcuff these ‘gardeners,’ so we can let this celebration occur peacefully.” Holmes said to the policemen, who promptly put handcuffs on the men and began to walk away.

“How did you know there would be two henchmen?” I asked Holmes as we escorted the men out of the quadrangle.

“Elementary. The bombs, before we diffused them, were on opposite sides of the quadrangle. If you think of the Quadrangle from an aerial perspective, you will see that there are three major entrances on each of the shorter sides, and only one on each of the longer sides. The way to maximize the number of casualties would be to have an explosion be on one of the shorter sides, wait for people to realize there are more doors on the opposite short side, and run across. As soon as the people arrived at the other side, another explosion would occur, thus leaving the guests trying to exit through only two doors while being sandwiched by fire and calamity.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s correct. But how could they get such bombs into the Quadrangle to begin with?” I asked.

“I didn’t expect you to ask that question. Look to your left and your right, you are surrounded by one thing and one thing only–flowers. Sulfur is one of the main ingredients in phosphatic fertilizers. Clearly, those gardeners are traitors to the crown, and I’m sure capital punishment is in order.”

“Sulfur is also one of the main ingredients in gunpowder, is it not?” I asked.

“Very good Watson, yes it is.” Holmes said. “I have no interest in meeting the King of Bohemia again, but before we leave we must tell Lestrade to allow the Queen to return to her celebration.”

_________________________________________________________________________________

The following morning Holmes, Prime Minister Cecil, Inspector Lestrade and I traveled to Scotland Yard, and questioned Papadopoulos. Lestrade began the interrogations, but Holmes quickly took over–he was impatient with Lestrade’s line of questioning. Needless to say, it took Papadopoulos a while to give in to our questioning–although he didn’t deny his identity earlier, he was now in full denial. When he finally cracked, his speech seemed to go on for eternity:

“Yes! I did it! I, Christos Papadopoulos, came this close to killing the Queen of England! The English people now rule over one third of the world’s land, the world’s seas, a greater fraction of the worlds resources. I am from Cyprus, I live there, I love it there. Since man walked the earth, we have always been ruled –from the Romans, to the Greeks, to the Ottomans, and now the British. Why can’t we just exist on or own, why do we constantly have to be oppressed by a woman a thousand miles away with not the slightest interest in the welfare of our people after money? The only way that we are ever going to get true independence is if we earn it. Cypriot peoples have always been the pawns, always been subject to another’s rule. Queen Victoria has had full control of our nation for so long, and we have nothing to show for it. We mean nothing to the Queen other than a point of trade between the nations. It is time for Cypriot people to rule themselves, to have their own parliament, their own decision makers and their own rules. What better occasion to take a stand than the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee? The display of the abuse of power of a woman. Has there ever been a better time to stand up for our rights? If we succeeded, our land would be treated with far more respect, as all of the leaders of nations that have oppressed us would have been killed themselves. The Queen--”

As the speech continued, I couldn’t keep from thinking about what Holmes had said earlier: as nations expand, they must be careful. The power that is created from controlling an empire must be dealt with carefully. Papadopoulos continued with his ramble for another five minutes or so, at which time, Lestrade said he would finish the interrogations and the three of us–Holmes, Cecil, and Myself–went one more time to Buckingham. The Queen wanted to thank us.

“Mr. Holmes, I would like to thank you and your associate Doctor Watson for your help. Yesterday’s festivities never would have happened if it were not for the two of you. My life, my country, and my empire is in your debt. If I recall correctly, once before you were presented in front of me to be knighted, and you chose not to be.” The queen said.

“That is correct.” Holmes said.

“Well, I feel I should give you this,” the queen said, handing Holmes an emerald snuff box, “I hope it matches the tiepin I previously gave you.”

“Thank you very much,” Holmes replied.

“And also, for the both of you, I would like to give this camera and film set, which was a personal gift to me from George Eastman, of the Eastman Kodak Company. He said he planned to give it to me after using it to take pictures of the Jubilee. I hope it serves you well in keeping Britain’s streets safe.”

When we returned to Baker Street, Holmes and I sat by the fire, him thoughtfully puffing at his pipe. “But why give the ransom note at all?”