My name is Sherlock Holmes. You’ve probably heard of me. Everyone seems to have, what with all those colourful stories from Watson.

These three years I’ve been thought dead - sadly perished in the Reichenbach Falls. All is now prepared for my resurrection, and I will meet Watson tomorrow. But I still have to decide what I’ll tell him.

I remember back to that fateful day. With Watson gone and Moriarty blocking my escape from that narrow ledge, I had little doubt that I had come to the end of my career. I read an inexorable purpose in his serpentine eyes. Then he rushed towards me and threw his arms round me, and there we stood tottering on the brink.

As I gave all up for lost, suddenly the words of my old martial arts master came to me:
“Use the Force, Sher-Luke”.

I knew there was only one man who would call me Sher-Luke. Odd, perhaps, but if I’ve learned anything in my years on Earth, it’s that the greatest minds must be allowed some eccentricities, and the late Obi-Wan Kenobi was certainly great.

So there I was, with the roaring of the falls beside me and Moriarty’s strong grip on me, and suddenly the hot desert sands flashed into view from all those years ago. It was a distraction that could have killed me - perhaps should have killed me - but in truth my mental focus has been strengthened by the Force.

I am reckoned a strong man, but on that narrow ledge I do not think any ordinary man could have faced that charge and broken that grip without falling with him. Moriarty had the super-human grip of the truly enraged, and it was only through the Force I could break free. I know not where he got his training, but it turned out he too was familiar with the Force. As I stepped back he raised his hand, and I was flung back against the cliff.

He stepped forward and said “I thought so. You were the young apprentice of Obi-Wan. You could have revealed your Force powers sooner and saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Why should I wish to save you trouble, Moriarty?”, I replied.

There was murder in his eyes, and a lesser man might have quailed. I prepared to strike back. If Obi-Wan wanted me to use the Force, I was going to use it.

“You never found out who ordered Obi-Wan killed, did you?”, Moriarty went on. “It was I.”

I had already prepared my response. I reached out to the Force, and the rocks beneath him crumbled. He gave a horrible scream then fell for a long way, before he struck a rock, bounded off, and splashed into the water.

Then it struck me what a really extraordinarily lucky chance Fate had placed in my way. Others of Moriarty’s followers were at large and would seek vengeance, and I couldn’t know whether they too had the Force on their side. If all the world was convinced that I was dead they would take liberties, and sooner or later I would find their weaknesses and destroy them. Only then would it be time for me to announce that I was still in the land of the living.

And so I set myself to climbing the cliff. It was not a pleasant business, and the falls roared beneath me, but with the help of the Force the smallest handhold could be of use to me.

And so I was able to watch Watson investigate the circumstances of my death in the most sympathetic and inefficient manner. In particular, he failed to notice that the ledge was at least a foot shorter than it had been. But that is Watson all over - he sees, but he does not observe. The final conclusion was the one I wanted, though, and he walked away in sorrow.

When he had gone, I imagined I had reached the end of my adventures for that day - until I sensed a disturbance in the Force. A huge rock, falling from above, boomed past me, struck the path, and bounded over into the chasm. Looking up, I saw a man’s head against the darkening sky, and another stone struck the very ledge upon which I was stretched, within a foot of my head. Had it not been for the Force it might well have been my head.

Again I saw that grim face look over the cliff, and I knew that it was the precursor of another stone. I scrambled back down to the path, then ran with Obi-Wan’s parting words in my ears: “The Force will be with you always”.

Within a week, I was in Florence, and I have since traveled the world. Had Obi-Wan still been alive, I would immediately have gone to Tunisia to seek him, but without him I knew not where to find the knowledge of the Force I now needed.

After consulting with my brother Mycroft, I fixed on Tibet as the best place of retreat, passing myself off as the Norwegian Sigerson. There I learned much of Buddhism, and even spent a few days with the head Llama of Lhassa, but it all came to nought: the Force was not in that venerable religion.

Often during that time I sought the spirit of Obi-Wan, but never again did his voice come to me or his image address me. Was it all in my mind? I saw him die, and the dead do not rise, so how could I possibly believe it was him? And yet, the image was also far too real to have been a hallucination.

After two years in Tibet I felt the need to return to Europe. On the way I passed through Persia and visited Mecca, but neither Zoroaster nor Islam had further word of the Force.

At first I was heading for France, then I felt the need to turn aside and seek the Reichenbach Falls again. The ice still had its grip on the mountains, so I didn’t expect the Falls to be in flow, but I still needed to be there. Climbing against the locals’ advice, I was caught in a blizzard, and then finally Obi-Wan appeared to me:

“You will go to Dagobah Island. There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me.”

Was it the spirit of Obi-Wan this time, or mere delirium from exposure? Regardless, the direction was exactly what I needed. You won’t find this island on many maps, and it’s a swampy place that even I find eerie, but it did indeed give the help I needed.

I had thought Obi-Wan was too given to being mystical, but now that I’ve met Master Yoda, I understand better. By comparison Obi-Wan was straightforward, but he couldn’t completely avoid the influence of his master. And perhaps also the Force spoke through both of them.

There is much I could say about that training, but for now I will only touch on the incident of the cave. Master Yoda said it was a place strong with the dark side, and a domain of evil, and that I must visit it. As I approached it I felt a cold colder even than the snow on Reichenbach. Suddenly, as I stepped into the cave, the falls were once more ringing in my ears, and Moriarty was once more rushing towards me. He was wearing a strange black helmet, but I knew him by the unmistakable, snake-like movement of his head. This time I easily broke free of him, then threw down my enemy. He gave a horrible scream as he fell, and once more struck a rock, but this time his head came off and flew up to land at my feet. The mask suddenly melted, and rather than the pale, ascetic professor I expected, I looked into my own face.

My nerves are fairly immured to shock, but even I, Sherlock Holmes, was shocked by this. However, I know why Master Yoda sent me in there, because in that experience was the seeds of my salvation.

Only one of my enemies remained - Colonel Sebastian Moran. He it was who dropped rocks on me at the Reichenbach Falls, and since then he has been able to walk freely in London. He was doubtless still connected with crime, but only my presence would draw him to expose himself. Like that head, though - it didn’t need to be the real me. So rapid was my thought that I believe I’d fixed on a wax sculpture within seconds of the horrid apparition.

When I came out, Master Yoda lectured me on the dark side. Fear, he said, was the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. He has tried to kill you once already, he said, and it certainly isn’t safe for you to kill him. And so he thought I wasn’t yet ready to fight Moran.

“I shall not fight him, Master Yoda. And I certainly shall not kill him. I shall get our good London police to arrest him.”

A strange look came into his eyes. “Refused the light-saber, you did. Elegant weapon, Obi-Wan thought it, but not for you. How then will you achieve this, hmm?”

I explained that I couldn’t use the light-saber in London. Before long, I should myself be in the dock, on a trial of murder. Scotland Yard may be a pack of bunglers, but they would ask my help - and I cannot hunt myself. But there is another way.

Once I’d explained the plan, he said “Ready for this encounter, you are. Lure him with a wax dummy, you shall. But be cautious: I sense in him much hate, and he fears you, Sherlock.”

After leaving Dagobah Island, I went to Grenoble, to find Monsieur Oscar Meunier. There he spent some days moulding the perfect replica of my illustrious head. Today I have arrived in London, to find all London agog over the murder of Ronald Adair. To one who knew him as I do, the case had Moran’s prints all over it - the bullets alone would enough to put his head in a noose. I had told Master Yoda I would not kill Moran, but nor would I lift a finger to save him from a well-deserved hanging.

Tomorrow I will visit Baker Street to draw Moran into the net, then I will meet up with Watson once more. He’ll be so glad to have me back he won’t even reproach me for staying away so long. But he’ll want to know what I’ve been doing, and I still haven’t decided what to tell him.

The Force will not be needed for tomorrow’s contest. Moran’s mind is on tigers and card-sharping, not on Jedi, and the famous air rifle is the closest he’ll get to subtlety.

I think I’ll conceal the part the Force played. I’ve never told Watson about Obi-Wan, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to explain Master Yoda to him. And lightsabers would always seem a poor weapon to one as proud of his trusty service revolver as he is. Nor could I allow his readers to mock the one I shall ever regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known.

I have it: I’ll tell Watson I escaped Moriarty’s grip with that new Japanese martial art, bartitsu. In fact, I’ll call it baritsu. Should anyone notice, the obvious error will be enough to conceal the subtle omission.

This tale will remain in my private records for now. Perhaps people will be ready to hear it in a century or two, but for now the Force will be hidden.

Tomorrow is once again the fourth of May. It has long been an important day to me. Yes, three years ago I escaped Moriarty forever, and tomorrow I will escape the last of his associates. But it has meant so much more to me.

You see, the fourth of May is also the day Obi-Wan was struck down by an assassin. I was to return to Oxford from Tunisia, and he insisted on accompanying me to the port town of Mos Eisley. “A wretched hive of scum and villainy”, he called it, but he must have known what was coming. When the assailant came with his ridiculous mask and his cheap cavalry sabre, Obi-Wan could have easily defended himself with his lightsaber. Instead he lowered the weapon and said “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine”.

It was the only time I regretted not learning the lightsaber. I could have saved him. I should have saved him. But perhaps, like Master Yoda said, that would just have led me to the Dark Side.

The clarity of mind Obi-Wan had taught me, and the strong desire for justice his death gave me, put me on the track to become London’s foremost consulting detective. Watson has frequently commented on my drive during a case, without realising the studied mindfulness behind it. And so it’s fitting that that same date will be when I resume the career.

There at the Reichenbach Moriarty knew it was the anniversary of Obi-Wan’s death, and taunted me with it. He claimed responsibility for the death of a man whose boots he wasn’t worthy to lick. “Now his failure is complete”, he said, but he spoke too soon, and I have never regretted the penalty I meted out to him.

Tomorrow, the last apprentice of Moriarty will be imprisoned and hung, while the last apprentice of Obi-Wan will go free. Mr Sherlock Holmes will be free to devote his life to examining those interesting little problems which the complex life of London so plentifully presents - and to bring justice where it is absent. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers upon the wrong side, and if I have ten thousand more they will not change that. I will not fail Obi-Wan again. Whether spirit or no, and whether present or absent, I will not fail him.

In his hut the night before his death, he told me that May the Fourth would long be remembered. At the time, I was unsure what he meant. While I remembered the day each year, few others even remembered his existence. In death, he’d avoided the public notice as effectively as he had in life. I was left to wonder what he might have been if he’d taken a Watson for his apprentice rather than a Holmes.

It wasn’t till I saw the sales of Watson’s The Final Problem and the public outpouring of grief at my supposed death that I understood his words. It was I, not Obi-Wan, who would be remembered. The Force might be forgotten, but the observational powers it cultivated would not. It wouldn’t surprise me if a hundred years hence people still call the day Reichenbach Day, and remember my defeat of the Napoleon of Crime and his Empire of Evil.

In time I will be able to add my resurrection to the day’s mystique. It will be a fitting tribute to Obi-Wan’s mentoring, even if none but me know it.

Everything proceeds as I have foreseen.

Remember the dates.
May 4th 1873.
May 4th 1891.
May 4th 1894.

And if you of the future are reading this private journal, forget baritsu and raise a silent toast to the Force and to the great Obi-Wan Kenobi. His memory may have faded, but my debt to him has not.

– Sherlock Holmes, London, 3 May 1894

Author’s note

Last year, I returned to the Reichenbach Falls at the start of week-long walk in the Swiss Alps (and they’re still just as impressive falls as they were the first time). A couple of months ago I was thinking about that experience, and it suddenly clicked that Reichenbach Day was the same as Star Wars Day. Then a few days later it occurred to me that Sher-Luke would make a great name for Sherlock. After that, this story was almost inevitable, though as always it didn’t go in quite the direction I expected.

Obviously my main sources were the Star Wars Original Trilogy and the relevant two Sherlock Holmes short stories, The Final Problem and The Empty House.

As always, it was a lot of fun writing this - otherwise I probably wouldn’t have finished it. I hope you enjoyed it 🙂.