The shadow of death looms over London.
The assassination of the French minister has cast an even darker pall over a city already steeped in mourning and confusion. Holmes, despite his relentless efforts—and despite the false leads you so subtly laid before him—feels strangely closer to the truth. An intuition, a nearly tangible feeling, drives him to focus on the links between the victims: the prince, the minister… and one detail, a tenuous thread he had missed until now. A detail that you, unintentionally, offered him on a silver platter.
You let slip a piece of information, a puzzle piece too obvious for him not to notice. A clue that now leads him to a central figure—one man whose influence extends through every level of power: Lord Harrington, a banker of immense wealth and sway, a man whose fortune and reach are as vast as his secrets.
Holmes, blinded by his own deductions, is on the verge of making a grave mistake. He is preparing to reveal his conclusions, to summon Lord Harrington. You see his approach, his smug satisfaction at believing himself so close to solving the case, and you smile—a satisfied, knowing smile.
The third act of your symphony of destruction is about to begin.
This banquet, organized by Lord Harrington himself, gathers the crème de la crème of London society.
Bankers, politicians, members of the high nobility… all under one roof. A perfect setting for a discreet and efficient massacre. An infernal orchestra on the scale of an entire city. You have infiltrated Lord Harrington's inner circle, planted seeds of discord, sown suspicion and mistrust among the various guests. The air is heavy, charged with palpable tension. Whispered words, furtive glances, an atmosphere of betrayal and conspiracy.
You watch the banquet from a secret vantage point.
You see the guests turn against one another, the alcohol helping to unleash buried impulses and long-held grudges. The stage is set. The play begins.
Chaos erupts—not in a spectacular explosion, but slowly, insidiously, efficiently. Subtle poisons, hidden weapons, carefully staged "accidents"… everything is flawlessly orchestrated.
You watch Holmes, seated at the table of honor, unaware of the imminent danger. He is the only target you do not wish to eliminate. He is your ultimate instrument—the one who will bear the weight of guilt, whose name will be forever tied to the disaster. You gave him the key to find the truth—the partial truth that will lead him straight to ruin.
When the dust settles, only Holmes will remain—his name tarnished by rumor and accusation, trapped by his own reasoning.
The third act unfolds exactly as you envisioned.
The symphony of destruction, composed and conducted by your hand, plays at full volume.