Fic for sanguinity: A Policeman's Lot Is Not A Happy One
Title: A Policeman's Lot Is Not A Happy One
Recipient: sanguinity
Author: graycardinal
Verse: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Characters/Pairings: James Moriarty (hologram),
"Marguerite Adler", Dr. Katherine Pulaski
Rating: G
Warnings: None for triggers. This story takes place
several years after the Star Trek: TNG episode "Ship in a
Bottle", and contains a number of references to events in both
that episode and "Elementary, Dear Data". Notwithstanding this
fact, it actually does arise from a prompt or prompts supplied in
sanguinity's signup post.
Summary:"I must say, Professor, you've come a
long way since we first met. I daresay nowadays you sound more
like Sherlock Holmes himself than you do an evil mastermind."
"As it happens," Moriarty said, "there's a reason for that,
but it will probably confuse you."
#
"I told you," the woman said, smoothing the fabric of her
knee-length silver dress with one hand, "that this was an
extraordinarily bad idea."
Her companion, whose old-fashioned tailored suit did not need
smoothing, shook his head. "I beg to differ. This engagement was
long overdue, and matters are entirely under control."
The woman arched an eyebrow. "Says the man sitting in a police
interview room. I grant you this one has a superlative view--"
she gestured at an expansive window, through which one could
watch the afternoon sun setting over San Francisco Bay "--but
really. Don't we usually make a point of avoiding places like
this?"
"Times change, my dear. Were we residing in Victorian London, I
would certainly look askance at a summons to Scotland Yard. As
you are well aware, however, our present circumstances are quite
different." As he spoke, the room's entrance slid open and he
rose to greet the uniformed individual who stepped through it.
"Dr. James Clovis, at your service," he said pleasantly. At a
subtle nod, his companion stood as well. "My associate, Miss
Marguerite Adler. I trust our conversation will be brief; we are
expected at a reception less than an hour from now."
"Ronan Morwood, Starfleet Security," said the new arrival. "That
would be the opening event of the Pan-Sagittarian Scientific
Assembly, at which you've been invited to present this year's
Daystrom Lecture. Something about the gravitational properties of
light, I believe?"
Dr. Clovis smiled. "One might say so. Yet I daresay, Lieutenant
Morwood, that you have not detained us in order to discuss the
mysteries of n-dimensional spectrodynamics."
Morwood did not smile back. "Correct. But I'm afraid I can't
promise you'll make your reception."
"I see," said Dr. Clovis, in a tone that suggested precisely the
opposite. "And why would that be?"
Now the lieutenant did smile, in cat-like fashion. "You have," he
observed, "a remarkable resume. Two books, three white papers,
eight journal articles, four astronomical survey reports, and no
less than seventeen privately published monographs, mostly on
matters of theoretical mathematics and physics - all in the space
of a little more than six years. Yet Cambridge University, from
which your doctorate supposedly originates, has no record of
James Clovis having studied there, let alone achieved any sort of
academic distinction, at any time in the past hundred years. Nor
are there any other legal records of a James Clovis matching your
description dated more than three months prior to the publication
of your earliest journal article."
"Nineteen," Dr. Clovis said mildly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nineteen monographs. An Approach to Interstellar
Economics was published exclusively on Ferenginar - though a
Terran edition is in preparation - and Toward A Theory of
Heightened Cognitive Awareness was withdrawn shortly after
its release. There are fewer than thirty authorized copies extant
in all of Federation space."
"I'll add those to the tally. But as to the issue at hand...."
"Ah, yes. You are contending that I don't actually exist, despite
the fact that we are here speaking to one another."
Lieutenant Morwood's chuckle was cool. "Hah. Your physical
existence isn't in question - but your identity is another
matter."
James Clovis' laugh, by contrast, was wholly genuine. "We
progress, Lieutenant; you've framed the matter precisely. I
therefore propose an exchange. If you will kindly confirm my
physical existence to an old acquaintance, I guarantee that she
in turn will enlighten you regarding my origins. Miss Adler?"
Marguerite nodded, drawing a padd from her carry-bag. "She played
the message forty-five minutes ago. We should be seeing her
any--"
The whoosh of the door interrupted her, allowing a
silver-blonde woman in formal Starfleet medical attire to enter.
"I hope there's a good reason for this. I'm due at a reception
in--" Then she in turn stopped in mid-breath as she took in the
office's three other occupants, a stunned expression on her face.
"My dear Dr. Pulaski," Dr. Clovis said, stepping forward and
offering his hand, "I hope I haven't given you too much of a
shock. Perhaps we can prevail on the lieutenant here to replenish
our supply of tea and scones."
Katherine Pulaski gave him a look that was half severe, half
amused. "A Saint Bernard with a cask of brandy might be more
appropriate. I don't know when I've been more surprised." She
turned to Lt. Morwood, who was hastily tapping commands into the
office's replicator. "Just one question: this isn't by chance a
holosuite, is it?"
Morwood blinked. "No, ma'am. Tea, did you say?"
"Why not?" Dr. Pulaski settled onto a couch near the window,
turning her attention back to Dr. Clovis. "And then perhaps
someone will explain what's going on. The last I heard, you and
your lady-love had been safely tucked away in a self-contained
data module."
"Lady-love? Data module?" Lieutenant Morwood's expression had
gone from slightly confused to thoroughly bewildered, and he
didn't resist when Marguerite Adler claimed the tea service he'd
produced, set it on a table near the couch, and began pouring.
Dr. Clovis accepted a cup, smiling. "I see there are many
misapprehensions to correct, but let us begin with the first.
Doctor, would you kindly introduce me properly to the lieutenant
here?"
Dr. Pulaski eyed him bemusedly. "If you insist. Lieutenant
Morwood, may I present Professor James Moriarty, formerly the
greatest fictional arch-criminal of this or any other century.
What he is nowadays, I haven't the faintest idea."
"Moriarty? But that's preposterous!"
"Not at all," said the newly revealed Professor. "James Clovis
Moriarty, to be precise. You may now understand why I dropped the
surname when I began my scientific career in the present century.
My original namesake's reputation is entirely too ubiquitous."
"James Clovis, the Daystrom lecturer? That's you?" Dr. Pulaski
demanded. "Your monograph on medical uses for nanite technology
was brilliant." She paused, frowning thoughtfully. "I suppose
that might help explain how you got out of that data module."
Professor Moriarty smiled. "It might, had I ever been in
that data module."
"Ah," said Dr. Pulaski. "I admit I wondered about that. It just
didn't seem logical that an intellect as powerful as yours could
be tricked so easily, especially in quite that way."
"Indeed," Moriarty returned. "It may be as well for me that you
had transferred off the Enterprise by the time I was
prepared to act. In retrospect, there were several other matters
that a properly skeptical observer might have noted."
Dr. Pulaski nodded. "The handedness malfunctions that caused
Barclay to 'wake you up', for instance. If those weren't
coincidental - and I'm betting they weren't - then the moment
when Data spotted the same problem in your holographic LaForge
must have been staged as well. You planned for Picard to spring
that holodeck-within-a-holodeck scenario."
The professor inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I had long
since concluded that Captain Picard truly did not have the
ability to release me from my confinement. Yet given the terms
under which I was created, existence outside the holodeck was
clearly possible. It was, in effect, the victory condition of the
game I was designed to play."
"Obviously you've won that game," Dr. Pulaski observed. "Am I
correct in assuming, then, that Miss Adler here is the former
Regina, Countess Bartholomew?"
Marguerite gave the doctor an amused salute. "You are," she said.
"I've had more names over time than I know what to do with, but I
admit I never cared for that one."
"Ah. May I deduce, then, that the story about the Countess being
the Professor's one true love was pure invention?"
"It was," Moriarty said at once. "Indeed, that description may be
the single greatest falsehood I've uttered since my awakening,
and I remain astonished to this day that anyone actually believed
it. But then, I am a creature of rationality, whereas both the
imaginary Countess and her genuine portrayer are persons of a
more emotional character."
The imaginary Countess laughed. "Very graceful, Professor."
Dr. Pulaski chuckled as well. "I must say, Professor, you've come
a long way since we first met. I daresay nowadays you sound more
like Sherlock Holmes himself than you do an evil mastermind."
"As it happens," Moriarty said, "there's a reason for that, but
it will probably confuse you. The truth appears to be that I'm
not actually that Professor Moriarty."
Lieutenant Morwood, whose eyes had long since glazed over,
blinked and sat up in his chair. "Wait, let me see if I have this
straight. You," he said, pointing at Dr. Pulaski, "served on the
Enterprise a few years back. You--" he pointed at
Moriarty "--were the evil genius in a holodeck story who somehow
woke up with actual superpowers. Only now you're here, and real,
and a genius, but not actually evil? Tell me another one."
Moriarty sighed. "I told you it would be confusing."
"And I told you this was a really bad idea," Marguerite put in.
"You may have had a point," the professor said. "Nonetheless, let
me attempt an explanation."
"Please," said Dr. Pulaski.
"This had better be good," said Morwood.
The professor sighed again. "Very well. As you're all aware, the
original Professor James Moriarty was the arch-nemesis of
Sherlock Holmes, both being characters created by Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle in the late nineteenth century."
"Indeed," said Dr. Pulaski.
"Right," said Morwood.
"However," said the professor, "in point of fact, Professor
Moriarty makes only two brief appearances in the fifty-six
stories actually written by Conan Doyle, and both he and Holmes
are reported dead following Moriarty's second turn. Doyle
subsequently brought back Sherlock Holmes, but left Moriarty to
his fate. The original Moriarty's reputation as a diabolically
clever fiend rests almost entirely on the many filmed adaptations
of the Holmes stories produced in the twentieth and early
twenty-first centuries, which had a much larger audience than
that for the written accounts."
Dr. Pulaski frowned. "But if Data's holodeck programs were
drawing on those films, then shouldn't you be just that sort of
villainous mastermind?"
"Makes sense to me," said Morwood.
"Ah," said Moriarty, "but therein lies the answer. It seems that
when the Enterprise computer was asked to craft an
opponent worthy of Lieutenant Commander Data, it looked neither
to Conan Doyle nor to the many films based on his books. It
turned instead to the immense number of apocryphal novels and
story collections published featuring further adventures of
Sherlock Holmes and his various foes and allies. Most focused on
Holmes himself, but a few featured other protagonists - Mycroft,
Sherlock's brother; Irene Adler, another great rival; even
Holmes's housekeeper, one Mrs. Hudson."
"I don't get it," said Morwood.
"I think I see where this is going," said Dr. Pulaski.
Moriarty nodded. "Indeed. One series of books, I have learned,
proposed that Professor James Clovis Moriarty was for the most
part a singularly gifted scientist, who occasionally resorted to,
let us say, creative methods to secure funding for his various
experiments and researches. In those stories, Sherlock Holmes was
- not precisely comic relief, but prone to see the Professor's
hand in far more criminal activity than was actually the case.
And Holmes and Moriarty might sometimes join forces against a
genuinely malevolent foe."
Dr. Pulaski smiled. "I can see the resonances."
"So can I," said Marguerite, glancing meaningfully in Morwood's
direction. "Was I right, or wasn't I?"
"Be kind, my dear," said the professor. "We're almost finished."
"Right you are," said Morwood. "I've got more than enough now to
hold you on half a dozen charges."
Abruptly, Dr. Pulaski was no longer smiling. "Name two, if you
please."
"Using a false name, for one. And - he had to get off the
Enterprise somehow; he must have stolen something
to do it."
"James Clovis is his name," Dr. Pulaski pointed out.
"Omitting 'Moriarty' is only a crime if it's done with intent to
defraud. As for a theft from the Enterprise, you'd have to
actually prove both that something specific was missing and that
the Professor here took it. After all this time, I very much
doubt you could do that even if something was actually taken -
and there's every chance that nothing was. Even his academic
credentials are technically legitimate - they're accurate for the
holodeck environment where he was 'born', and his work more than
demonstrates that he's earned them."
"But--" Morwood wasn't quite foaming at the mouth, but he was
clearly unhappy.
Dr. Pulaski turned a full-force medical glare on him. "Do you
want to be the man who ruined the Pan-Sagittarian Scientific
Assembly by arresting one of its keynote speakers on a trumped-up
charge that any competent lawyer will demolish in fifteen seconds
flat?"
"I, er, um - well, no," the lieutenant said, reluctantly.
"Well, then," said the doctor, turning to Moriarty and
Marguerite, "I think we'll all be on our way. If you're free
after the reception, I hope you'll join me for dinner. I'd like
to discuss that medical-nanite research," she told the professor.
To Marguerite, she added, "And I imagine there are a great many
stories you could tell about your post-Enterprise
adventures - strictly off the record, of course."
Marguerite grinned. "We'll see. And just between us," she added
softly, once the door to the security office had whooshed
shut behind them, "you can call me Madeleine. It's not the first
name I ever had, but it's the one I like best."
# # #
Notes: There is absolutely no evidence one way or
the other for the accuracy of the theory Professor Moriarty
propounds in this story regarding his origin. It would, however,
explain a great deal about the evolution of his character, is
remarkably consistent with both Daniel Davis' and Michael
Kurland's portrayals, and provides a plausible justification for
the existence of "Countess Regina Bartholomew", a character who
has no counterpart in any other professionally released Holmesian
fiction with which the present author is familiar.
When this is added to the AO3 collection, it will necessarily be
tagged with all the fandoms to which it belongs. "Marguerite"
will be tagged in the headers with the name under which she
appears in The Great Game, and there will be additional
notes on the Kurland books for the tag-wranglers and for readers
who may be unfamiliar with them. For this premier appearance
here on Livejournal, it appears in this form in the interests of
preserving the essential twist.