Sherlock Holmes & the Green Lama: The Heir Apparent by Adam Lance Garcia

Author:Adam Lance Garcia
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Supernatural, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781944017101
Publisher: Moonstone
Published: 2017-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

The Empty Den

Holmes rested a hand on his cane’s handle while the other held his pipe, wisps drifting from the bowl as our cab headed toward Limehouse. For the first time I saw the deep crags that had been etched into Holmes’s cheek: the thin, paper-like quality of his skin; the faint brown spots that flecked the back of his hands. I could see the age in his bones, the bulbous, arthritic nature of his knuckles. And yet, there was still that fire behind his eyes, an inferno that could engulf a younger man. If he noticed my scrutiny, he did not comment.

“So. How old are you, Mr. Holmes?” I asked after several moments.

Holmes smiled thinly. “Eighty-one.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Is that so surprising?”

“Considering you were able to take down a trained assassin a quarter your age…”

“He gave me the chance to use some of my baritsu training one again. As effective in Baker Street as it was at Reichenbach.”

“You’re telling me you defeated him with Japanese wrestling?”

“Oh, there were a few other techniques I needed to employ,” he said without further explanation.

“With all that you are capable of, I must ask, Mr. Holmes, why did you leave London?”

Holmes looked out the taxi window and his hands twisted around his cane’s golden handle. “There comes a time, Dumont, in every man’s life when he must contemplate the dusk… Leaving London was something I had considered for a very long time. Long before I was even at an age when one would consider retirement. My profession being what it was, I do not think I ever truly believed I would live as long as I have. Oh, there were many who tried to snuff me out, more than I can readily remember anymore. There was even a time when many thought I had died. But I came back then, as I have now, because I am not finished. My long life is not filled with regret, you understand, but has been very much a unique one, so much so that Watson thought it proper to inscribe adaptations of our adventures… if that is the word… and publish them for the masses to enjoy. They made Watson quite wealthy.

“Dumont, I think you may have noticed that I am not the most social of individuals. That is not by choice or design; it is simply how I am. It is something I’ve come to terms with as I’ve aged. Watson was one of the few who could handle my arrogance, aloof temperament, and propensity for secrecy. He was a good companion. A better friend, though I’m not sure I always showed him how much I appreciated him. After he—after Watson passed, I found my tether to the rest of the world broken. I remember standing over his grave—next to his wife Mary’s—and came to the realization that my time had passed.” He absently began massaging his left forearm. “But I found I am not well suited for retirement. You saw my arms.

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