Sherlock Holmes- the Dreaming Man by William Meikle

Author:William Meikle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, sherlock, mystery, detective, british, occult, supernatural, horror
Publisher: Gryphonwood Press
Published: 2017-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

Part 2: The Dreaming Man

Chapter 1

I have rarely seen my friend Sherlock Holmes so flustered as I found him that morning in September last year.

I myself was not in the best of moods, having suffered a restless sleep plagued by dreams of old battles and old cases — I had seen a hound in the dark, tasted cordite and powder, and heard the screams of the dying. I was more than ready for a hearty breakfast, a large pot of tea and a read of the morning's paper to clear my head of the night.

The first draft of autumn had arrived, and Mrs. Hudson had a fire lit. Despite the chill, Holmes had not yet changed from his bedclothes, although he was wrapped in a rather garish Paisley-patterned dressing gown, and had foregone slippers to warm his toes by the heat of the fire. He sat in his favorite chair, reading The Thunderer. Every few minutes he would pause, and, with exquisite dexterity, snip an article from the paper with the scissors he kept for that express purpose, before tearing the rest of the page from the newspaper, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it into the grate for burning. I was not going to get the pleasure of perusing the paper that morning, for there seemed to be only a few pages left and Holmes already had a substantial pile of cuttings on the small table by his right hand.

"More criminality for your files, Holmes? I said.

"Robberies, murders, fraud and blackmail — the rich tableau of the modern city," he replied with no little disgust. "Lestrade clearly needs my help, Watson. Why in the blazes will he not ask for it?"

"This is London," Holmes," I said. "We have the good fortune to live in the greatest city in the world. It is hardly remarkable that there is a certain amount of criminal activity."

He waved me to the chair across the fire from him.

"Don't vex me, Watson. The scale of the villainous enterprises reported these past two weeks is worse than has been seen for several years." Holmes sifted through his pile of clippings, reading out a summary to me at random. "A large bank robbery in the City, two murders in Belgravia, a diamond heist in Hatton Gardens, a prominent peer of the realm in a prostitution scandal, a minor royal swindled out of several works of art, and a ship's captain, gone missing in mysterious circumstances in St. Catherine's Quay. And that is just a small sample — merely those that the papers have chosen to print. My sources tell me that there is more — much more — activity that is not even noticed by authorities nor journalists."

"And yet you wonder why Lestrade has not contacted you? The poor chap must be quite run off his feet."

"All the more reason for him to ask for my help," Holmes replied. He fell quiet as he lit up a fresh pipe, tapping the tobacco in hard as if he could relieve some of his frustration in the process.

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