Sherlock Holmes: The Persian Slipper and Other Stories by Brenda Seabrooke & David Marcum & Derrick Belanger

Author:Brenda Seabrooke & David Marcum & Derrick Belanger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Victorian England, crime, murder, pastiche, traditional, canonical, fantasy, Naval Man, curse, magician, India, herbs, ghost, apparition, Chemical snow, poison, Nautch, dance, Spanish, kidnap, stealing, Lestrade, snuff box, finger-marks
ISBN: 9781787059863
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2022-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

The Naval Man

Holmes and I returned late from a trying case that nonetheless was solved by the great detective. We were tired and despite napping on the train journey, were ready for a drink, a warm fire, and a comfortable bed in that order with sleep quick to follow. None of that was to be. Before we could unstopper a decanter, a knocking sounded on the downstairs door. We paused in the act of removing our coats and listened for a hint of our visitor for surely it was no one to see our landlady at this late hour.

Mrs. Hudson, long retired for the night, hastened to the door and led the visitor to our sitting room. “Constable Beech to see you, Mr. Holmes,” she announced and turned away to stifle a yawn. I felt like doing the same but Holmes seemed as wide awake as he was this morning with a case at hand for surely Constable Beech had no other reason to call at this hour.

“Constable, what news,” Holmes said in the act of pouring a brandy.

The constable was young and no doubt wide-eyed at being in the presence of the great Sherlock Holmes.

“Beg pardon sir, I ‘av a message from Inspector Lestrade. He wants you to come to the Yard, sir.”

“At this hour?” Holmes took a sip of the brandy while I poured one for myself.

“‘E’s caught the Ladykiller, sir.”

“Has he indeed?” Holmes said rather lazily, I thought, given the import of the news.

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Then why does he require my services?” Holmes spoke with some asperity, being as travel-weary as I was despite his manner.

“I dunno, sir. You’re to come with me. The Inspector will explain everything.”

Our coats were as tired as we were, needing a good sponging and brushing but we shrugged them on and followed the constable down to the police vehicle waiting at the kerb. The drive to Scotland Yard was quiet. Holmes asked no more questions of the constable who appeared tongue-tied with awe. I let myself drift into sleep. As a young doctor in hospital and later on the move with the army, I learned to catch sleep where I could. Thus it was I felt somewhat refreshed when we arrived at 4 Whitehall Place which backed onto Great Scotland Yard.

Inspector Lestrade met us at the entrance, his thin sallow face almost aglow with glee.

“What have you hauled us down for in the middle of the night?” Holmes’s peremptory tone immediately put Lestrade in his place for calling us out this late, implying whatever the cause it better be one of importance and completely ignoring the intelligence from the constable that Lestrade had caught the Lady Killer as the newspapers termed the series of three murders of young women found floating in the Thames.

Lestrade was not the worst of policemen. I thought he was probably one of the better lot but all at the Yard were so far from Holmes as to be from a different planet, likely one located underground rather than in the firmament.

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