Sherlock Holmes: The Plagues of London by Jones Kelvin

Author:Jones, Kelvin [Jones, Kelvin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cunning Crime Books
Published: 2012-05-22T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Diary of Dr Watson: January 6th, 1889

Things are truly moving onwards at a cracking pace. The new consulting rooms are almost completed. Indeed, all that remains to be done is the third bedroom and on New Year's Day Mary and I spent much time wallpapering it. On New Year's Eve we dropped in to see Holmes at Baker Street and found him, for once, in fine form.

As we entered 221 there was a loud pistol shot from above. “I'm sorry, sir, madam,” said a beleagured Mrs Hudson, emerging from her pantry, her hands white with flour, “he's been up there for around three hours, shooting at the wall, Lord help us. Perhaps you can persuade him to stop, doctor? I've had complaints from next door and I can't say I blame them!”

“We'll see what we can do, Martha. Don't distress yourself unduly.”

We entered the familiar sitting room and glimpsed Holmes through a miasma of gunshot smoke. He was in the act of lowering a small Webley. Opposite him the wall bore a series of bullet holes and there was a fresh mark in the mantelpiece where he had aimed badly.

“John, Mary, do come in. Sit here and I will order coffee,” he said, divesting himself of his long purple dressing gown and flinging it carelessly over the back of the chair. “You must forgive the chaos, but I have been up early, cogitating.”

“You have solved the mystery then?” I cried.

“Be specific, Watson. To which mystery are you alluding?”

“Why, to the murders of Lord Taverner and Sir James Fawcett, of course!”

“You might equally have been referring to the Ripper murders. No, I have not solved either – yet. But I have something for you – a favour to ask, that is, if Mrs Watson here has no objection.”

“None at all,” said Mary. “I think it wonderful that John can enjoy such remarkable adventures with you – especially now that the records of them can be brought before the public.”

“Quite so. What I have in mind for you, Watson, is a little more prosaic than some of our exploits.”

“I am ready for the challenge!”

“Ah, Martha, coffee for our good friends, if you please.”

A distraught looking Mrs Hudson grimaced at the pock-marked wall, then disappeared.

“Some days ago,” resumed Holmes, “I took the opportunity of doing a little research into the associates of Elizabeth Stride. I discovered that the young woman in question was occasionally employed as a model for that painter Walter Sickert.”

“I have met him.”

“I was aware of that fact – through your literary agent, Dr Doyle.”

“Yes, at a literary luncheon at the Langham.”

“Just so. It now appears from the information I have received that Elizabeth was also used by other artists, including Whistler. What I have in mind, Watson, is that you visit this man Sickert and ask him to undertake a portrait commission for you. See what information you can glean. Find out about his comings and goings. Discover what you can about his connections. In particular, see if there is any kind of a link between Sickert and Lord Taverner.

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