Tales From the Deed Box of John H. Watson, MD by Hugh Ashton

Author:Hugh Ashton
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: mystery, detective, Sherlock Holmes, SSC
ISBN: 9781469950358
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

Sherlock Homes in

The Case of the Cormorant

Editor’s Note

In The Veiled Lodger, Dr Watson states:

“I deprecate, however, in the strongest way the attempts which have been made lately to get at and to destroy these papers. The source of these outrages is known, and if they are repeated I have Mr. Holmes' authority for saying that the whole story concerning the politician, the lighthouse, and the trained cormorant will be given to the public. There is at least one reader who will understand.”

This cryptic utterance has baffled students of Holmes’ history and cases for many years. The story alluded to was, for a long time, considered to be unwritten, existing only in the memory of Holmes (and possibly Watson), and the facts held in reserve against the possibility of an attack on Watson’s records as described above.

It was with great pleasure, therefore, that the following account was discovered in the deed box which had once been the property of John Watson, MD. The MS had been carefully placed in not just one, but three stout manila envelopes, each sealed with the impression of two signet rings, one of which bore the initials “SH” and the other a simple “W”. The outermost bore the words, “The Case of the Cormorant”, and this is the title by which I now make this available to the world.

-oOo-

My friend Sherlock Holmes had been suffering from a surfeit of cases which admitted of no easy solution, and which had at the last caused a seeming debilitation of even his seemingly indestructible faculties. As his friend and his medical adviser, I persuaded him that a temporary retreat from the metropolis was in the best interests of his health and he assented with an alacrity which somewhat surprised me.

My suggestions that we spend a week enjoying the pleasures of the Normandy coast at Deauville or some similar watering place did not meet with his approval, however, and he proposed as an alternative that we travel to the westernmost county of our principal island – Cornwall. I was happy to fall in with this idea, and welcomed the prospect of bracing walks along the rugged coastline of that most entrancing, and in many ways one of the most mysterious, of counties.

Accordingly, we reserved rooms, assembled our garments and other accoutrements necessary for a stay in the countryside, and travelled on the express train from Paddington Station to Falmouth. Upon arrival, we enquired as to the whereabouts of the lodgings where we had secured accommodation, and on finding that they were close by, Holmes proposed stretching our legs after the train journey by walking to our destination, and sending our luggage on by trap. The plan seemed to me to be a good one, and we strolled through the streets of the charming old town, taking in the quaintnesses and sights as we did so. By the time we had reached the home of our landlady, Mrs Buncombe, I for one felt no pangs of regret at the decision to remain in our native land rather than making a journey to foreign parts.

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