The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part V by David Marcum

Author:David Marcum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novels, sherlock holmes short stories
ISBN: 9781780929972
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2016-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

The Adventure of the Christmas Surprise

by Vincent W. Wright

The cold of London can have a curative effect on the nerves as well as a damaging one on the mind. There are those who lavish in its restorative power when staying in by a warm fire, but others who suffer from a sort of enclosed sickness that causes them to nearly go mad. Sherlock Holmes is the latter, and I the former.

It was not long after my marriage that I made it a point to spend a winter evening with my friend and discuss those things one does when not involved with a case. My wife was visiting some acquaintances in the north, and I would be along after her in a day or so. Holmes was happy to accept my sudden appearance, but I knew something was amiss with him. His fame had taken a decidedly upwards turn after revealing the involvement of the Vicar of Stowmarket in the disappearance of the Spanish trade ship El Menear, but Holmes wanted no part of it. He had told me once that the work itself had rewards which transcended glory, and I never doubted his conviction.

1890 was a particularly busy year for Holmes, and I had done my best to go along with him every chance I could without neglecting my callers. But December had been unkind to his thirsty brain, and ennui had set in. He sat puffing at his newest churchwarden while I read the agony columns and enjoyed a bracing cup of tea. Outside, the occasional winter gust pressed against the walls of our building, and intermittent swirls of snow blew past the window panes, but Holmes was unaware of such things. As he stared longingly into the fire, I decided to break the silence.

“Here’s a line from someone in Croydon talking about his lost copy of The Sign of the Four, Holmes,” I said from the comfort of my old chair. “Seems he left it in the lobby of an East End hotel called The Bard’s Bed, but when he returned, it was missing.”

“A book?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Watson, it was only The Sign of the Four in the magazine. It was without that dreaded second ‘the’ in book form.”

“You’re right, Holmes. Forgive me for getting it wrong,” I said with less than an honest tone. “And let me once again thank you for writing to the different publishers about it.”

“I did convince some of them to change it. Seems my name carries some weight,” he said as he rose from his seat. “Besides, it makes for a better title.”

The number of visitors to the door had certainly increased with each published narrative. Calls could come at any time of day, and it usually kept Holmes busy. Lately, the weather had given him fewer cases, and though the calm could be a welcome change, I knew he would not fare well without some mental stimulation. The quietude was broken that evening, however, when the sound of a light knock caused us to look toward the door.

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