Sherlock Holmes the Australian Casebook: all new Holmes stories by Christopher Sequeira

Author:Christopher Sequeira [Sequeira, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: anthology, sherlock, Watson, Baker Street, sydney, australia, Melbourne, crime, Mystery, detective, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Scotland Yard, gun, pipe, investigation, police, colony, Short Stories
ISBN: 9781760407360
Publisher: Echo Publishing, an imprint of Bonnier Books UK Limited
Published: 2017-09-24T06:16:02+00:00

The Mysterious Drowning at St Kilda

Steve Cameron

It should have come as no surprise that Holmes’s fame had extended well beyond English shores and into the distant colonies, however even I, who had spent so much time in the presence of my friend, was astounded at the stream of callers to our Fitzroy lodgings with all manner of requests for assistance. It seemed that every evening our landlady, Mrs Withers, would present another visitor: a young man in search of a missing family heirloom or an older woman whose cat had wandered from home, or even a young lady who could not recall her reason for calling upon us but merely stared at Holmes with adoring eyes. Holmes showed little interest in any of these cases and it fell to me to politely but firmly show them the door.

It was a fine evening in late May when the events of which I now write occurred. We had shared a late supper, and I was seated at an oak bureau documenting our most recent antipodean adventure in my journals. The gaslight burned steadily as I wrote while Holmes sat easily in an armchair, eyes distant and hands steepled.

‘Watson, get the door, would you?’

I glanced at Holmes, his eyes still staring into the distance, seated as before and apparently unmoved. There had been no knock, but I knew better than to ask.

I sighed, placed my pen on the bureau, rose and opened the door to find a rather portly middle-aged gentleman on the landing, fist raised as though about to knock. He had red hair that was beginning to grey, a moustache on his lip and ruddy cheeks that seemed to bulge. He wore a dark suit that had once fitted him better than it did now and carried an attaché case. Mrs Withers, of course, would have taken his coat and hat.

I bid him enter, which he did, and was surprised to see Holmes already standing with his long thin arm extended.

‘Inspector?’

Our visitor seemed somewhat taken aback. ‘Inspector Webb,’ he offered.

‘Delightful to meet you,’ said Holmes.

The visitor nodded and took his hand. ‘And to meet you also,’ he said. ‘How in heaven’s name did you know my rank?’

‘It has gone nine o’clock, and Mrs Withers would not admit a visitor at this late hour unless he were on some official errand. Your shoes are sturdy yet scuffed. It is likely you spend more time in the alleys and laneways of Melbourne than you do on the more fashionable streets. A policeman. But you are not a junior member of the force, since I would estimate you to be in your middle forties. I would presume you to be an inspector as those of lower ranks would not dare to approach me thus, fearing the wrath of their superiors.’

Webb leaned forward. ‘Wrath?’

‘Calling upon an “independent agent” like myself.’

‘Your deductive skills would appear to be even more impressive than I was led to believe. You are everything they say you are.’

‘I know,’ said Holmes.

Webb turned to me and shook my hand.

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