The Last Sherlock Holmes Story by Michael Dibdin

Author:Michael Dibdin [Dibdin, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571290499
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2012-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Four

As an army surgeon, I saw much of men who had sustained massive physical injuries. Those most severely wounded, strangely enough, are often the quietest. The screaming and the writhing are characteristic of the less critical cases. The most grievous seem to be protected from the full awareness of their plight; a merciful trance descends upon their senses, and if they subsequently recover they are very often unable to remember anything material from the period when their lives were despaired of. I cannot help feeling that something of this sort must have happened to me at the moment I am describing, although in my case it was the spirit rather than the flesh which had received the mortal blow. At all events, I find myself quite unable to recount in any detail the manner in which I spent that holiday Friday. All I can recall are a few vivid impressions, lacking all sense and sequence. My memory, like an idiot messenger, has forgotten all the vital items, while retaining trivia of no interest or importance. Thus I possess a clear memory of sitting on a form in a poky room lit by two oil lamps so filthy that they seemed rather to absorb light than to give it out. I stayed there for I know not how long, downing glass after glass of some liquid which the old hag behind the bar described as gin, though it tasted more like medicinal spirits. After that I am at a loss again. Where did I go? What did I do? It seems I fell on some wet tram-lines and lay helpless for several minutes together on the cobbles. Later, I think, I tried to board a cab, but the driver, no doubt dismayed by my appearance, cut at me with his whip. There were crowds everywhere by then, and bells pealing, and a procession with bands and horses and men dressed up as if for an old play, while urchins rushed past screaming about a horrible murder and people whispered together with fear in their eyes. Then all is blank.

I came to my senses lying face down under a rose bush. The sky was dark and a strong wind was blowing. I felt shaky, but myself again. A row of lights indicated that a broad thoroughfare passed close by. A tall pillar rose into the stormy darkness, and I heard again the mournful whistle of the steam launch which had awakened me. The pillar I recognised as that obelisk popularly known as Cleopatra’s Needle. With some difficulty I climbed the railings and dropped to the pavement. I stood for a moment under a lamp, inspecting my appearance. It was not reassuring. To discover himself lying in a flowerbed in a public gardens, without the slightest notion of how he came to be there, must prove an embarrassment to any respectable person. The case is by no means improved when he discovers that his hat, his tie, his money and his watch are

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.