Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #8 Read online

  Unfortunately from my point of view, but fortunately for them, the Mulroneys won’t be back for the third Downey/Law film, as they are occupied with several other projects. They will be followed by British writer, Drew Pearce, who is also scripting Downey’s third outing as Iron Man. With the Professor dead at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls, creating a formidable adversary for Holmes next time will not be easy; while “the second most dangerous man in London,” does survive Game of Shadows, the Mulroneys’s version, much like the Canonical one, is more of a skilled hired gun, than an evil mastermind. And if Moriarty can be plausibly made into a man of action when needed, the same cannot be said for “the worst man in London,” Charles Augustus Milverton. One of the other Moriarty brothers, perhaps? Or perhaps there was a second survivor of the fall into “that dreadful cauldron of swirling water and seething foam”? Whomever it is must be more like Harris’s Moriarty than Mark Strong’s Lord Blackwood of the first film.

  Will the merits of Sherlock Holmes 2 continue in its sequel, or will it seem like just a fluke? We’ll know in 2013. d

  _____________

  Lenny Picker has been fascinated by Moriarty since reading “The Final Problem” at the age of thirteen, and staying up late to watch George Zucco in 1939’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. He can be reached at [email protected].

  ASK MRS HUDSON

  Dear Mrs. Hudson,

  I am curious to know which is your favourite Sherlock Holmes story written by Dr Watson?

  Peter

  * * * *

  Dear Peter,

  What an intriguing question, and how difficult it is to answer! As I contemplate the question, half a dozen stories pop into my mind—“A Scandal in Bohemia,” “The Adventure of the Dancing Man,” “A Study in Scarlet” (I must confess a special fondness for the very first one, as a mother often has a special feeling for her first-born child.)

  But then as I review this list, half a dozen more leap into my head, until my poor brain is quite muddled with the surfeit of choices. Very well, let me choose one and then tell you why I like it, if you will bear with me.

  I shall choose “The Adventure of the Illustrious Client.” In it, you may remember, Mr Holmes is engaged to keep the headstrong young Violet de Merville from making a disastrous marriage.

  I think the tale demonstrates Holmes’s reasoning ability as well as his fearlessness—he takes on the odious Baron Gruner, who promptly sends thugs to attack him. In spite of his expertise at single-stick combat, they do him considerable injury. There is a touching scene where dear Dr Watson visits the injured detective, fearing the worst, and Holmes soothes him, assuring the good doctor that the press has exaggerated his injuries.

  The story also shows Mr Holmes’s gallantry and tenderness toward women. It is true he does not trust them, but he has been misrepresented as loathing the sex entirely. Nothing could be further from the truth—no one is more solicitous or kinder to me than Mr Holmes, when the mood strikes him. Of course, he can be abrupt and dismissive, but that’s as may be, and doesn’t negate the many instances of his kindness. Otherwise, I should not have put up with his unorthodox behaviour for all these years, I can assure you!

  I don’t want to spoil the story for those of my readers who have yet to encounter it, but when the identity of the “illustrious client” was revealed, I must say I was quite thrilled, and my heart was quite aflutter for some time. I regard it as yet another tribute to my most unusual tenant—though Mr Holmes, bless him, took it quite in stride, as you may imagine.

  Had he been half as impressed as Dr Watson and myself, I think he, too, would have taken pause to consider the honour it represented. But that’s not Mr Holmes’s way and never has been—he is of a most egalitarian disposition, and treats a stable groom with as much respect as a peer of the realm. A man ahead of his time in many ways, I always say, though I expect there are some who would take issue with me.

  Although the doctor seldom speaks of it—I think for fear of embarrassing his friend—Mr Holmes is not without his admirers. I hope it’s not telling tales out of school to relay an amusing incident involving a well-born young lady and her infatuation with Mr Holmes—that’s the only word for it, I’m afraid—infatuation. She was quite besotted, and behaved with some forwardness, I’m afraid. Mr Holmes found himself in a rather delicate situation, which was compounded by Dr Watson’s sincere desire to help his friend, though he did it rather clumsily, I’m afraid.

  Of course I can’t reveal the young lady’s identity, but she was the sister of one of Mr Holmes’s clients, and had occasion to meet him when he and Dr Watson paid a visit to their house. Lady W, as I shall call her, joined her brother for tea with the good doctor and Mr Holmes. She took a shine to Mr Holmes—apparently it was quite obvious, as Dr Watson himself remarked upon it. Mr Holmes alone dismissed it as “feminine charm” directed at everyone equally. That he did not perceive himself as the object of this young lady’s affections further demonstrates his lack of understanding of matters of the heart.

  Well, it seems that after the case was solved, Lady W contrived to “drop in” on my tenant, showing up at Baker Street in a very handsome carriage and four, if you can believe it! We don’t see such extravagance in this part of London, I can tell you, and people were fairly hanging out of their windows to have a good look. The local street urchins fought with one another for the privilege of holding the horses while her Ladyship was inside, and although her coachman was quite capable of handling the situation, she gave them each half-a-crown! Bless me, but she was generous as well as extravagant.

  Mr Holmes was out on a case, so I conversed with her briefly, until Dr Watson appeared, quite surprised to see her. I set out quite an impressive spread for tea, if I do say so myself, and we endeavoured to entertain her Ladyship as best we could. Mr Holmes was not due to arrive back at Baker Street for some time, and we certainly didn’t expect her to take advantage of our hospitality and wait for him.

  When it became clear that she was there to pursue a romantic interest in Mr Holmes—having no intention of engaging his professional services—Dr Watson embarked upon an ill-conceived attempt to dissuade her, engaging me as his unwilling accomplice.

  “Ah, Mrs. Hudson,” said he, “Holmes is still rather down in the dumps, don’t you think?”

  Not knowing what on earth he meant, I replied, “I suppose he is, if you think so.”

  The doctor then gave a mournful sigh, which sounded rather fake to me; I don’t suppose he numbers acting among his many skills. I glanced at her Ladyship to see how she was receiving his rather amateur histrionics, but the keen expression on her face showed that she was very attentive, indeed. Dr Watson heaved another sigh, and I nearly burst out laughing, but he glared at me and I swallowed my mirth in a hastily-conceived coughing fit.

  “It is indeed too bad,” says he, “that the love of his life is in America, and not expected to return for some time yet.”

  My expression must have showed my utter astonishment at this pronouncement, but luckily the young lady was not looking at me. She leaned in toward the good doctor, so that her dainty hand nearly touched his.

  “Is Mr Holmes married, then?”

  “Married? No, I should think not,” Dr Watson replied. “Though I daresay he wishes he were. The lady in question is not of a mind to marry—at least not at present, and not to him.”

  Lady W blushed most prettily and smiled, though even I could tell it was a forced smile. “I do not wish to pry,” said she, though from her tone of voice and expression it was clear that was precisely her aim.

  “Oh, it’s no secret,” the good doctor said with a wave of his hand. I daresay I was rather shocked to hear this claim, since it was not only a secret, it was a complete falsehood. “He is smitten with a lady of great birth and station in life, and she takes little notice of him. Still, he will entertain no other woman as a love interest, having given his heart to her. He is the kind of man who, once his troth is pledged, will re
main forever faithful.”

  The young lady reddened. “If I had the good fortune to be loved by such a man as Mr Holmes, I should not treat him so lightly,” she declared, her voice harsh with emotion.

  “Your Ladyship is very kind,” Dr Watson replied, pretending not to understand the sentiment behind her words. “I daresay you are a great deal more considerate than the young lady in question.”

  I offered more tea, which was refused, and our visitor soon took her leave of us, gliding down to her waiting carriage amidst the importuning of street waifs anxious to capitalize on her generosity. Dr Watson promised to give her regards to Mr Holmes, but I knew he would not tell of her visit unless he could not help it.

  “Why, Dr Watson!” I exclaimed after the coach had driven off on the rain-slicked cobblestones. “I’m surprised at you! Lying to her Ladyship like that—whatever gave you the nerve to do such a thing?”

  “My dear Mrs. Hudson,” he replied, lighting a cheroot, “I wished to spare the young lady some embarrassment, and avoid putting Holmes in a delicate situation he is ill-equipped to handle. It seems to me a small lie is a small price to pay for such a thing.”

  Mr Holmes had the last word, though. When he arrived later that afternoon, with his usual alacrity and powers of observation, he deduced not only that we had had a visitor in his absence, but concluded correctly who it was. Dr Watson had no choice but to confirm his conclusions.

  “And what did you tell her that caused her to depart so abruptly?” Holmes inquired.

  Dr Watson nearly choked on his whisky. “How on earth did you know she—?”

  Holmes gave a little laugh. “My dear fellow, when a woman hurries out of a room so quickly that she snags her expensive silk wrap on the door frame,” he said, plucking a few cream-coloured threads from the door, “and furthermore, leaves her parasol,” he added with a glance at the feather-trimmed accessory on the hearth, leaning against the mantel, “I can only conclude she left in some haste.” He glanced at the table I was in the process of clearing. “Since she arrived in no particular haste—judging by the amount of tea and cakes she consumed—I can only conclude it was something you said that caused her to leave in such a flustered state of mind.”

  Dr Watson frowned and tossed his cigarette into the glowing embers of the fireplace. “Very well, Holmes, you win,” he said, and proceeded to tell the entire story of Lady W’s visit.

  “Tut tut, Watson,” Holmes said when he had finished. “I’m surprised you came up with a credible lie so readily. I do hope you aren’t considering a future as a writer of agony columns.”

  “No chance of that,” Watson muttered, moving to his writing desk.

  “I am sorry you felt it necessary to lie to the young lady,” Holmes remarked.

  “I was merely trying to spare her—and you—considerable embarrassment,” Watson said, clearly miffed. “I should think you’d be grateful.”

  “Hmm,” said Holmes, turning to me. “Well then, Mrs Hudson, what have you for our dinner tonight? I’m quite famished.”

  “Lamb chops,” I replied. “Either that or Welsh rarebit. Take your pick.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Watson declared moodily.

  “Come along, my dear fellow, dine with me, won’t you?” said Holmes. Things had evidently gone well for him today, for he was in a jovial mood.

  “I shouldn’t think you’d want to have dinner with a liar,” Watson grumbled.

  “Goodness, Watson,” Holmes said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about human nature, it’s that everybody lies. You told a lie today that you hoped would help me out, and for that I should be grateful. Never mind whether it was the right thing to do or not—you did your best as you saw it.”

  “Very well,” Watson said. “Next time I’ll let you fend for yourself when a woman like that practically throws herself at you.”

  “If you must,” Holmes said. “But for God’s sake, next time you give me a fictional lady friend, would you do me a favour and put her somewhere else other than America? I mean, if you want your story to be credible. Who on earth would leave England to go there?”

  “Yes, I supposed you’re right,” said Watson. “Mrs Hudson, I think I’ll have the Welsh rarebit, if you don’t mind.”

  “And I’ll have the chops,” Holmes proclaimed. “If that’s not too much trouble for you.”

  “No,” said I. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  * * * *

  Thank you again for your letter, Peter—please write again sometime.

  Very truly yours,

  Mrs Hudson

  CARTOON, by Mark Bilgrey

  SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE CASE OF THE GERMAN SERIALS, by Gary Lovisi

  The strange case I am about to relate to you, gentle reader, began in the last days of a cold December morning in the year of ’09—that is—in the year 2009! That was when my wife, Lucille, presented me with a rather odd and certainly unique Sherlockian book as a Christmas gift. She knows I am enamored of nearly everything pertaining to Holmes, no matter how odd or scarce, and this book certainly fit the bill. However, what I did not know at the time was that this book would lead to my discovery of an entire realm of hitherto unknown Holmes books to me—which I now seek to share with you.

  The large hardcover book was simply titled “Sherlock Holmes” embossed in gold leaf with the mysterious initials “V.B.” in the lower right corner, the only other information on the otherwise dark green simulated leather hardcover binding. There was no jacket. However, as intriguing as the title and mysterious initials were upon the cover of this ancient tome (I guess I should mention now that the book is from 1907 and well over 100 years old!), what was inside I found much more fascinating.

  The book conained 12 individual Sherlock Holmes German dime novel type serials from 1907, bound together. I had never seen their like before but I was instantly fascinated by them, excited to find out more. It was not easy. The text was written in German, and I do not speak or understand the German language. However, some information was discernible from simple Holmesian observation, so I put the Master’s techniques to use to garner what facts I could.

  This is a series of German dime novel type booklets entitled Detektiv Sherlock Holmes und Seine Weltbreuhmten Abventeur—which roughly translates into English as “Sherlock Holmes Most Famous Cases”—though another translation has it as “Detective Sherlock Holmes and His World-Famous Adventures.” Issue #1 is dated January 2, 1907 and is entitled Das Geheimnis Jurgen Witwe—or “The Mystery of the Young Widow.” Each 32-page issue sold for 20 pfenning, measured roughly 8.5 x 10.5 inches, or quarto size, and were published weekly in Germany. The covers featured really wonderful full color illustrations, many depicting Holmes and his ‘companion’ (more on this soon). There is also a small cover box with an illustration of the profile of the Great Detective smoking his ever-present pipe looking on in serious deductive thought.

  The color cover art for these booklets is just terrific. Issue #1 shows an unmistakable Holmes in the sitting room at 221B standing before a soldier and his wife giving his deduction to their problem with his usual aplomb. A traditional image of what appears to be Dr. Watson is seated behind him at a desk. Issue #4 shows Holmes with a revolver, shocked as he grabs at a criminal’s arm—only to discover it detached from the man’s body, it is a prosthetic. That issue is a reprint, you may note the new title for the series. Issue #8 shows a startled and weeping woman, whom having removed a painting from where it was hanging upon the wall, reveals a hidden skeleton! It is most effective, as are many of the other covers in this series.

  As I did more research on this lovely and fascinating book I began to discern more interesting facts about the series and the stories themselves. The most interesting being that the 12 stories I had in my book (all written in German, in a heavy Gothic font reminiscent of pre-World War I type), were not only all Sherlock Holmes stories—but none of them seemed to be Doyle stories! Even though my knowledge of the German language is sever
ely limited I was able to discover this by going through the text of each story line-by-line looking for familiar names from The Canon. I found none. These are, in fact, all new Holmes tales. What I had found were original stories featuring an entirely new set of characters who had come to Holmes with new cases for him to solve—none of which were created by Doyle.

  Even more startling to me was the discovery that while Holmes was indeed present in every story in dialog and in quotations, I could not find hide nor hair of his trusty companion, Dr. John H. Watson. Watson, it seemed did not exist in these stories at all! I was astounded. Then who was telling the stories? Well, I soon discovered that the narrator to these 12 tales was an apparently new companion and chronicler of the Great Detective—and that was the young and dashing Harry Taron—in some incarnations called “Taxson,” though the name is difficult for me to make out in the old Gothic German script. Taron is noted in the text as der famulus von Sherlock Holmes—or “the friend of Sherlock Holmes.” So, bye-bye Watson! Hello Harry! There is even a drawing of Harry on the first page of the third issue from January 30, 1907, for the story titled Das Ratfel am Spieltifche. He looks nothing like Watson at all.

  There are in fact, two series, where a new one continues after the first. After issue #10, the series suddenly takes on a new title and drops the name “Sherlock Holmes“. I wondered why? Well, it seems that by issue #10 there was some concern (some researchers even call it wrath) by the lawyers for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that the name of Sherlock Holmes was used in this series, so it was taken out of the title from issue #11 on.

  The new title of the series became Ausdem Geheimakter des Weltdetektius or “The Secret Files of The King of Detectives.” Nevertheless, while the name of the Great Detective was deleted from the title of the series, nor was the name of Holmes used in the titles of any of the individual stories, he is unabashedly present under his true name in every story—along with his faithful companion and chronicler—Harry Taron!