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    Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy
    Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy
    Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy
    Ebook137 pages1 hour

    Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy

    By Dick Gillman

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    About this ebook

    This is a collection of the first three stories written by the English author Dick Gillman. In these stories, he introduces the character of Julia Moriarty. Holmes and Watson become acutely aware of her existence in 1894 in the story aptly recorded by Watson as that of ‘The Shadow of James Moriarty’. Shopping for a Christmas gift for Holmes exposes Watson to an underworld that he had hoped had disappeared with the death of James Moriarty. The New Year brings even greater peril as an attempt is made on Holmes's life and once again the shadow of James Moriarty seems to be reaching out. Revenge is clearly the motive but who is seeking to finally destroy Holmes? In order to solve the mystery, Holmes must offer his life in order to attempt a grand deception. In the second story, Watson goes on to describe how their paths cross again in 1897 when Holmes investigates the tragic case of ‘The Highgate Magician’. The mysterious disappearance on stage of a magician's assistant is the beginning of a case that draws Holmes and Watson into the world of international intrigue. A German pianist, a diplomat working as an aide to the Kaiser is enraged by Holmes's activities during the investigation. However, this chance meeting inadvertently saves Holmes from certain death. A secret deal struck by the British Government with an old foe threatens to tear Sherlock and Mycroft apart. Only Holmes's unique skills of observation and deduction coupled with swift action can halt a very public assassination and avert war in Europe. In 1899, Watson recounts the case of ‘The Severed Finger’ in which Julia Moriarty reveals her truly ruthless nature. This, in turn, leads Holmes to describe her as “the very embodiment of evil.” Holmes and Watson's evening is disturbed by a gruesome find by cabbie Henry Wiggins. A cryptic note and a freshly severed finger trigger a desperate search for its owner. Mycroft is summoned when the involvement of Julia Moriarty is discovered. Holmes has a bitter encounter with Moriarty and must now balance an arms shipment to a potential enemy against a man’s life. It appears that Julia Moriarty has finally defeated Holmes...but all may not be as it seems.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMX Publishing
    Release dateJul 21, 2015
    ISBN9781780927657
    Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy
    Author

    Dick Gillman

    Dick Gillman is a Yorkshireman in his 70's. He retired from teaching Science in 2005 and moved from the UK to Brittany, France, in 2008 with his wife Alex, Truffle, the Black Labrador and Poppy, the cat. As well as writing, he is an accomplished digital artist and lives near the coast where the rugged landscape and the Atlantic Ocean influence his artwork. He still has strong links with the UK where he visits his two grown up children and his four grandchildren.During his retirement he has written well over thirty Sherlock Holmes short stories, many of which are published here. Successfully publishing both e-books and paperbacks, he has also been selected to contribute many stories to the superb, World Record beating and ongoing MX Sherlock Holmes anthology. His stories appear in several volumes published by MX Publishing and also in the monthly case solving letters entitled 'Dear Mr Holmes' published by Letterjoy. More are to follow in the latest volumes by MX and Letterjoy.Watch out for further Sherlock Holmes short stories throughout 2022 and treat yourself to his very latest seven story collection, 'Julia Moriarty - in memorium' which contains all seven stories in which Holmes crosses swords with the beautiful, but deadly, Julia Moriarty. This is available an e-book and can be found as a paperback at all major online bookstores.

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      Book preview

      Sherlock Holmes and The Julia Moriarty Trilogy - Dick Gillman

      www.staunch.com

      The Shadow of James Moriarty

      A Christmas Gift

      An explosive event on Holmes’s 41st birthday began the case I have recorded here as ‘The Shadow of James Moriarty’. Since Moriarty’s death there had been no-one to adequately challenge Holmes’s formidable intellect... until now. It seemed like the very shadow of Moriarty himself was to envelop Holmes and take him from us.

      It was a bright, sunny morning in the middle of December 1894 when I recall that I was in need of a Christmas present for Holmes. Sitting back in his chair, oblivious to the world, Holmes was conducting some piece of music with the stem of his pipe. Holmes old man, I am at a loss as to what to buy you as a Christmas gift. Are you in need of anything in particular?

      Holmes stopped conducting and seemed to be giving my request some serious thought. Holmes held his forefinger aloft before replying, Well, I did have a mind to treat myself to a new pipe. I do so enjoy smoking my Meerschaum, however, it does tend to get so damnably hot.

      Hah! said I, Consider it done! and with that, I decided that very minute to leave our rooms in Baker Street and take a stroll down Regent Street to Carlin’s, the tobacconists.

      The weather was uncommonly mild for December and I had decided to forgo my muffler, being comfortable in only an overcoat and hat. Carlin’s is a long established retailer offering a multitude of tobaccos and cigars. Indeed, it was well known that several titled gentlemen purchased their cigars at Carlin’s. A stream of carriages throughout the day could be seen depositing their owners who would then take the opportunity to sit on a cask of tobacco and partake of a glass of sherry whilst they purchased their cigars. I had many times visited this particular shop and also had taken the time to explore their Oxford Street branch, discovering new and intriguing tobaccos. However, on this occasion I required a Christmas gift for Holmes, something rather special.

      Standing on the pavement outside the shop, I paused briefly to look in the window and admire their display of pipes, including Churchwardens, Briars and Meerschaums. There were humidors for cigars and a fine range of accessories that every self-respecting pipe or cigar smoker was deemed to require. I was attracted to a particularly handsome briar pipe that had a Meerschaum interior. This pipe purported to have the porosity of the Meerschaum whilst retaining the heat absorbing qualities of a briar pipe. So enamoured was I with this pipe that I found myself speaking aloud, Ah, ideal! The best of both worlds!

      It was as I took stock of the wares on display, that I noticed, in the reflection from the window, a man who seemed to be regarding me closely. Perhaps his attention had been drawn by my outcry but as I turned slightly, he hurriedly looked away and shielded his face by reading his newspaper. Thinking nothing of it, I entered the tobacconists. At once I was captivated by the intensity of the odour from the myriad of tobaccos on offer. To a smoker, it seemed as though one had been transported to Aladdin’s cave!

      On the glass-topped counter, which ran the length of one side of the shop, were small bowls of pipe tobacco. Within each bowl could be seen a label, written in fine copperplate, that gave the name and the price per ounce. Behind the counter were banks of tight-fitting wooden drawers, all neatly labelled. From these, the sales assistants took tobacco before weighing out the amount the customer required on a pair of ornate brass scales. Cigars were displayed in large humidors where they could be bought individually. If more were required, they could be bought as a box from one of the stacks on display. I was overwhelmed! Looking around, it took me a few moments to navigate to the section of the shop displaying pipes.

      Before me was a vast array of pipes, including Meerschaum, Calabash and Briars. Some of the Briars were plain and burnished whilst others had been carved into intriguing designs. Seeing my interest, an assistant approached. Good morning sir. How may I be of service? enquired the young fellow.

      Good morning. I saw in your window display a fine Briar pipe with, seemingly, a Meerschaum lining? I turned slightly, pointing in the general direction of the front of the shop.

      The young man nodded saying, Ah, yes, I know exactly the one you mean sir. Opening a drawer, he removed from it a pipe identical to the one I had seen. I took it from him and examined it closely. It was indeed a fine pipe and I felt assured that Holmes would appreciate the dual qualities of both Meerschaum and Briar. However, it was priced at three guineas but it took me but a moment to make my decision and I determined there and then to purchase it.

      Leaving the shop with my purchase safe in my coat pocket, I patted it comfortingly and continued my stroll down Regent Street. As I happened to turn into Haymarket, I noticed that across the street The Haymarket Theatre had on display a large poster. This I saw was advertising the premiere of Mr Oscar Wilde’s new comedy ‘An Ideal Husband’ on the 3rd of January. Capital! I cried aloud. Holmes’s 41st birthday was on the 6th of January and as I had bought the rather expensive pipe, I thought perhaps supper at a restaurant and a theatre ticket would suffice as a perfect birthday gift.

      Crossing the busy thoroughfare of Haymarket, I discovered the ticket office to be open. To my despair, I found that the tickets for the 6th of January were not, in fact, on sale but could only be reserved. Upon the wall of the theatre was a seating plan and on closer examination, I decided that a pair of seats at the centre of the Royal Circle would be ideal. A young lady could be seen in the ticket office; I approached saying, Good morning. I would like to purchase two tickets in the Royal Circle for the performance on the 6th of January, towards the centre, if you please.

      The ticket clerk reached down by her side and pulled out a large piece of printed card that showed the seating plan for the Royal Circle. The card bore the date of the 6th of January and from my observation, it was plain that many seats had already been sold. This was indicated by the purchaser’s name being written across the seat. I have these two seats together sir, in row ‘C’, numbers 17 and 18. The clerk pointed towards the two seats on the plan.

      I looked at the plan and considered the seats’ location in relation to the stage. In truth, they were a little to the left of centre but I determined that they would still provide a fine view. Yes... yes, I will take those. Thank you.

      The girl looked up saying, What name is it sir?

      Watson and Holmes, said I and watched as she wrote in our names on the plan.

      Looking up the girl said, almost apologetically, That will be ten shillings... they are the best seats though sir. You collect the tickets on the night from the box office. I nodded, took out my wallet and paid. As I walked away, I had the strangest feeling that the man I had observed in the tobacconist’s window was hurrying up to the ticket office.

      Silas Murchison

      Christmas day passed peacefully at Baker Street. I presented Holmes with his gift and in return he gave me his. I watched eagerly as he unwrapped his pipe that he quickly filled and thoroughly enjoyed. For my part, I opened my gift and found a fine leather bound, silver hip flask which Holmes had generously filled with exquisite 18 year old whisky from his private barrel.

      It was while Holmes was sitting back in his old leather armchair, ‘breaking in’ his new pipe, that I recounted how I felt I had been followed whilst shopping for his gift. Holmes sat forward in his chair, immediately concerned, Tell me all you can of this fellow Watson.

      I thought for a while, Well, he was a man of average build, aged I would say around 40 years. He had dark hair mixed with grey and he sported long sideburns. He was dressed in a dark overcoat and had no hat. Other than that, I did not notice anything particular about him. I could see that Holmes was clearly frustrated by my poor observation of this fellow.

      Holmes fumed in silence for a few moments and then threw his hands up into the air, crying out, There must be something more you can tell me Watson!

      I turned to look at Holmes and as I did so, I saw a thread of burning tobacco fall from his new pipe and onto the back of his hand. Holmes cried out, brushing the hot shred of tobacco away. The tobacco had done no damage to his skin but in that instant I remembered something.

      Wait! Wait! I remember now. The man... he had a scar on his right wrist, a crescent-shaped scar, I saw it as his cuff fell away when he raised his newspaper!

      Holmes leapt from his armchair and began searching wildly amongst our files of known villains. You are entirely sure of the shape of the scar and its being on the right wrist? demanded Holmes as he continued to search.

      Yes, I am sure. I thought back to the event and I was confident about what I had seen although it had taken the accident with the shred of tobacco to bring it to the surface of my conscious memory.

      After but a few minutes, a cry of triumph emerged from Holmes. "Ah,

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