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66 pages

English

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"Just the place for a Nark!" the Detective cried, As he eagerly surveyed the scene; With the stout-hearted Doctor alert at his side, And the Dog standing guard in between. Imagine a world where the logic of Sherlock Holmes meets the nonsense of Wonderland! The Hunting of the Nark combines the best of Lewis Carroll and Arthur Conan Doyle's adventures into a madcap collection of verse, including the novella-length case, The Adventure of the Twinkling Hat. Holmes and Watson will discover that anything can happen at 221B when you're the White Knight...

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Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Fantasy

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	19 janvier 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781787056190
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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The Hunting of the Nark
Sherlock Holmes Through the Looking-Glass
Claire Daines

First published in 2020 by
MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor
Royal Drive, London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2020 Claire Daines
The right of Claire Daines to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design Madeline Quiñones

To my brother Stu,
who ain’t going anywhere until he’s told every story he wants to.

Author’s Note
Since I first had the idea for this collection, I’ve often asked myself why Sherlock Holmes and Lewis Carroll seem to go together so well. Don’t Holmes’s methods rely on logic and natural laws? How does that fit in with the chaotic nonsense of Wonderland and the Looking-Glass world? If you look closer at those two worlds, however, it becomes clear that they do have their own systems of rules and logic, just not what a newcomer might expect. Not only that, but while rereading the White Knight’s chapter in ‘Through the Looking Glass,’ I was struck by the Knight’s uncanny resemblance to Holmes: his kindness and courage; his absent-mindedness; his complete ignorance about certain mundane matters; his interest in minutiae; his artistic streak; and especially the mood swings, Watson often having to help the detective back onto his ‘horse’ after a bout of depression. Doyle’s version of Holmes can also be quite playful, and even downright absurd at times, however level-headed or logical he claims to be; and that whimsical streak easily allows me to imagine him actually doing some of the ridiculous things in Carroll’s works. For that reason alone, the White Knight had to be allowed to take up residence in Baker Street for a time, much to the consternation of a certain long-suffering flatmate and landlady! I’ll make it up to them later, I swear.

The Hunting of the Nark
“Just the place for a Nark!” the Detective cried,
As he eagerly surveyed the scene;
With the stout-hearted Doctor alert at his side,
And the Dog standing guard in between.
“Just the place for a Nark!” Holmes repeated once more;
“I expect any second our man .
Fred Porlock has so rarely failed us before
In betraying our enemy’s plan.
“His form is ungainly—his intellect small—”
(The Detective would often remark)
“But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is a capital trait for a Nark.
“But oh, trusty colleague, I dread most the day
That our Nark be discovered, for then
He will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!”
They waited with patience, they waited with hope;
They waited ‘til day had quite gone;
The sky overhead became heliotrope,
And the watchers increasingly wan.
Then the Doctor did yawn, “Must we wait until dawn?
I would rather not sit in the dark .”
The Detective looked grave, and said, “Courage, mon brave,
We shall wait one hour more for our Nark.”
But as darkness came on and the stars faintly shone,
The Detective, too, started to scowl;
“I fear you are right, we’ll not see him tonight–”
When the Dog cut him off with a growl.
“Why, Toby, what is it? Our Nark come to visit,
With tale of nefarious scheme?”
The Dog merely frowned, then all jumped at the sound
Of a terrible, blood-curdling scream!
“ ‘Tis the voice of Fred Porlock! Quick, Watson, your gun!
We’ll not leave our Nark to cruel fate!”
Detective and Doctor took off at a run,
Though they feared they would be far too late.
The Dog led them true to the spot, but they found
Not a wheel track, or footprint, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where once had lurked Porlock the Nark.
“Alas, all in vain!” groaned the Doctor. “ ‘Tis plain
Our Nark’s met with some murderous lout.”
“Then our mission is clear,” declared Holmes, “for I fear
Moriarty has found Porlock out.”
They sought him with Yarders, they sought him with clues,
They pursued him with resolute tread;
They brought him to justice with gambit and ruse,
Till at last the Professor fell dead.

You Are Mad, Sherlock Holmes
“You are mad, Sherlock Holmes,” the Doctor said,
“I declare you have no common sense!
If a villain has put a large price on your head,
Why take only a stick for defence?”
“I shall paint my face white,” the Detective did boast,
“Wear a sheet to the home of that crook;
Then if Gruner should see me, he’ll think I’m a ghost,
And with ease I shall pilfer his book!”
“You are mad,” said the Doctor, “I’ve said it before;
When a case will allow you no rest,
You steal all the cushions and sit on the floor –
Of what possible use is a nest?”
“Contemplating rebirth,” Holmes replied with a stare,
“Is best done from inside a cocoon;
And now that we’re after the missing St. Clair,
I confess that I’ve found it a Boone. ”
“You are mad,” said the Doctor, “your antics of late
Would try the goodwill of a saint!
While a wax silhouette may be suitable bait,
Can’t you see that your landlady ain’t?”
“My own pistol,” Holmes said, “has been cutting up stiff,
Since ‘V.R.’ earned her venomous glare.
Ricochet within miles of that critical sniff?
I assure you, no bullet would dare!”
“You are mad,” said the Doctor, “your reason kaput,
Treating danger as naught but a joke!
Can you hope to discover this devil afoot,
With no mind left to go up in smoke?”
“Well, then I ask you, Doctor, how mad must you be
To involve yourself in my affairs?
Insanity’s catching!” Holmes chortled in glee,
And galumphed down the seventeen stairs.

How Doth The Smooth Extortionist
How doth the smooth extortionist improve his study floor,
Back arched like a contortionist, the carpet red with gore.
How helplessly he seems to writhe, how faint his final breath,
And leaves behind a world more blithe, the better for his death!

The Jury and the Mouse
Holmes declared to a tar,
“If with me you should spar,
As you did with Sir Eustace, this whistle I’ll blow.
Come now, smoke a cigar
And begin repertoire;
There is naught you can tell that I do not yet know.”
Said the tar to his judge,
“Not one word will I grudge,
For I’d do all again and be proud to admit.”
“Then let Watson be jury,”
Smiled Holmes, “for I’m sure he
Was never more suited your case to acquit.”

Speak Roughly
Speak roughly to the trembling thief
That on your hearthrug wheezes;
No petty crook deserves relief
Who priceless treasure seizes.
I spoke severely to the thief
Who lost his prize to geeses;
He’ll err no more, it’s my belief,
And I’m not the police’s.

Twinkle, Twinkle
Twinkle, twinkle, royal hat,
How I wonder where you’re at.
Down below in cellar room,
Leading butler to his doom.

The Robbers’ Quandary
“Will you walk a little faster?” said a Colonel to a spy;
“There’s my brother’s clerk behind us, through the fog I caught his eye.
See how eagerly he follows, yet how little understands:
Ruin presses ever nearer, forcing me to steal the plans.
Steal them, deal them, steal them, deal them, steal away the plans.
Steal them, deal them, steal them, deal them, deal away the plans.”
Then the clerk came rushing up, and forced his way in through the door!
Struggle ended with the young man still and lifeless on the floor.
“Poor, brave heart!” the Colonel groaned, “a good man dead from sad mischance!
But remains the pressing question: can you duplicate the plans?
Can you, can’t you, can you, can’t you duplicate the plans?
Can you, can’t you, can you, can’t you imitate the plans?”
“No, I cannot copy all within the time,” the spy replied.
“These three papers I must keep, the rest in this youth’s coat we’ll hide.
Let the train bear West away, while I return in haste to France;
Try if you can stand to see him blamed for how you stole the plans.
Blame him, shame him, blame him, shame him, blame him for the plans.
Blame him, shame him, blame him, shame him, shame him for the plans.”

Tweedledee and Tweedledum
Tweedledee stole Tweedledum
With horses shod like cattle,
For Tweedledee, the bastard son,
Knew father would not tattle.
But German master saw them go,
And caused a murd’rous blunder,
Which frightened wayward bantling so,
He fled to parts Do