Sherlock Holmes and The Menacing Metropolis
109 pages
English

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109 pages
English

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Description

More Menacing than the Menacing Moors, the Great Metropolis harbours evil and deviltry far more sinister than Dartmoor could offer - it is not for nothing that Watson describes London as the great cesspool draining the Empire of its dregs. Its evil stems from the hearts of the most heartless of men, evil against which a group of stalwart Londoners is determined to act.Knowledge is power and forewarned is forearmed, it is said, but fore-knowledge is fragile and Sherlock must balance probability with instinct, caution with decisiveness, when warned of impending disaster for both City and Realm.Allan Mitchell's stirring stanzas of reeling rhyme once again stretch back to an earlier era to witness the never-ending battle between Sherlock Holmes and the Menacing Metropolis.

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 26 juillet 2016
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781780928890
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0274€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Sherlock Holmes and the Menacing Metropolis
fighting fear and foreboding in the world’s foremost metropolis with the world’s greatest detective
Allan Mitchell




First edition published in 2015 by
MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor
Royal Drive,
London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2015 Allan Mitchell
The right of Allan Mitchell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
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.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by www .staunch.com



Introduction
Those who have ever turned down an invitation to accompany Holmes and Watson on their adventures are those who have never stepped back in time to experience the world of the later Nineteenth Century - a time when most people still touched the earth every day - a time when artificial actually meant hand-crafted - a time of horses and blacksmiths - a time of coal and coke - a time of smoke and sweat -a time of raw power, great change, great promise, great doubt - a time before people would fly above the Earth and beyond it - a time when knowledge of the Earth was just small enough for the Human mind to hold.
Powered by the steam engine, the century saw distance become ever less daunting as ships powered their ways against currents, tides and winds, and when trains pushed time and horses aside in the rush - even the practice of timekeeping became centralised away from local custom and control to fit in with the all-important metropolis-based train timetable to which all human life was increasingly having to bow.
If the rate of transport of people and goods had increased, the transfer time for ideas and information became unbelievably shortened as the telegraph operators tapped incessantly away, eroding the time more and more and spreading wire tentacles further and further each year. With the help of its younger telephonic cousin, the telegraph provided almost instantaneous communications and placed the average human in a subservient role - the telegram demanded an instant response and the telephone was answered without delay.
The Nineteenth Century was accelerating its way toward the Twentieth but Arthur Conan Doyle was able to stop time for his contemporary readers, if only for a few precious hours in a busy and demanding week during which change was otherwise both continuous and confusing. For us, as modern readers, time is not only stopped, it is put into reverse until we can find that reassuringly pleasant past plateau on which we are able to pause and ponder, a plateau only a few decades in breadth and open only to ourselves, Holmes and Watson and an assorted supporting cast of interesting characters who seem able to move back and forth and side to side in time and space according to the will of Arthur Conan Doyle and, of course, ourselves.
Not quite the unbelievable super-hero of modern times, Sherlock Holmes none-the-less displayed powers of mental dexterity well beyond the scope of normal people - he observed while others only saw, he knew what others never suspected and he deduced what others were incapable of construing. He did all this by collecting and cataloguing the essence of past cases, looking beyond the commonplace, questioning the seemingly obvious and observing patterns of behaviour which pointed to irregularity. Sherlock did not need a checklist to determine what was significant, he instinctively saw through the problem and knew the answer - he was just Sherlock ... is Sherlock!



The Homecoming
After solving relatively straightforward mystery concerning series of South Downs apiarian attacks, Holmes’ passion for The Chase had been rekindled and he recognised that his retreat to the world of bees had been premature. His Public, as well, had become desperate for news of his successes against the forces of criminality and Watson had travelled with news of a new and generous offer by The Strand whose sales had plummeted in the absence of his reports. Convinced that he could now return home in triumph and finally cured of his obsession with his arch-enemy, Professor Moriarty, that fiend he had seen fall to his death in the surging cauldron at the base of the Reichenbach Falls, Holmes, accompanied by the loyal and stalwart Watson, boarded the train for the Great Metropolis.
It had been a bad few months for Holmes, his confidence had been shaken and his resolve had faltered, his name had been ridiculed and his reputation had been reduced to tatters. He had suspected the outrages on the Moors to have been some diabolical diversion away from something more sinister, something unfathomable until it dawned on him that he might have been the object of the unspeakable acts, acts designed to draw him in and face the limits of his abilities. The agent of the atrocities, a huge grizzly bear, had been destroyed, undoubtedly, but the diabolical mind behind the outrages was still at large. Holmes’ deductive mind could allow a single solitary possibility: that Moriarty had survived the fall and had returned to seek satisfaction and victory in the Great Sleuth’s ruin. Events overtook Holmes and Watson convinced him that he should retire to the South Downs and raise bees, his often-stated plan for his declining years, but destiny could neither be ignored nor denied. None-the-less, his mind and body had been rested from the greater evils he had faced on the moors of Devon and the streets of London and, though he had not recognised the signs in himself, Sherlock Holmes had been reborn in spirit.
On returning to Baker Street after an impromptu victory walk through London’s streets, however, Holmes was appalled and Watson was dumbstruck on finding a taunting message pinned to the door of 221B...
“ My Dear Doctor Watson, when bear hunts you desire,
Is it Holmes you’d profess or Maurie Hardy, Esquire? ”
A shocked and dismayed Watson, finding his voice after a few interminable seconds, looked directly into the face of the Great Sleuth and spoke
“Good God! My Dear Holmes. This just cannot be true.
If this man is alive we must search for a clue
Which might lead us to where such a demon resides
Before he can commit any more homicides.”
“Quite so.” replied Sherlock, “But we must take care
To proceed without seeming to take the man’s dare
For we cannot afford to fall into his trap -
We are Pawns on a board - we’re in Check to this chap.”
“So we must up our game - change to Knights on a quest
And ride forth to do battle and pledge not to rest
Till this foe has been vanquished, his armour removed
And a case brought against him to have his guilt proved .”
“ When that happens, I’ll be there to topple that King
And to shout out ‘Checkmate!’ which will then start to bring,
To the city, some semblance of order and law -
For, finding that note was, for me, the last straw. ”
“ Quite so! ” replied Watson, “ But do not be fooled
For, in all forms of evil, the man has been schooled.
He’s devious, Sherlock, as sly as a stoat
And, if he feels you’re winning, he’ll go for your throat. ”
“ You must not play his game for his rules are not fixed -
His tactics will vary, his ploys will be mixed.
Chess is War, you must know, so you should not be vain -
Be prepared to adapt or you’ll surely be slain. ”
Sherlock ripped off the note - said to Watson, “ It’s time
We regrouped to go fighting this master of crime.
We must show our resolve and, to panic, not stoop
And we must be prepared, for we know he will swoop. ”
“ Get your key, Doctor Watson, and open that door.
Let us say to the world that I’m back from the Moor.
I have had a good holiday after that case
And, now, all refreshed, I am ripe for The Chase. ”
The pair stepped through the door and ascended the stairs
Just like two wily foxes returning to lairs
After ranging all night for a succulent yield
Of some rabbit or duck in a far-away field.
They would go through the motion of licking their lips
And pretend to be resting while coming to grips
With the problem they faced - they would talk until dawn
Of reducing this King to a snivelling Pawn.
But first they would gather the facts as they stood-
They’d look back on events and get rid of deadwood
And keep only those details and facts which they knew
To be true, absolutely - though these were quite few.
A mortified Watson, to Holmes, said, “My Friend,
What is there I might say which could ever defend
What I said on the Moors? I can only confess
I had thought that your mind was a bit of a mess.”
“ The fault is mine, Watson, ” Sherlock then insisted,
“ If I’d been less forceful, you’d not have resisted
As much as you did to my outlandish notion -
I, myself, should have known it would cause a commotion. ”
“ But I am a logician, my mind operates
In a logical manner and, so, separates
What is known absolutely from notions diverse
Lacking logic - unsound and

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