LITMIR.BIZ

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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 remain 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

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