The rise of Sherlock Holmes

by DAN MONTY

  I awoke this morning to a smoky sitting room, which I had come to expect from Holmes, but the man was lying on the floor with a pipe sticking from his unshaven mouth. He was surrounded by empty pizza boxes and honestly he looked like he had not showered in days.

  “Holmes?” I asked, wondering if he was in fact dead.

  “Holmes!” I said, tapping him with my foot. His eyes fluttered open and he coughed, looking up at me.

  “Watson? Am I dead?” He asked and I looked him up and down.

  “Not quite. Are you alright?” I asked and he sat upright looking quite depressed, his hair dishevelled as he glanced about in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

  “Apparently. Though I do feel rather cold" Holmes said and I knelt beside him.

  “Well, you are lying on the floor. Did you eat all this pizza?” I asked and he nodded.

  “I wanted to understand precisely how many slices I could eat until my body gave up and I passed out cold. Sixteen Watson! Sixteen. I am rather surprised I didn’t eat myself to death, through that might have still been a worthy experiment,” he said and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “Holmes, you need to shower. And shave! You look like you are going quite mad!” I said.

  “My mind repels stagnation, Watson. I need problems! I need work! My mind is an empty husk, no clutter to keep me amused. If there’s nothing to stimulate my mind, you must simply allow me to wither and die,” Holmes replied.

  “Rubbish! There’s no sense me writing a book about the world’s greatest detective if every time he finds there’s little for him to do, he crawls into a hole and wallows! Now get up! For God sake man, shower!” I said as he climbed into his chair like a child.

  “I do try, Watson. I do. But Lestrade has not visited in weeks, and I’ve had no calls for advice, nor puzzles to solve. I’m bored, Watson. Boredom. My greatest adversary has returned to haunt me!” He said and Mrs Hudson stepped into the sitting room carrying a tray of tea. I sat in my chair opposite his as Mrs Hudson passed us both tea.

  “You need a shower, Mr Holmes!” Mrs Hudson said and I nodded.

  “Yes, Mrs Hudson I’ve just been telling him. Thank you for the tea,” I said and Mrs Hudson smiled as she left the room.

  “I don’t trust her, Watson. I think she is scheming a treacherous plan to destroy me. She’s still angry about the dog and I desperately count the hours leading up to the moment the old lady pounces. She might poison me with rat poison! Or perhaps, sprinkle some strange old lady herb into my tea that will surely kill me.” Holmes said and I laughed.

  “If Mrs Hudson wanted to kill you Holmes, you’d be dead by now. She’s a wonderful lady and you know it.” I said and Holmes’ eyes narrowed.

  “I think she could be worthy of investigating, Watson. I know she has been rummaging. She threw out my cheese village! And I have good reason to believe she stole a candle!” Holmes said and I laughed again.

  “No, I threw out your cheese village. It was starting to stink, and you stole her candle, Holmes. She simply took it back. You just need to relax. I promise you, a new case will come along before you know it. You’ll see.” I said as I sipped my tea. Holmes sniffed his own tea and did the same.

  “She does make a nice cup of tea. Pity she forgets to put my sugars in, or she might be perfect.” Holmes said and I smiled.

  *****

  That evening was a full moon. It was the sixteenth of June at eight pm, and Holmes and I were having quiet shots of port in the sitting room, a 1972 Taylor’s vintage I believe. We were feeling pleasant and relaxed when the scream came up the stairs. It was Mrs Hudson and she was in a right mess, screaming about a werewolf outside.

  “Mr Holmes! Doctor Watson! There’s a hideous creature out in the street! You must come quickly!” She yelled as she ran into the sitting room.

  Holmes and I followed her down the stairs and stepped through the front door and out onto the path. There was a horrendous howl in the distance, but there was no sign of the beastly creature Mrs Hudson had described.

  “Did you hear that? A howl! I tell you it was horrible! Just horrible!” She yelled as I turned to her and embraced her.

  “It’s alright, Mrs Hudson. I’ll tell you what, let’s go back inside and we can have some tea. You can tell us all about it, okay? Whatever it was I’m sure it’s gone now.” I said and the three of us went upstairs to the sitting room.

  Holmes and I sat in our chairs as Mrs Hudson fell onto the sofa. She looked quite afraid, whatever she had seen had obviously given her quite a start.

  “It was a large, hairy wolf man! I mean... it was hairy, and looked like a large black dog, but it was running around on its hind legs. I watched it through the window running down the street. It’s whole body was covered in dark fur and the head... my goodness... It had the head of a beastly wolf! It was terrifying, doctor!” Mrs Hudson exclaimed and Holmes and I exchanged glances Holmes seeming very sceptical.

  “A werewolf? Mrs Hudson, are you certain you are feeling alright? Such a creature can not possibly exist! It’s absurd!” Holmes said and she glared at him.

  “I know I sound quite mad, Holmes! But my eyes... I know what I saw!” She exclaimed.

  Mrs Hudson had a shot of port with us, eventually getting sleepy and announcing that she was heading off to bed. Holmes said little, but said goodnight to her as I helped her downstairs.

  When I returned to the sitting room, Holmes was deep in thought. I sat in the chair across from him and sighed.

  “You look quite curious. What do you make of that then?” I asked and Holmes shrugged.

  “Mrs Hudson is not typically one to lie, Watson. That said what she claims to have seen could not possibly have been as she described. A hairy man, possibly. A rather large dog, most definately. A werewolf? Unlikely. It is my assumption that she is perhaps still not happy about the death of her dog. A grieving woman’s mind can be plagued by all sorts of things. It would be sensible to conclude that she simply saw a rather large man, or a ferocious looking animal, though there are few animals in this part of the city.” Holmes reasoned and I nodded.

  “What of the howling though? It is a full moon...” I said. Firstly I should remind the dear reader that as a doctor, I too am not partial to believing in such things as werewolves either. They are the food of fiction and horror books.

  “Any right nutter in London is likely to howl at a full moon Watson. I’m not saying Mrs Hudson was wrong in describing what she saw. I am merely trying to establish facts. Separate what is likely from what is not. I am quite certain that she will awake in the morning and have written it off as hallucination or a mistake. Tomorrow , if she still feels the same and we feel up to it, we shall consider looking into it further. I will say this though, my friend. I do feel quite bad about her dog. Perhaps I had underestimated what it had meant to her.” Holmes said, finishing his port.

  CHAPTER TEN: A BODY IN PRAED STREET.

  I walked down to the sitting room at six am the next morning to see Holmes and Lestrade sitting opposite one another on the leather chairs. I joined them, taking a seat on the lounge as the two men were engaged in a grim conversation about a new murder.

  “I’ve not seen anything like it in all my years!” Lestrade said, a disturbed look upon his face.

  “The blood! My god! No normal man could have done a thing like that! The body was found half an hour ago. I need you to come quickly!” Lestrade said and Holmes was on his feet, pulling on his coat.

  “Tell me where to go, Inspector!” Holmes said and Lestrade rubbed his chin.

  “Praed street, Paddington. The alley by the station. It’s a big bloody mess. I’ve made sure you can get in but you must be quick!” Lestrade said, standing up from his chair.

  “Good to see you again, doctor.” Lestrade said to me and I nodded. Lestrade left the building and Holmes and I got ready to take our leave.

  “Another case, rather ghastly too by the sound of it!” I said as Holmes nodded, rushing to get ready
.

  *****

  The London taxi flew through the busy London skies, flying down to the entrance of the alley by Paddington station. The station itself had evolved greatly over the years, much of the old station had been dissolved since the world stopped using trains. As a result, a mass renovation had taken place with elevated docking tubes to load and unload shuttle passengers replacing the use of the old train lines. The platforms were still in use though they too had evolved since the days of old; now a pristine white with holographic advertising popping up around the platforms and docking stations. Flying vehicles flew around the chrome skyscrapers of Paddington, which had only been built in the last century. The technological advancements of Paddington were some of the most sophisticated in twenty third century London.

  The alley by the station was known as Drunkards Alley, and was well known for housing homeless men and riff raff at night. Upon entering the alley, I observed Holmes’ reactions to his surroundings, taking in the various sights, smells and sounds. There was a crowd of Scotland Yard police, Paddington being part of the Westminster borough, thus one of the thirty two boroughs of London that fell under the yard's juristiction.

  Holmes winced at the sight of robot forensic police that parted and allowed Holmes to enter the crime scene, the two of us approaching the bloody body that lay at the floor of the alley. Holmes was already at work in his mind., I could sense it. He stepped over to the body, examining the ghastly wounds and torn flesh.

  “The body appears that of a male, aged in his late fifties. The right arm has been completely severed, the wound jagged and torn, suggesting the arm has been chewed upon and ripped away. The rest of the body is intact, though bearing scratch marks. Cause of death I would say, blood loss and by the sheer look of terror on the victim’s face, shock. Lestrade? Were there any witnesses to the crime?” Holmes asked and Lestrade held up two fingers.

  “Good, I shall speak to them both directly. There is a bottle beside the body, note that it is empty and possibly had contained wine. There are claw marks on the upper and lower torso, suggesting the victim was attacked by a large beast.” Holmes stated, snapping on some latex gloves and touching the wound.

  There was a great deal of blood on the floor and the right hand wall of the alley. Holmes removed a small container from his pocket, scraping a clear liquid into it from around the wound. He closed the lid of the container and placed it in his pocket. He then removed a pair of tweezers from his coat pocket, using them to pluck a long hair from the body. He held the hair up to the light, frowned and placed the hair in a clear zip lock bag. Holmes went through the man’s pockets finding a Zippo lighter, which he placed in another zip lock bag and finally and old wallet, which he opened. He removed a clear plastic ID card.

  “Basil Borthwick, 308 Edgeware Road, Paddington. Interesting. I wasn’t expecting to find an address,” Holmes said and I knelt beside him.

  “It’s not residential. That’s a hostel called The Green Man. I should know, I’ve stayed there. Bloody shocking service!” I said and Holmes raised his eyebrows. The wallet had no other information and no money whatsoever. Just a small business card for a company called MYFX Studios. His name was not on the card.

  Holmes bagged the wallet and examined the victim’s clothing, making a few observations before getting to his feet and looking at the blood on the right side wall of the alley, studying the spatter pattern carefully. He then removed a roll of sticky tape from his coat, sticking it over a print on the bottle before pulling out a clear slide from his pocket, and sticking the tape with the print onto it. He placed the slide into a zip lock bag and placed it in his pocket.

  There were no foot prints on the ground, though there were scratch marks on the ground paced about six feet apart. Holmes regarded the tracks and nodded. He turned on his heel and walked over to Lestrade as I followed.

  “What kind of person could do a bloody thing like that?” Lestrade asked and Holmes frowned.

  “A person would certainly find it a struggle,” Holmes said and Lestrade looked at him with confusion.

  “Whether it is true are not, my findings suggest this was in fact an animal attack. A particularly large animal, likely a wolf.” Holmes said and I glared at him.

  “You are thinking it could be connected to the wolf man thing Mrs Hudson saw last night?” I asked him and Holmes nodded his head.

  “The bite of a wolf can measure 1,500 pounds per square inch. Given the bite radius, no human mouth could have accomplished this. The bite would have had to be strong, crushing flesh and bone. Clearly even a large wolf would unlikely bite the arm off quickly. The blood on the wall suggests the killer dragged the victim to the wall and thrashed about, ripping the arm out of its socket in a thrashing motion, causing blood to splatter on the wall. The victim was likely drunk and the beast would have been a considerable size as our victim is six foot four.”

  “Are you suggesting... a werewolf did this?” Lestrade asked with a grin and Holmes glared at him.

  “I am not finished!” Holmes said, pointing to the scratch marks on the floor of the alley.

  “The average stride of a man is sixty two inches, give or take. The distance between strides of a wolf can measure six to eight feet, if it’s moving fast enough. These scratch marks are spaced at six feet apart, telling us that the creature ran into the alley, seizing the victim with its claws and likely shoving him into the wall. The attack was ferocious and fast, spattering the alley wall with blood. The right arm ripped away. Am I to assume the arm is... gone?” Holmes asked and Lestrade covered his mouth with a handkerchief.

  “Taken.” Lestrade said quietly, trying not to be sick.

  “You are free to take the body, Lestrade. My work here is done. I must speak to the witnesses!” Holmes said and Lestrade pointed to the two women that were sitting in the back of the floating Ambulance which was parked by the alley entrance. Holmes and I approached the two women who were named Abby and Linda.

  “Awful night?” Holmes asked the girls that were aged in their twenties.

  “It was hideous! Covered in hair! It looked like a black dog, it must have been seven or eight feet!” Abby said and Holmes made a mental note.

  “What did you see this... dog man do?” I asked and Linda spoke up next.

  “It ran into the alley and grabbed this homeless guy! It shoved him against the wall and bit his arm off! There was blood everywhere!” Linda replied and Abby nodded in agreement.

  “I see, and where did it go afterwards?” Holmes asked and Abby, very shaken spoke quietly.

  “It ran out the other end of the alley! I think after we saw it, Linda was sick... because of the blood" Abby said and Holmes nodded.

  “What time was this?” Holmes asked and Abby shivered.

  “At about midnight. We wanted to call the police earlier... but we were so afraid. We sat in the alley for hours. We’re homeless you see. We’d spoken to him a few times, but he’s only recently started walking around the area. Never seen him before a week ago!” Abby said.

  “Indeed. Well thank you girls, you’ve been most helpful,” Holmes added as he left the alley. I handed the girls one of my business cards.

  “If either of you can remember anything else, feel free to find us on Baker street. In future, girls, call police right away. The man might have lived if someone had found him sooner,” I said and quickly took off after Holmes, who was now walking away from the alley entrance, and to the other end of the alley. He looked from wall to floor, making some observations before walking back to me.

  The two of us exited the alley, stepping over to a Taxi hailing post. Holmes pressed the button.

  “Where to now?” I asked and Holmes rubbed his chin.

  “Home. We have much to discuss!” Holmes replied as the Taxi drifted down from the sky, its passenger door opening and allowing us to climb inside.

  “221b Baker Street driver!” Holmes said and the Taxi took off, flying into the swarm of flying traffic above.

&n
bsp; CHAPTER ELEVEN: BIZARRE FINDINGS

  Holmes paced around the sitting room, setting up his microscope and various other pieces of equipment on his desk as I looked on. I was curious why the girls had not phoned police sooner.

  “Five and a half hours the man laid there, Holmes! Had they called for help sooner, he might have lived!” I said and Holmes shook his head.

  “I doubt it, Watson. I suspect he would have passed out from shock a good time before death. His arm was completely ripped off and blood loss was significant. The two girls were clearly still in shock when police arrived. Both of them were homeless, panic would have been a heavy contributor in the delay of their report.” Holmes stated as he set up various slides underneath his microscope, containing samples of hair, saliva and the finger print he had taken.

  “What are you doing?” I asked and Holmes adjusted the eyepiece and magnification of his microscope as he looked through it.

  “I am investigating, Watson. This case might seem rather complex but it struck me as being potentially quite rudimentary to solve. I first began to ponder on possibilities after hearing Mrs Hudson speak of the dreaded beast she saw in the evening of last night. Tell me Watson, do you believe in werewolves?” Holmes asked.

  “Absolutely not. They are mythical creatures popularized my classic and modern film and literature. The closest thing we have in the scientific world to such things would likely be Lycanthropy; a psychological condition in which the patient suffers the delusions that he may in fact be, or indeed be becoming an animal. In rare cases, a patient can claim that another person has become or is becoming an animal. The symptoms are widely viewed as an idiosyncratic expression of another disorder, namely schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or manic depression. There is no such condition where a man can suddenly turn into a wolf by the light of the full moon, Holmes. Its utter nonsense.” I said and Holmes nodded, still looking into his microscope.