More From the Deed Box of John H. Watson MD

by Ashton, Hugh

  What did people say about the first book in this series,

  Tales from the Deed Box of John H. Watson MD?

  “…delicately woven stories in the Conan Doyle tradition so that the reader cannot decipher where Conan Doyle's brilliant sleuth leaves off and where Ashton's begins. Truly a masterful addition to the Holmes legacy of wit, sleuthing and surprises!” Linda Rae Blair

  “These are marvelous stories where all elements including descriptions of settings, characters and plot are done to perfection. The author has followed the approaches of the original Doyle stories to the extent that these could have been easily included in the original works.” Dr Darold C Simms

  “As a life long Sherlock Holmes fan, I can say I truly enjoyed these three new stories. Hugh Ashton does a great job in the tradition of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.” Vince Drexelius

  “Mr. Ashton's offering of three stories, two of which are mentioned in passing by Dr. Watson in his well beloved chronicling of their adventures, are so faithful to the characters in these wonderful stories, it almost seems that Doyle himself has been resurrected.” M C McColl

  More

  Tales From the Deed Box of

  John H. Watson MD

  Further Untold Stories of

  Sherlock Holmes

  As Discovered By

  Hugh Ashton

  Published by Inknbeans Press

  © 2012 Hugh Ashton and

  Inknbeans Press

  Grateful acknowledgement to Conan Doyle Estate Ltd. for permission to use the Sherlock Holmes characters created b Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are written in respectful tribute to the creator of the principle characters.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Dedications

  Many thanks to all who have assisted in making this latest collection of stories available in their present form:

  To all those at Inknbeans Press, and Jo, the Boss Bean, for their sharp eyes and ears, helping to smooth out the roughnesses and the infelicities of my writing.

  To my readers, who, even in the short time that the first volume of my Holmes stories has been available, have turned it into a bestseller in its genre. I hope these tales will likewise meet with your approval.

  And to Yoshiko, my patient wife, who has once again had to contend with the vicissitudes that accompany being married to an author.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  The Madness of Colonel Warburton

  The Mystery of the Paradol Chamber

  The Giant Rat of Sumatra

  About the Author

  Preface

  Once again I am privileged to present to the world three tales of Sherlock Holmes that have long been locked in the deed box marked with the words “JOHN H. WATSON MD”. This box had been stored in the vaults of a London bank for nearly a century before I took possession of the box.

  Written in the distinctive and almost illegible handwriting of Dr Watson, these shed new light on this most famous of detectives. In several previously described cases, Holmes is content to let the suspect’s own conscience, rather than the full rigour of the law, be the punishment for the crime – if the offence be not altogether serious. Indeed, in one of the cases recounted here, he goes further – not only allowing and assisting the perpetrator to escape punishment at the hands of the judicial system, but encouraging the official arm of the law, in the shape of Inspector Tobias Gregson, to aid and abet this escape. No wonder that The Mystery of the Paradol Chamber has remained untold for so long – such an action would hardly have rebounded to the credit of the Inspector.

  Nor do these tales fail to shed light on the character of John H. Watson MD, late of the Indian Army. Far from being the passive observer and mere reflector of Holmes’ brilliance that some have made him out to be (and as he himself at times deprecatingly refers to his role), he comes to life in these pages as a courageous man. His bravery as recounted in one of these tales, The Giant Rat of Sumatra, in attending a sick man, dying of a little-understood and usually fatal disease, cannot be denied; and he appears as one who, through a mixture of his own ability and the experience he had gained from working alongside Holmes, was himself no mean practitioner of the detective arts. Indeed, the more I read of Watson’s writing, the more I come to wish that I had known him as a companion. And Holmes, to his credit, recognises Watson’s worth on a number of occasions.

  Each of the tales I have selected to recount here was mentioned by Watson in previous adventures, but only in passing, and the sketchy references have long been a source of curious speculation by students of the work of Sherlock Holmes.

  The Case of Colonel Warburton's Madness is one of the few cases recorded by Watson as being one that he introduced to Holmes (The Engineer's Thumb being the other). Taking place in a seemingly innocuous suburban setting, it is nonetheless a tale of dark secrets and hidden evil. Holmes' skill at disguise is never seen to better advantage. Watson himself likewise shines as an investigator of more than average competence.

  The Mystery of the Paradol Chamber is strangely named, and the mystery itself is a strange one where Holmes' talents are needed to unravel a classic "locked room" murder puzzle. Religion plays a very minor role in most of the cases described by Watson – it is interesting to see here that Holmes claims to have memorised the churches and incumbents of all the Roman Catholic (at least) churches in the English Home Counties.

  Finally, the definitive story of The Giant Rat of Sumatra has come to light. There are obvious reasons why this story was withheld from the public for so long. Even with the pseudonyms that have been so obviously employed, this story could have shaken the respectable world of English politics to the core if released. The cooperation of the Royal Navy with Holmes in the solving of this bizarre mystery is another aspect that would also have been kept secret, possibly at the behest of Mycroft.

  These latest tales that I have unearthed will, I am confident, provide both enjoyment and instruction to all those who study and cherish the work of Sherlock Holmes. I hope to provide even more such tales, following further exploration of the contents of the deed box.

  Hugh Ashton

  Kamakura, 2012

  The Case of Colonel Warburton’s Madness

  Editor's Notes

  In The Engineer’s Thumb, Dr Watson refers to one other case that he introduced to Sherlock Holmes, that of Colonel Warburton’s madness. This tale is one of those stored in the deed box, and we can only assume that Watson failed to include it in the published stories out of a sense of modesty. In this tale Watson exhibits many of the traits of the great detective, examining evidence and coming to conclusions independently of Holmes. Indeed, Holmes’ opinion of Watson’s value as an assistant is unequivocally stated here, and this tale, if no other, should give the lie to the ide
a that Watson was merely the dull foil to Holmes’ rapier-like intelligence.

  -oOo-

  My friend, the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, was typically the recipient of direct requests for advice and help, which he provided according to his whims and fancies, usually dependent upon his opinion of whether the case was of sufficient interest to challenge his abilities. On more than one occasion, however, I was the cause of introducing him to a problem. One of these, an account of which I have already given in “The Case of the Engineer’s Thumb”, was of considerable interest to the authorities, concerning as it did a group of counterfeiters who were undermining the trust that the public places in the currency of this realm. The other case, though of considerable interest to a detective, was of far less concern to the public interest, and concerned Colonel Warburton, the former commander of the regiment in which I had served in my time in India.

  The combination of my practice and my marriage had for some time deprived me of the company of Sherlock Holmes, and it appeared that I was settling into a domestic routine which was far removed from the days when he and I had tracked the malefactors of London and brought them to justice. I was more than content with my marriage to Mary, which indeed had brought me all the happiness that I had foreseen when I made my original proposal to her. My practice too, although routine, nonetheless presented enough interest for me to be content with my lot, and not to hanker after the days of excitement in the past.

  Since retiring from Army life, I had lost contact with most of my former comrades, so it was with a sense of surprise that I recognised Philip Purcell, whom I had known in Afghanistan as a young captain, when he walked into my consulting room. His complaint was minor – a chill brought on by the sudden change of climate – and I swiftly prescribed him the appropriate medicines before we fell to chatting of old times.

  “I would have thought that you would have stayed in the service,” said he. “We all imagined that that old ‘Death or Glory’ Watson was bound for a destiny greater than that of a mere general practitioner, if you will forgive my saying so.”

  I was flattered by this reminder of my old Army sobriquet – as who could not fail to be? – but explained that the wound I had received from an Afghan bullet had made it more difficult than I had at first imagined for me to keep up with the physical demands of army life. “In any case,” I went on, “it has been my great good fortune to encounter, and if I may say so, to have the friendship of one of the great men of the age, Mr Sherlock Holmes.”

  “I have heard of the fellow,” said Purcell. “I must say, though, that the accounts I have read make him sound like some kind of fraudster or trickster. Of course, one must always make allowances for the exaggeration of the journalist wallahs and the fellows who put about those stories regarding such people. It would hardly surprise me to learn that the stories are for the most part exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.”

  Notwithstanding our old acquaintance, I spoke with some heat. “You do my friend an injustice,” I exclaimed. “And, if I may be so bold as to say so, you also do me an injustice. Were it not for my attempts to chronicle the adventures in which he has been involved, I venture to suggest that the name of Sherlock Holmes would be unknown to the public. He does not seek notoriety or fame – in many cases, he has given credit to the police where by far the greater part of the work in the case has been his. I can assure you in all sincerity that the accounts you have read of his exploits are nothing more nor less than the truth.”

  Purcell had the good grace to look somewhat abashed and to stammer an apology. “I confess that I had never associated the sawbones whom I knew out East with the ‘John Watson’ who was describing Sherlock Holmes. Believe me, my dear fellow, I had no wish to cast doubts on your veracity, or the ability of your friend. Indeed, if he is as remarkable as your accounts make him out to be, I might even wish to consult him on a matter close to me. The problem is, if I may speak totally frankly to you about this, that I am short of money right now, and I am not convinced I could afford the fees that I am sure he charges for his services.”

  I laughed. “You do not know Sherlock Holmes,” I replied, still smiling. “I will not say that he displays a complete indifference to money, but it is of less importance to him than you might perhaps imagine. I have known many cases on which he has worked for their own sake, with no thought of reward, and some which he has taken on for prominent clients where he has received remuneration which might be considered exorbitant, considering the effort involved. If your case is of interest to him, you might well expect him to take it up purely as presenting a challenge to his deductive abilities.”

  My friend appeared relieved. “That is good to hear. And I take it that he is discreet in his enquiries, and does not publicise matters that are best kept hidden?”

  I reassured him on that score. “If you would care to tell me, in complete confidence of course, of the general nature of the problem, it may be that I can give you some indications as to how Sherlock Holmes will approach your case. Indeed,” I added, not without a touch of pride, “it may be that some of the methods that he has imparted to me in the course of our partnership, if I may term it so, could be applied by me in order to assist you.”

  “The matter concerns Alice Warburton. Maybe you remember her?”

  “Indeed I do. You refer to the daughter of the former Colonel of our regiment, do you not?”

  “The same. I love her, Watson,” he exclaimed. “I love her more than life itself, and if that sounds extravagant, believe me I feel it to be true in my innermost heart.”

  “She cannot be more than a child,” I protested.

  “You have been away from the Army for too long,” he smiled. “Maybe she was a mere child when you left us, but she is now a young woman, 23 years of age.”

  “She was a remarkably beautiful child, I recall.”

  “She has matured into the most beautiful of women,” he replied. “Not only beautiful in her appearance, but she has the most pure mind imaginable. I am convinced also that she loves me in return.”

  I recognised the symptoms of infatuation, not having been immune to the malady myself in the past. Even so, I forbore from smiling, and proceeded to question him further. “I do not think from what you have told me so far, that you require the services of Sherlock Holmes merely to ensure the success of the upcoming nuptials. There must be some problem preventing the successful completion of your wooing, or you would not be considering the employment of a consulting detective.”

  “I am sorry to say that you are correct.” He sighed deeply, and his head hung on his breast. “Now that I come to consider it, it may be that a doctor such as yourself will be more use than your friend.” He paused, and I waited for his next words. “It may not be not so much that there is a problem with Alice herself, as with her father.”

  “The Colonel?”

  “That is so. He has given many signs recently when I visited their house that all is not well up here.” He tapped the side of his head significantly.

  I was conscious that I was aping many of the mannerisms of my friend, but I sat back in my chair and placed my fingertips together while half closing my eyes. “Can you be a little more precise as to the symptoms?” I asked Purcell.

  “I have been visiting the house for about a year now,” he replied. “I go there perhaps once or twice in a month, and I stay for one or two nights each time as a guest of the family. For the most part, Colonel Warburton could not be kinder to me than if I was already married to Alice, and his hospitality leaves me in no doubt that I am an approved suitor for her hand. However, commencing about two months ago, there seemed to be a strange change in the Colonel’s behaviour.” He paused briefly, and I encouraged him to go on. “As it happens, Watson, I feel much less restraint in describing these peculiar happenings to you than I would to anyone else, given that you are both an old acquaintance of mine and a medical man.”

  “You intrigue me,” I replied. “Pray continue.”


  “You must understand,” my friend said to me, “that the Colonel’s wife, that is to say, Alice’s mother, passed away some years ago, just before the Colonel’s return from India, and the household is accordingly a small one, consisting of the Colonel himself, Alice and two or three servants who live in. They live very quietly in a secluded villa just outside Guildford. I first observed the onset of the Colonel’s strange behaviour one morning at breakfast. Alice was suffering from a headache and had elected to remain in her room, so only the Colonel and myself were partaking of the meal. Imagine my surprise, when in the middle of his conversation, the Colonel suddenly broke off in mid-sentence, seizing the boiled egg that he had just started to eat, opened the window, and flung the egg out of the window into the garden with an expression of fury. I was astounded, the more so because he quietly closed the window and returned to the table all smiles, continuing the conversation as if nothing untoward had occurred.”

  “Most singular,” I observed. “This was about two months ago, you say?” making a note in my memorandum book.

  “That is correct, and since then his behaviour seems to have become more and more extreme. Indeed, I fear for his sanity, and hence for the future sanity of my beloved Alice. Though I adore her, I cannot conceive of marriage to someone whose mental state is potentially so precarious. Tell me, Watson,” and he leaned forward and almost whispered the next words in a confidential tone, “in your experience as a medical man, is insanity of this kind hereditary?”

  “I hardly consider myself to be an expert in such matters,” I replied. “It does appear, however, that disturbances of this kind are often passed from generation to generation. But you have only described one such instance, which might be a trifling matter attendant on some temporary inconvenience. For example, the egg may not have been boiled to his liking and he was suffering, maybe, from the effects of over-indulgence on the previous evening? I agree with you, however, that his reaction does seem extreme.”