Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #33

By Janice Law and Hal Charles

Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #33 presents new tales by modern writers, great nonfiction, as well as classic Holmes adventures. In this issue:

FEATURES

FROM WATSON’S NOTEBOOKS, by John H Watson, M.D.
ASK MRS HUDSON, by (Mrs) Martha Hudson
SCREEN OF THE CRIME, by Kim Newman

NON-FICTION

SIX DEGREES OF TENTACULAR SEPARATION, by Elizabeth Crowens

FICTION

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DURHAM MONOGRAPH, by Robert Dawson
THE CASE OF THE DIRTY PAWS, by J.M. Walker
LONG SHOT, by Hal Charles
CAPTAIN DAYLIGHT, by Andrew Salmon
ONE NIGHT AT MCGUFFIN’S TAVERN, by Teel James Glenn
THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO GUINEAS, by Michael Mallory
THE HOLMES IMPERSONATOR ON THE BOARDS, by Janice Law
THE MAN WHO SLIPPED BETWEEN, by Dennis Maulsby
THE ADVENTURE OF THE IRON ELEPHANT, by Jim Robb

CLASSIC SHERLOCK HOLMES

THE ADVENTURE OF THE THREE STUDENTS, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alien Ebooks
• Release date: Jun 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9781667603551

Janice Law

Janice Law (b. 1941) is an acclaimed author of mystery fiction. The Watergate scandal inspired her to write her first novel, The Big Payoff, which introduced Anna Peters, a street-smart young woman who blackmails her boss, a corrupt oil executive. The novel was a success, winning an Edgar nomination, and Law went on to write eight more in the series, including Death Under Par and Cross-Check. Law has written historical mysteries, standalone suspense, and, most recently, the Francis Bacon Mysteries, which include The Prisoner of the Riviera, winner of the 2013 Lambda Literary Gay Mystery Award. She lives and writes in Connecticut. 

Book preview

Table of Contents

SHERLOCK HOLMES MYSTERY MAGAZINE #33.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

STAFF

FROM WATSON’S NOTEBOOKS

ASK MRS HUDSON, by (Mrs) Martha Hudson

SCREEN OF THE CRIME, by Kim Newman

SIX DEGREES OF TENTACULAR SEPARATION, by Elizabeth Crowens

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DURHAM MONOGRAPH, by Robert Dawson

THE CASE OF THE DIRTY PAWS, by J.M. Walker

LONG SHOT, by Hal Charles

CAPTAIN DAYLIGHT, by Andrew Salmon

ONE NIGHT AT McGUFFIN’S TAVERN, by Teel James Glenn

THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO GUINEAS, by Michael Mallory

THE HOLMES IMPERSONATOR ON THE BOARDS, by Janice Law

THE MAN WHO SLIPPED BETWEEN, by Dennis Maulsby

THE ADVENTURE OF THE IRON ELEPHANT, by Jim Robb

THE ADVENTURE OF THE THREE STUDENTS, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

SHERLOCK HOLMES

MYSTERY MAGAZINE #33.

Vol. 10, No. 1

Issue #33

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2024 by Wildside Press LLC.

All rights reserved.

wildsidepress.com

STAFF

Publisher & Executive Editor

John Betancourt

Editor

Carla Kaessinger Coupe

Assistant Editors

Sam Hogan, Karl Würf and Steve Coupe.

FROM WATSON’S NOTEBOOKS

The winter cold is beginning to loosen its grip and the appearance of daffodils, those early heralds of warmer weather, have raised my spirits. The receipt of this issue’s contents for my perusal has added to my joy, for I delight in reading all of the creative stories and informative essays, and the current crop are very entertaining. I must admit, however, that I find it rather unnerving to read a story written by my descendant. Although I’m extremely proud of both the fine young man who penned The Durham Monograph and the young woman with whom he partnered, whose bravery and intelligence can’t be gainsaid, their adventure quite took my breath away. Imagine the catastrophic consequences if they had failed!

I believe I have mentioned before that Sherlock Holmes could be quite tight-lipped on occasion, but his streak of mystery was nothing compared to that of his brother. I knew that Mycroft’s position was of more import than ever he acknowledged, but I was truly surprised to read The Adventure of the Two Guineas and Captain Daylight. To think that he helmed an organization instrumental in protecting so many people, both noble and common, in addition to maintaining order within the empire. On the other hand, I am quite astonished to read The Man Who Slipped Between. The possibilities discussed in this tale leave me quite confounded, not to mention unsettled. I will leave it up to the Reader to reconcile this account with their notion of reality, if at all possible.

And now it is time for my afternoon siesta. I will hand the reins to Our Editor while I rest and restore my energy.

* * * *

I’ve tried something a little different with issue 33: a collection of spin-off stories. In some fashion, these side tales parallel or are adjacent to the Canon. We have stories about a Holmes and Watson in the Old West by Jim Robb and in an alternate universe by Dennis Maulsby. As the dear Doctor mentioned, Robert Dawson has passed on a story written by Watson’s descendant. Michael Mallory’s and Andrew Salmon’s contributions feature agents who work for Mycroft, and investigator and reporter Kelly Locke solves a mystery during the Kentucky Derby weekend in Hal Charles’s Long Shot.

The stage is well-represented by actor William Gillette, who dons the guise of Holmes to solve a domestic mystery in J.M. Walker’s The Case of the Dirty Paws, and Janice Law’s Holmes Impersonator appears in Gillette’s play about Holmes although, alas, as Watson and not as Holmes himself. Still, that doesn’t stop him from investigating an attempted murder.

Elizabeth Crowens has penned an amusing exploration of the possibility of Captain Nemo and Sherlock Holmes encountering each other in overlapping worlds. Even Arthur Conan Doyle shows up on these pages, haunting—appropriately—an otherworldly pub in Teel James Glenn’s One Night at McGuffin’s Tavern. Our classic mystery this issue is The Adventure of the Three Students, where academic pressure can corrupt even a good man.

Of course Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine wouldn’t be complete without our usual features by Mrs Hudson and Kim Newman, as well as a Marc Bilgrey cartoon. There’s a little something for everyone.

Happy reading!

Canonically yours,

Carla Kaessinger Coupe

ASK MRS HUDSON,

by (Mrs) Martha Hudson

Good morning, dear readers—or good evening, depending upon when you’re reading my little column. It is morning here on Baker-street, although you wouldn’t know it by the silence upstairs. My illustrious tenants had a case on, as they like to say, and got in long after midnight. They tried to be quiet, but of course I heard them. I wasn’t blessed with children of my own, but I do have a mother’s ears, and I cannot truly relax until I know my boys are home safe.

They are hot on the track of a jewel thief, Dr Watson told me, as they rushed out early yesterday morning. Their jubilance might have appeared unseemly to anyone else, but it is their first case of the year. Soon after Christmas, our little household was stricken with illness, and it has taken all of us several weeks to get back on our feet. Mr Holmes was the last to recover (I tell him it is because of all of his tobacco, but he just waves me away), and for the past few days he has been pacing their flat as if he were a tiger in a cage, being rather beastly to everyone. I could have kissed Inspector Lestrade when he showed up at the door, all befuddled with a new case. I was about to send my tenants out on an errand and bar the door behind them!

Which brings us to our first letter….

* * * *

Dear Mrs Hudson,

I am currently training to become a nurse, and in the process have become a great fan of Dr Watson’s detective tales. I find that they are exciting enough to provide a welcome distraction from the difficult work of caring for our patients, but not so scary that they keep me awake at night! We nurses need our rest!

As I was feeding one sufferer his porridge yesterday, I found myself wondering, I wonder what Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson are like when they are ill? Are they difficult patients? Is it helpful to have a doctor in the house? I should imagine that it would be. I always thought I would marry a soldier, but now that I have tended so many of our wounded and bitter invalids, I now believe it would be better to set my cap at a medical man. What do you think?

Sincerely,

Cordelia Howard

c/o Charing Cross Hospital

London

*

My Dear Miss Howard,

First, allow me to congratulate you on choosing such a noble occupation! Nursing is a natural fit for a woman, and I am gratified to see members of my sex now able to be remunerated for tasks we have performed devotedly, and without pay, for centuries. Mind your back, though, my dear. You will find it takes a good deal of punishment.

As to how Mr Holmes and Dr Watson are as patients, I will tell you that, contrary to what everyone seems to think, Mr Holmes is quite docile—if a wee bit fractious—when taken ill. No one is pleasant when they are poorly, of course, but other than the occasional petulant complaint and constant, very impatient demands for tea (which I provide) and tobacco (which I most certainly do not), he spends most of the time burrowed in his blankets, willingly following any treatment I or his doctor (Dr Watson, of course) prescribes. He desperately wants to be better, you see, and his logical mind has long since deduced that, if his iron constitution has finally failed him (always a bit of a shock to the poor man, if not to his friends), then he must do all he can to repair it, and thus get back to his work.

Dr Watson—well, Dr Watson is quite another matter. No doubt, during your hospital work, you have heard the saying Doctors make the worst patients, and I can testify that, in the case of John Watson, it is certainly true. They learn to practice their profession under the most brutal of conditions, and when you remember that Dr Watson began his medical career as an army surgeon, working under fire, you can well imagine he simply cannot allow himself to be defeated by a mere bronchial infection. He seems to take it as both a personal affront (how dare a disease broach his defences!) and a challenge to his very manhood. And if I dare to suggest that he consult one of his colleagues for treatment—well, my Heavens, you would think that I had asked him to cut off a limb. Indeed, I think he would rather do that than make a call to Dr Anstruther, no matter how friendly they are betweentimes. I’ve seen too many idiot doctors, he says, conveniently forgetting that he allows that idiot Anstruther to cover his practice. The truth is, he cannot bear to think that another physician might know more than he. I cannot tell you whether you should find a doctor-husband, my dear, but if you do, and he should take ill, be prepared to provide tea with plenty of honey and lemon while keeping any medical advice to yourself. A doctor’s most vulnerable organ is his pride.

*

Our next letter takes us back to Christmas. My, how long ago that seems! We had a wonderful time at 221 Baker Street, but our next correspondent did not:

* * * *

Dear Mrs Hudson,

I should have written you for advice before Christmas, but alas I did not, and I have paid dearly for it. I am a new bride—Charles and I were married in October—and I must tell all young ladies planning autumn nuptials that, no matter how pretty the trees and amenable the weather, it is a mistake! For when you marry in October, no sooner do you get home from your honeymoon than you must prepare for Christmas—and that is a very different matter when you, and not your mother, are in charge of the household. And I do not have much of a household: in fact, it is just me, my cook (who had also never done an entire Christmas dinner by herself) and a little maid-of-all-work, who did her best, but she is only thirteen and can barely make a passable cup of tea.

Because of this, I thought that we should spend Christmas with my family in Kent, where I could prepare the dinner with my mother—something I never thought to do when I had the chance—and then we could have guests next Christmas. But Charles is so proud of our little home, and of me, that he insisted that we host his family for dinner. He brought home a fine goose, and suggested that, since his mother is French, we have some sort of festive French dish in her honor. I said I thought I could do haricôts verts, but he said he thought it should be a Bûche de Nöel, which is a chocolate cake that looks like a tree log. I had my doubts, but I love my dear husband, and thought perhaps that love would help me perform some culinary miracle. I certainly prayed for one!

Well, Christmas dinner—and then Christmas itself—was a disaster. I had no idea a goose had so many feathers, and we must have left more than a few on, as we could smell them, roasting. This added a certain je ne sais quoi to the vegetables which accompanied it, while the goose itself was burnt on the outside but practically raw the further in Charles carved. The haricôts verts I had such confidence in were overcooked for half the table, and undercooked for the other. Likewise, the parsnips were too runny for some, but too lumpy for others. Only the bread and butter went uncriticized, but cook’s mother had made them for us, so we could not take the credit. As for the Bûche de Nöel, it resembled nothing so much as a large chocolate mud puddle; not even the most generous soul could imagine it was a log, and our guests were most decidedly not generous. The chocolate was simultaneously too sweet, and too bitter, depending on who was giving an opinion. After dinner, there were games, but I retired to our bedchamber, claiming headache, which I certainly had after a few hours of crying. Charles has told me repeatedly that he was not angry, and that I tried my best, but ever since the New Year, he has been taking his meals at his club. Cook, the little maid, and I have become great friends, having our bread-and-butter suppers in the kitchen. This is not how I envisioned being a wife and mistress of my own house, Mrs Hudson. I need your help!

Mrs Charles (Barbara) Woolencott-Stokes

55 Ladbroke Grove

Kensington

*

Dear Mrs Woolencott-Stokes,

Oh, my poor dear, what a time you have had! You do not say whether or not you have written to your own mother, but if you haven’t, you must do so at once, and then go for a nice long visit, where she should be able to help you learn some of the household management lessons young ladies, even those of the upper classes, used to learn as a matter of course, but which seem to have fallen by the wayside in our modern times. I do not fault your mother, my dear; I am sure she has done her best by you, but these days it is hard enough to supply one’s daughter with all of the lessons and accomplishments she is said to need to make a good match that such necessary yet practical skills as cooking are neglected. A more heartless woman would tell you to fire your young cook and find another, more experienced one, but all good cooks have burnt a goose in their time, and we all must start somewhere, mustn’t we? Besides, I can tell you have grown quite fond of her, and despite what some may tell you, I see no harm and some real benefit in being friendly with your household staff. Instead, I suggest that you either take her to Kent with you, where she can learn under your mother’s head cook or, if that is not possible, bring one of your mother’s cooks home with you, so that she can take you both under her wing. Who knows? You may surprise yourself and choose to host next Christmas dinner!

As for your in-laws—well, they seem quite ill-bred, no matter what their place in society. It is exceptionally bad manners to criticize one’s food at table, particularly when it is served by your son’s anxious young bride. How unkind they were! I must assume your husband does not take after his family, but even so, you will be spending plenty of time with them, so I advise you to practice nodding, smiling, and saying, simply, Thank you for your valuable advice, over and over, until you can do it convincingly. Mr Holmes says that you are clever for coming up with a headache after dinner; now that you have established your martyrdom to such an ailment, you can reliably use it to escape from future family unpleasantness. Dr Watson says that he is almost certain one of his friends is a member of the same club as your Charles. He will endeavor to go to dinner there next week and see if he can’t persuade him to spend his evenings at home. He then said something about the best thing in marriage not being the cooking. Men!

*

Well, dear readers, I must leave off now, and use the carpet sweeper Mr Holmes gave me for Christmas in the foyer and the parlor of 221B. It is the latest model, and while I do appreciate how clean it gets my carpets, I am fairly certain Mr Holmes plans to use it for collecting evidence from his clients’ shoes! But before I go, here is a simple way to prepare a goose, from Anne Bowman’s New Cookery Book. As much as I do like Mrs Beeton’s book, I find it helpful to consult others from time to time!

To Roast a Goose

Great care must be taken in plucking a goose to remove all the quill sockets and singe the hairs. Cut off the neck close to the back, and the feet and pinions at the first joint. Put a skewer into the wing, and draw up the legs close. Dry the goose well inside and outside. Boil for ten minutes two chopped onions, then mix them with five or six leaves of sage minced fine, three tablespoonfuls of bread-crumbs, two teaspoonfuls of salt, one of pepper, and an ounce of butter. Put this stuffing into the body of the goose and tie up the openings firmly. Baste it plentifully, roast from an hour and a half, even to two hours, if a very large bird, for a goose is disgusting and unwholesome food unless thoroughly cooked. Serve it with brown gravy and apple sauce.

If you prefer chestnut stuffing, readers, Mrs Bowman suggests the following: boil one onion, mix with a sprig of parsley and a shallot, all minced, and add pepper and salt to taste. To this, add twenty roasted chestnuts, minced, and mix well before putting into the goose.

Until next time!

—Mrs Martha Hudson

Note: Recipe taken from Bowman, Anne. The New Cookery Book: A Complete Manual, English and Foreign Cookery on Sound Principles of Taste and Science. London: George Routledge and Sons, 1880, p. 374.

*

SCREEN OF THE CRIME,

by Kim Newman

THE BBC’S 1960S SHERLOCK HOLMES SERIES

I: Detective, The Speckled Band (1964)

Along with Comedy Playhouse and Drama Playhouse, Detective—which aired forty-five episodes over three series—was a BBC-TV try-out skein, offering one-off dramas adapted from classic mystery fiction which served as backdoor pilots featuring sleuths who might be suitable TV series material. The first series had an onscreen host in the form of Rupert Davies, reprising his role as Georges Simenon’s Inspector Jules Maigret from the BBC’s hit show, introducing his possible rivals (or replacements). The Drawing, with Leslie Sands as Gil North’s Detective Sergeant Caleb Cluff, and The Case of Oscar Brodski, with Peter Copley as Austin Freeman’s pathologist Dr. John Thorndyke, led swiftly to the series Thorndyke (1964) and Cluff (1964-5). Promising crimebusters who didn’t immediately get series commissions include Edmund Crispin’s Gervase Fen (Richard Wordsworth in The Moving Toyshop), John Dickson Carr’s Sir Henry Merivale (David Horn in The Judas Window), Ngaio Marsh’s Inspector Alleyn (Geoffrey Keen in Death in Ecstasy), Michael Innes’s Sir John Appleby (Dennis Price in A Connoisseur’s Case), and G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown (Mervyn Johns in The Quick One).

The eighth episode of Detective was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Speckled Band, which cast Douglas Wilmer and Nigel Stock as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. One of the best-known Holmes stories, The Speckled Band has long been a staple in different media. Director Robin Midgley had produced an adaptation by Michael Hardwick for BBC Radio in 1962; this Detective version—scripted by Giles Cooper, a mainstay of Maigret—retains Felix Felton and Liane Aukin, who played villain Dr. Grimesby Roylott and heroine Helen Stoner on the wireless. Detective had a distinctive, award-winning titles sequence designed by Bernard Lodge, which—along with Maigret—is dropped from the version of The Speckled Band released on