The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories, Part VI

by David Marcum

  “One might almost think you did not want to catch this gentleman after all, Lestrade,” remarked Holmes, rubbing a bruised elbow. “Could you not have held your silence five minutes longer?”

  “I don’t see that it’s made much difference, Mr. Holmes,” returned Lestrade. “We have him all right now.” He regarded Miller in a manner which earned him a vitriolic glare from the young man.

  “Perhaps, but I think you have still failed to grasp the importance of finding him in this place,” went on Holmes, coming back to join our little group. “I should ask him what he has now in his pocket, if I were you.”

  Lestrade merely gaped, although he was swaying on his feet in such an alarming manner that I suspected it was only with the greatest concentration that he remained standing, let alone alert enough to follow my friend’s reasoning.

  “Perhaps you had better make your explanation a simple one, Holmes,” I suggested.

  Holmes glanced at me, and sighed. “Very well, Watson. If you insist.” Stepping forwards, he reached into the pocket of Miller’s coat and withdrew the thing which the young man had taken from the shelf, holding it out in the palm of his hand for us all to see. It was an elaborate brooch, so heavily jewelled that it sparkled like a rainbow in the lamplight. Miller merely stared, with an expression which made his features an unpleasant sight to behold.

  “Gentlemen, I present to you the brooch belonging to Lady Patricia St John, of Rosemore in Kent,” said Holmes. “You will no doubt remember the Rosemore Castle jewel theft. I believe it caused Scotland Yard some little trouble at the time it was carried out.”

  “We never did get to the bottom of the matter,” admitted Lestrade bitterly, “And it was over a year ago. So that is the brooch? I was told it was of Indian workmanship, and quite irreplaceable. We assumed it had been broken up and sold by now.”

  “But how has it come in to Miller’s possession?” I asked. “I assume it is the article attached to the pawn-ticket you found, but I fail to see how such a jewel could be pawned in the first place.”

  “That can be explained by sheer ignorance, my dear Watson. Mr. McNulty’s eldest son may fancy himself as a detective, but his observational skills leave much to be desired. He serves as his father’s apprentice and, on the day Miller brought this trinket in, he was alone in the shop. Taking it for cheap costume jewellery, he issued a loan of eight shillings and sixpence. I take it you had made the same mistake yourself, Miller, or you would never have dared to bring the brooch here in the first place.”

  For answer, Miller spat upon the floor.

  “And now we come to the matter of how it came into your possession in the first place. I take it you would not care to tell us the story yourself?” inquired Holmes, addressing our prisoner inquiringly.

  “Isn’t it enough that I shall hang?” snarled Miller, speaking for the first time since his capture.

  “I should have thought that you would owe no loyalty to the man who allowed you to get into such a position in the first place,” Holmes remarked. “However, I daresay I can fill in the gaps if you will not.” Miller held a sullen silence. “No? Very well, then. I took the liberty of speaking to your landlady earlier today. She tells me that lately you have been in the habit of receiving visits from your cousin, who has recently returned from abroad. Further inquiry led me to the fact that this cousin was, until last month, employed as valet to Sir Humphrey Carter, one of the guests at Rosemore Castle at the time of the robbery. He was questioned when the crime took place, but no suspicion was aroused, and when Sir Humphrey left on a tour of Europe, your cousin was allowed to go with him. He must be a cleverer man than you, Miller, although not clever enough. I suppose you do not know how he managed to carry out the robbery?”

  Miller shook his head in reluctant admiration as Holmes gave his casual rendition of the facts.

  “Ah, well, never mind. We know, at least, that he did it. No doubt you can pick up the man in question from his lodgings in the morning, Lestrade. But to go on. Your cousin could hardly go about with the brooch in his possession for any length of time, in case his luck should run out, so he sent it to you for safekeeping. Am I right so far?”

  “I wish I had never seen the thing!” burst out Miller bitterly. “I did not know what it was until a week ago, and I curse the day I ever found out.”

  “Your cousin did not tell you what you had in your keeping, then?” demanded Holmes.

  “How could he? He could hardly set it down in a letter for all to see, and I never saw him until he came to see me last week, and told me what he had done. I thought it was nothing more than a trinket for his sweetheart.”

  “A somewhat expensive one,” Holmes remarked. “It would perhaps have been as well for you, had you been able to tell the difference between diamonds and paste. Still, you are not alone in making that mistake. You must have pawned the brooch almost immediately you received it?”

  “I needed the money,” moaned Miller, all his resistance gone now he that realised Holmes had all the facts without his assistance. “There was a horse - a certain winner - ”

  “ - Which no doubt did not win,” said Holmes.

  “It came sixth. The money was just to tide me over, you understand, but then I received word that Harry was going abroad, and I thought there was no harm in waiting a little longer to pay off the debt, for I was going through a bad patch at the time. Somehow I never got round to paying it, although I always meant to.”

  “Then your cousin returned from his travels and discovered that you had pawned the brooch.”

  “Yes, and there but a few days left to redeem it. I panicked, for Harry was so wild when I told him what I had done that I dared not admit I couldn’t afford to get it back. I determined to get the money somehow, but it came to the last minute and still I had failed, until in desperation I went to take the money from my employer. It was such a small amount, I thought he would not miss it, and I meant to repay it, anyhow. But then he came in and caught me, and threatened me with the police. I could not let it happen, I could not! But I never meant to kill him, I swear it. It was an accident, a moment’s madness!” Miller’s voice rose to a desperate whine. “I ran, but I had been seen, and the police were on me before I could get away with the ticket, as well as the money, and then I managed to escape, by the barest chance. I went to find Harry.”

  “I presume it was he who worked the trick with the bicycle?” asked Holmes.

  “Yes. He had heard what I had done to old Evans, and was on his way to my lodgings. We met in the street, and he bade me hide while he laid a false trail for the police.”

  “In which he was reasonably successful, but he failed to appreciate that while it is easy enough to ride a cycle with one’s hands cuffed behind one’s back, it is another matter entirely to lift it up and set it going in such a condition. That alone told me that you could not have been the cyclist.”

  “It bought me time. But when we got the cuffs off, I found I had dropped the pawn-ticket in my flight. I tried to go back to my lodgings again to find it, but the place was crawling with police. I was afraid I might be caught at any second, so I came here tonight, for one last attempt to get back the brooch. But you were here before me. How did you know?”

  “We found the pawn-ticket ourselves,” said Holmes. “It was obvious enough that there was something in your rooms which you were desperate to obtain, however big the risk, and that ticket was the only thing which it could have been.”

  Miller hung his head mutely, as if unable to quite take in the fact that he no longer had any chance of escape. Then he began to weep noisily, as if the full import of his situation had finally hit him. Holmes looked at him in disgust.

  “That’s enough of that,” said Lestrade sharply. “Come along, now. Mr. Holmes, I’m much obliged to you; but now we’ve caught this villain, the sooner we have him under lock and key, the
happier I shall be.”

  “I do not think he will give you any trouble now,” answered Holmes, as the weeping Miller was hauled from the room by six burly constables. “Not now he knows there is no chance of his retrieving the brooch. I warrant you were not expecting to solve two crimes in one night, Lestrade!”

  “I would have been happy just to lay my hands on Miller,” admitted Lestrade. “I don’t know how you manage these things, Mr. Holmes, but - ”

  “It was remarkably simple once I had the facts at my disposal. You need not mention my name in conjunction with the affair. I have no wish to be publicly associated with a case so entirely lacking in complexity. You will no doubt be able to give a passable rendition of the facts without mentioning my presence here tonight in your report, although I would suggest it may be as well for you to mention that Lady Patricia’s brooch was only found as a result of your unfortunate lack of grip at Miller’s first arrest. If you are lucky, the one may cancel out the other. But now I think we should wish you good night. It is late, and no doubt we could all use some sleep. Come along, Watson. It is high time we were back at Baker Street.”

  The Adventure of the Apothecary Shop

  by Jim French

  This script has never been published in text form, and was initially performed as a radio drama on November 30, 2008. The broadcast was Episode No. 87 of The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, one of the recurring series featured on the nationally syndicated Imagination Theatre. Founded by Jim French, the company produced nearly 1,100 multi-series episodes, including 128 Sherlock Holmes pastiches. In addition, Imagination Theatre also recorded the entire Holmes Canon, featured as The Classic Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. This is the only version with all episodes to have been written and adapted by the same writer, Matthew J. Elliott, and with the same two actors, John Patrick Lowrie and Lawrence Albert, portraying Holmes and Watson, respectively.

  On February 1st, 2017, it was announced to great surprise and dismay that Imagination Theatre was closing its doors. Thankfully, their work will live on, and their support for Sherlock Holmes will always be appreciated and never forgotten.

  This script is protected by copyright. For permission to reproduce it in any way or to perform it in any medium, please apply to the author.

  THE CAST

  SHERLOCK HOLMES - John Patrick Lowrie

  DR. JOHN H. WATSON - Lawrence Albert

  INSPECTOR LESTRADE – Rick May

  CONSTANCE BOWERS - Rachel Glass: About forty, loud, non-Posh, unhappily married

  MRS. BOWERS - Rachel Glass: In her sixties; a harsh old harpie

  CONSTABLE - Dennis Bateman: Fifty-ish Liverpudlian; a veteran policeman

  TELEGRAPH CLERK - Dennis Bateman: Mid-twenties; upper class accent

  MUSIC - OPENING, DANSE MACABRE AND UNDER

  WATSON: (NARRATING) My name is Doctor John H. Watson. During the years of my association with Sherlock Holmes, I knew him to experience extremes of mood, varying from gloom to exultation, always depending on the state of the case he was handling at the time. But rarely did these extremes occur all within an hour, as they did on one rainy morning that began with Holmes enjoying the solution of an investigation, but ending with his fame, his reputation, and his very life in jeopardy. It began in mid-morning. Holmes had been on an errand for an hour or so (BEGIN FADE) when he returned in high spirits...

  MUSIC - OUT

  SOUND EFFECT - BAKER STREET BACKGROUND. DOOR SLAM

  HOLMES:Ha! So much for Oliver Stutzman’s pretensions!

  WATSON:What?

  HOLMES:I have just received a wire confirming that the crown claimed by that rascal Stutzman no longer exists! He has no more claim on the rights to the Dalmatian monarchy than you or I! He is neither Italian nor Croatian, but was born in - of all places - New York City, and his father was a policeman! This telegram confirms I was right all along.

  WATSON:You seem very pleased with yourself.

  HOLMES:Pleased? My investigation has saved an English widow from embarrassment and ruin, and placed a blackguard in the arms of the law!

  WATSON:I don’t believe I knew about that investigation.

  HOLMES:It was just a matter of sending a few telegrams to the right people. I proved that Emil Stutzman’s impersonation of an exiled monarch was nothing more than a sham, and shop-worn at that. I have telegraphed the lady’s solicitor, revealing the deception, and the matter will rest in the hands of the police. And I expect to receive a substantial cheque for my labours.

  WATSON:A happy outcome for you, then.

  HOLMES:Satisfying, perhaps, but hardly happy. That some men prey upon others is a sad reality of life, and one that all the laws of man and God cannot correct.

  WATSON:But of course, without crime you’d be without an income.

  HOLMES:And without disease, so would doctors, old friend.

  WATSON:Still, in the interest of keeping a complete record of your cases, let me take notes on how you solved it.

  HOLMES:No, Watson. I would prefer it not to be included in any compilation of my work. Besides, Stutzman’s scheme has been tried dozens of times by far cleverer crooks. Do save your ink and my reputation.

  SOUND EFFECT - BAKER STREET FADE OUT

  WATSON:(NARRATING AGAIN) As Holmes started going through the pile of unopened mail on his desk, the downstairs bell sounded, and presently Inspector Lestrade of the Metropolitan Police joined us. He declined to take the chair I offered him, preferring to stand with his back to the door, arms folded. Without preamble, he began an interrogation of Sherlock Holmes.

  SOUND EFFECT - FADE IN UNDER: BAKER STREET

  LESTRADE:Mr. Holmes, are you acquainted with the apothecary shop in Haversham Street, between South Kensington and Chelsea, a block or so northwest of Royal Hospital Road?

  HOLMES(PAUSE) I may have stopped there for certain necessities upon occasion.

  LESTRADE:Would you remember the owner, a chemist named Bowers?

  HOLMES:Not especially. Why do you ask?

  LESTRADE:Hasn’t Avery Bowers been supplying you with a powerful drug?

  WATSON:Now, see here, Inspector –

  HOLMES:Never mind, Watson. I do use a stimulant occasionally, Inspector, one that is available in many chemist’s shops.

  LESTRADE:It’s cocaine, Mr. Holmes. Call it by its name!

  HOLMES:Dear me! Don’t tell me it’s become illegal while I was away!

  LESTRADE:Illegal, no. But it can cause criminal behaviour when addicts are deprived of the drug, as you well know. When did you last purchase cocaine at Bowers’ Pharmacy?

  HOLMES:I’m not certain of the date.

  WATSON:Good Lord, Holmes! I thought you were finally done with it!

  HOLMES:I am done with it. You saw me pour out the last bottle a few weeks ago.

  LESTRADE:You were not at Bower’s any time this morning?

  HOLMES:No. I was here in the neighbourhood, receiving a telegram and sending one of my own, as the clerk at the telegraph office will attest. Now suppose you tell me what’s happened?

  LESTRADE:This morning, Avery Bowers was murdered. Somebody came into his shop, and a violent argument ensued. Bowers’ daughter, Constance, was upstairs, and when she heard the row, she hurried downstairs and found her father breathing his final breath, as his assailant emptied the cabinet where the cocaine was kept. She cried out, and the man turned to face her before he fled with the drugs. She said she’d seen him before. She said it was you, Mr. Holmes!

  MUSIC - NOTE STING

  SOUND EFFECT - FADE IN UNDER: BAKER STREET

  HOLMES:Simply a case of mistaken identity, Lestrade. What time did the murder occur?

  LESTRADE:Around eight o’clock.

  HOLMES:Ha! It was around eight when I left here on an errand. Wou
ld you agree, Watson?

  WATSON:Eight o’clock? Yes, that’s about right.

  HOLMES:I then walked four blocks to the telegraph office in Bickenhall Street, a fact the clerk will gladly bear out. Once there, at about five past eight, I took the telegram that was waiting for me, read it, and then drafted a reply, paid for it, and returned here to Baker Street. The errand certainly took no less than twenty-five minutes. I was nowhere near the apothecary on Haversham Street. Haversham is a good two miles from here!

  LESTRADE:Nevertheless, Mr. Holmes, as sad as it makes me to say it, I must ask you to come with me down to the scene of the murder and facet the witness.

  MUSIC - UNDERSCORE

  SOUND EFFECT - ADD UNDER: CARRIAGE MOVING ON PAVING

  WATSON:Lestrade drove us across town to the chemist’s shop in Haversham Street, arriving just before ten.

  SOUND EFFECT - CARRIAGE OUT. RAIN ON THE CARRIAGE ROOF

  MUSIC - UNDERCURRENT OUT

  SOUND EFFECT - THEY GET OUT. DOOR CLOSES. RAIN ON STREET. THREE MEN WALK TO FRONT DOOR. DOOR OPENS. THEY WALK IN. DOOR CLOSES. RAIN OUT

  CONSTABLE:Morning again, Inspector. Everything’s right. Miss Bowers is in her room with her mum, and coroner’s men just finished.

  LESTRADE:All right, Constable, go up and tell her I need her down here to identify a suspect. And be respectful.

  CONSTABLE:Respectful it is, Inspector.

  SOUND EFFECT - CONSTABLE WALKS TO STAIRS IN BACKGROUND

  LESTRADE:Now, the body is behind the counter. No, you stay on this side, Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson, you can come round the counter and have a look if you like.

  HOLMES:Of course, I forgot. I’m the suspect! May I at least peek over the counter?

  SOUND EFFECT - TWO MEN STEP BEHIND COUNTER CAREFULLY

  HOLMES:Did you find the body in that position?

  LESTRADE:No, he was on his face. I rolled him onto his back.