The Collected Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in Japan

by Ben Stevens

  A metal flask, almost waist-height, as wide as a human torso and covered with designs of snakes. That is, these snakes were wrought from the metal itself; there were many of them, all intertwined. They had been colored, once, but such colors had long since all but faded away; something which lent this unusually large flask a certain impression of age.

  …Iwasaki pulled this flask towards me, her eyes still shining.

  ‘It is not so heavy, this thing,’ she said. ‘So we were able to carry it around with us, when we were… searching…

  ‘Only when it was full, it thus became much… heavier… Though two of us could then still carry it…’

  ‘What are you saying?’ I said thickly, my very tongue feeling as though it was all but paralyzed.

  ‘Poor doctor…’ continued Iwasaki, her eyes almost now seeming to shine yellow. ‘Dragged around Japan these recent months by your gaijin friend, writing your little tales of adventure together…

  ‘Well, I’m afraid such adventures end here… This is one case you’ll never get to write about…’

  With this, the ‘older sister’ of these accursed geisha pulled at the ‘head’ of one of the wrought-metal snakes – and it detached from the flask! A pipe extended out… Iwasaki raised this head attached to the pipe up to one side of my neck… I noticed that the mouth of this snake now had two sharp ‘teeth’ exposed…

  ‘All we do is to place these teeth into a certain vein on your neck,’ said Iwasaki softly, ‘and wait for the flask to… fill…’

  ‘Omitsu!’ I heard myself cry out, as though this geisha – my companion, as it were, of recent days – who was helping to restrain me, might suddenly change her mind and come to my assistance.

  Instead, she whispered into my ear –

  ‘I was silly, Yoshida-sensei… I made a mistake. I pulled the snake’s teeth out of that girl’s neck too quickly, the last time. So a little blood splashed out, onto the lower part of my face. And I had only just climbed out of the window, standing there on a low roof, when the merchant entered and saw me!’

  At this, Omitsu laughed – a sound which chilled my very blood.

  ‘Poor doctor,’ she then continued. ‘Goodbye, my love – I did enjoy our… time together…’

  ‘We expect your friend back shortly,’ declared Iwasaki contemptuously, those two sharp teeth now just an inch away from the right-hand side of my neck. ‘He has been blundering around, searching for clues concerning this mysterious killer – when all the time, it lay right here in this teahouse! Soon the great Sherlock Holmes will realize that he has finally met his match – in me.’

  ‘But… why…?’ I croaked, my sight steadily growing dimmer. I was passing into unconscious, I realized.

  That sake… Perhaps the other victims had been similarly drugged…

  ‘Oh doctor,’ whispered Omitsu in my ear. ‘Don’t concern yourself with such trivial details, please. This is one case you won’t have to chase to its tedious conclusion, after all…’

  ‘Your fool of a friend will soon return, unsuspecting, and we will deal with him then,’ said Iwasaki, and I closed my eyes and shuddered as those teeth began pressing against my skin…

  There was at once a violent crashing sound, the sliding doors of this room being broken inwards. My eyes again flew open, at the same moment as the geisha fell away from me, shrieking with outrage at this intrusion.

  It was Holmes, either side of him standing two soldiers (not samurai, as some western writers still erroneously claim, for these have been abolished under the recent reformations sweeping Japan), their right hands gripping the hilt of their swords.

  ‘There,’ said Holmes, pointing at the vessel with the snakes upon it, those eyes above his high cheekbones burning. ‘There is your vampire, which collects the blood these geisha believe they require – which they believe keeps them looking young…’

  With the geisha no longer holding my drugged, weakened body, I had slumped onto one side. And with these horrific words of Holmes’s sounding in my ears, I finally slipped into unconsciousness…

  5

  ‘There was once a Korean Princess called Uimin, as famous for her beauty as she was notorious for her vanity and cruelty. But as time passed, this beauty of hers began to fade; something which caused Uimin to become even crueler.

  ‘Desperately she searched for ways to halt the ravages of advancing age; she spent fortunes on supposed ‘treatments’, even as the people in her country faced a fierce famine, which caused many of them to die from starvation.

  ‘But all seemed useless – until one day, in a customary fit of rage, she slapped a palace maid across the face. So hard was the blow that the maid’s nose began to bleed, covering Princess Uimin’s hand with blood. And as Uimin stared at this hand, it seemed to her that the skin was now less wrinkled; and even after she had washed this blood off, the complexion somewhat fairer…’

  …So said Holmes, as we both rested in the room of an inn some distance away from that accursed teahouse located in the so-called ‘pleasure quarter’ of town.

  I lay on a futon, listening in mute disgust and horror as my friend continued –

  ‘And so began a reign of terror throughout the area of Korea where this princess had power. The young servant girl was bled to death in the castle dungeon – and then more girls were sought, their blood being harvested for Princess Uimin to apply to her skin.

  ‘The blood of young females, she considered, was best, although on occasion she was forced to use the blood of men, arrested and then executed on some trumped-up charge. (The blood of animals, incidentally, she believed had no ‘positive’ effects whatsoever.)

  ‘She had a few female assistants, some ‘helpers’ who knew full-well of her diabolical ways. Indeed, who were allowed themselves to ‘benefit’ from the application of the blood upon their skin…

  ‘Princess Uimin even had a large metal vessel constructed, expertly designed to contain all the blood one human body carries. The exterior of this container was shaped like so many snakes, one of which could be pulled away, an extendable pipe leading from the container to the snake’s ‘head’ – and its sharp top teeth which would ‘bite’ into the victim’s jugular vein.

  ‘Through this method, the murder of the victim became somewhat less ‘messy’ than it had been before – and there was far less wastage of blood. The body bled out and the metal container filled, the contents then being transferred to a couple of wooden barrels stored deep in the castle cellars. And for Princess Uimin’s ‘beauty regime’, approximately one victim a month was necessary.’

  I shuddered to hear all of this, again recalling those sharp teeth pressed against my neck. How close they had come to biting into my own jugular vein, and thus ending my life…! Holmes really had arrived (accompanied by those soldiers, after Holmes had hurriedly explained what he suspected to the local authorities) with scarcely a moment to spare.

  ‘But Uimin became careless with the ‘disposal’, as it were, of the bodies of her victims. She merely ordered that they be thrown outside the walls of her castle, there to be devoured by wolves and other wildlife…

  ‘Except several such bodies were found by inhabitants in the outlying villages, the puncture marks noticed on the necks, thus fuelling wild rumor about a ‘vampire’ living in the forest – except that the truth was even more horrifying than this.

  ‘Finally it was realized what the princess was doing. With the assistance of a powerful lord living in a neighboring territory, the people in the region governed by the princess succeeded in overthrowing her. And there in the cellar of the castle they found her barrels of blood – and the accursed device she’d caused to be made, with the snake designs upon it.

  ‘Those judged guilty of having assisted Princess Uimin were horribly tortured, before being strangled. Due to her royal birth, however, Uimin escaped being executed herself – although her sentence was a living death.

  ‘For she was placed in a small area of her castle – just a coupl
e of rooms – and there walled-in alive, with just a small gap remaining for her to be passed food and drink. She ‘lived’ like this – in absolute silence and near pitch-darkness – for four years, never uttering a word of remorse for what she had done, until she at last died, presumably for sheer want of light and fresh air…

  ‘As for that metal vessel, its exterior covered with that chilling snake-design – it simply ‘disappeared’, presumed destroyed… Except, as we now know, it was not broken into a thousand pieces, or melted down, as it should have been.

  ‘Instead, over who knows how many years, it found its way to Japan; and ultimately into the hands of the owner of a well-known geisha teahouse, who had lately found herself obsessing about her advancing age, and who was aware of the infamous legend concerning a Korean princess named Uimin…’

  ‘But how did she obtain that… that vessel with the snakes upon it, Holmes-san?’ I asked. ‘And how did she persuade those other geisha at her teahouse to become party to… to cold-blooded murder?’

  For a moment I saw Omitsu’s face before me, as clear as anything. Shining slightly white in the gloom. And I smelt that faintly metallic ‘tang’ about her – the memory of which now so appalled me…

  I shook my head against such memories… and then realized that my foreign friend was watching me, a sad, slight smile on his hawk-like face which told me that he knew everything…

  ‘There is a great deal we can only assume,’ said Holmes then, shaking his head slightly. ‘It is frustrating but now, under sentence of death, Iwasaki and her five geisha still refuse to say anything concerning this matter. They sit in silence in the castle dungeon, awaiting the day when they will be executed.’

  A flash of pain shot through me at these final words. I knew that they still practiced beheading in this region… The razor-sharp blade of a sword, biting into the beautifully pale nape of a neck I had so admired…

  I forced this feeling away, as Holmes continued –

  ‘But we can assume that Iwasaki was a fiendishly-clever woman, considerably skilled in psychology, shall we say, who there in that darkened teahouse set to work persuading her faithful employees of the benefits of bathing their faces and body in blood.

  ‘In any case, what is a woman more scared of, if not the advancement of age? And those geisha, inhabiting their own ‘floating world’, never permitted to marry but, still, with their main attraction being their graceful, refined beauty… Some implied suggestion of eternal youth…

  ‘Such women would be most susceptible to Iwasaki’s initial, veiled suggestions, however repellent they seem to us – and everyone, male and female, who now knows the truth of what actually happened – in the cold light of day.’

  ‘But Holmes-san, the merchant who saw… who saw one of those geisha – who was telling the truth, although he now dwells in the nightmare world of madness… As his words were correct, why did these geisha not wear some disguise, in case they were seen – even a black-cloak, or something of the sort?’ I asked.

  ‘On the contrary,’ returned Holmes, ‘they were in disguise – and a most excellent one. For who can really tell two geisha apart, especially when they are seen from some distance away, or in semi-darkness? As such, the identities of those women behind the white face-paint, and with the blackened teeth, were perfectly concealed…

  ‘Besides, Iwasaki lied when she said business at her teahouse had been affected by the merchant’s chilling story concerning this ‘vampire geisha’. I quickly learnt that the ‘Spring-sea’ teahouse was far too well-established for its faithful clientele to be discouraged by such a tale. Those other teahouse in the area did see their takings drop; something which, of course, could only benefit Iwasaki’s own enterprise.

  ‘But while those other teahouses now desperately accepted whatever custom came their way, Iwasaki continued to be extremely choosy about who she allowed to enter her premises, all the while charging approximately double the usual fee.

  ‘So, once I realized this, it was obvious that everything Iwasaki had said about finding ‘the real culprit’, and her desire to act for the good of all the other teahouses in the area, was just so much chaff. Certainly, it hadn’t actually been intended that any of the geisha should be seen, as they stole in and out of their victim’s room. But if they were, the resulting terror would serve only to harm those other geisha teahouses in the town’s pleasure quarter – not Iwasaki’s business.

  ‘So – I realized that Iwasaki and her geisha were certainly behind the murders; and thus I realized the link to that infamous tale concerning Princess Uimin… It made my blood run cold, especially when I saw the state the merchant had been reduced to, screaming and ranting as he sat tied to that chair…’

  For a moment Holmes was silent; and I remembered how shocked he’d appeared that afternoon he’d returned from visiting that merchant, coming into the room we’d shared together at the top of the teahouse…

  ‘So,’ Holmes continued, ‘I then realized that Iwasaki must somehow have obtained possession of that vessel with the snakes upon it. But how to find it? If I was to attempt any search of the premises, I would surely be discovered, and my suspicions would thus be known.

  ‘Instead, I had to leave each day and visit those places where other victims of this ‘vampire’ had been reported. Yes, they could all be accessed from the street or alley, up low walls and protruding roofs…

  ‘The geisha worked in pairs, I suspect, first ‘stunning’ or otherwise drugging their victims, so they did not call out for help. (Again, exactly how they did this is something which only they can answer – yet they will say nothing, and I have insisted that they not be tortured for information, no matter how foul their crimes.)

  ‘Then, the vessel full of blood – with only a little left around the neck area of the victim – they left the room and climbed back down into the darkness, unseen. They walked back to the teahouse carrying this vessel between them, which for all anyone knew who saw them carrying it merely contained food, or alcohol, for that evening’s entertainment. You’ll recall that it is unusual not to see a geisha or maiko with some sort of instrument, case or other luggage on them, out in the street.’

  I nodded, for this was true. There would have been nothing strange about seeing two geisha carrying that metal vessel between them, even with its somewhat striking design.

  ‘Well, that is nearly everything, I think,’ said Holmes. ‘So yesterday afternoon I ‘regretfully’ informed Iwasaki that it did not seem as though I could solve this case, and then said that you and I would thus be leaving first thing tomorrow morning.

  ‘Immediately, I realized that we were to become her next victims. Blood is blood, after all, although, just like Princess Uimin, Iwasaki preferred the ‘life fluid’ of young women, believing it to possess more potent ‘anti-aging’ qualities.

  ‘But we have no family, no close relations or even friends… It would not be realized that we were ‘missing’ for some time; and, if questioned later about the matter, Iwasaki would merely state that we had left early one morning – a statement her geisha would certainly confirm. In any case, it would please her to dispose of me, and thus you, in such a way – her complete defeat of the ‘famous’ gaijin Sherlock Holmes, as it were.

  ‘But still, Iwasaki would be wary about trying to tackle us both – at the same time, I mean. So I left, claiming that I had some errant to run, knowing that Iwasaki and her geisha would thus seize the opportunity to try to bleed you. With this thought in mind, I hurried to the local magistrates’ office, and explained the situation as best as I could in a very short space of time, also requesting that some soldiers return to the teahouse with me.

  ‘We crept inside, and were able to hear Iwasaki talking to you – and when I was certain that that evil vessel had been produced, we rather ‘forcefully’ entered the room…’

  I nodded, and stared down at the floor.

  ‘I’m sorry, Yoshida-sensei,’ said Holmes then, his voice somewhat quieter than bef
ore.

  ‘Holmes-san?’

  There was no reply, my famous foreign friend just looking at me. He knew, of course, just as he had all along. There was no hiding anything from him.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said then, and my voice was harsh as I spoke almost to myself. ‘For what Omitsu did, she must surely die, just like those five other geisha from hell…’

  And I blinked, for my vision had suddenly become slightly blurred.

  Sherlock Holmes and the Shinto River-Dancer

  1

  The middle-aged woman had been stabbed through her heart. She lay there in the semi-dried mud which had been churned up all around her, obviously during her death throes. Her hands, lying there by her sides, were like the left-hand side of her chest also bloody.

  Despite all the mud and the blood, anyone could see that she wore the snow-white robes of a Shinto ‘maiden’ – one of those women who have, since early childhood, been trained in one of the duties concerning Japan’s oldest religion…

  Now, the magistrate in attendance explained just what this woman’s particular duty had been –

  ‘A river-dancer,’ he explained to Sherlock Holmes, me and those few other people gathered round the body. ‘Hitomi Aoki was one of those special women, blessed by nature, who can entice the rain itself to fall just by performing a special dance in a dried-up riverbed.’

  ‘Only this particular riverbed has not long been dry,’ noted Holmes – something made more than obvious by the fact that the mud had not yet fully dried. This also explained the footprints leading to – and from – the murder scene.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Holmes-san,’ said the magistrate tightly. ‘Such an observation hardly constitutes a – shall we say – very thorough test of your deductive powers…’

  At this thinly-veiled admonishment, the English detective merely nodded and gave a slight smile.

  ‘This riverbed is indeed almost never fully dry, so that I had never heard of Aoki-san being called here to dance before. But that said, this is certainly her body lying here, and she has been stabbed – murdered – and this muddy riverbed shows two clear sets of footprints.