The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part II Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave-taking.
    He too refused the Royal ring.
    He smiles as he fingers the gold “sovereign” dangling on his watch chain.
    Him she tipped. The King she slipped. What an ironical refrain.
    To sum up the same old story, that last letter left for him lingers near.
    She called him hers, she called him dear, terms he had never longed to hear
    From any woman.
    And then Baker Street reclaims its own. He will no longer be alone.
    Knocking at the lower door, footsteps pounding up a floor to his own .
    His blood is up, his pulses race, he wonders what new enigma he will find.
    He banishes past and pipe dream, leaps up from his chair. And leaves behind
    The Woman on his mind.
    Kings do not impress him, especially from Bohemia.
    Women do not obsess him, with their vapors and anemia.
    He still finds his muse in opium dreams and smoke,
    And the not unwelcome recollections they provoke
    Of The Woman.

The Affair of Miss Finney
    by Ann Margaret Lewis
    It was in the third week of June, in 1890, that Sherlock Holmes encountered a case the likes of which he’d never before had the misfortune to solve. Women had always been a puzzling topic for Holmes. After my marriage to Mary, he exhibited no overt ill will toward my bride, and yet he made it clear that he was not happy about our nuptials. It is with the Miss Finney affair that I believe he came to see my wife with new eyes.
    That day, I’d stayed late into the evening with one of my patients. In fact, I returned home at such an hour that I was certain Mary had gone to bed. The house was dark, save for a solitary gas lamp in the front hall that she left up for me so I could find my key in the dark. I did my best not to wake her, but instead turned the corner and surprised her in the hall, candle in hand. She wore her lavender dressing gown trimmed in white lace, and her hair fell to one shoulder in a single, blonde braid.
    She gasped. “James!”
    I smiled and kissed her cheek. It was a personal affection of ours that she’d address me in a form of my middle name. “I’m sorry, dear; I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    She placed her hand on her breast and sighed with relief. “That’s all right. I wasn’t expecting you to be there. My, but you were quiet.”
    â€œI thought you were asleep.”
    â€œDid you have anything to eat?”
    â€œYes. The housekeeper insisted on feeding me after the baby was born. Child gave us a bit of a fright, but ultimately it all went well.”
    â€œBoy or girl?”
    â€œGirl.” I smiled. “Charming little thing.”
    Suddenly, the bell rang downstairs.
    â€œWho might that be?” Mary asked.
    â€œThere’s only one person who would ring at this hour.” I charged with a stiff gait down the stairs and swung open the front door.
    Sherlock Holmes stood on the step. “I’m glad you are here, Watson. I see your wife is still awake. Excellent. May I come in?”
    â€œOf course.”
    Mary looked askance at me as I led my friend up the stairs. I gestured for her to precede us into our parlour. “Is something wrong?” she asked as I closed the door behind us.
    â€œMrs. Watson,” Holmes said. “I came here to find you, especially, in the hope that you might assist me.”
    â€œI’m always happy to be of help, Mr. Holmes.”
    He began to pace the carpet, his nervous energy evident in his stride. He removed his hat, and I realized his hair was mussed as if he’d been asleep. Whatever it was, it had apparently awakened him.
    â€œIn my entire career,” he said, “I have been fortunate that I have never dealt with a case such as this. I have always known it was possible that something of its ilk might walk through my door, but I’d hoped I’d never see it.” He stopped at my fireplace and continued in a hoarse voice. “It is heinous, monstrous, depraved, and vile. It is pure evil.”
    â€œWhatever is it,