Sherlock Holmes Read Free

wondered if he were trying to imagine he were somewhere else, instead of flying along the road at an unconscionable speed inside a metal box. I certainly was. “He outlined for me his desperate concern regarding the situation in London, the effect the Kaiser’s bombing raids are having upon the morale of the people, even their support for the war.”
    “Well, he’s not wrong,” said I. “I’ve felt it myself. The thought of Londoners dying in those dreadful blasts, the burr of the zeppelins drifting overhead – it sometimes feels as if the end times are upon us.”
    “You always have had a penchant for melodrama, Watson,” said Holmes, with a chuckle.
    “Melodrama!” I returned, with some consternation. “Holmes, the country’s at war! The enemy fly uncontested above the streets of the capital, dropping incendiary weapons upon the rooftops of our people. I hardly think it is melodrama of which I speak.”
    Holmes remained silent, allowing my brief flare of anger to burn itself out. I knew he wasn’t chastised by my outburst, but in turn he knew me well enough to at least pretend that he was.
    “I see the war has affected you deeply, Watson,” he said, after a minute or two.
    “I rather suppose it has,” I agreed, my moustache bristling with something akin to embarrassment. I decided to steer the conversation back to the subject at hand. “Surely, though, that’s not the reason for Mycroft’s call? I mean, as celebrated a figure as you are, he cannot expect you to single-handedly boost the morale of the nation.”
    “Quite,” said Holmes, with the hint of a smile. “No, I rather think there are those more suited to such pursuits. Mycroft’s request was far more specific, and better tailored to my particular field of expertise.”
    I nearly suggested “obtuseness”, but the irony would have been lost on Holmes. “Go on,” I prompted.
    “It seems, Watson, that the present atmosphere in London has given rise to a proliferation of suicides. There are three particular cases of which Mycroft has requested I apprise myself: a British Army officer, Captain John Cummins, who strenuously urged surrender before feeding himself to a tiger at London Zoo; a famed suffragette, Mary Temple, who wrote to
The Times
to renounce militant activism the day before throwing herself beneath an Underground train; and Herbert Grange, a Member of Parliament who worked at the War Office and is said to have given a pro-German speech to the House before hurling himself into the Thames.”
    “Yes, I’m aware of all three incidents,” I said. “There’s been extensive discussion of them in the press. Does Mycroft believe there to be a connection between these unfortunate deaths?”
    “That remains to be seen, Watson, although brother Mycroft rarely deals in absolutes. I suspect there is more to this matter than at first appears,” replied Holmes, as cryptic as ever. “What is abundantly clear to me is that three apparent suicides of high-profile individuals are not going to assist Mycroft’s efforts to raise the public spirit.”
    “And so you agreed to come out of retirement to take the case?” I said. “To assist the nation in its hour of need?”
    “Indeed. I explained to Mycroft that I would do so on the strict understanding that my old friend, Dr. John Watson, was to meet me from my train and accompany me for the duration of my investigation.”
    I admit I felt a sudden flush of pride that Holmes should issue such a stipulation on my behalf. “But how did you know that I didn’t have a previous engagement?” I asked.
    “My dear Watson,” said Holmes, with an appraising look. “Has Mrs. Watson not been in the country for some months, ever since the zeppelin raids began in earnest? Has your old regiment not patronised you with talk of advisory positions? Have your efforts to throw yourself into your literary pursuits not ended in dissatisfaction?”
    “Why… yes,” I replied, deciding not to encourage a