Sherlock Holmes: Cthulhu Mythos Adventures (Sherlock Holmes Adventures Book 2) Read Free Page A

obvious – the ticket stub protruding slightly from your pocket is there for all to see, but few to notice.”
    “Amazing.”
    Holmes shook his head. “It is discouraging to see how much escapes the attention of my fellow humans. Evidently the advance of science in this new century had done nothing to advance the human condition or extend the senses. What can I do for you, sir?”
    “My cousin, Carter Randolph, has vanished under very mysterious circumstances,” I explained.
    He sighed. “I fear you have traveled to Boston for naught. The years of the chase are behind me, and even crime has taken on the mediocrity of this modern age, undemanding of my attention. I now devote my time to traveling, writing and beekeeping.”
    I could not control the disappointment that surged through me at Holmes’ words, a deep sigh escaping my lips.
    “Still, you have traveled a long way to see me,” Holmes said quickly and with something of an encouraging smile. “It would do no harm, and would perhaps provide some small comfort to you were to listen to your problem. I need no special deductive abilities to see you desperately need to unburden your heart. Please, sit, tell me what you have come to say, without omitting any detail, and forgive an old man’s abrupt manner.”
    Once we were in facing chairs and he had provided me with a brandy, I said: “As I told you, my cousin has vanished. That was eight weeks ago. During that time, I have hired private detectives, but to no avail, nor have the police agencies of Arkham and the surrounding towns, as far as Providence and Boston, been able to shed any light on what may have happened to Carter. It is as if he were plucked from the face of the earth.”
    “Do you suspect foul play, Philips?”
    “I do not know,” I admitted. “As far as I know, he has no enemies, neither has there been evidence of violence.”
    “What sort of man was Carter Randolph?”
    “Quiet and very bookish, separated from the mainstream of life,” I replied. “He had no occupation except that of scholar, made possible by a large inheritance from his grandfather. He is the most intelligent man I know, but I would be the first to admit that his interests are…odd.”
    “Odd?” Holmes said. “Odd in what way?”
    “It was his belief that certain cycles of myth were founded in reality,” I explained. “The major mythic cycle he was investigating postulated the worldwide worship of monster-gods and a view of history that allowed Man as only the most recent master of the Earth. He also claimed to have discovered cults around the world dedicated to reestablishing the worship of those prehistoric gods. He often asked my opinions of certain documents or affidavits from suspect sources. For all that, though, I knew of his work only in general terms, for it was difficult to establish the true meaning of the documents extracted from context.”
    “Is your cousin sound of mind?” Holmes asked.
    “Of course, but I admit you are not the first person to pose that question,” I answered. “I assure you, Mr Holmes, that, despite the bizarre nature of his research, he is quite stable of mind, very practical and discerning in nature, and definitely not prone to flights of fancy or delusion.”
    “And yet believed these legends are founded in fact?”
    “As was Troy,” I said, a bit too sharply. I glanced away in embarrassment.  “Please, forgive me, Mr. Holmes. I have been under a great strain.”
    “However, the point is well taken,” Holmes conceded. “It is quite true that time has a way of garbing fact in fiction, not just in the case of the Homeric epic but in other tales of discovery from the ancient world But it is also true that sometimes stories are just stories. We do, however, possess a spiritual nature that at times allow us to rise above our limitations and perceive a greater universe.” He paused and contemplatively touched his chin. “Still, the reality of ancient gods…”
    “The