The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

'Ever the romantic, Watson!' Holmes smiled at me. 'When I returned in '94, Anya was working for Trevor on his estate, and her son was a fit and healthy six year old. I even, you will be astonished to learn, left a certain sum in trust to go towards the upbringing and education of the boy.'

His eyes twinkled at me as he reached for the bottle.

'Would you care for another brandy, Watson?' he asked.

The Adventure of the Fallen Star – Simon Clark

Holmes was never comfortable in the company of women. There is no evidence that he spent any social time with Watson and his wife after their marriage except for the very occasional call forced upon him by business. Only once did Holmes meet a woman whom he believed was his intellectual equal, and that was Irene Adler, whose case is recounted in 'A Scandal in Bohemia'.

It was after this case that Watson became closely involved with Holmes again, suggesting that either the gloss of his marriage had started to dull, or that Mary Morstan was remarkably understanding. For a period Holmes was involved in a number of small cases many of which he felt were important but lacked interest. Some were clearly bizarre. He refers to the Dundas separation case in which the husband had developed the habit of hurling his false teeth at his wife after every meal. None of these cases appear to have been written up, either because Watson was not around or Holmes rapidly lost interest in them.All that is, except one,'Th e Adventure of the Fallen Star'. This began as one of those minor cases, which Holmes almost overlooked when he became wrapped up in 'A Case of Identity', but soon after events unravelled themselves which presented Holmes a singularly unusual case. Its facts were unearthed by Simon Clark.

'My dear fellow, you are puzzled; admit it,' demanded Sherlock Holmes, as we sat side-by-side in the four- wheeler being briskly driven through the maelstrom of foot, hoof and wheel that is the Strand on a Friday noon.

'Indeed I am, Holmes.' I held up the stone, no larger than a grape, that he'd not two moments before handed to me. 'You pass me a little pebble and ask me what I make of it.'

'Yes.'

'Well, I confess I make nothing of it.' I smiled and shook my head. 'Nothing at all.'

'Ha! That's because although you look, you do not observe. Remember, Watson: detail, detail, detail.'

'It has, I take it, a bearing on a case you are currently investigating?'

'Only partly. But he's a curious fellow, isn't he?'

'The stone?'

'Yes, the stone, lying there in the palm of your gloved hand.' Holmes, in a playful mood, gave a devil of grin. 'Come on, play the game, Watson. Read the stone. See its appearance, the markings upon its surface. Feel its weight. Gauge its constitution. If it pleases you, describe to me any clairvoyant vibration that may emanate from its stony heart.'

'You are teasing me, Holmes.'

'I am. Yes.'

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

'Forgive me please, Doctor; I am teasing you, for the case I have taken is, if I'm not mistaken, nothing more than a tease, a practical joke, a whimsical prank.'

'Then I am all in the dark.'

'Ha! But soon all will be clear as day.'

'What possessed you to accept such a case?'

'Normally, I wouldn't have glanced at it twice. However, I am acquainted with the gentleman involved.'

'A friend?'

'Ah, I would describe you as my sole friend, Watson. This gentleman, although I have never yet met him in person, was of considerable service in the past when he furnished me with invaluable information on the constitution of certain metals, which enabled me to lay to rest the matter of the golden bullet murders in King's Lynne. In short, I owe him one small favour. By Jove! Look at that, London becomes busier by the day. Within a decade the city will become so congested the only sure transport will be by Shanks's pony!'

'Then at least our slow passage northwards to Hampstead will give you sufficient time to tell me the facts of the case before we reach the home of your client.'

'Indeed it will. First, Watson, the stone! Pray focus your attention upon it. Read it as if it were the page from a book.' With that my friend placed the tips of his long fingers together, closed his eyes; only the slight wrinkling of his forehead beneath the brim of his shiny top hat betraying he would listen closely to my every word.

I listed everything of significance I could discern from the stone. 'Weight: let me see. An ounce, perhaps. Size: no larger than a grape. Shape: pear shaped. Colour: um, silvery. Odour: none. Appearance: smooth as glass; subjected to intense heat, I would surmise.'

'Where is it from?' asked Holmes without opening his eyes. 'A furnace I should suppose, before that I dare not say.' 'Ha!' Holmes opened his penetrating eyes.

'You know where the stone originated?'

'Indeed. It came from the depths of the universe. The scorched appearance of the stone was caused by its headlong rush through our world's atmosphere. The speed being so great that the very air rubbing against the surface produced such tremendous temperatures those surfaces did in fact melt, hence the ablated base of the stone.'

'Good Lord, then it is an aerolite?'

'Spot on, Watson. Yes, an aerolite, more commonly known as a shooting star or meteorite. Above us, in the heavens, are countless millions of stone fragments, whirling silently through the cold depths of space. Occasionally one falls to Earth. One might look up on a clear night and see the fiery trail one of these fragments makes. Only rarely do they reach the surface of the Earth.'

I looked at our stony visitor from the heavens with more interest. 'Then it's valuable?'

'Pooh, pooh, not in the least. A few shillings.'

'But you say it has a bearing on the case?'

'Again I can only repeat partly. I brought it along as an introduction to the facts. This stone itself, I purchased along with a trunkful of other mineral samples many years ago.' He took the stone from me, held it between the finger and thumb of his gloved hand, his face in profile to me, his striking aquiline features just inches from the stone as his heavy-lidded eyes gazed dreamily upon it. 'Imagine though, Watson if you will. This slight chip of stone, so insignificant in appearance,

has drifted between the stars for many millions of years. By chance it struck this world, where it whistled groundward in a fiery streak of light. Imagine if the stone were large enough for you and I to ride upon it as it flew high above continents and oceans. At night the lights of our great cities would shine like the dust of diamonds sprinkled upon black velvet. In those cities people live their lives – real people, Doctor! – not mere ciphers. There, sons of kings and paupers might lay awake at night vexed by worries, fears, jealousies. And in those cities housing million upon million of human souls there are enough men and women intent on crimes great and small to dizzy even the greatest statistician. Imagine if you will, Watson, our world revolving beneath you, like a classroom globe. And with every tick of the watch there are a thousand thefts; with every tock of the clock a dozen murders. Ha!' He tossed the stone into the air, deftly caught it in the palm of his hand, then slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. 'So, Watson, why am I sitting here in a carriage, on this day in flaming June, sizzling like a Dover sole upon its griddle, engaged on such a trifling matter?'

'The acquaintance? A favour you mentioned?'

'Of course. The case is so slight we should have the solution long before we take afternoon tea, but this gentlemen is much troubled by the case. Inordinately so. And I dare say that you, being a medical man, are consulted by a great number of people with many a cough, coryza and pimple who, clearly to you, are not particularly ill but seek reassurance from a man with the power to allay their worries.'