Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years

Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years

Michael Kurland

Language: English

Pages: 400

ISBN: 0312315139

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


In 1891, Sherlock Holmes in a struggle with his arch-enemy, the Napoleon of Crime, Professor James Moriarty, plunged with him over the Reichenbach Falls to his inevitable death. All of England - indeed the entire world - mourned the irreplaceable loss of the world's greatest detective. And that's where things stood until 1894 when Holmes suddenly reappeared in London, revealing himself to his friend Dr. John Watson, and resumed his activities as a consulting detective. Holmes remained very quiet and mysterious on those missing three years, never really revealing precisely where he'd been and what he'd done in the 'hidden years."

Now, in this anthology of original stories the truth about those thirty-five months is unveiled and Holmes' adventures described. While some stories place Holmes in such familiar locations as New York and San Francisco, others find him high in the Himalayas or above the Arctic Circle. With stories from such writers as Rhys Bowen, Peter Beagle, Carolyn Wheat, Michael Collins and many others, Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years is a must-have book for every fan who has every wondered about the untold adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

The Fire-Eaters

The Girl with the Iron Touch (The Steampunk Chronicles, Book 3)

Diary of Dorkius Maximus in Pompeii (Diary of Dorkius Maximus, Book 3)

Diary of Dorkius Maximus (Diary of Dorkius Maximus, Book 1)

The Case of the Haunted Horrors (Baker Street Boys Series, Book 6)

A Northern Light

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

distress. The slow, lumbering gait gave way to a gallop that could have challenged the Derby winner. Holmes clung to the howdah with both hands, then realized there was nothing to be gained in remaining with the beast. He slipped out of the box, grabbed the elephant’s rope with one hand, and swung himself to the ground. He hit the bracken at speed, bruising his hip and twisting his ankle, while the elephant brayed and ran, knocking over small trees in its panic. Holmes rolled over and hid himself

to Lucy to slide a bedpan under the moaning creature, just in case. Her assistant, Lucy Pritchard, was the daughter of an American missionary, determined to learn the profession of nursing despite her youth and newness in the country. She was a willing girl, eager to learn, but she was still awed, bewildered, and occasionally frankly terrified by the foreignness of her surroundings. Now she jumped as a heavily tattooed Shan entered the room and inquired about a fellow countryman in the native

Borneo Teak Company; and the third a white-haired, ramrod-straight man with a red face who demanded to know the meaning of this outrage. “Colonel Prothero,” Taed said with a tight smile. “How good of you to come and take charge of this unfortunate situation.” Politeness was integral to the Siamese way of life; it would never have occurred to Taed to tell the old buzzard to go away and let him investigate in peace, even though every fiber of his being longed to do just that. The former Army

categorical, Colin Mackay suddenly had the terrible feeling that he had gone mad. How else could one explain the thin stream of black smoke that appeared out of nowhere in the distance? At first he thought it had to be his imagination, or worse, a hallucination announcing the beginnings of a seizure caused by altitude sickness. But as he watched, there was no mistaking the curl of the line of smoke. Someone, somewhere, up ahead, was burning something! Mackay began to trot toward the line of

at work. We were warned before we came here that they had designs on the prince; in fact, Her Majesty was against his coming to Europe at this time.” “It is not the first time they have tried to assassinate me,” the prince said. He didn’t appear overly worried. “The blackguards,” Baron Vizkelety muttered. “How did they manage to get into my estate—that’s what I’d like to know?” “It would be easy enough to dig under the fence, or find a tree with overhanging branches, I’d imagine, Herr Baron,”

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