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Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies
Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies
Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies
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Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies

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In this enjoyable Sherlockian short story, a headless baby is discovered upon the heath, forcing Holmes to become a carnie and disappear across Europe in search of her murderer. But when he discovers a more complicated international crime than he first expected, his old pal Watson is needed to help out. This intriguing tale was first published in 2015 in the second collection of the Final Tales of Sherlock Holmes.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherMX Publishing
Release dateFeb 21, 2017
ISBN9781787050624
Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies

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    Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies - John A. Little

    Sherlock Holmes and the Hampstead Ponies

    John A. Little

    Publisher Information

    First published in 2015

    This edition published in 2017 by

    MX Publishing

    335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive

    London, N11 3GX

    www.mxpublishing.com

    Digital edition converted and distributed by

    Andrews UK Limited

    www.andrewsuk.com

    © Copyright 2015, 2017 John A. Little

    The right of John A. Little to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

    All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

    All characters appearing in this work are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed herein belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of MX Publishing or Andrews UK Limited.

    The Hampstead Ponies

    ‘Do you know, Watson. My late brother had quite a fondness for this dish.’

    For a brief second I imagined that my dear old comrade-in-arms, Sherlock Holmes, was about to display something I had never witnessed before. Emotion. But the moment passed, as I realised he was examining his Weiner Schnitzel with the eyes of the world’s first consulting detective, and finding that something was, indeed, rotten in the state of England.

    ‘Waiter!’

    We were celebrating my birthday with a late supper in Simpsons-In-The-Strand, having spent the early part of the evening guffawing at Buster Keaton’s hilarious antics in ‘Sherlock Jr.’, cinematic evidence that my friend’s fame was now truly international.

    It had been some time since the dreadful murders of Sherlock’s brother and father, events that brought us back together after almost twenty years apart. The case had revealed certain details about Holmes’ childhood which helped to explain his ambivalent attitude towards members of the opposite sex. Details that my companion had refused to discuss openly with me, a decision I had willingly accepted. After all, any close friendship between two human beings need not involve complete disclosure about everything in their past. And ours was a covenant, just like that between David and Jonathan in the Book of Samuel. It did not depend upon a selfish end.

    I had hoped that further adventures might ensue, but the six months since February had provided precious few problems for Holmes to get his teeth into, apart from the well-publicised but quite simple affair of the bungled theft of the Greenwich Observatory Shepherd Gate Twenty-four hour clock. At least he had broken his cocaine habit, and seemed content in his old age - in early August of 1925 he was an extremely fit grey-haired seventy-one, whereas I was now an overweight white-haired dodderer of seventy-three - to study the latest developments in his field, and to relax by composing and playing his violin music, reading, walking around London and attending the latest concerts and silent motion pictures. His moods no longer vacillated in accordance with his level of boredom. Yet he still did not suffer fools gladly.

    ‘Waiter!’

    A pimply youth scurried through the buzzing dining-area to our table.

    ‘Yes, s-s-sir? Is s-s-something wrong?’

    ‘Weiner Schnitzel should be made with veal. This is pork.’

    Holmes handed his plate to the stuttering waiter.

    ‘I’m ...

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