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How old were you when you discovered Sherlock?
As part of the Classics For Kids series international best-selling author Mark Williams is proud to present this adaptation for children of the Sherlock Holmes short story The Blue Carbuncle.
This is the British-English edition.
British-English?
Although we speak the same language, we spell many words differently depending on which side of the Atlantic we are. UK = colour, US = color; UK = marvellous, US = marvelous; UK = theatre, US= theater, etc. This sometimes causes problem for children at school, so in response to requests from school librarians there are now British-English and American-English versions of the Sherlock For Kids books.
Come join Holmes and Watson as they solve the mystery of the blue carbuncle in a child-friendly, twenty-first century English, with the seamier side of Victorian life left out.
Ideal for children aged 9-12 to get started with the world’s most famous detective.
Other books in the Sherlock Holmes re-told for children series:
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Classics For Kids
Sherlock Holmes
THE BLUE CARBUNCLE
re-told for children by
Mark Williams
© 2015 Mark Williams
Second edition © 2016
Published by Odyssey.
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Blue Carbuncle 1.
The Blue Carbuncle 2.
The Blue Carbuncle 3.
The Blue Carbuncle 4.
The Blue Carbuncle 5.
The Blue Carbuncle 6.
The Blue Carbuncle 7.
The Blue Carbuncle 8.
The Blue Carbuncle 9.
The Blue Carbuncle 10.
The Blue Carbuncle 11.
The Blue Carbuncle 12.
The Blue Carbuncle 13.
The Blue Carbuncle 14.
The Blue Carbuncle 15.
The Blue Carbuncle 16.
Thank you for reading.
The Classics For Kids: Sherlock Holmes Series
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Also By Mark Williams
London, England. 1889.
It was Boxing Day, the day after Christmas Day, as I made my way carefully through the icy London streets. A cold wind blew light, fluffy snowflakes about and I hoped it wouldn’t snow too heavily that afternoon.
The streets were icy and slippery and I found it easier to walk on the straw strewn across the road than on the pavements. By the time I got to my destination I was absolutely freezing. It was high time I bought myself a new coat and gloves!
I stomped my boots on the first of the stone steps outside 221b Baker Street, so I would not traipse ice and grit into Mrs. Hudson’s hallway. It had been some time since I had lived here, sharing an apartment with my dear friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and I still had a key, so I unlocked the door and let myself in.
“Mrs. Hudson!” I shouted through to the kitchen where I knew the lady of the house would be busy. Partly as a courtesy to let her know I was here; more in the hope she would see me shivering and offer a warm pot of tea.
Which of course she did, bless her.
“Merry Christmas, Dr. Watson,” Mrs. Hudson said as she came into the hallway, wiping floury hands on her flowery apron. “My, you look quite frozen. Hurry yourself along up to Mr. Holmes this instant and I shall bring you both a pot of steaming hot tea.”
“That would be most welcome, Mrs. Hudson,” I said.