The Hell-Hound of the Baskervilles E-Book

G. S. Denning

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

The game's afoot once more as Holmes and Watson face off against Moriarty's gang, the Pinkertons, flesh-eating horses, a parliament of imps, boredom, Surrey, a disappointing butler demon, a succubus, a wicked lord, an overly-Canadian lord, a tricycle-fight to the death and the dreaded Pumpcrow. Oh, and a hell hound, one assumes.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Cover

Also by G.S. Denning and available from Titan Books

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

The Adventure of the Blackened Beryls

Silver Blaze: Murder Horse

The Reigateway to Another World

The Adventure of the Solitary Tricyclist

The Hell-hound of the Baskervilles

Part I: From the Journal of DR. John Watson

 1

 2

 3

 4

 5

 6

 7

 8

 9

Part II: From Some Nebulous, Undefined Source

10

11

12

Watson’s Note

Part III: Once Again, from the Journals of DR. John Watson

13

14

15

16

17

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by G.S. Denning and available from Titan Books

WARLOCK HOLMES

A Study in Brimstone

My Grave Ritual (May 2018)

TITAN BOOKS

Warlock Holmes: The Hell-hound of the BaskervillesPrint edition ISBN: 9781783299737E-book edition ISBN: 9781783299744

Published by Titan BooksA division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

First edition: May 201710 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Names, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

© 2017 G.S. Denning

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

To Baba Yaga, my own feeble but beloved hound.

To my in-laws, George and Stephanie, whoseridiculously low estimation of what they shouldcharge me in rent financed this book.

To the readers and fans who supported book 1. Thank you. I’ll keep churning out adventuresif you keep reading ’em.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLACKENED BERYLS

“MADAM, SURRENDER YOUR POSIES!”

I raised my voice and brandished my cane as I said it, as if to proclaim, “I am John Watson! A doctor! A man of worth and station! Would you dare to refuse me my desire? Would you?”

My flower-girl opponent was unimpressed. She raised an eyebrow, stuck out a hip and laughed. “I’ll surrender more than that, guv’na.”

“No. I don’t want more than that. I thought I made it especially clear. I want your flowers.”

“Yeah… me flowers…”

“No! Well… yes… but from your tone I can tell that we are still discussing two very different transactions. Honestly, I want the actual flowers. Those blooms. Those posies. Those colorful things you are holding in your left hand that grew on the tops of plants. That is what I want. How can I be more clear?”

“What, these?” she asked, pointing at the battered bouquet.

“Yes! Thank God, yes.”

“But… you just gave me two shillings.”

“I know.”

“Nobody pays two shillings for a handful of dead posies.”

“I did! Or anyway, I am certainly trying to.”

“No. Didn’t you realize what we was talking about?” she asked, pointing at her lap.

“I never was! This conversation has always regarded actual, real, in no way double-entendre-fied flowers! Now hand them over, if you please.”

“No!”

“Why the hell not?” I howled. A few heads turned. I drew forth my handkerchief, wiped some of the frustration sweat from my brow and tried again. “I apologize for my language, madam. But… why not?”

“Constables will run me off, if they sees me with no flowers! How can I be a flower girl if I ain’t holdin’ flowers?”

“How can you be a flower girl if you refuse to sell flowers?”

For an instant, it looked as if I were to have a particularly saucy answer to that, but her eye caught a flash of blue and she hissed, “Aww, bollocks! It’s the coppers.”

By the time the constable had reached us, every trace of annoyance was gone from her tone, replaced by sappy-sweet coquettishness. She gave a clumsy curtsey and cooed, “Ooh… Hallo, Tony.”

“Wot’s all this, then?” Constable Tony wanted to know.

“Constable, I am trying to purchase flowers from this young lady, here.”

“Gaw! And you just up and admit it, to an officer of the law? I shall have to ask both of you to accompany me to the station, forthwith!”

“No. Please. I am not propositioning any indecent services. I wish to purchase those flowers, right there. How could that be illegal?”

A look of consternation crossed Constable Tony’s face and he turned to ask my flower girl, “Wot’s he talking about, Molly?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “He says he wants the actual flowers.”

“What, those?”

“Yes!” I cried.

“But Molly’s a prostitute, don’t you see?”

“Yes! But I don’t care! Those! Those flowers! That is what I want! That is what I paid for! Give them to me!”

Constable Tony recoiled from me. He scanned me from the top of my head to the tips of my shoes and back again, searching for any clue that would allow him to understand my peculiar fancies. Finally he grunted, “Well, you’re a right sick one, ain’t ya?”

* * *

Thank heaven for small mercies: there was a florist on the way home from the police station. I think it must have taken me almost an hour to make my case that trying to buy flowers from a flower girl was not yet a crime. At last, the sergeant on duty was forced to admit that I had broken no written law and that he was therefore compelled to release me, but that he personally found my lifestyle disgusting and that I really ought to look to my eternal soul.

By the time I reached the florist, my hands were shaking such that I could hardly count out my coins. Despite my recent return to poverty, I bought as many flowers as I could carry. Funny, less than half a year before, I had been watching my funds dwindle and feared I would be unable to purchase food to sustain me. Now, though procuring edibles would soon become problematic, my chiefest worry was obtaining flowers.