Sherlock Holmes and the Unholy Trinity Read online

  Contents

  Introduction

  Part One

  The Death of Cardinal Tosca

  ‘His famous investigation into the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca, an inquiry that was carried out by him at the express desire of His Holiness the Pope.’

  From The Adventure of Black Peter by A.C.D.

  Chapter One: An Unexpected Visitor

  Chapter Two: An Unexpected Request

  Chapter Three: We Return to Rome

  Chapter Four: Inspector Gialli

  Chapter Five: At Last … A Clue!

  Chapter Six: An Audience

  Chapter Seven: A Wire to Mrs Hudson

  Part Two

  The Coptic Patriarchs

  ‘You know that I am preoccupied with the case of the two Coptic Patriarchs, which should come to a head today.’

  From The Adventure of the Retired Colourman by A.C.D.

  Chapter Eight: The Cradle of Civilization

  Chapter Nine: A Sacred Ally

  Chapter Ten: The Last of the Few

  Chapter Eleven: Flight from Egypt

  Chapter Twelve: The Unholy Trinity

  Chapter Thirteen: Our Journey Home

  Chapter Fourteen: Inspector Lestrade

  Chapter Fifteen: The Diogenes Club

  Chapter Sixteen: The Final Resolution

  Notes

  By the same author

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Once I had completed my last book, The Annals of Sherlock Holmes, I was left convinced that I had exhausted each one of the teaser references that Conan Doyle had enticingly inserted within his great works.

  However, on closer examination of some of his lesser known stories, I realized that there were still two potential gems that required closer examination. Not only that, but they seemed to lend themselves to each other in a way that I found to be utterly irresistible. I do hope that you and Sir Arthur will excuse this further indulgence of mine and I trust that you will find them as intriguing as I have done.

  It has been a thrill for me to be able to bring these marvellous characters back to life once more. Not for the first time, I must thank my partner in crime and ever tolerant wife, Jackie, for her invaluable support and advice.

  P.D.G.

  PART ONE

  The Death Of

  Cardinal Tosca

  Chapter One

  An Unexpected Visitor

  March 6 1896 is a date that will certainly live long, if not perpetually, within my memory.

  For this was the day on which Sherlock Holmes and I had thrust upon us the outset of one of the most remarkable and dramatic adventures that we had ever experienced. Furthermore, it was one that very nearly cost us both our lives!

  We were on the point of concluding a most quiet and leisurely breakfast. Holmes had already filled his customary first pipe of the day. This normally consisted of a collection of all the plugs and dottles from his previous day’s smokes that he had accumulated upon the top of the mantelpiece.

  He had filled his old brier pipe and was on the point of putting a match to this pungent concoction when we were both alerted to a tremendous commotion coming from the hallway below. There was a scream of terror emanating from our long-suffering landlady, Mrs Hudson.

  The stairway seemed to quake beneath the feet of what sounded like a thousand men and an instant later the door to our rooms was sent crashing from its hinges by a force of seismic proportions! Holmes and I barely had enough time to jump out of our seats, much less to prepare ourselves for a confrontation. There before us stood a most imposing and decidedly hostile individual the like of which I had only ever encountered within the pages of the National Geographic.

  The shattered remnants of our door revealed a veritable giant of a man who was bedecked in the traditional garb of the legendary desert Bedouin. His dress was replete with a dashing, flowing cloak, swirling and colourful robes and his headwear and waist sash were decorated with shimmering gold and lustrous gems.

  However, our attention had been immediately diverted away from this splendour and instead directed towards the enormous sword that the Bedouin now brandished within his right hand. With a surprising lack of effort and with a speed that belied the size of both the man and his ferocious weapon, the Bedouin had unsheathed an intricately decorated curved blade, known as a Shamshir. Mercifully, the threatening appearance of this sword was deadlier than the intent of its bearer.

  ‘Beware of the dangers of interfering with matters that are surely no concern of yours, Mr Holmes! We warn you now, stay out of our affairs or risk facing the fatal consequences of your actions!’ The giant issued his dramatic warning in surprisingly good English and with a voice that boomed from the very bowels of the earth.

  Holmes and I were rooted to the spot. My first instinct was to move as far away as possible from the imposing Bedouin. I backed away slowly towards the window and looked towards Holmes for guidance.

  To my dismay and despite the very obvious threat to his life that was being posed by our loud and extravagant guest, Holmes clapped his hands repeatedly and then burst into a peel of strident laughter!

  ‘Well, I must say, you certainly know how to put on a very entertaining show indeed!’ Holmes exclaimed.

  The Bedouin reddened with rage and frustration. Then, as if to demonstrate that his initial threat had been no idle display, he raised the Shamshir above his head and glared at Holmes with as much anger and hatred as I had ever witnessed. He then brought the blade down upon the very chair that I had been sitting on but a moment before!

  Such had been the ferocity of the blow and the trueness of the blade that the solid oak had been cleaved clean through without having caused but a handful of splinters. The chair then collapsed onto the floor, in two equal parts, before it was the turn of the Bedouin to laugh.

  ‘I beseech you, Mr Holmes, do not make light of my warning.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘This time it is only the chair.’ There was menace in the way that his voice had now dropped to the merest whisper.

  The Bedouin then sheathed his weapon with a dramatic flourish; he turned on his heels and marched purposely from our rooms. Another gut-wrenching cry from Mrs Hudson announced his arrival upon the lower landing and a staggering vibration, throughout the entire building, confirmed his violent departure from 221b Baker Street.

  ‘Well, upon my word! Holmes, you really must be more selective as to whom you mock and laugh at,’ I said reproachfully.

  I might as well have saved myself the effort for all the effect that it had on Holmes, for he appeared to be undaunted by the entire episode! He rubbed his hands gleefully together as he contemplated the prospect of a new adventure.

  ‘Well, Watson, our impromptu visitor certainly added some much-needed zest to what was otherwise a rather mundane little meal,’ Holmes suggested mischievously.

  ‘It was more than a little zest that cleaved my chair in two!’ I protested. ‘I am also more than a bit surprised that, once again, you have thought it necessary to exclude me from your confidence.’

  ‘Whatever can you mean?’ Holmes asked of me with an air of amused curiosity.

  ‘Oh, come along, Holmes, you cannot expect me to believe, for one instant, that you are ignorant of the motive behind the display of violence that we have just witnessed,’ I insisted.

  So often had Holmes appeared to be a man bereft of all normal human emotion, that I took some satisfaction from observing a slight tremor in his fingers when he lit a cigarette.

  ‘I can assure you, Watson, that apart from the obvious results of my rudimentary observation, my knowledge of our colourful visitor is as scant as your own.’ I must
confess that Holmes’s reply did appear to have been a sincere one.

  ‘Well, then, why did he seem to direct all of his threats and attention towards you alone? Surely you would have recognized, at once, any attempt that such an individual might have made in identifying you? Yet not once did he acknowledge my presence, even with a passing glance,’ I reasoned, although by now my tone had lost its reproachful edge.

  ‘Perhaps a less obtrusive colleague of his has been keeping me under a discreet surveillance?’ Holmes suggested thoughtfully.

  ‘So you have already reached the conclusion that our visitor is not operating as an individual.’ I regretted having made this remark before the words had even left my lips. Not surprisingly, Holmes turned on me without a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘Watson, surely not even you could have failed to have noticed his use of the phrases “we warn you” and “our affairs”? There should be no doubt in your mind, therefore, that we have ruffled the feathers of a very dangerous group of conspirators, albeit inadvertently. Perhaps any reputation that I might have accrued has now become something of a liability.’

  Holmes turned to me, baring a malevolent grimace that quite took me aback.

  ‘Your lamentably romanticized depiction of my more recent successes and the over-enthusiastic coverage of the press that has resulted from them has certainly done nothing to dampen the public’s appetite for such things … to their shame! Consequently, as a direct result of the poisoned chalice of my fame, our enthusiastic visitor has assumed my involvement in his affair before the facts.’

  Holmes’s chain of thoughts had certainly resulted in his falling into one of his dark and irritable moods and I recognized at once the futility of my offering any kind of defence for the innocence of my humble literary offerings. I displayed my displeasure by picking up a fragment of my chair and then dashing it petulantly to the floor.

  I realized that this gesture of mine had gone unnoticed when I observed Holmes violently rummaging through the pile of untouched morning papers that had been piled high upon the dining table.

  ‘Quickly, Watson, there is not a moment to lose!’ He threw some of the papers towards me and we began to scour them for any reference to our visitor and his associations. Page by page the papers were being rejected and Holmes hurled them carelessly and chaotically to the floor where they began to form a haphazard carpet of print.

  I was being more deliberate with my examinations than was my friend and he soon became impatient and irritated at my lack of progress. Holmes snatched the offending papers from my grasp and his eyes fell at once upon the article that had been occupying my attention. The sensational headline highlighted a most brutal murder that had taken place, the night before, in the suburb of Dagenham.

  ‘Really, Watson, we have no time to spare upon such a commonplace little incident. It is fairly obvious, even from these scant lines, that the gardener carried out the killing with his shovel!’ Before I could chastise him for having made so bold and outrageous an assertion, Holmes added the paper to the mayhem on the floor.

  With a most unfortunate sense of timing, it was at this precise moment that our ashen-faced and bewildered landlady shuffled slowly into the room. Her eyes moved in disbelief from the door to the chair and they finally rested upon my friend as he continued to defile the best that Fleet Street had to offer. Mrs Hudson was so taken aback by the sight that she was incapable of making a single utterance.

  ‘Quickly, Watson, I fear that Mrs Hudson is about to faint!’ Holmes called out urgently.

  I dropped yet another newspaper to the floor and immediately reached out to support the poor woman by her shoulders, barely an instant before her legs gave way from beneath her. I ushered her gently over to my armchair by the fire. Once I was satisfied that she was comfortably and securely seated, I ran to fetch some salts from my bag and administered them to her without a moment’s delay.

  The effects of the salts were both immediate and a little disconcerting. The colour soon returned to Mrs Hudson’s cheeks and she glared ferociously towards Holmes, who was now standing rather sheepishly by the window.

  ‘Mr Holmes,’ she scolded rather hoarsely. ‘You are, without a doubt, the worst and the most dangerous tenant that has ever lived!’

  Holmes immediately activated his most charming of smiles and his voice adopted the smoothest of tones.

  ‘My most humble apologies, Mrs Hudson, and I assure you that I shall put matters to right in no time at all. Dr Watson here will confirm that I have a rather substantial remuneration coming my way for services rendered to the Dutch royal family. I assure you that the door and chair will soon be as good as new. As for the newspapers …’

  Holmes dropped to the floor and began to gather up the offending journals into a neat pile. He presented this to Mrs Hudson while remaining humbly on his knees. Mrs Hudson visibly warmed to Holmes’s charming gesture and she could not help but smile at him as he slowly stood up while still clutching the newspapers.

  ‘Thank you once again, Mrs Hudson, for your kindness and many considerations. If it is any consolation or comfort to you, I can assure you that I am totally ignorant as to the identity of our most singular visitor and his reason for coming here this morning,’ Holmes added.

  Mrs Hudson was walking towards the door with a good deal more certainty than when she had first entered the room. She stopped suddenly and turned back towards us with steely intent.

  ‘No, Mr Holmes, it is of no consolation whatsoever!’ she stated simply and then she proceeded through the remains of the door and back towards the stairs.

  Holmes attempted to close the door behind our tormented landlady, although all he succeeded in doing was to render its attachment to the frame as even more precarious. He abandoned the door to its fate and decided to join me by the fire with a pipe. His choice of the cherry wood seemed to indicate that he was in a contemplative mood and we sat in thoughtful silence for a while.

  ‘So, Watson, what then are we to make of this morning’s little interlude?’ Holmes turned to me suddenly. I could not help but smile at his unexpected turn of phrase; however, when I looked across at him I soon recognized that he was in deadly earnest.

  ‘Well,’ I began uncertainly, ‘we seem to know very little about the brute but still less about the motives behind his threatening behaviour towards you. I presume that we must now simply await further developments,’ I concluded lamely, at a loss for any alternative course of action.

  ‘No, Watson, we must be able to do better than that!’ Holmes exclaimed. ‘If an unknown party has somehow managed to implicate me in the affairs of the swordsman and his confederates, I have no intention of simply sitting in our rooms and awaiting the next attack! As the fellow so eloquently put it, next time it may not be just a chair that feels the force of his fearsome blow.’

  ‘Then kindly explain to me what other measures are available to us? As you have said, on many separate occasions, it is pointless to speculate without possessing the facts,’ I insisted.

  ‘That much is true, Watson. However, I can assure you that I acquired enough knowledge of the man, even from so brief an observation, that will enable me to send off two wires, confident in receiving one successful reply at the very least!’

  I was left irritated at my own ineptitude by Holmes’s inscrutable reply. I had not the slightest notion as to what Holmes had been referring and I was resigned to having to prise this information from him, or remain in ignorance until a time that suited him.

  Holmes seemed to sense this and for once, and to my great surprise, he decided to share his thoughts with me without my having to coerce them from him first. He abandoned his cherry wood and moved over to the window with a lighted cigarette.

  He presented me with his sharply defined profile and the dim light, which was cast through the grimy glass of the window, surrounded his features with an indistinct halo that caused me to imagine him as some kind of esoteric font of sublime knowledge. I was in little doubt that this ha
d certainly been his intention for, as always, he found a dramatic flourish irresistible.

  A hurried change of heart saw him return to the table whereupon he scribbled out the two wires to which he had just alluded. Once he had despatched them, by way of a pale and reluctant Mrs Hudson, I felt sure that he might now be ready to discuss things fully.

  ‘Might I ask as to the contents of those wires and their intended recipients?’ I broached the subject tentatively.

  ‘That is a most excellent idea, Watson!’ He shot me the briefest of smiles before continuing. ‘This could prove to be a most meritorious exercise if you are to formulate an intelligent appraisal of events, which might then aid me in my investigations.’ Holmes returned to his chair by the fire before he continued.

  ‘Doubtless you might not be surprised to hear that I have wired my old friend and colleague, Inspector Berlajous of the Paris Gendarmerie. He has long been a dedicated if not inspired disciple of my method and he maintains a most scrutinized eye upon the area of his jurisdiction. The identity of the other recipient may not be so obvious to you; it is none other than Elraji of the constabulary of Port Said!’ Holmes concluded with a flourish that implied that he considered no other explanation was necessary.

  I must have been considerably less than successful in concealing an expression of perplexed confusion than I had hoped, for Holmes was evidently much amused by my bewilderment. He shook his head slowly in disappointment.

  ‘Really, Watson, despite our friend’s masterful grasp of our mother tongue, you could not have failed to recognize a light Gallic lilt at the conclusion of each of his sentences? That he has not long been in this country is evident from his attire. He has clearly made no concession for our harsh equinoctial March winds! He obviously arrived at Baker Street by cab, for despite this morning’s continuous downpour, his silk robes only bore a few blemishes from the rain.’

  Clearly warming to his task, Holmes continued in a state of some excitement and leant forward whilst balancing his elbows precariously upon his bony knees.

  ‘Since the only boat train at Victoria Station this morning was scheduled to arrive at no more than thirty minutes before the Bedouin made his entrance, it is obvious that he began his journey from the Gallic side of the English Channel!’ Holmes held out his arms theatrically, as if he had just performed a remarkable feat of magic, which, in one sense, he just had.