The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case by K. Michael Gaschnitz Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K. Michael Gaschnitz
minutes we came to No. 3 Pinchin Lane, the home of old Mr. Sherman the amateur ornithologist. The door opened as I alighted from the cab.
“Ah Dr. Watson, how good it is too see you again. You have come from Mr. Sherlock I trust,” said the old fellow standing in the doorway.
“Yes indeed Mr. Sherman, Mr. Holmes has great need of Toby.”
At the mention of his name an ugly, long haired, brown and white mongrel appeared at the door.
“The telegram which I received from someone named Billy said urgency was a must, so I have him here waiting for you,” croaked the old man.
“Thank you, Mr. Sherman,” said I holding out a lump of sugar to the little animal. “I will return him as soon as possible.”
Anticipating more treats the friendly little dog needed little additional coaxing to follow me into the cab. We made our way back to Baker Street with as much haste as possible. Dodging pedestrians, delivery waggons and the ever present omnibuses with their advertisements for Pears Soap and Ogden’s Cigarettes we arrived in Baker Street later than I hoped. The sky had become overcast and if my plan was to meet with success I must hope for the rain to hold off.
As the cab departed I pulled a dark coloured bottle from my inside pocket. I opened it and held it out for the dog, so he could take the scent from it.
As a doctor I was quite familiar with anise. The fragrant scent and pleasant taste made it a popular ingredient in many medicines. It was when I saw the bottle on Holmes chemical table that an idea had quickly flashed through my mind. I would empty some of the contents of the bottle onto the soles of Holmes new shoes before bringing them to him. I then quickly consumed a couple of his cigarettes and one of his foul little cigars to cover the smell of the tincture. I had also spilled the remainder of the mixture onto the cabs wheels after helping my friend into the cab. I knew that Toby would follow such a scent to the ends of the earth. He had helped us before with such a thing.
I had learned such little tricks from the detective himself and now I would use them against him.
I attached a long lead to Toby’s collar and the eager animal took the scent. In my haste I thought little nor cared less as to the possibility that Moran may be following me. I felt sure that once I was at Mary’s side I could protect her from any danger.
We set off down the street having to return to the sidewalk numerous times in order to avoid being rundown. We drew many stares, a middle age man and a shaggy mongrel sprinting briskly along some of London’s busier thoroughfares. Often I would have to restrain the animal for a few moments while I regained my breath. I hoped that we would reach the end of our trail before my legs and wind gave out.
From Baker Street, we turned onto George Street and lumbered past Manchester Square. We then followed High Street, turned onto Marylebone Road and then Portland Place all the while trying our best to avoid our fellow travelers. We did however become entangled with a young lad bringing beer to the labourers who were involved in their eternal struggle to repair the roadway. Screaming my apologies over the clamorous and obviously temperamental steam roller I continued on.
Toby stopped suddenly as we reached Oxford Street. Appearing confused, the little creature began running around in circles. I stood still, breathing heavily while he ran from street to sidewalk and back again, looking up at me expectantly. I was at a loss as to what to do when suddenly the dog seemed to make up his mind and began pulling me along the pavement. It suddenly occurred to me that he must have come to the spot where Holmes had disembarked from the hansom and while it would have continued down the street Holmes of course would have used the sidewalk. Toby was now following the scent of the preparation which I had applied to the soles of Holmes’ shoes.
The dog followed the trail across Oxford Street and down
“Ah Dr. Watson, how good it is too see you again. You have come from Mr. Sherlock I trust,” said the old fellow standing in the doorway.
“Yes indeed Mr. Sherman, Mr. Holmes has great need of Toby.”
At the mention of his name an ugly, long haired, brown and white mongrel appeared at the door.
“The telegram which I received from someone named Billy said urgency was a must, so I have him here waiting for you,” croaked the old man.
“Thank you, Mr. Sherman,” said I holding out a lump of sugar to the little animal. “I will return him as soon as possible.”
Anticipating more treats the friendly little dog needed little additional coaxing to follow me into the cab. We made our way back to Baker Street with as much haste as possible. Dodging pedestrians, delivery waggons and the ever present omnibuses with their advertisements for Pears Soap and Ogden’s Cigarettes we arrived in Baker Street later than I hoped. The sky had become overcast and if my plan was to meet with success I must hope for the rain to hold off.
As the cab departed I pulled a dark coloured bottle from my inside pocket. I opened it and held it out for the dog, so he could take the scent from it.
As a doctor I was quite familiar with anise. The fragrant scent and pleasant taste made it a popular ingredient in many medicines. It was when I saw the bottle on Holmes chemical table that an idea had quickly flashed through my mind. I would empty some of the contents of the bottle onto the soles of Holmes new shoes before bringing them to him. I then quickly consumed a couple of his cigarettes and one of his foul little cigars to cover the smell of the tincture. I had also spilled the remainder of the mixture onto the cabs wheels after helping my friend into the cab. I knew that Toby would follow such a scent to the ends of the earth. He had helped us before with such a thing.
I had learned such little tricks from the detective himself and now I would use them against him.
I attached a long lead to Toby’s collar and the eager animal took the scent. In my haste I thought little nor cared less as to the possibility that Moran may be following me. I felt sure that once I was at Mary’s side I could protect her from any danger.
We set off down the street having to return to the sidewalk numerous times in order to avoid being rundown. We drew many stares, a middle age man and a shaggy mongrel sprinting briskly along some of London’s busier thoroughfares. Often I would have to restrain the animal for a few moments while I regained my breath. I hoped that we would reach the end of our trail before my legs and wind gave out.
From Baker Street, we turned onto George Street and lumbered past Manchester Square. We then followed High Street, turned onto Marylebone Road and then Portland Place all the while trying our best to avoid our fellow travelers. We did however become entangled with a young lad bringing beer to the labourers who were involved in their eternal struggle to repair the roadway. Screaming my apologies over the clamorous and obviously temperamental steam roller I continued on.
Toby stopped suddenly as we reached Oxford Street. Appearing confused, the little creature began running around in circles. I stood still, breathing heavily while he ran from street to sidewalk and back again, looking up at me expectantly. I was at a loss as to what to do when suddenly the dog seemed to make up his mind and began pulling me along the pavement. It suddenly occurred to me that he must have come to the spot where Holmes had disembarked from the hansom and while it would have continued down the street Holmes of course would have used the sidewalk. Toby was now following the scent of the preparation which I had applied to the soles of Holmes’ shoes.
The dog followed the trail across Oxford Street and down
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