Mystery of the Scarlet Homes Of Sherlock

Richard Krevolin Prof

Description

Finally, after a century of waiting and doubts over its very existence, the first of the three "lost" diaries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has been discovered and published. This first journal was written in 1878 by Conan Doyle when he was a nineteen-year-old student at the University of Edinburgh Medical School. It contains stories of high adventure beginning with Conan Doyle's clerkship under the legendary Doctor Joseph Bell, the real-life inspiration for the world's most famous literary detective, Sherlock Holmes.Join a young Arthur Conan Doyle, Dr. Bell, and others on their journey to America for a secret forensic mission to solve a string of grisly and mysterious murders. Along the way, meet Conan Doyle's real-life contemporaries - such as fellow University of Edinburgh student, Robert Louis Stevenson. The Mystery of the Scarlet Homes of Sherlock is an exciting mix of murder, mayhem, literary history, humanity, and humor that is sure to please both new and long-time Sherlock Holmes fans everywhere!

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 12 juillet 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781780929699
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Contents
Front Matter
Title Page
Publisher Information
Dedication
Editor’s Note
The Mystery of the Scarlet Homes Of Sherlock
25 September, 1878
26 September, 1878
27 September, 1878
28 September, 1878
29 September, 1878
4 October, 1878
5 October, 1878
6 October, 1878
7 October, 1878
8 October, 1878
10 November, 1878
11 November, 1878
12 November, 1878
13 November, 1878
14 November, 1878
15 November, 1878
16 November, 1878
17 November, 1878
18 November, 1878
19 November, 1878
20 November, 1878
22 November, 1878
23 November, 1878
24 November, 1878
25 November, 1878
26 November, 1878
27 November, 1878
28 November, 1878
29 November, 1878
2 December, 1878
3 December, 1878
4 December, 1878
5 December, 1878
6 December, 1878
7 December, 1878
8 December, 1878
9 December, 1878
10 December, 1878
Back Matter
Editor’s Elementary Endnotes
About The Authors
Also Available



Front Matter



Title Page
The Mystery of the Scarlet Homes of Sherlock
The Lost Diaries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Vol. 1
Edited by
Prof. Richard Krevolin
&
Dr. John Raffensperger



Publisher Information
First edition published in 2016 by
MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor
Royal Drive,
London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2016 Richard Krevolin and John Raffensperger
The right of Richard Krevolin and John Raffensperger to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by them 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 unauthorized 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. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The views and opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of MX Publishing or Andrews UK Limited.
Cover design by Brian Belanger



Dedication
To our esteemed editor, Nancy Cohen, our wonderful agent, Paula Munier, Renee Braeunig, Melanie Jappy, Kathy Copas, Colleen Sell, Dr. Wally Duff, Dr. Glenn Shepard, John Haslett, Penny Macleod, Steve Callender, Katja Bressette, Katia Haddidian, Coach Bob Orgovan, and the Sanibel writing group four.



Editor’s Note
I have always been a collector of Sherlockiana and a medical history scholar. As a result, when I heard that a trunk of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s personal effects—which had been willed to J.M. Barrie and held by his estate for almost eighty years—was finally coming up for auction at Sotheby’s, I eagerly placed a bid. Luck was on my side, and I was fortunate to win the old footlocker from the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s dear friend and classmate at the University of Edinburgh who created Peter Pan.
I hauled the heavy treasure home and opened it in the living room of my little apartment. But, all that was inside was a smelly bunch of old, heavy wool blankets and rusted medical instruments. I felt like a fool for spending so much money on a bunch of trash.
As I was about to close up the chest on yet another disappointing purchase related to my obsession with Sherlock Holmes, I took time for a closer look, just to be sure. It was then that I noticed a little compartment on the inside of the lid of the footlocker. I slipped my hand in and, to my astonishment, pulled out three leather-bound, hand-written journals.
Stunned, I sat down in my kitchen and cracked open the first one. A folded piece of paper and a lock of red hair fell out. I smoothed out the yellowing paper and was shocked when I read:
It is July 7, 1930. I am gravely ill and do not think I will live through the night. And so, it has become incumbent upon me to deal with these treasured journals from my medical-school days that reveal the most personal details of the formative moments of my young life.
Due to their private nature, I thought it would be unseemly if they outlived me. An hour ago I walked them over to the fireplace in my library determined to burn them. But, when the heat of the flames licked their spines, I rescued them, like a mother hen grabbing her ducklings just before a waterfall.
Instead, despite some reluctance, I will place these journals in my old footlocker and ensure they are well-hidden. A message in a bottle that, perhaps, will someday be discovered by one who has learned the powers of careful observation . . . Or will be left, unnoticed, to disintegrate over the years.
~ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
And so, almost one hundred years later, with the publication of this volume, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s dying choice to recover his journals so that they might one day see light is now being justified in these pages. You, dear reader, hold the first of the “lost” diaries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, written in 1878 while he was a nineteen-year-old student at the University of Edinburgh Medical School.
This volume details the story of Doyle’s first year of service as the clerk for Dr. Joseph Bell, as well as shedding light on the origin of many of Robert Louis Stevenson and J. M. Barrie’s most famous characters.
I now entrust this diary to you, my dear reader. I hope you gain as much pleasure perusing its pages as I did when I first discovered it buried deep within the wooden confines of that ancient treasure chest…
~ Dr. John Raffensperger
Sanibel Island, Florida
7:56 a.m. February 29, 2016.



The Mystery of the Scarlet Homes Of Sherlock



25 September, 1878
“Mr. Doyle, for heaven’s sake, open your eyes and mind! Observe, deduce, and connect. Employ your faculties of reason, however limited they may be. The tiniest of details might be the key to reaching a proper diagnosis and saving a life. Otherwise, abandon a career in medicine, try your hand at writing and see how well that goes.”
I squeezed my hands into fists and tried to blot out the professor’s taunts from my mind. Dr. Bell is utterly maddening. He was riding me hard just because earlier in the day I had misdiagnosed a hernia in a squalling baby. There are many times I would gladly plunge a scalpel into his heart—that is if he had one.
I didn’t think it was humorous, but, as Bell’s pretentious, willowy voice subsided, my classmate’s giggles grew into howls of laughter and the stomping of feet. Damn them all for having fun at my expense!
Let me explain. It was late afternoon and uncomfortably hot in the amphitheatre of the Royal Edinburgh Infirmary—too hot for my wool suit. Ah, if I only owned another lighter one I would be wearing it, but alas, as a poor medical student it was all I had...
I was fulfilling my responsibilities as Dr. Joseph Bell’s outpatient clerk, tasked with examining his patients to arrive at a tentative diagnosis before he discussed the case in front of a class of medical students. I had been chosen to replace his former student clerk, my mate John Watson, when he decided to leave university and enter the military.
The great amphitheatre was packed with students and still had the stench of carbolic and chloroform from the morning’s operations. I was in the anteroom with the last of the day’s nearly fifty patients. He was a huge brute of a man around forty with a long, red beard that barely hid a hard, pocked face. His shoulders and muscular biceps bulged through a thick woolen shirt, and his black, homespun pants were stuck into mud-stained, cowhide, knee-high boots. He slurred his words and walked with a shuffling gait.
“Your name, please,” I asked.
“MacLure.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s me fingers,” he said.
“Well, what about your fingers?”
“See for yourself.”
Before my very eyes, he held up his right hand. The fourth and fifth fingers turned from a deathly white to blue and then to a dull red color. I had never before seen, nor read about, anything like that dramatic color change.
“Mr. Doyle, my next patient, if you please,” Dr. Bell called.
I led Mr. MacLure into the amphitheatre, fully expecting Dr. Bell to ridicule my findings.
Dr. Bell cleared his throat. “Mr. Doyle, you have examined the patient, aye?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“We eagerly await your diagnosis.”
“From the patient’s shuffling gait and slurred speech, he appears to be under the influence of strong drink.”
“You observe nothing else?”
“Um, well, well... It’s his fingers. They change color.”
“Is that all?”
“That is quite serious, is it not, sir?”
“You noted nothing else?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“What about the tobacco stains on his beard and the ulcer on the top of his right ear?” Bell asked.
I looked at my feet while a classmate chortled. “I don’t know, but can’t see that they have any connection to his illness.”
And this was the moment he made that oh so humiliating statement, “Mr. Doyle, for heaven’s sake, open your eyes and mind! Observe, deduce, and connect. Employ your faculties of reason, however limited they may be. The tiniest of details might be the key to reaching a proper d