Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

Holmes turned to George Leonticles, the Greek Consul. "Have I given a passable account?" he asked.

The Consul remained silent, with a strained face, for a few moments. "Yes, Mr Holmes, you have. But you have not explained the meaning of the dying man's last words, although I am sure you understand that, too."

Yes," said Holmes, "I understand the meaning of his last words. A dying man fighting for breath cannot easily say a word of many syllables. The capital of Thessaly is Salonika and the riots there became known as the Salonika Incident. I think Simeonov recognized Colonel Yusufoglu as he was dying and was trying to tell him that he remembered him from the days of the Salonika Incident."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Presently, Lord Eversden spoke, addressing the gathered company in general:

"Tomorrow I will seek an audience with His Majesty the King, with the purpose of requesting His Majesty's approval for a diplomatic deportation order to be prepared. I will also ask His Majesty to invite the Czar's Government to appoint an Ambassador to the Court of St James, that post being currently vacant." Count Balinsky sat perfectly still, although the fire still burnt in his eyes.

There was a soft knock on the door and the lugubrious butler entered. "My lord," he said, "a person from Scotland Yard has just arrived. His name is Inspector Lestrade."

"Thank you, Jenkins," said Lord Eversden, "ask him to wait a few moments." The butler withdrew, lugubriously.

Holmes looked at Lord Eversden. "I am now obliged to make my conclusions known to the police. Which account am I to give them?"

Lord Eversden turned to Orman Pasha, who shook his head and said: "It is abundantly clear that a burglar broke in." He rose, came across the room and shook Holmes warmly by the hand. "Mr Holmes, thank you. What we owe you is beyond evaluation."

Holmes and I returned to Baker Street in the evening. Holmes started ascending the stairs, but I went to have a few words with Mrs Hudson. When I joined Holmes upstairs, I found him sitting in his chair with an air of dejection and despondency about him. He was looking at the syringe on the mantelpiece.

"An interesting case,Watson. I wonder whether the world will ever come to its senses. This Balkan crisis nearly plunged the whole world into misery; I trust no such crisis will arise again in our lifetime."

"I trust not, Holmes," I said, as Mrs Hudson entered with a tray, which she placed on the table and left. Holmes sniffed the air and said: "Hello, what's this, Watson?"

"Turkish coffee, Holmes. One of Orman Pasha's attendants gave it to me as we were leaving Royston Manor. He said that the Pasha asked him to say that it was a better stimulant than many others."

Holmes smiled to himself as he sipped the coffee. "Excellent, Watson," he said.

According to Watson's accounts, Holmes investigated just three more cases in 1903 – "The Mazarin Stone", "The Three Gables" and "The Creeping Man". After the last case he decided to retire. He probably did this on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday. He settled in a small house on the South Downs near Eastbourne and spent his time beekeeping, on which he wrote a treatise, the Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, and bringing together all of his own papers to produce the definitive volume The Whole Art of Detection.

He was very strict about his retirement, refusing to venture back to his old practice. Nonetheless, a mind as active as Holmes's would never be at rest. He recorded an investigation of his own, "The Lion's Mane" in 1907, but it is rather surprising that he did not record the culmination of a case that had puzzled him for thirty years. This was the remarkable one of James Phillimore, who stepped back into his house to collect his umbrella and was never seen again. Holmes investigated the case early in his career but had been unable to resolve it. The mercurial interests of F Gwynplaine MacIntyre have caused him to undertake research into a number of areas, none of which were Holmesian, but a stroke of luck while researching the development of the cinema in New York brought the conclusion of the case to light. Many others have attempted to resolve this enigmatic case but here, at last, is the answer.

Strange Disappearance of Local Businessman

A peculiar and unexplained incident is reported from Leamington. On the Wednesday morning, two bankers of this community made a visit to Number 13a, Tavistock-street, the residence of Mr James Phillimore, age 33, who desired to accompany these gentlemen to their place of business for the purpose of discussing a financial transaction.

Stepping into the street, Mr Phillimore glanced momentarily upwards, and – although the weather has been fair this past fortnight – he remarked to his companions: "It looks like rain. Let me get my umbrella." Whereupon he stepped back into his own house, closing the front door but leaving it unlocked, whilst his colleagues remained on the doorstep.

A moment later, the two gentlemen over heard Mr Phillimore shouting from within: "Help me! I can't -" His words were terminated in mid-sentence. Mr Phillimore's two callers straight away entered the house's antechamber, where a most peculiar sight awaited them.

The floorboards in the centre of the foyer were scorched, in a pattern forming a circle roughly six feet in diameter as if some unknown vortex had visited this portion of the room, and no other. Mr Phillimore's muddy footprints could be clearly seen, in a trail leading directly to the perimeter of this circle. The rear half of a footprint protruded from the outer edge of the circle: the front half of Mr Phillimore's right foot had evidently entered the circular mystery, yet it left no imprint within.

An umbrella-stand stood unmolested in a corner of the vestibule, well away from the circle. The ferrule of Mr Phillimore's umbrella, with several inches of the shaft, was found on the floor at the outer edge of the circular enigma. The missing portion of the umbrella – which presumably had accompanied Mr Phillimore into the circular zone – had been neatly sheared off.

Both of the witnesses to this astonishing occurrence are prominent bankers of Leamington Spa, whose veracity and sobriety are above reproach.

The house has now been thoroughly searched by the local police, and there is no evidence of sink-holes nor of any hidden chambers. At this reporting, no trace of Mr Phillimore has been found.

Extract from The South Warwickshire Advertise

for Thursday, 26 August 1875

My friend Sherlock Holmes had recounted the Phillimore case to me in only the briefest terms, for he was disinclined to discuss his rare failures. I knew only that the incident had occurred very early in his detective career, shortly after the Gloria Scott affair. Mr Phillimore of Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, had vanished quite as if the Earth itself had swallowed him up, and he might never reappear unless the Earth itself should open and regurgitate him.

On the afternoon of 18 April 1906, I was examining a patient in my London surgery when word arrived that a great earthquake had lain waste to the mighty city of San Francisco. By nightfall the grim toll was confirmed: several hundreds were injured or dead, and many thousands were homeless. For the next thirty hours, the transatlantic cable relayed further news: the coal-gas lines beneath the San Francisco streets had ruptured in the earthquake, in consequence of which the entire city was now engulfed by fires that raged unchecked. In the safety of my Harley Street surgery, I resolved myself to make a modest contribution to any public subscriptions which might be set up in London to aid the San Franciscan victims.