The Devonshire Epicurean Society

"THE DEVONSHIRE EPICUREAN SOCIETY":

A newly-discovered

"Sherlock Holmes"

Adventure from the Memoirs of the late

John H. Watson, M.D.

Copyright 2004 by

SEXY_GOURMET

, All Rights Reserved, No Copies, Reprints, or Quotes Without Express Written Consent of Author.

FORWARD/PROLOGUE:

WATSON:

Throughout the years, no doubt many readers of these chronicles of my association with the exploits of MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES, the world's greatest - and, indeed - only living "Consulting Detective" may feel by now that they know him as well as their closest friends, along with the usual nature of the cases we were involved with. However, there was one, that - up until now - had never been told before, largely due to the strange, bizarre, and absolutely horrific events surrounding it, so much so that I had instructed the executors of my Estate to prevent its' publication until after the 50th anniversary of my death. This now is that story:

It had now been almost exactly ten years since my dear friend Sherlock Holmes had both last encountered the beautiful American adventuress, MISS IRENE ADLER (see:

"A Scandal in Bohemia")

, with whom he had irrevocably been "impressed", and miraculously escaped certain death at the hands of the arch-criminal, PROFESSOR MORIARTY, on the very brink of Reichenbach Falls in Switzerland (see:

"The Adventure of the Final Problem"

), re-appearing several years later, much to my own, and indeed, the world's, relief! In the intervening decade, though other cases and their players had made their way to our humble furnishings at 221B Baker St. in London, there had seemed to be an ever-dwindling number of those that Holmes had thought worthy of his unique talents at both deduction and criminal investigation. As a result, the man who was once described as "the most perfect human thinking and reasoning machine", seemed to grow ever more listless and restless, often referring potential clients both to other investigators - of whom there were now an increasing number in private practice - as well as the police themselves, whom Holmes had once held, at best, in perfect contempt! His own physical, mental, and emotional health also seemed to be on the decline, as fewer and fewer challenges were presented to his considerable intellect. "Problems, Watson," Holmes once declared to me, "are like food for my mind. Without them, it becomes like a vacuum, and I starve!"

As his legendary bouts with both mania and melancholia had returned, I had feared that he'd returned to abusing the cocaine he'd employed so often, after not long having been cured of this addiction with the help of the noted Viennese psychiatrist, DR. SIGMUND FREUD (see:

"The Seven-Per-Cent Solution"

). Though I could never find his drug cache and needle, and after prescribing various other safer, alternate medications as his own private physician, I had thought it best to leave him to his own devices and routine, and returned to private practice at my own office in the suburbs. Many was the night when, leaving after a visit, I would look up from the street, and see his distinctive, spare shadow cast against the window shade, pacing back and forth restlessly, or hear the plaintive strains of a Mendelsohn "aire," being played on his beloved violin, to chase away the doldrums. I could only but sympathize with the plight of my poor friend, and little else!

So it was, after seeing him for just over six months last, I was surprised early one morning in the late spring of 1903, to receive a telephone call, having just recently had one of the new devices installed in my offices. On the other end of the line, the same crisp, succinct, clipped tones spoke:

"Watson, are you free? I have need of you - please come at once!"

Then there was a "click" as he signed off. Fearing the worst for my friend's health, I told my nurse that I'd be gone for most of the rest of the day, and caught the early tramline back into town.

* * *

I had hardly made it up the 17 steps leading into our former flat when Holmes suddenly appeared at the landing.

"Watson, oh, so

good

of you to come on such short notice!"

I was amazed at the difference in him since last I laid eyes on him! No longer was his hair uncombed, and unkempt - but brushed neatly back into place. He'd also apparently freshly shaved, was neatly dressed, and appeared over-all in the best of spirits, and looking remarkably healthy! Though it was only 9 in the morning - Holmes rarely-if-ever arose from bed before 10 - he was also completely dressed for the day, save for his customary brocaded dressing gown. I stared at him, surprised.

"Well, Holmes, you certainly appear chipper, and 'in the pink' for once!" I then peered into his eyes closely. "Please tell me that you haven't gone back on the needle?"

"Oh, nothing of the sort, dear chap! I've simply found a new 'restorative', along with a change in diet, that has wrought

wonders!

Nothing against your own kind care and prescriptions, of course, but - we must save that for another time! What matters now is that we have both a new client, and a new case!"

He guided me with an outstretched arm into the familiar sitting room. There, on the fainting-couch, sat a short, stocky man of indeterminate middle age, waiting patiently with hat in hand.

Holmes made introductions. "Please say hello to..."

The man stood up. " Mr. Arthur Ermine, sir, pleased and honored to make your acquaintance. Mr. Holmes here has told me quite a lot about you, sir, in the highest terms, and..."

"And Mr. Ermine here has come to us with a rather urgent and distressing matter!" Holmes interrupted, as he fell into his favorite armchair, directly across from the fellow, long legs outstretched and crossed. I followed his lead, and took the other chair facing opposite both men. "It concerns - "

" My daughter Audrey, sir, my youngest, and might I say, sir, the favorite of our children, both my wife and I. She's a very good girl, sirs, very polite and well-mannered, never a problem a-tall, she's been. Really is the most pleasant young girl - was, I mean -

is

, I..."

He seemed on the verge of a rather embarrassing display of emotions, so Holmes asked, soothingly...

"How old is she now, Mr. Ermine? Do you perhaps have a recent pocket-photograph of her? Mrs. Hudson? MRS. HUDSON!"

Our dear former landlady appeared at the door, smiling in that matronly way she always had.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes? Dr. Watson - how good to see you again! It's been too long!"

I smiled back. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, lovely to see you again, as always."

"Mrs. Hudson," Holmes continued, "do you suppose you could bring up a tray of tea, and some of those lovely butter-scones you make so well? We'd like to make our guest here..." he indicated to Mr. Ermine, "feel more relaxed!"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Holmes won't be but a few minutes." She hurried back downstairs to her assigned duties, while Holmes turned back to our visitor with raised eyebrows.

"Sixteen years old she is, sir, just had her birthday in April - a lovely young thing she is..." He got up briefly to take a rather dog-eared small photo from his coat pocket. "This was taken just about then."

He handed over the picture to Holmes, who studied it intently, then handed it to me. It showed a rather comely young lady of about sixteen, with light blonde hair done up in the popular, more "adult" upswept style that was currently in vogue. She was wearing a conservative, high-necked day dress, and a sweetly demure smile; I smiled as I gave it back to her father.

"She really is quite the pretty young lady, Mr. Ermine. And, everything else that you say she was - is!"

"So, once again, for the good doctor's benefit, Mr. Ermine," Holmes addressed the man as he put the picture away, "what exactly is it that is the problem about young Audrey?"

"She's disappeared, sirs - that's the problem! Just after her birthday, when things at home were a bit..." He looked at both of us a little embarrassedly. "Tight, you might say, financially, that is - not enough work around in our parts, out in the country, that is. She volunteered to find a position as domestic help, to bring in a few extra bob, and applied through an employment service that specialized in such things. After only a couple of interviews, she was hired right off at a very fancy mansion in Devonshire - you know, where the 'toffs' live." He glanced at both of us knowingly.

"Yes, yes, we're well-acquainted with both the countryside and its inhabitants." Holmes had by now assumed his all-too-familiar position of head slightly back, eyes closed, thin fingers steepled together, meaning that he was lost in thought, brain processing information so far. "The 'landed gentry', I believe is the customary description, titled and moneyed land-owners. Know them well!"

The man paused, obviously wondering if my colleague had fallen half-asleep. After a moment, Holmes noticed this, and opened his eyes. "Do go on - I am 'attention' itself!"

Mr. Ermine resumed his tale. "Well, we were happy at first, of course - her landin' a job in a place such as that, in the hire of wealthy folk, n' all - she was makin' forty quid a week - FORTY QUID, mind you, just for being a member of the kitchen staff, she'd told us! And, she was sendin' half of it home every week, like clockwork, which was right welcome to us - her mum and me - and, our other children as well. She seemed to be excited herself about her new position, and the freedom it brought - she even took to writin' us letters, two or three times a week, explainin' about how 'glamorous' it all were, all the fancy folk comin' an' goin', her new friends among all the other girls, n' the like!"

"And. all this time - no problems, no disciplinary actions because of mistakes, no other discord?"

"No, sir, not a one - she seemed as happy as a 'bee around honey', she did, at least from her letters."

"Did she ever get enough time off," I'd asked, "to visit home? A day or two during the week, perhaps?"

"No sir, she said they kept her quite busy, that she was workin' at her chores from dawn until dusk, and that the only time she had to herself, she spent eatin' her meals, bathin' an' sleepin' at night! But, it didn't seem to bother her, she was much too excited to ever be bored, I guess?"

By this time, Mrs. Hudson had brought up the tea tray and scones, poured out a cup for each of us, then excused her self to return downstairs.

Holmes opened his eyes to look directly at the man. "Did she ever speak about any," He paused to consider his words more carefully, "Any 'romantic entanglements'? Any young men whose eye, she'd caught? Either at home, or at her new place of employment?" He picked up his cup, sipped at it briefly.

"No - no, although she's a pretty young thing, as you can obviously see, she's rather a modest girl, perhaps a bit shy, as well. We - her mum, and I - always figured that she'd wait another year or so, to consider some young boy as a proper suitor. There was time enough for that, later, we'd reckoned!" Mr. Ermine also took a cup from the tray, holding it as one would a delicate object d'arte.

"And," rejoined Holmes, "when did you first notice that something was amiss?"

"Well, sir, it were about a fortnight or so ago, now, give or take a few days, when both the money she'd sent every week, along with her letters, suddenly stopped comin'! Naturally, it weren't the money we were so much worried about, but the letters - it seemed as if all contact was just cut off from her, and we began to worry for her!"

"Did the owners of this home have a telephone? Was there a way for you to call them?"

"No, sir, not a listing for a number for there that ever I could find. I even sent a few letters myself to her there, and they all came back there with this here message on them."

He then took a crumpled envelope of fairly cheap vellum stationery from his pocket, addressed to his daughter Audrey, and the mailing address, "125 Forest View Drive," with the postal-stamped declaration, "Addressee No Longer At Address". We both examined it briefly.

"And then, what did you do?" I asked.

"Well, sir - the only thing left I could do! I took the very next train out to Devonshire, and caught a cab from the station out to this here address - it were a right fancy home, alright, a regular 'country estate' - and I walked right up to the front door, and asked to see my daughter. And - of all the cheek! They pretended to not know who she is – never heard of her, they'd said, right rude-like - and when I persisted, and showed them that there letter, along with ones we'd received from her up to then, they still claimed I was mistaken, and if I didn't leave straight off, they was goin' to sic' the hounds on me! Can you believe that? I'd never received such rough treatment from anyone before in my life - not even my bosses!"

"Ah, I'd forgotten to ask", I said, "what line of work do you do?"

Mr. Ermine looked down a bit sheepishly. "Well, to be honest, Doctor, I'm just an ordinary laborer, moved closer here to the city, to bring in at least a modest wage, which I then send home to me family - that, and to be closer to anyone official-like that might be of help in findin' my darling Audrey! I took the morning off work, to come here - at some cost, I might add!" He had the most pitiable look that I should think any parent could have, for a missing child!

I continued. "Didn't you bring this matter to the police? Devonshire does have its' own local force by now, I believe?"

He snorted. "They weren't no good! They only 'made noises' about lookin' into it - they said right out that she'd probably run off with some boy, eloped, maybe! Said it happens all the time, with 'such girls'! I wanted to call'em out on that, I did! I should know my own daughter by sixteen - and, I tell you, gentlemen - she waren't that kind o' girl!"

Holmes soothingly responded. "I'm sure, Mr. Ermine, that she's a young lady of quite some virtue, and decency! Tell me this - when you first came to London, did you call on the Metropolitan police, and relate your tragic story to them?"

The man replied, "Yes, and they said they did call on them folks soon afterwards, and they gave them the same story as to me - but, probably a bit more polite, seein' as they was the bobbies, an' all! I even spoke to an Inspector Lestrade, at Scotland Yard - I remember you mentionin' him, Doctor," he glanced at me, "from all the stories you'd written up about the cases you an' Mr. Holmes had investigated."

"And?" Holmes inquired.

"He referred me to you, that it was just the kind o' thing they had too many of down at the 'Yard, to spare any more men, and that you - how did he put it? 'Mr. Holmes always has time to listen to anything even remotely out-of-the-ordinary'!"

Holmes laughed, in that peculiar, barking way he always had. "Good Inspector Lestrade - predictable as always!"

Mr. Ermine now fastened earnest, desperate eyes on us. "So, now you're both my last resort! I'm gettin' the feelin' more an' more that something dreadful's befallen my dear lil' girl! All I wants is to find her, safe an' sound, and bring her back home to her family, that misses her somethin' terrible! My poor Audrey ... my dear, sweet lil' girl ... " He began to practically weep both out of sadness and pain, tears streaming down his rough-hewn face.

Holmes then arose, went over to the poor fellow, and drew him up off the couch, arm around his shoulders.

"There, there, now - let's not have that! You mustn't give up hope! With all due respect to both the Yard, and Inspector Lestrade, Dr. Watson and I can move much quicker into an investigation, and travel inside more 'inner circles', than any desk-bound, bureaucratic police force!"

"Then," he looked at us, pleadingly, "you'll take this case? I probably can't afford your usual fee - I'm only a poor, simple workin' man - but, perhaps I could make a series of payments - "

"My good man", Holmes declared, drawing himself up to his usual ramrod straight posture, "I choose which cases to investigate, based purely on their merits! And yours, Mr. Ermine, certainly is worthy of same!"

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes - Dr. Watson - thank you again! I won't ever forget this -

ever

!"

As I rose, he replaced his bowler hat on his thinning-haired head, and - bowed to both of us.

"Mrs. Hudson will see you out - please leave an address or phone number where you might best be contacted - and, if you could spare it - that photograph of your lovely daughter might certainly come in useful! Please put your fears to rest, Mr. Ermine - if dear Audrey can possibly be located, we shall do whatever it takes to make certain that she's returned to the bosom of her loving family, safe and sound!"

After our new client left, Holmes turned to me.

"Well, Watson - what do you think?"

I eyed him a bit uncertainly.

"Surely, Holmes - you can't be serious? This sounds like just another run-of-the-mill, missing persons case! If even Lestrade passed on it, I hardly think..."

"Missing persons, yes. Run-of-the-mill, perhaps not! At least, not in light of other recent, similar occurrences!"

He then went to the bookshelf above his desk, where Holmes usually kept numerous file folders filled with newspaper and magazine clippings he usually saved out of some perceived latent value or interest, and pulled out one stuffed with same, opening it.

"There's been a virtual rash of incidents with much in common as Mr. Ermine's missing daughter, over the past several months, involving mysterious, unexplained disappearances of other attractive young women and girls, in seemingly excellent health!

Lets' see (he read)... there was a Helen Taylor, from the Midlands, went missing just last month, around the same time as our dear Audrey... an Anne-Marie M., a young Frenchwoman, I believe... a young Patricia, from Lincolnshire, the month before... a Jessie, an Elizabeth from Cardiff, an Annabelle, a Michelle... and, even a young woman named Catherine Celeste, a tourist from America, I believe - went missing from her hotel near Hyde Park, just a week or so ago, now! All gone, suddenly - vanished, without a trace, as if 'into thin air'! About a dozen in all, over the course of the past three months! Surely you must've read about some of these in the local papers, dear fellow?"

"I - ah - might've seen one or two notices about such things, whenever I wasn't busy with patients, that is, Holmes." I reproached him.

Holmes appeared not to notice the remark. "And, that's not all", he said as he looked at me conspiratorially, "I have it on the word of two of my confidential informants - one who goes by le Chat, in Marseilles, as well as the one who's dubbed himself the Lizard, here in Liverpool - these underworld types do love their colorful 'noms de plume' - that there have been rather clandestine shipments of certain in-demand 'commodities,' namely, young women, in their mid-teens to early twenties, of various races, being smuggled in under cover of darkness, then whisked away - to, only God knows where?!"

"Sounds ominously like a well-organized white slavery ring to me, Holmes! Oh, dear - I certainly hope that this poor young girl hasn't fallen prey to such! I've heard some of the most dreadful stories involving Middle Eastern harems, and other wealthy, decadent libertines."

"You may be only partly-right, old friend - no, I think there's possibly quite a bit more to this than first meets the eye - but, that wasn't what I'd originally meant, when I'd asked, what do you think?"

"About what, then?"

"About our client, Watson - what do you make of

him

?"

I thought a minute - obviously, Holmes had wanted me to draw some conclusions about the unfortunate Mr. Ermine, simply from observations, and therefore, deduction.