A Study in Sherlock

    George says, “Lots of easy ways to screw with an airplane engine so it don’t get where it’s supposed to go. Hell, sugar in the gas tank. Don’t have to be an A&P to figger that.”

    Jim says, “No wreckage, no evidence. No evidence, no case.”

    Bobby says, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

    Mrs. Doogan says, “Libel: a written statement in which a plaintiff in certain courts sets forth the cause of action or the relief sought. (www.merriam-webster.com)”

    RangerDan says, [Comment deleted by author.]

    Bernie says, [Comment deleted by author.]

    Bobby says, “Wimps.”

Dana Stabenow was born in Anchorage and raised on a seventy-five-foot fish tender in the Gulf of Alaska. She knew there was a warmer, drier job out there somewhere and found it in writing. Her first science fiction novel, Second Star, sank without a trace; her first crime fiction novel, A Cold Day for Murder, won an Edgar Award; her first thriller, Blindfold Game, hit the New York Times bestseller list; and her twenty-eighth novel and nineteenth Kate Shugak novel, Restless in the Grave, comes out in February 2012. Stabenow currently lives in Alaska. Her long, intimate relationship with Sherlock Holmes began when she got to the Ds of the Seldovia Public Library when she was ten years old. She only hopes Mary Russell doesn’t find out.

An eerily similar adventure is recounted by Dr. Watson in “The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter,” which was first published in The Strand Magazine in 1893, and can be found in The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.

THE CASE THAT HOLMES LOST

Charles Todd

John Whitman rose as the door to his office opened and an energetic man, his face lined with worry, walked in.

“Sir Arthur,” he said, offering his hand.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle took it in a firm grip, saying, “Thank you for seeing me so quickly, John. It’s rather urgent.” Taking the chair across from his solicitor’s desk, he went on, “Holmes has got himself into a great deal of trouble.”

Hiding a smile, Whitman said, “Indeed.”

“Yes,” Conan Doyle replied testily. “He’s being sued.”

“Sued! Are you quite serious?”

“I don’t joke about such matters, I assure you.”

“But Holmes—I beg your pardon for saying this—but he’s your creation. I can understand that someone might sue you. It’s not that unusual for an author to be sued. Plagiarism, for one thing; libel for another. Infringement of rights. But no one sues his chief character.”

“Yes, well, there’s a first time for everything. It’s a frivolous suit. I want it dismissed.”

Whitman reached for a sheaf of paper and his pen. “Let’s begin at the beginning. Why is Holmes being sued?”

“Smith—my editor—wanted a new story, and I wrote one for him. It was loosely based on something that happened while I was in Edinburgh, studying medicine. Of course I changed the setting from Scotland to London, and I changed names. The result was a very different case, and well suited to Holmes. There is absolutely no reason why anyone should have uncovered the source of the plot.”

“And what has become of this story? Have you turned it over to your editor?”

“As soon as it was finished. Three days later I was informed that someone intended to sue Holmes.”

“How did this someone come to know of the existence of your manuscript?”

“There is the crux of the problem, you see. He couldn’t have. Only two people had read the story. I was one, of course, and my editor was the other.”

“How did you send this manuscript to him?”

Conan Doyle smiled. “A question worthy of Holmes. By private messenger. But from the time the manuscript left my hands to the time it was delivered was no more than three quarters of an hour. Hardly time to read the story, much less make a copy of it for anyone.”

“Had you told anyone else you were writing this particular story?”

“No, no. That would have defeated my purpose in changing the details.”

“Will you tell me a little about this case?”

Conan Doyle hesitated, then said, “Yes, of course. You must know what it is about, if you are to shut down this ridiculous business before it becomes public knowledge.”

He got up and walked to the window, gazing down into the busy street below.