Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #7. Nicholas Briggs

      FROM WATSON’S SCRAPBOOK

      Mrs Hudson is still in Yorkshire nursing her mother’s ailing sister Ruth, but though she is unable to contribute her customary column to this issue of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, she did manage to talk on the telephone with C E Lawrence, whose latest suspense thriller Silent Victim was excerpted in our last issue. (C E, by the way, is the pen name of our ongoing contributor, Carole Buggé). I am pleased that Mrs Hudson found the time to send us a record of their conversation.

      I am less pleased, however, about what I am about to tell you. You see, in our preceding issue, I persuaded (retired) Inspector Lestrade to send us a few of his recollections, in lieu of Mrs Hudson’s usual column. In this regard, my co-editor Mr Kaye made contact with Holmes’s ongoing nemesis Professor James Moriarty, and, to my surprise and dismay, actually persuaded him to contribute a column of his own. And unlike Lestrade, who was flattered to be asked, the Professor naturally insisted on being paid! I shudder to think what use our funds may be put to!

      * * * *

      In this number of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, Holmes and I appear in two different adventures. The first one is my own reportage of A Scandal in Bohemia. I pray that anyone who reads it here for the first time will pay attention to what I have actually written concerning Holmes and affairs of the heart. So far as I know, he never harboured feelings that could in any fashion be construed as romantic in the emotional sense of that word, and that does include the Woman—although I do admit there is a mystery that I have never fathomed concerning that stout consulting detective based in New York City.

      To my astonishment, the other Holmesian narrative in this issue, The Dead House, was written up by none other than Holmes himself!

      And now it is time to hear from my co-editor Mr Kaye.

      —John H Watson, MD

      * * * *

      One might well call this our “retro” issue of Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine. Normally, we like to balance our mix with adventures from days bygone and modern, but most of the tales in this seventh issue of SHMM, are set in earlier times. The only comparatively recent story is Janice Law’s The Double, but even it depends partly on earlier Russian Communist history. Marc Bilgrey’s A House Divided tells an American Civil War incident, while both David Ellis’s A Letter from Legrand and Michael Mallory’s The Premature Murder take place in Nineteenth Century America.

      Edgar Allan Poe is central to the latter pair of stories. A Letter from Legrand is an ingenious sequel to Poe’s classic The Gold-Bug. While it is not necessary to know the original story, I believe a reacquaintance with it will enhance reading enjoyment of Mr. Ellis’s sequel. The Premature Murder, though fiction, is a striking investigation into the mysterious death of Edgar Allan Poe in 1849 in Baltimore.

      Next issue will feature a far-flung assortment of authors—an amusing tale of a stolen baseball bat by Jeff Baker, of Wichita Kansas; a new Kelly Locke story from Hal Charles in Kentucky; a delightful Sherlock Holmes pastiche by Christian Endres, of Germany; a horrifying semi-science fictional murder story by Ben Godby, of Ottowa; a clever SF pastiche of Sherlock Holmes, and an upsetting story of wrongful death (which the author says really happened) by Stefanie Stolinsky, of Los Angeles.

      See you soon!

      Canonically yours,

      Marvin Kaye

      MORIARTY’S MAILBAG

      When I, Professor James Moriarty, was approached by the editor of this magazine, and asked if I would contribute an advice column for the present issue, I was, to say the least, surprised. Foremost, I wondered, how this editor find me? The world’s greatest detective, Sherlock Holmes, has been searching for me for years, without the slightest success. So, for that matter, has Scotland Yard. Yet, now, a mere editor of a second rate penny dreadful, takes it upon himself one afternoon, to make a few preliminary inquiries, and suddenly, within minutes, manages to discover my ultra secret inner sanctum sanctorum. I am not some petty pick pocket who lives in a run-down flophouse in White Chapel, I am the most powerful criminal mastermind on earth. (Though, I must say, I do occasionally enjoy a nice stroll in the White Chapel district, but that is neither here nor there.)

      In addition I am repulsed by the decision to name this publication, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, after my arch enemy, and sworn nemesis. (Not to mention despised rival.) What resident lunatic at the Bedlam Asylum thought this was a sensible idea? A far more appropriate name for a quality periodical, would be, Professor James Moriarty’s Mystery Magazine. I suggest the publishers consider making this change as soon as possible.

      All of which brings me back to the self-same editor of this little pulp digest. What could possibly have possessed this ink drenched renegade from Grubb Street to make him believe that I, the greatest villain who ever lived, would even be interested in answering questions about my criminal methods for the general public? After all, I have a vast crime network to oversee. Does this editor really think I have the time to waste in the petty pursuit of his frivolous and misguided enterprise?

      But as it happens, I must admit that I was intrigued by the sheer audacity that this man displayed in seeking me out, and upon further reflection, I now find my interest somewhat piqued . . . as a result, I have decided to temporarily set aside my disdain for the entire human race long enough to participate in this exercise in futility and respond to some missives from the general populous.

      [Editorial note—I fear the Professor has underestimated my friend Holmes, for it was he who informed Mr Kaye of the address of Moriarty’s eyrie, so to speak.—JHW]

      * * * *

      Dear Professor Moriarty,

      I have recently embezzled a sizable suym from my employers at a large, and well respected bank. What shall I do with the money?

      —Loaded in Lancashire

      Dear Loaded,

      Place it all in a bag, and send it to me.

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