Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (2 page)

“What brings you to our doorstep on this beautiful fall morn Lestrade?” the detective enquired. “Where you not occupied with that ballet scandal or whatever mess it was? Something about a missing tutu and some inappropriate photographs, if I recall?”

“Murder most foul Mr. Holmes! Most foul indeed!” Lestrade bellowed, ignoring the sleuth’s sly remark concerning his recent investigation. “Your insights and opinions are of serious need in this matter.” The inspector had lowered his eyes at that last statement in an attempt to avert Holmes’ gaze, embarrassed to admit his lack of understanding of certain facts that only the great detective could offer.

A slight smile broke the countenance of Holmes’ visage upon that request, and after a momentary pause, for dramatic effect, he motioned for all to sit down.

“But Lestrade,” quipped Holmes in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Surely you and the great Scotland Yard can handle a simple murder case on your own. Why call on us for consultation in this matter?”

“Well normally the Yard can handle these affairs without aid but..” Lestrade, distracted by memory, trailed off and was silent for a moment.

Watson had noticed an expression of great agitation on Lestrade’s facial features as he spoke, one rarely displayed by the inspector in their past shared adventures. It seemed to lend sudden import to his narration and so the doctor leaned closer and listened more attentively.

“Pray continue.” Holmes urged him and Lestrade began his narration once again.

“It’s the condition of the deceased, the body. It’s in a physical state I have never encountered before. It is in a condition very strange indeed. And although I have seen many odd things in my years as a police inspector, this has left me quite shaken. I’ll admit that I am completely baffled by it.

“If you wouldn’t mind accompanying me good sirs, I will elaborate on the details as we travel to the scene of the crime.” Lestrade continued, “Over these many years of our collaboration I have become well familiar with your methods Mr. Holmes, therefore I have left strict instructions with my men to not disturb or alter the crime scene in any way as per your requests in the past. I must admit that I trust not enough in these rookie police cadets they send me to not foul things up, so I bid we leave immediately before chance they do.”

Holmes nodded his agreement, tapped out his pipe and rose from his chair. He proceeded to retrieve his waistcoat from the rack; grabbed Watson’s as well and handed it to his old friend. “Fortunate for you Lestrade, as well as myself, I seem to be between clients at the moment,” he noted. “My boredom of late knows no bounds, so your visit comes perfectly timed. Hopefully this case will distract me from this morbid state of mind and rid me of my doldrums. Doctor Watson will of course join us, as his medical knowledge and intuition are always of great use to me.” he added with a smile.

Watson was also happy for the distraction as his medical practice was suffering a slow period of late and too much free time had left him either restless or napping. He waited by the door already fully dressed with overcoat and hat, eager to get some fresh air into his lungs after spending all morning in that stuffy room, albeit mostly asleep.

A Ride Through London

The police coach bumped and leaned as it cut through the late morning traffic of London’s busy streets. Watson noticed that it was a fine day for early October, the temperature of just about fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit was brisk yet pleasant and the crisp fall air blew leaves about the streets in miniature amber hued tornadoes.

The sounds of an active day were in full swing as laborers hawked their wares and pedestrians mingled about in loud conversation. Each district the carriage passed through offered its own tapestry of daily life, with sights and smells of both entertainment and industry alike.

Holmes was not distracted by the bustling world outside the carriage windows, he listened attentively, all his concentration focused upon the words Lestrade spoke in detailing the facts of the crime.

“The victim is a Professor Thomas Harper of Redington Road, an unmarried man of sixty three years of age.” explained Lestrade “Other than the servants that are on staff, he resided alone in a medium sized house left to him through inheritance, located on that quiet street within Hampstead proper. We received a notice from one of our constables very early this morning, shortly after 1 a.m. or so, that Mr. Harper was found dead in his study, the body in a horrid state. It was one of the house servants that had alerted my man on duty of the incident. At 1:30 a.m. my constables and I arrived at the premises, and after an initial inspection secured the crime scene.”

“Not Professor Thomas Harper formerly of the University of London who was removed from his position and forced to leave the school under a cloud of controversy about three years ago?” asked Holmes with a cocked eyebrow.

“That very one Mr. Holmes,” noted Lestrade. “Are you familiar with him?” “Not much more than what the newspapers wrote of the situation at the time.” Holmes replied. He seemed to focus inward then, referencing the immense library of facts stored within his mind. “Professor Harper was in the faculty of History.” he recounted. “He specialized in topics involving the Medieval Crusades as well as studies that covered the many different pagan religious practices and ancient beliefs of those regions in the Middle East. He was also a mildly successful author of books about those subjects, of which one I have read. His lectures were extremely popular with the students at the University of London and he was considered a respected local figure at the school with growing tenure.

“During the summer months between school terms he would travel to far reaching locations on the globe to continue his research and collect artifacts and relics relative to his studies. It was only after returning from a field study to Iranistan some years back that the subject matter of his teachings became more odd and dark in nature. It seems he had discovered some knowledge on that trip that greatly altered his course focus, as he taught less on the historic context of the Crusades and more so about the pagan religious ceremonies that had come out of that region. He had collected many ancient manuscripts and doctrines while on these trips; ones that described long lost cults and their bizarre theological practices, and it was these topics he embraced with zealous abandon.

“In class he was said to ramble on and on in a fevered passion about powerful God-like beings imprisoned beyond time and space, and of the return or release of these original gods or Ancient Ones or something along those lines. In these long erratic monologues the students swore that he was a man possessed of a voice not fully his own and his facial features would twist up with the passion of his words. The topics of these lectures often contained references to abominable rites of occult practice and hinted to the existence of relics of vast immemorial powers. Horrific subjects spewed from his lips and eventually he let his physical state devolve from that of a well groomed sharp dressed scholar into a wild eyed, disheveled, ranting madman.”

Holmes continued as both Watson and Lestrade listened attentively. “Soon afterwards complaints were logged to the dean of the university by Harper’s pupils and many abandoned his course citing that he had discarded the original curriculum in favor of these occult topics, topics of little interest to these history minded students. The board at the University of London warned him to tone down his teachings and return to the original material within the course outline or face being placed on academic probation. Harper attempted to make efforts to appease them but in time his strange behavior returned, even worsened, and after multiple advisories as well as a term on medical leave that accomplished little results, he was subsequently removed from his teaching position.

“Professor Harper then threatened the university with a very public lawsuit over what he claimed was the illegal termination of his employment contract and the tarnishing of his reputation. He said that it would be his pleasure to drag the proceeding on and on with appeals and delays until he was successful in his case. Wanting to avoid any negative media press and wishing just to be distanced from this man, U of L settled out of court for a sum equal to the remaining terms of his contract plus a small concession.

“Harper then took a break from life in London and set off travelling the world once more and rumors abound that he visited many far off and ancient lands on these trips. After a few years abroad he returned to his London residence in Hampstead and soon after began offering private consultation to those interested in his fields of study. He had since lived off those incomes, some monies acquired from shady benefactors and the interests earned on his invested inheritance, if I recall.

“His name has surfaced frequently in newspapers over the past few years as I mentioned, but personally I have never met the man.”

“Well you will now Mr. Holmes” returned Lestrade, “Or what’s left of him.”

Murder Most Foul

After a forty minute ride through various parts of the city the carriage arrived in Hapstead and soon slowed and turned off the main road the group had been travelling, through a wrought iron metal gate and onto a somewhat well groomed but dusty path. In the distance loomed the Harper Estate, resting high upon a rise that overlooked the pleasant surrounding countryside.

The pathway that cut through the property was flanked by tall and slender poplar trees, now mostly bare of foliage, and various ornamental shrubs and bushes. Watson noticed that the grounds about the house were somewhat neglected; fallen leaves carpeted the yellowing grass, weeds grew wildly rampant and scraggly overgrown brambles begged to be trimmed. Was there even a gardener about, he thought?

The house itself could well have use a fresh coat of paint as large patches of peeling and flaking could be seen here and there, some of the intricate architecture reliefs had sadly fallen into disrepair as well with loose trim and ornamentation apparent. Otherwise it was a typical house for the area, wide but not deep, with rooms that featured large bay windows covered by simple wooden shutters spread out over two stories.

Watson descended from the hansom behind Holmes and was greeted in turn by one of the police constables on duty as well as the custodian of the residence, the butler, who politely guided the group through to the back of house and into the scene of the crime; Professor Harper’s study. Two more police constables were present on guard here, both held handkerchiefs firmly over their noses, and Watson soon understood why. A strong noxious smell of foul decay filled the room, one of mold mixed with rotten meat permeated by the thick odor of animal like musk. Even as the fresh chill air circulated about the room from outside the stench was overwhelming. Lestrade extracted a handkerchief from his jacket and covered his nose as his colleagues had done; Holmes and Watson on the other hand simply winced at the odor and moved forward into the scene of the crime.

The corpse itself was sprawled face up on the wooden floor, about four feet inside from a set of shattered patio doors that had once lead out from the study into the garden situated behind the house. The victim was clothed in his evening wear, with silk robe and undershirt slightly opened so as to expose a view of the body beneath. True to Lestrade’s statement earlier, the Baker Street duo noticed that Professor James Harper had been murdered in a very graphic manner indeed.

Holmes and Watson knelt down to attend to the body lying on the floor.

“Your medical opinion doctor, please.” The detective began to explore Harper’s evening robe inside and out as he spoke. “Provide, if possible, the cause of death and how long ago it occurred if you can.” he added.

The detective stopped rummaging around within the robe for a moment and removed a hand written letter, sans envelope, from one of the inside pockets. He glanced at it quickly, turned it over and then placed it securely within a pocket of his own waistcoat.

“Well Holmes, the man is very much deceased.” Watson began as he gestured towards Harper’s face, “The corpse itself is fully dehydrated, the skin shriveled and dry as if all the life juices had been drained from it somehow, there seems to be very little fluid remaining if any. How then that the eyes remain intact completely dumbfounds me.” The doctor pointed to the wide staring orbs that remained complete and undamaged. Note that the victim’s body is very dry, with the epidermis flaking away as if death had happened many years ago, almost like an ancient mummy found in a tomb. I find this condition remarkable considering that Lestrade had mentioned to us earlier that the death was apparently inflicted very early this morning, only a few hours ago.” Watson turned to the detective with look of puzzlement upon his face. “Very strange indeed Holmes, I have never within the history of my practice encountered a corpse in such a condition.”

Holmes listened attentively as the good doctor turned back to the body and continued his simple autopsy.

“Discoloration and bruising are evident around the neck as well,” he pointed to the blackish blue hue around the victim’s throat. “Perhaps marks of strangulation or as if some item was violently pressed upon or removed from the area; a cord, wire or chain, yet strangulation is not the cause of death here.” Watson attempted to lift one of Harper’s arms, it was already stiffening. “The body is in a state of rigor mortise and the face is frozen in a countenance of pure fear or dread. Just look at that expression Holmes! His last vision in this life was certainly one of some horrific confrontation.”