Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (24 page)

“Over here Watson!” signaled Holmes. He pointed to the ominous monoliths on the far hill. “The path of destruction continues toward the ring of stones beyond.”

They followed the swath of damage left in the creature’s wake. Every so many feet Holmes stooped low to examine the trail of mostly blackened ash. The charred winding path continued to lead them up the hillside and eventually into the center of the ring of stone pillars that sat hauntingly at its apex.

There was no beast waiting for them, the area was empty save for the smoke issuing from the scorched earth. The burnt grass within the circle was smoldering and some large stones about had been seared and cracked by the immense temperatures blasted upon them. Watson observed that the ancient pillars themselves remained cool to the touch, seemingly unaffected by the beasts scorching heat. The ancient monoliths were four feet wide by about two feet deep, stood twelve feet into the air and were cut in basic rectangle shapes, there were thirteen of them in all. The doctor also noticed that they are composed of the same smooth black stone as that of the cosmic portal located in cave complex below and covered in symbols of some strange alphabet. The ring of archaic monoliths reminded him of the ones at Stonehenge back in England.

Holmes examined the ground within the pillars once again letting the ashen soil fall between his fingers. He then peered upward into the night sky, his eyes squinting slightly. “Look there Watson! The creature has taken to the heavens! Look as it hurtles toward the stars.” He pointed toward a bright mark in the sky that streaked quickly across the heavens, like a shooting star it trailed a bright tail behind it, its glow brilliant amber.

“The Taurus constellation! Towards that bright orange star is where it heads, the star named Aldebaran.” Holmes paused as he focused on elements from memory. “Lebda had mentioned that star in his notes. The name translated from its Arabic origin as ‘The Follower’. He also wrote that the star was associated somehow as ‘The Origin’. The origin of whom or what I dare not imagine and for what sinister purpose Cthuga makes for that star I cannot begin to fathom, hopefully it returns to its cosmic home for good.

“Are we safe Holmes? Is the threat over?” Watson asked with baited breath. “Can we assume the beast has finally left us, and if so, for how long?”

“I cannot rightfully say old friend. Based on Harper’s translated notes from the Necronomicon about the Cthulhu mythos, the crackling molten beast of energy that we now see blasting through the night sky is referred to as Cthuga. It is the first entity sent through any gateway or portal opened to other realms and its task is to cleanse the immediate area beyond the gateway of any threats that may hinder the passage of its master and his minions who pass through the gate afterwards. The real threat comes from the entity that passes through the gate after it, and we just managed to close the portal before that entity could gain entry. I sincerely hope Cthuga will remain absent for a long time while on its journey through the cosmos, yet one cannot be sure,” replied Holmes as he gazed to the heavens. “The thing we fought briefly in the ceremonial chamber below must certainly be its master or one of its master’s many servants. Unfortunately I was not spared the ignorance of its reality, as before the gateway re-solidified I was able to briefly gaze into the realm they populate. In that only brief moment I witnessed horrors of untold description and insanity, including the actual physiology of the tentacled beast that attacked us. What had managed to pass through the portal below were only the outer most appendages of a massive cyclopean creature! The thrashing tentacles that projected from the opened gateway were actually the fingers of the beast alone!”

Watson gasped, remembering the words his friend mumbled earlier in the portal chamber. “We are all so small, so very, very, small...”

“In time,” Holmes continued. “It’s complete gargantuan mass would have squeezed through the portal, up the passageways and out into this world, destruction and death its only desire!

“By removing the Eye from the Watcher’s face the idol went blind, it could no longer see and the gate and the path to our world was lost. The portal closed and sealed over, the gateway to our reality slammed shut. Luckily the bits of loathsome beast left behind could not survive on their own, and were reduced to simple dark stains on stone. But I fear that it is not the last time humanity will encounter that beast, or other sinister beings from similar origin.

I am sure that there are many similar Illuminati like Count Lebda who tamper with the powers of the dark arts, who explore the black voids of the occult and use the twisted knowledge of alchemy in attempts to release powers of unnatural science. There are secret religions spread around our globe, in the dark corners of the Earth that worship the malign pagan gods of days long past, who’s rituals and ceremonies, sacrifices and summoning may create gateways that allow for these nightmares to pass from dream into wakeful horror. Those Illuminati do not fully understand the powers with which they play and cannot remotely control these beings if they tried. Their ignorance will be humanity’s downfall.

“These evil entities cannot be stopped unless we humans remove ourselves from the equation. Until then, chances are that these malignant forces will continue to influence us through telepathy and dream in hopes that they may achieve their nefarious ends with humanity as their tool. Unfortunately for mankind these beings can manipulate their will upon the weak through mind control so humanity is never truly safe. Before we worry about these monstrous entities themselves, we must first deal with those, like Lebda, who attempt to free them from their cosmic bonds and release them upon us. Prevention is the key!

“To reference a quote I read within that blasted text the Necronomicon: ‘That is not dead that can eternal lie. And with strange eons even death may die.’

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson wandered back down the hillside to the cave entrance; the air was still, the night calm once again.

“Watson, I do not see any trace of our horse and trap. Did you tie them up properly when we arrived?”

The doctor paused a moment as he thought then replied; “Actually Holmes, I think that in my shaken state earlier I forgot to secure them to the tree, or if so then hastily at best. So sorry but I’m afraid the horse must have bolted when startled by the beast.”

A wide smile broke Holmes’ visage. “Actually Watson, this time your bumbling ways have saved the life of that poor animal and perhaps if we are lucky enough, a long walk back to town for us both. Let us start on the return trek, it may be possible that we will encounter our steed and carriage somewhere along the route back.”

Holmes patted Watson on the back and the two adventures began their slow walk back to Bad Münster. Both were greatly spent from their recent trails and wished nothing more than a warm cup of tea and the comfort of a soft bed.

After trudging about two miles down the road Watson spotted their horse and trap in a small meadow not far off. The horse grazed on the sparse yellow grass and although slightly restless, was easily approached and secured.

Although the ride back to town was bumpy it was well appreciated as both were on the verge of physical exhaustion, let alone great mental strain. They travelled in relative silence as the early morning breeze flowed chillingly about them. Watson ever so often glanced over his shoulder at the cave mouth in the cliff face that receded behind. It reminded him of a recent dream, a nightmare, but now with a different ending.

Eventually the duo came to the rise in the road that led down through the wide valley and into the sleepy village below. It was still well before dawn and only a few chickens and stray dogs were seen scratching about at that early hour, the rest of the village enjoyed their last few hours of repose before sunrise.

Holmes stopped the carriage at the front entrance to the inn. The horse pawed at the dirt as Watson jumped down and shook the dust from off his pants. He noticed that Holmes had not budged from the driver seat. “Aren’t you coming Holmes? I’m sure we can muster some sort of meal even at this early hour. I am thoroughly famished and well in need of a bath!”

“Not just yet old boy, I must return the horse and carriage to the stables as none are yet awake to do so for us. I shall be back soon so don’t worry. Meanwhile slowly gather our bags and possessions and secure yourself that bath. We will enjoy some cheese and cold meats for our breakfast on my return. After that, a good long nap. Then we will be off for the train station, our return to London and the cozy warmth of Baker Street proper.

“Lend me your tinder box won’t you? I lost my matches back in those caves and would very much like to smoke a cigarette, it seems to have been ages since my last pipe and am dying for some tobacco.” Watson tossed him the tinderbox, which Holmes secured in his waistcoat; in return he removed the Eye of the Watcher from a side pocket, which he tossed into Watson’s outstretched hand. “Whatever you do Watson, keep this as secure as possible and out of sight. Guard it with your very life!”

Watson eyed the relic suspiciously. The artifact was smooth and cool to touch, weighing about three pounds, and although some early rays of dawn streamed brightly over the hills none cast reflection off the ebony jewel at the artifact’s center, which remained dark as pitch.

He looked up as the trap clattered off down the road. It kicked up a cloud of dust and stones in its wake. Sherlock Holmes sat straight backed within leading the horse; he hummed a friendly tune as he enjoyed his well-earned cigarette, a smile on his face.

Homeward Bound

Watson was busy settling the bill at the front desk of the inn when Holmes walked down the stairs with his luggage in hand. “Are you ready doctor? The return journey home awaits us!”

Watson nodded in confirmation and handed Holmes a paper bag with a cold lunch wrapped within. “I secured some of those wonderful sausages for the road.” he added.

“Thank you dear friend, my stomach growls like an angry tiger that needs silencing!”

The pretty barmaid winked slyly towards Watson as he bid her good day, his cheeks flushed red in return.

They rode toward the train station secured comfortably within the back of a carriage provided by the inn; the young stable boy rubbed his uncombed hair as he guided the horses onward. By now Holmes had retrieved his pipe from his belongings and was inhaling the rich tobacco deeply. Most of the villagers were awake and ambling about the village by now, busying themselves with daily chores and business, unaware of the horrific events that had occurred only a few miles away.

In the distance the morning train blew its warning whistle, the two old friends galloped toward the station.

To Watson’s amusement Holmes puffed out smoke rings all along the way.

The salt breeze whipped about them crisp and cold, it ruffled their overcoats and made their eyes squint, but neither complained. Both looked out as the coast of France faded in the horizon in the wake of the steamer Discovery. The ship was named after the one that Robert Falcon Scott and his expedition almost had to abandon while trapped in the thick crushing ice of Antarctica a few years before. The irony that Scott’s expedition was able to return home safely after facing almost death defying odds was not lost on the two adventurers who shared a similar adventure.

It was in this vicinity, just a number of days ago, that the Aurora was pulled down below the surface in a mass of tentacles and frothing water. Rescue vessels had not located any trace of the ship or its crew and the newspapers were still at a loss to explain her disappearance. Watson peered into the deep churning waters, shuddered slightly at the memory and broke the silence, “I never thought we would return from that dark pit of hell Holmes. When we were imprisoned in that cell under those tons of rock, I surely expected to meet my maker and never see the shores of England again.”

“Well old friend, the shores of England loom ahead of us, home is not far now and although faced with our most difficult adventure to date we have come out alive and perhaps a little for the better.”

“Better Holmes? I think I will suffer nightmares for months! Will I ever sleep decently again? I may even need to turn to the needle for solace,” he quipped.

“Sure enough Watson, we have witnessed the impossible and terrific, elements of truly horrific proportions. Yet the research undertaken by Count Lebda and Professor Harper have shed a bright light on dark topics previously unknown to me. My understanding of this present reality and all its possibilities is no longer sure. My support system has been dismantled and thrown aside by our experiences. The laws of general science that were once secure have been disproved, the structural confines of logic have been broken and chaos pours out from the cracks. In a world where once all problems could be easily dissected and analyzed, sorted and catalogued, I now find myself in a position where I must embrace a new approach to deduction, one in which even the most implausible of reasoning, the illogical, must be studied.

“Recently I had been bored in work, especially so since the death of Professor Moriarty and my practice had become stale and uninteresting. Only the most intricate and complex of cases had drawn my attention, and these have been few and far between. I had even thought of retiring, to lead a quiet country life of bee keeping and relaxation, but after our last adventure I feel truly alive once again. The uncharted paths that have opened up before us have returned me to my youth, to a time where my mind eagerly soaked up new information like a sponge. I thought that I had filled that sponge to its capacity, but now I see that only a small part of that reserve has been used, and I desire to know more.