Mystery Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

By Pennie Mae Cartawick

Five Sherlock Holmes mysteries in one book collection. SPECIAL INTRODUCTORY PRICE.

Story one:
The Castle orphans
“How often does he visit you?” added Watson, producing his pipe from his pocket. He searched the same pocket for a match, then lit the device.
“He visits every week, and every few nights. He likes to sneak in the window and take things back to his castle!” The small girl played with the little tiger upon her knee.

Story Two:
The Curse of a Native.
Adams had violently slapped Kimilu so hard that the sheer force had floored the waiter and the usually humble waiter had lost it. He had stood up and angrily talked back at him in his native language which Adams did not understand. But Butler had lived in Africa for over two decades and he understood every word. His translation confirmed by other native workers who witnessed the drama. It was chilling to say the least.

Story Three:
Death in the Tropics of an English Explorer.
“And I suppose you expect me to solve the whole case on that information alone? Surely there is something more you can give me.” Replied Holmes; quickly losing interest in the subject.
Mycroft continued, “Suppose I said that it is possible, while studying the lives of an indigenous tribe known as the Koburu, that the great explorer, Sir Hughes Blakefield, was murdered in cold blood, poisoned with his evening scotch.

Story Four:
The Hex of a Gypsy Woman
he raised his disheveled head from his hands. The face was that of my friend, but the expression it bore was unrecognizable. He was indeed out of countenance. “All that I have seen and all that I know, dear fellow, for it to come to this. The great Sherlock Holmes undone by a gypsy woman.”

Story Five:
The Heist.
“Gentlemen, I am here to represent the interest of Henry Bank & Trust. We would like to resolve the situation quickly and quietly, so that all the investors can move forward with a minimum of anxiety.”
Holmes sat across from her, studying her with a nonplussed air. “I must admit” he said, “that I do not know how to assist you. Inspector Lestrade was here earlier, and it appears that you are missing nothing and they have no thieves in custody. When the bank emptied today, everything was in place, except for the criminals.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pennie Mae Cartawick
• Release date: Aug 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311058874

Pennie Mae Cartawick

* Pennie Mae Cartawick has been writing for many years. Her first book as a new author 'Choosing the right diet for success' became a best seller immediately. You can find many more of her books on Amazon and Audible.com Now she is a best selling author of over 40 books and short stories in both the fiction and nonfiction genres. Her work is based on a variety of subjects including weight management, nutrition, recipe books, and horror novelettes. But perhaps, she is best know for her Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Her books include: paperback, digital book format, and audio production. Her audio books are narrated by such celebrity actors as Mark Deakins, P.J. Ochlan, Barbara Goodson, Ian Whitcomb, Joey D' Auria, Simon Prebble,and Alex Hyde-White. She also draws her own illustrations for some of her short stories such as in "Silence Be Damned" and "The EXCHANGE". Most of books have achieved the top 100 best seller list within the first week of publication. She was born in the city of Sheffield in South Yorkshire, England. Shortly after graduating high school, she worked as a model and attended Shirecliffe College for Drama. Thereafter, she attended Stannington College for English, Art, Communication Skills and Photography. She then moved to London in her early twenties, where she studied and attained a career as a Beauty Therapist. She also obtained various certifications at DaneGlow International for slimming wraps and other deep heat treatments, and Thalgo Cosmetics for makeup (a French Company focusing on marine cosmetics). Her specialized skills include makeup, Swedish massage, reflexology, nutrition, diet and exercise. She migrated to Florida in 1993, where she has been living ever since. Although her profession now-a-days is as a real estate investor and a freelance beauty consultant, her passion is writing, and she uses the knowledge she acquired throughout the years on various subjects to enlighten others. She is the youngest sibling of three, including Anthony and Mark Cartawick. Pennie Mae is also a top reviewer for Amazon.

Book preview

Mystery Chronicles of

SHERLOCK HOLMES

A Quintet Collection of short stories

Pennie Mae Cartawick

Copyright

Copyright August 2014, all rights reserved. First edition

ISBN: 978-1515285519

The stories contained in this book are the work of fiction, names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Contents

The Castle Orphans

The Curse of a Native

Death in the Tropics of an English Explorer

The Hex of a Gypsy Woman

The Heist

About the author

Books

SHERLOCK HOLMES

IN

The Castle Orphans

It was once again a dreary day in the city of London, an occurrence that my associate Dr. Watson and I were quite used to. As my companion dozed off in the armchair of my study, I examined books about insects. I was attempting to study the habits of lightning beetles, which I had collected in a jar on my desk. They were unresponsive to the presence of cat hair and human fingernail trimmings so far.

Scanning through my notes, I decided to move on to sound considering the complete dullness of the current situation. I sat up on my desk and clapped my hands loudly.

What-what in heaven’s name? blustered Watson, who sat up in his chair and fumbled around for his glasses. He put them on and glared at me. Well, I was asleep, thank you! he grumbled.

I let out a loud laugh. Nonresponsive to loud noises, I remarked to myself, then let out a yell. Yes, nonresponsive. I wrote it down on the piece of paper.

I say, what in heaven’s name? groaned Watson, getting up and walking over to me.

I am conducting a study on lightning beetles, I announced, tapping the glass jar.

Holmes, I dare say you have a childlike air about you, sighed my friend, peering into the jar.

I cannot help my boredom on a rainy, miserable day of muck as this, I replied, flipping the pages of the insect book open on my desk. There came a rapping at the door, two quick knocks. It was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady from the sound of it.

Yes, yes, I stood up, opening the door.

In walked a short, elderly woman, who I recognized as a nun from her veil and simple dressing. I nodded my head.

How may we assist you, Sister? I asked politely, gesturing for her to sit in the chair formerly occupied by Watson.

She took a seat, folding her hands and looking at me with utmost severity.

Things are going missing at the orphanage, she explained with a dry tone, solemn and crackly.

Ah, I folded my arms. Large things, small things? In between things?

The Sister did not appear amused.

Small things, she described. Spoons and vases, a few blankets. And boys’ clothing. Young boys’ clothing. For all the Lord’s grace, the sisters and I cannot locate the thief. It is none of our children."

I gave her a curious look, then glanced over at Watson. He looked disinterested.

We can investigate the premises for you, Sister, I offered. Watson shrugged. Vases and spoons, what a peculiar disappearance.

My friend interjected his own idea. Perhaps someone is collecting items for their own home. A volunteer or a grounds worker.

The Sister shook her head. We have already interviewed our entire staff, as well as volunteers. And the Sisters are sworn to honesty, therefore, their words are true when they say they did not steal.

Oh, I replied quickly, holding my hands up. I do not blame any of your staff. You are doing good work. Shall we go to the orphanage and take a closer look?

I gestured to the door.

Watson nodded, giving me a smile, and helped usher the Sister out of my study. We accompanied her to the orphanage where a line of stern and somber nuns met us at the door. They seemed annoyed by my new, elegant coat, and one even sucked her teeth as she hung up the garment. Watson received a warmer welcome with a simple coat.

The Sister led us to the back room, showing us where the blankets had gone missing. I got to work examining the area, my companion by my side. He pulled out his magnifying glass and searched the worn peeled paint on the windowsill.

Fingerprints on the window, Holmes, he called me over. Tiny ones.

I stared through the glass until the light caught correctly and I could see the small prints. A child’s, I waved the idea away. There are children throughout the edifice, dear Watson. A simple brush against the pane from any curious young soul, and the marks are left. It could have been anyone.

He harrumphed. Yes, but these may be fresh, he attempted to add.

I shook my head,