Sherlock Holmes and the Chelsea Necrophile

By John A. Little

In another fascinating Sherlockian tale from John A. Little, a mysterious organ plays itself while carrying a strange coded message along its keyboard, causing a mild-mannered vicar to seek the assistance of Holmes and Watson. The famous duo investigate - but with somewhat unexpected results! Available now for the first time as an eBook in its own right, this excellent short story was first published in 2015 in the second collection of The Final Tales of Sherlock Holmes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MX Publishing
• Release date: Feb 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781787050648

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Sherlock Holmes and the Chelsea Necrophile

John A. Little

Publisher Information

First published in 2015

This edition published in 2017 by

MX Publishing

335 Princess Park Manor, Royal Drive

London, N11 3GX

www.mxpublishing.com

Digital edition converted and distributed by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

© Copyright 2015, 2017 John A. Little

The right of John A. Little to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed herein belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of MX Publishing or Andrews UK Limited.

The Chelsea Necrophile.

‘Well, Watson,’ said Holmes, flicking over the pages of his Times newspaper. ‘What about it? Do you believe that we living organisms can communicate with the dead?’

‘Great Scott, Holmes!’ I protested, through a mouthful of toast. ‘What a question at breakfast!’

It was Christmas Eve in the year of our Lord 1925, and Holmes was still recovering from his nightmare as a captive freak at Macaroni’s Carnival. The case of the headless baby had so unnerved him that he had returned to his daily seven-per-cent solution of cocaine, after an initial overdose that almost did for him. I knew that loss of appetite and sleeplessness were side-effects of the drug, and I noticed the great detective had not touched Lily’s excellent eggs and bacon. Yet I could not find it in my heart to criticise him. I am uncertain as to my own reaction to being covered in plaster-of-paris and held in a straitjacket