Sherlock Holmes, Dracula: Sherlock Holmes

By John Pirillo

Body drained of blood.

 

Ravaged.

 

Victim of a vampire?

 

Or something far worse?

 

Sherlock Holmes faces one of his strangest cases.

 

Is the Count Dracula the killer, or wrongly accused?

 

Buy your your book now.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Pirillo
• Release date: Dec 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201197674

John Pirillo

The author was born in Washington, Pennsylvannia. He loves animals and birds. Has two pet cockatiels that keep him company while he writes. He has a lovely daughter and a rascally grandson. He is rich in friends that matter and well adjusted to a life of challenges. He writes and draws every day. He loves anything science fiction, fantasy or extremely well written. Same goes for movies and TV. Not married currently, but has an eye and ear open to possibilities. :)

Book preview

Sherlock Holmes

DRACULA

John Pirillo

Copyright 2021

Table of Contents

Chase of Death

Count Dracula

Prelude to a Murder

Professor Langston

Sherlock Holmes

221B Baker Street

Dalliance with Countess Livia

Professor Langston

The Pit

Death Is Not Kind

Her Majesty's High Court of Justice

The Moon

221B Baker Street

Chase of Death

If you play with the toys of children,

You will become like a child

And be reborn.

But if you play with the guns of men

You will surely die

Slowly inside.

—Doctor John Watson

There he is. The rooftop. Came the cry of a man armed with a rifle. He cocked it and fired as a man, dressed in all dark clothing and a long black cape, with a masked face hidden beneath a black mask, leapt from one rooftop to the next. Or was he flying?

Below, on the cobbled streets of Valmeria, ten tall and gruff men, armed with odd, shaped rifles stormed into view. One of them shoved the rifleman roughly aside. Fool! Now he knows we’re onto him!

I was only trying to help...

He doesn’t finish, the gruff man takes the rifleman by his throat, lifts him off the ground so high that his feet dangle freely, then squeezes until we hear a popping and a cracking sound, then he tosses aside the dead rifleman like so much garbage.

He looks at the other nine. Don’t let him get away.

They rush off, separating as they do so into pairs.

The Gruff Man strokes a thick mustache he has above his overly large lips, and scowls. As he does his mouth opens, revealing teeth that are very canine like, sharp and pointed. It is then we also notice that his ears are quite pointed with tufts of hair poking from inside their ear channels.

He turns to his companion, who has feral looking eyes that glow a soft red. We must not lose him this time. He must not talk!

The other gruff man nods, then runs off to the right, almost leaping, as he dashes along a hard-stoned sidewalk towards the cobbled street below.

Count Dracula

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the light. It always did when I slept for that long. I stretched my muscles, watching them coil and uncoil along the length of my sleek, pale arms. Not a scratch visible. But I could still feel a lump on my right shoulder where the silver bullet had grazed it. Just a fraction more to the left and I wouldn’t be stretching now. I’d be ashes strewn across a cavern floor.

Every fool bounty hunter from Transylvania to London tried to take a shot at me these days. To make a long story short I made a mistake. I killed the wrong person. Not because they didn’t deserve it. They did. I showed them mercy, but they wouldn’t accept it. They insisted on torturing little children in the name of my family. And beheading soldiers and citizens, sticking their severed heads on spikes.

They called me Vlad the Impaler. I was not. He was! But try to stop and explain and I would not be telling this story. Someone else would, but not as kindly I suspect.

Draculas don’t take too kindly to imposters using their name in vain, pretending to be them to commit rape and pillage. And Draculas especially...especially don’t like it when it leads to stupid and ignorant people taking it on themselves to pursue us and kill us.

I didn’t relish the idea of waking up with a stake in my heart or my head rolling across the floor because some foolish villager, or bounty hunter decided I was the one who committed a crime I did not.

This brings me to who I am. Count Dracula. The Third. My grandfather was the original Dracul...which is a word that means of the earth...or Dracula. He was born of a noble family, whose roots went far back in time and into Fairie itself, where the first divergence between magical creatures and man began from.

I,