The last post I did here was in regard to Micheal Dibdin's rather infamous
The Last Sherlock Holmes Story, and also, my attempt to counter it with a short story of my own.
There is one other story (that I'm familiar with) that attempts something similar to Dibdin's story ( don't read the fourth paragrpah here, if you don't want read SPOILERS for that tale!), and which
does include the satisfying double twist that Dibdin's story lacks.
That tale is to be found in a collection of wierd fiction I've had for some years now, called
Shadows over Baker Street. This is an anthology of tales that pit Holmes and Watson against wierd menaces inspired by the horror of H. P. Lovecraft. Unlike all the tales in the canon, here the bizarre nature of crimes has no "rational" explanation. Among the best herein are a tale in which Moriarty gets his hands on the Necromonican (narrated by Moriaty himself on a phonograph!), and "A Study in Emerald" by Nial Gaiman, involving an alternate reality, in which the roles of Holmes and Moriarty are reversed.
My favorite tale in the bunch, however, is "Horror of the Many Faces,"by horror veteran Tim Lebbon. The story hooks the reader from the very first sentence, and , beleive me, doesn't let go until the last page, by which time the reader should be wrung dry. The story opens with Watson witnessing the same type of dreadful scenario that occurs half-way through Dibdin's novel; in other words, he beholds none other than his trusted, lifelong friend, Sherlock Holmes, in the act of eviscerting a freshing slaughtered corpse.
What Watson first suspects, naturally, is that his friend has gone tragically insane. When other reports come in around London involving the same manner of killings, each one witnesed by friends and realtives of the killer(s), Watson assumes Holmes is responsible for all of them; he's a master of disguise, after all. As might be expected, of course, Watson misses an obvious question as to why "Holmes" did not bother to disguise himself the first time, when none other than his best friend was able to identify him.
This being weird fiction, of course, the reader can guess that the cultprit is likely to be something other than a mere master of disguise or a madman. I won't spoil the ending for this one, but suffice to say that the great detective is left distrubed and brooiding over the fact that there are some things beyond the ability of even
his mighty intellect to solve; secrets that, in fact, lie beyond the ability of human comprehension.
Definitely a thought-provoking short tale, and worth a read, especialy on a dark, blustery November night.
