The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case Read Online Free Page A

called out a good morning to me, and before I could say ‘good morning Mr. Holmes’ he was gone.”
    The day was an exceedingly fine one and my spirits were high as I whistled for a cab to take me to my own home in Kensington. The streets were teeming with traffic and the journey seemed much longer than normal. As always Oxford Street was in the process of being ripped apart and the gangs of men and machinery seemed ever intent on inconveniencing the London traveler. The trip was in fact much longer than I could have anticipated and it was an hour and a half after setting out from Baker Street that I finally arrived at my modest home and surgery in Kensington.
    Mary was in the sitting room reading a letter when I arrived. Silently I stood in the doorway, watching her.
    “Hello sir,” said the maid walking up behind me. Startled, my wife looked up and with a little cry she threw down the missive and rushed to greet me. Though it had been no more than a week since we last had seen each other subsequent events had made it seem much longer. We embraced for a long time, and there were tears in her eyes and if truth be told my own eyes were probably moist.
    “Oh James, I am so happy to see you,” she said employing the nickname that only she would use. It was a habit which began at a time when we were first courting and it was a habit which I did not try to break her of.
    “The daily papers reported that Mr. Holmes had met with a most unfortunate end and I was so worried for him and indeed for you both.”
    “Did you not receive my telegram form Paris?” I asked.
    “Yes, however the reports of Mr. Holmes death reached the newspapers before I received your message. To my great relief the newspapers also reported that you were not harmed. Is Mr. Holmes really alive?”
    “Yes my dear, he is fine.” Mary had a soft spot in her heart for Holmes ever since he had assisted her in the matter of the Agra treasure.
    “But what of those newspaper reports?”
    “It appears that the standards of the European press are no better than those of their English counterparts. They reported the story without thoroughly investigating the facts and Holmes felt no need to contradict them. The London papers merely took at face value the reports from the French news agency.”
    “And what of you John? Were you in any danger?”
    Not wanting to worry her I said nothing, instead moving to the sideboard to pour myself a drink.
    “John,” she said.
    “Would you like a drink?” I asked her.
    “Please.”
    My wife knew me well enough to know that something had happened and she also knew that I would not be rushed into telling her of it. However with the patience of which only a wife or a clergyman was capable she eventually coaxed the story from me.
    Mary looked worried. “This Colonel Moran sounds to me to be a most dangerous creature. Does Mr. Holmes expect further trouble from the man?” she asked.
    “Holmes recognizes that Moran is a dangerous and cunning foe but thinks he is a spent force without Professor Moriarty directing him, but enough of this depressing business,” I said. “I saw you reading a letter when I came in. “Anything interesting?” I asked pouring us both another sherry.
    “It is from my friend Anna Rathbone,” she said picking up several pieces of paper from the settee. “She and Philip are thinking of starting a family however she says the Boers are becoming restless and they may have to leave Johannesburg and move back to England.”
    “That is good news. She is the violinist, is she not?” I said.
    “Yes. Your friend, Mr. Holmes, always liked her for that very reason,” she said.
    “I believe that she is one of the few women whom Holmes both likes and admires. But tell me Mary, has nothing else of interest ha ppened since I have been away?” I asked. I had missed the hustle and bustle of London and was keen to acquaint myself with the latest news.
    “I can think of nothing, save for the fact that