The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part II by David Marcum

half-crown in the butcher’s hand. “I would like to thank you for your time and bid you a good day.”
    â€œWell, sure, if that’s all you be needin’.”
    Holmes tipped his hat and started out the door. We stepped out into the sunlight of the day and stood silent for a moment at the edge of the street.
    â€œHolmes, Collier was dead an hour before that. How can this be?”
    â€œThere is something most foul here, Watson. Nothing is at it seems. That note had Collier’s handwriting on it. He must have sent it.”
    â€œA forgery, perhaps.”
    â€œBut about sausage? To what end? No, there is something deeper here. Something we haven’t seen.” Holmes tapped his cane impatiently on the ground.
    â€œPerhaps we should take a look at his home in Harrow,” I said.
    â€œI do not believe there is anything more to be learned there. Chamberlain’s notes were extensive enough. Also, there is no doubt that the place has been carelessly searched and the grounds tromped over.
    â€œThere are a number of things about this case that make it quite unique, my friend. I suspect that we will find out more about Jacob Collier than he ever wanted known.”
    â€œSo what now?”
    â€œBack to Baker Street. I am expecting a telegram - a response to one I sent this morning before you rose. It will confirm an idea I had this morning concerning a case in Greater Manchester.”
    Upon our arrival Mrs. Hudson met us in the hall.
    â€œMr. Holmes? There’s a gentleman waiting to see you. Been here about twenty minutes.”
    â€œThank you. Could you send up some tea, please?”
    We entered our sitting room and found a gentleman standing before our fireplace. He was dressed in a worsted suit with high black boots, and on the table lay his top hat and yellow leather gloves. He turned to look at us, clutching his lapels. One of his hands was bandaged, and the wrapping had loosened.
    Holmes hesitated for a barely perceptible moment and then walked over to the man. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is Dr. Watson. Who do we have the pleasure of meeting?”
    â€œMy name is not important,” the man said curtly. “I am not one to mince words so I shall get to the point. I understand you have some interest in the murder of a bookshop owner named Jacob Collier.”
    â€œI’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter. Perhaps you should approach Scotland Yard with your concerns,” Holmes said.
    â€œThen you are looking at it.”
    â€œWithout making an admittance of any kind, I will ask how it is that you believe I am familiar with this murder at all?”
    â€œEveryone has a price, Mr. Holmes, including a constable ordered to guard the door of his bookshop.”
    â€œSir, whatever I may or may not know about the situation, I will not be discussing anything with you or anyone else save the Inspector who has been assigned to the case.”
    The man’s jaw tightened and his fists balled.
    â€œYour bandage is tattered,” Holmes said. “Watson, would you be so good as to change the dressing for him?”
    â€œLeave it be,” the man barked, hiding his hand behind his back. “Jacob Collier was a friend of mine,” he continued. “He disappeared, and I’ve only recently found him. I hear, however, that he has been murdered. As I am still acquainted with his family, I am interested in conveying any news I can. I can make it worth your while to tell me what I want to know.”
    â€œI am terribly sorry, sir, but I cannot help you. I am certain that Mr. Collier’s family appreciates your concern, and I ask you to give them my condolences. Thank you for stopping in,” Holmes said with an insincere smile.
    The gentleman scowled and breathed deeply through flared nostrils. Without another word he grabbed his hat and gloves and hurried through the door. His steps checked, and he slowly descended the