A seemingly impossible mystery tests the keen mind and forensic skills of Joanna Blalock, the daughter of Sherlock Holmes and the heir to his unique talent for deduction, from USA Today bestselling author Leonard Goldberg.
The following case has not previously been disclosed to the public due to the sensitive information on foreign affairs. All those involved were previously bound by the Official Secrets Act. With the passage of time and the onset of the Great War, these impediments have been removed and the story can now be safely told.
When an executed original of a secret treaty between England and France, known as the French Treaty, is stolen from the country estate of Lord Halifax, Scotland Yard asks Joanna, Dr. John Watson, Jr., and Dr. John Watson, Sr. to use their detective skills to participate in the hunt for the missing treaty. As the government becomes more restless to find the missing document and traditional investigative means fail to turn up the culprit, Joanna is forced to devise a clever plan to trap the thief and recover the missing treaty.
Told from the point of view of Dr. John Watson, Jr. in a style similar to the original Sherlock Holmes stories, A Study in Treason is based partly on facts in our world and partly on the facts left to us by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
A Study in Treason is the perfect audiobook for fans of Sherlock Holmes.
Release date:
June 12, 2018
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
304
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There was joy in our rooms at 221b Baker Street that frosty London morning, but it was to be short-lived and soon replaced by a most somber mood. My father, John Watson, M.D., the close friend and longtime associate of the now dead Sherlock Holmes, was gradually recovering from a stroke he had suffered months earlier, but he continued to have weakness in his right leg, which caused him to limp noticeably on exertion. Of greater importance, those closest to him could tell that his mind, although still quite adequate, had not yet returned to its former self. It was in this regard that an eminent neurologist at St. Bartholomew’s suggested we use repeated brain stimulation to enhance my father’s mental acuity. Dear Joanna pursued this goal with zeal and spent hours on end reading and discussing old Sherlock Holmes cases with my father. The two never seemed to tire of these exchanges, with my father adding anecdotes never before revealed to the public. But the most enjoyable cerebral exercise for them was standing at the window overlooking Baker Street and studying the individuals passing by below.
“I say, Watson,” Joanna said, and directed his attention across the busy street. “What do you make of the fellow hurrying to the bus stop?”
“He is scurrying for a bus,” my father remarked. “Which indicates he is a man of modest means.”
“The cut of his clothes would tell us that as well,” Joanna observed. “Did you notice the wrapped gift he is carrying?”
“How do you know it is a gift?”
“Because it has a ribbon tied in a bow around it.”
“And nicely done so,” my father said. “I would think it is for his wife.”
“Then you would think wrong,” Joanna rebuked mildly. “For the man is a widower, as evidenced by the black band on his hat.”
My father groaned to himself. “I too saw the band, but failed to connect it to the gift.”
“The finer connections will come, Watson,” Joanna said. “You must be patient, for the process cannot be hurried.”
My father’s attention was suddenly drawn to another individual below. “Oh, my goodness! I now see an absolutely crazed man coming our way.”
My curiosity got the better of me and I rushed to the window to gaze out over my father’s shoulder. Running down the sidewalk, which was still covered with yesterday’s freak snowstorm, was a short, portly man, hatless against the cold, who was wildly turning his head from side to side, while at the same time slapping at his legs and chest with both hands. He kept his balding head down to such an extent that those walking toward him had to quickly move aside in order to avoid a collision.
“He is obviously very disturbed,” I commented.
“A sad exhibition of a madman,” my father agreed.
“Should we notify the police?” I asked.
Joanna shook her head. “There is no need, for he is neither disturbed nor mad.”
“But his actions say otherwise,” my father argued.
“Look carefully once more,” Joanna recommended. “Observe the repeated motions of his head and hands. They will explain everything.”
I, along with my father, studied the man as he drew closer to our window. Neither of us saw anything other than an obviously distraught, middle-aged man who appeared to be making uncontrollable motions with his hands. He paused briefly to raise his arms and then dig his fingers deeply into his waistcoat.
“Obviously it is small and quite precious,” Joanna commented.
“What?” I asked.
“The object he is searching for,” Joanna replied.
My father glanced at Joanna oddly. “Is that based solely on the poor man reaching into the pockets of his waistcoat?”
“It is based on everything he has shown us thus far,” Joanna told him. “He is a man desperately searching for something he recently lost.”
“Pray tell how you reached these conclusions,” my father requested.
“By connecting all of his motions, for they have a common denominator,” Joanna explained. “He is running because of the urgency of the matter, and the fact that he is hatless, despite the cold, tells us he has just discovered the loss and dashed out frantically to search for it. He keeps his head down and moving from side to side in hopes of spotting the lost item in the snow. And finally, he is not slapping at his thighs and waist uncontrollably, but rather patting at the pockets of his pants and waistcoat to determine if the item slipped off and is still in his possession.”
“But what is this object?” I asked.
“A small, precious item that will fit easily in the pocket of his waistcoat,” Joanna answered.
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