Résultats de "Craig Stephen Copland" dans Toutes les catégories

A SANDAL FROM EAST ANGLIA. To Sherlock Holmes she will always be The Nun. But is this brilliant young woman carrying on a secret double life - a life far too sensual for a member of a holy order? She is helping archeological excavations at the ruined Abbey of St. Edmund, where a sealed canister has been unearthed. In it is a document that has the potential to change the course of the British Empire and all of Christendom.

THE SIGN OF THE TOOTH: A BEAUTIFUL, YOUNG WOMAN ENTERS 221B BAKER STREET. HER FATHER, HIS CLOSEST FRIEND, AND A YOUNG MEDICAL STUDENT HAVE ALL DIED IN THE PAST TWO WEEKS Each body was found soon after death but with rigor mortis already set in. She believes they were murdered and seeks the help of Sherlock Holmes. The mystery that led to their deaths began fifteen hundred years ago when the sacred tooth of the Buddha was brought to Ceylon. Since then it has never left the Temple of the Tooth in Kandy where it has been guarded and worshiped.

A Scottish clergyman and his faithful border collie visit 221B and tell a tale of a ghostly Banshee on the Isle of Skye. After the specter appeared, two people died. Holmes sends Watson on ahead to investigate and report. More terrifying horrors occur and Sherlock Holmes must come and solve the awful mystery before more people are murdered. A tribute to the original story in the Canon, Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpiece, The Hound of the Baskervilles.

On the day after Queen Victoria died, the body of a Scotland Yard inspector is found in a locked room in 222 Baker Street, right across the road from the home of Sherlock Holmes. There is no clue as to how he died, but for certain, he was murdered. Then another murder takes place, in the very same room. Scotland Yard calls for the help of Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson might have to offer themselves as potential victims if the culprits are to be discovered.

What happened after Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson pardoned Captain Jack Croker for killing Sir Eustace at the Abbey Grange. Have you imagined that he sailed the seven seas for a year and then returned to his beautiful, beloved Mary Fraser? That didn't happen. A year later, murder, treachery, and international intrigue descended on Abbey Grange and, once again, Sherlock Holmes was called upon to bring criminals to justice and assist in the course of true love.

Remember Violet Smith, the beautiful young woman who Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson rescued from a forced marriage, as recorded in The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist? Ever wonder what happened to her and her true husband, Cyril Morton, in the years that followed. Well, ten years later she and Cyril reappear in 221B Baker Street with a strange tale of the theft of their bicycles -- hardly a crime worthy of the brilliant mind of the world's greatest detective. But ...What on the surface seemed like a trifle turns out to be the door that leads Sherlock Holmes into a web of human trafficking.

The deadly final encounter between Professor Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes took place at Reichenbach Falls on 4 May 1891. But when was their first encounter? When did Holmes first come to know that there was a evil genius behind a massive web of crime? This new story answers that question. What began with nothing more than a stolen Gladstone bag on wheels quickly escalates into murder and more. And if Holmes and Watson do not move fast enough, it could become much worse. This new story is a tribute -- a 'prequal' -- to the Canonical story of The Final Problem.

Colonel James Barclay needs the help of Sherlock Holmes. His exceptionally beautiful, but much younger, wife has disappeared and foul play is suspected. Has she been kidnapped and held for ransom? Or is she in the clutches of a deviant monster? Are thousands of pounds at risk? Are the household staff in on it? Will Holmes find her in time, and if he does, what then? The story is a tribute not only to the original mystery, The Crooked Man, but also to the biblical story of King David and Bathsheba.

At Oxford University, an influential professor has been proselytizing for anarchism. Three naive students fall for his doctrines and decide to engage in direct action by stealing priceless artifacts from the British Museum, returning them to the oppressed people from whom their colonial masters stole them. In the midst of their caper, a museum guard is shot dead and they are charged with the murder. After being persuaded by a vulnerable friend of the students, Sherlock Holmes agrees to take on the case. He soon discovers that no one involved is telling the complete truth.

Royston Giles Tamblyn III paid a visit to 221B Baker Street without a prior appointment on the morning of Saturday, 4 May 1901. He was a handsome young fellow, with flawless pale skin, well-combed hair that was blond-on-its-way-to-brown, and straight, gleaming teeth. He was dressed in a blazer and flannels, a creaseless white shirt, and an expertly tied old-school tie. In his polished boots, I could have seen my reflection had I bent over to inspect them.

"To the man who loves intellectual stimulation," remarked Sherlock Holmes, "London in August is the lowliest month on the calendar. Those with the means to do so have departed for the Algarve and the Riviera. Those without are off to Blackpool and Brighton." "And what about those," I asked, "who are left behind? You and I are still here." "You at least have your sensational accounts of my efforts to keep scribbling. I, on the other hand, am losing faith in the enterprising criminal class."

On Easter Sunday of 1919, Lady Lillian Assherton attempted to take her own life, a second time. Her first attempt was in the fall of 1917 when Her Ladyship, recently widowed, received news that both of her sons, officers in the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, died at Passchendaele.

Royston Giles Tamblyn III paid a visit to 221B Baker Street without a prior appointment on the morning of Saturday, 4 May 1901. He was a handsome young fellow, with flawless pale skin, well-combed hair that was blond-on-its-way-to-brown, and straight, gleaming teeth. He was dressed in a blazer and flannels, a creaseless white shirt, and an expertly tied old-school tie. In his polished boots, I could have seen my reflection had I bent over to inspect them.

"To the man who loves intellectual stimulation," remarked Sherlock Holmes, "London in August is the lowliest month on the calendar. Those with the means to do so have departed for the Algarve and the Riviera. Those without are off to Blackpool and Brighton." "And what about those," I asked, "who are left behind? You and I are still here." "You at least have your sensational accounts of my efforts to keep scribbling. I, on the other hand, am losing faith in the enterprising criminal class."

On Easter Sunday of 1919, Lady Lillian Assherton attempted to take her own life, a second time. Her first attempt was in the fall of 1917 when Her Ladyship, recently widowed, received news that both of her sons, officers in the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, died at Passchendaele.

Sherlock Holmes was not happy. "No, Mrs. Hudson, I will not see her now. Send her away and tell her to come back later." It was just past seven in the morning and we were enjoying an early coffee on a pleasant Sunday in the first week of June 1902, when Mrs. Hudson interrupted us. Holmes's longsuffering landlady did not leave.

Sherlock Holmes was not happy. "No, Mrs. Hudson, I will not see her now. Send her away and tell her to come back later." It was just past seven in the morning and we were enjoying an early coffee on a pleasant Sunday in the first week of June 1902, when Mrs. Hudson interrupted us. Holmes's longsuffering landlady did not leave.

He was not much more than a child. I estimated his age at fourteen. He was a handsome boy, with the raven-black hair and deeply tanned skin color that marks a person who came from the lands under the Raj. His young body was beginning to show the signs of an emerging well-made sportsman. From his place, lying on his back on the pavement, his dark-brown eyes stared up at the morning sky ... lifeless. Behind his head was a pool of blood, now darkened and congealed.

He was not much more than a child. I estimated his age at fourteen. He was a handsome boy, with the raven-black hair and deeply tanned skin color that marks a person who came from the lands under the Raj. His young body was beginning to show the signs of an emerging well-made sportsman. From his place, lying on his back on the pavement, his dark-brown eyes stared up at the morning sky ... lifeless. Behind his head was a pool of blood, now darkened and congealed.

Oxford University is famous throughout the world for its splendid architecture, lovely manicured lawns and gardens, and passionate pursuit of research, teaching and learning. But it turns out to be at the center of a case involving fraud, theft, treachery, and, maybe, murder. The Rhodes Scholarship has been recently established and is seen at one of the greatest prizes available to young men throughout the Empire. So much so that some men are prepared to lie, steal, slander, and, maybe murder, in the pursuit of it.