The Adventure of the Field Theorems
Vonda N. McIntyre
Language: English
Pages: 26
ISBN: B00GS887DA
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A Sherlock Holmes Scientific Romance. In which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle hires Mr Sherlock Holmes to investigate crop circles, and Dr Watson demonstrates to Mr Holmes the usefulness of astronomy.
"The Adventure of the Field Theorems" was originally published in Sherlock Holmes in Orbit and is reprinted with the kind permission of the editors, Mike Resnick & Martin Harry Greenberg.
raised one hand in farewell to the farmer. Robert saluted him. A small smile played around Holmes’s lips. As soon as we were alone in the private train car, Holmes flung himself into a luxurious leather armchair and began to laugh. He laughed so hard, and so long, that I feared he was a candidate for Bedlam. “Holmes!” I cried. “Get hold of yourself, man!” I poured him a glass of brandy — Napoleon, I noticed in passing. His laughter faded slowly to an occasional chuckle, and he wiped tears from
“how came you to be involved in this investigation?” I wondered if Holmes were put out. The mystery had begun in early summer. Here it was nearly harvest-time before anyone called for the world’s only consulting detective. “It is my tenants who have been most troubled by the phenomena,” said Sir Arthur, recovered from his earlier shock. “Fascinating as the field theorems may be, they do damage the crops. And I feel responsible for what has happened. I cannot have my tenants lose their
down the final road to the new field theorem. Suddenly it died. Robert stepped down from the running board to crank it, but none of his efforts revived it. Sir Arthur revealed a knowledge of colourful oaths in several languages. “Bushman,” Holmes muttered after a particularly exotic phrase. I reflected that Sir Arthur must have acquired this unusual facility during his service in the Boer War. We walked the last half-mile to the field. The afternoon’s heat lingered even in the shade of the
spared interrogation.” Dinner’s being far preferable to interrogation, we took Holmes’s advice. I noticed, to my amusement, that Robert’s children had lined the spectators up. Some visitors even offered the boys tips, or perhaps entry fees. At least the family would not count its day an utter loss. A photographer lowered his heavy camera from his shoulder. He set it up on its tripod and disappeared beneath the black shadow-cloth to focus the lenses. He exposed a plate, setting off a great
said, “but would one of you gentlemen kindly try the crank?” Holmes — knowing of my shoulder, shattered by a Jezail bullet in Afghanistan and never quite right since — leapt from the passenger seat and strode to the front of the automobile. He cranked it several times, to no avail. Without a word, he unstrapped the engine cover and opened it. “It’s too dark, Mr Holmes,” Sir Arthur said. “We’ll have to walk home from here.” “Perhaps not, Sir Arthur,” said I. “Holmes’s vision is acute.” I