Young Sherlock Book Novels & Stories

“That, I can help with. Although, I think that if you’ve gone that long without food, maybe we should start light. How about some scrambled eggs. Not with toast, though. That would be too heavy. Just the eggs to start with.” I let my head sink into the pillow. “That sounds like heaven.” She patted my hand before scurrying out of the room. I picked up the large envelope and then set it back down. I knew what it said without reading it. Instead, I opened the small white envelope. It contained a key and a one page note that said:

LUKE MATTHEW “WHAT ON EARTH are you saying? That is preposterous! Don’t give me this kind of disagreeable information.” “But why, Miss Cake? Is the young detective afraid of the truth now? Didn’t your father tell you that when you have eliminated all which is impossible—” “—then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I KNOW, DOCTOR! And it isn’t Dad; it’s from The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes.”

As soon as she went, I slowly closed the door and locked it. Time to change as Sherlock Holmes Esha! I started invading her cupboard and I actually was quick enough. I searched her cupboard but I could find nothing expect some company folders of Varun. There was absolutely nothing related to her. I was so pissed that I went and shook the cupboard to bust it down. But I wasn't that strong enough! Thank goodness... the cupboard didn't fall on me.

He chuckled as he stopped in front of me. Without giving me a response, he raised a book in my face. "A gift for you," he mumbled. I leaned my head backward, my eyes narrowed. I had questions, but I couldn't ask them when I saw the title and the author's name on the book. "What the... How did you....," I grabbed the book from him. This was Timothy Sherlock's new book. Aside from being an actor, he was also a great author. He had briefed everyone about his new book, but he never told us when it would be available for purchase.

I did my best to take care not to scratch the leather, but when it fell into my arms, I noticed what looked like a fresh dig. Books were not as common in that era as they were in the future so I felt bad about causing damage to it. My lamenting lasted only briefly. An intense curiosity took over just as soon as I realized that it was a journal. It was not just any journal, either. This journal belonged to the late Elsbeth Sleuth. Could the deep, dark family secret be discovered within its pages? I simply had to find out. Lowering myself into a comfy nearby chair, I opened to the first page and focused on the elaborate handwriting. It took some time to familiarize myself with her dramat

Evelina pulled a book out of her bag that she borrowed earlier in the school library. BAM!!! The thumping sound of the book she put on her desk, sounded very loud because the book was quite heavy and thick. Evelina checks the book and she realizes that she borrowed so much. She didn’t expect that the books borrowed by her were enough. So, no wonder Rissa commented on this morning. “Let’s see what books I just borrowed ...,” murmured while sorting out the book. “There’s a Sherlock Holmes novel, Her Last Word, A Time Return, ... and finally you’re my butterfly?”

She says nothing, simply flashing white teeth to me then turning away. Going teary? Elizabeth tugs at Michael's robe. "What have you given Charlotte for Christmas? I've not seen whatever-it-is." "That's because I haven't given it to her yet." He fetches a package from a cupboard, prettily wrapped and very obviously a book. As she pulls at ribbons and bows, it falls open to reveal a collector's edition of 'The Complete Sherlock Holmes'. Beaming, she retreats to an armchair, flicking through the colour plates...

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

I was collecting my books from my locker when I saw a girl standing near me with nevous look on her face. She hugged her books and was shifting her weight from one leg to the other looking uncomfortable. "Yes?" I asked her and her eyes which were looking at her shoes earlier met mine. They looked shocked on seeing me but I felt nothing. She opened her mouth to say something but it looked like she was too nervous to even form a sentence While she was trying to form words I took her appearence. Black eyes,long black hair tied in a messy bun,loose sky blue t shirt which was a size bigger,black jeans and white sneakers.

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.