The Case of the Missing Detective Stories

Last week I was sitting in the stock room chewing on a sandwich before starting my afternoon shift behind the till in the Oxfam Charity Bookshop in Stratford upon Avon. The room was surprisingly tidy. The usual chaotic piles of recently-donated books had already been sorted, priced, cleaned and put away on the shelves in their respective categories. A large gleaming volume still on the sorting table caught my eye.

(Click on the images to enlarge them.)

It was an omnibus edition of every Sherlock Holmes story that Conan Doyle had ever written, beautifully bound and decorated with gold leaf on the covers and sides. Having always has a soft spot for the Baker Street detective, I decided to consult the bookshop manager about the price. My family has justifiably complained about my bibliophilia, pointing out the serried rows of still-unread books on our bookshelves, but I have barely scratched the surface of Conan Doyle’s oeuvre and this was too good an opportunity to miss, even if I wouldn’t be able to smuggle it indoors concealed in my jacket pocket.

Further investigation showed it was a limited edition and therefore of possible antiquarian value, even perhaps a welcome legacy for one of our children. I can imagine the following exchange between the protagonists:

Dr Watson: Let me present you with this magnificent tribute to your career, Holmes. I have just acquired it from a bookseller in Charing Cross Road. It’s a complete collection of your famous cases.

Sherlock Holmes: Interesting Watson, set it on thi table next to me.

Dr Watson: Careful Holmes! You’ve split your port on it. Believe me, it set me back a pretty penny.

Sherlock Holmes:  I think you may have been taken for a ride, Watson. it has been rendered worthless, vandalized by a previous owner.

Dr Watson: My Goodness, you are right Holmes. Over 600 pages have been cut out. It’s hollow.  How did you know?

Sherlock Holmes:  Elementary my dear Watson. A tome of such dimensions, over a foot long, 9 inches wide and 4 inches thick, would weigh some eight or nine pounds. From your muscle movements, dexterity and facial expression, it was obvious you were handling a far lighter object, and I concluded at once that a previous owner must have hollowed it out to form a safe hiding place in his library, perhaps to protect the family jewels against burglary or to conceal a supply of spirits kept there to indulge a secret addiction.

Now here’s a challenge: Write an account of a new Sherlock Holmes adventure in which the criminal is uncovered and his fate sealed by the discovery of a hollowed-out book.