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- Herausgeber: Delos Digital
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
Giallo - short story (22 pagine) - Sherlock Holmes between Brahms and Joachim.
In 1884, a young and restless Sherlock Holmes, grappling with addiction and boredom, crosses paths with the famed violinist Joseph Joachim. What begins as a musical exchange spirals into a delicate investigation: Holmes is hired to spy on the maestro’s wife, suspected of infidelity. But the case will lead him far beyond Berlin—to Vienna, and into the orbit of another great reconciliation, this time with the composer Johannes Brahms himself.
London businessman, Orlando Pearson is the creator of The Redacted Sherlock Holmes series, which buries forever the idea that Sherlock Holmes might not have been a historical person.
Do you want to see Sherlock Holmes come to the rescue of Queen Victoria, arrange the borders of post-war Europe, clear Macbeth of murder, unravel King Oedipus’s complexities, or provide advice to the Almighty? Then you will find all this and more in the seven collections of short stories, two novels, and the six plays in the series.
When not communing with the spirits of 221b, Orlando enjoys sport, music, and browsing price comparison websites.
He has written Sherlock Holmes stories on all these topics.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026
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Cover
A Double Reconciliation
221B
38
Edited by Luigi Pachì
Orlando Pearson
A Double Reconciliation
short story
Delos Digital
This book
Sherlock Holmes between Brahms and Joachim.
In 1884, a young and restless Sherlock Holmes, grappling with addiction and boredom, crosses paths with the famed violinist Joseph Joachim. What begins as a musical exchange spirals into a delicate investigation: Holmes is hired to spy on the maestro’s wife, suspected of infidelity. But the case will lead him far beyond Berlin—to Vienna, and into the orbit of another great reconciliation, this time with the composer Johannes Brahms himself.
The Author
London businessman, Orlando Pearson is the creator of The Redacted Sherlock Holmes series, which buries forever the idea that Sherlock Holmes might not have been a historical person.
Do you want to see Sherlock Holmes come to the rescue of Queen Victoria, arrange the borders of post-war Europe, clear Macbeth of murder, unravel King Oedipus’s complexities, or provide advice to the Almighty? Then you will find all this and more in the seven collections of short stories, two novels, and the six plays in the series.
When not communing with the spirits of 221b, Orlando enjoys sport, music, and browsing price comparison websites.
He has written Sherlock Holmes stories on all these topics.
Contents
Cover
221B
Frontispiece
This book
The Author
Contents
A Double Reconciliation
(1)
(2)
(3)
Note by Henry Durham, historical advisor to The Redacted Sherlock Holmes series
From the same author
In the same collection
Did you liked this book?
Copyright
Cover
Frontispiece
Copyright
Book’s beginning
A Double Reconciliation
Contents
A Double Reconciliation
“Do you include violin-playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously.
“It depends on the player,” I answered. “A well-played violin is a treat for the gods–a badly-played one––”
“Oh, that’s all right,” he cried, with a merry laugh. “I think we may consider the thing as settled.
A Study in Scarlet, Undated but after July 1880
My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit.
The Red-Headed League, 1890
The time between 1891 and 1894 when my friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, was missing assumed dead, his body believed to be lying unrecoverable at the foot of Switzerland’s Reichenbach Falls, is known by followers of his activities as the Great Hiatus. It is surprising that a much longer hiatus has not attracted more attention. The Battle of Maiwand of the second Afghan War took place in July 1880 and when Holmes and I met my skin was still tanned from my time in the tropics. And yet the only dated case before 1887 is The Speckled Band of 1883.
The matter that follows fills in part of this much longer hiatus.
Up to about 1887 my friend was known in police circles as the police would often send to him cases that they saw no prospect of resolving but he was still quite unknown to the wider world. My readers are warned at the outset of this account of events that the picture that they will obtain of my friend in what follows is not a uniformly attractive one.
Holmes’s addiction to the needle had been obvious to me at an early point of our time of sharing quarters at Baker Street. In this first decade of his career as the world’s only consulting detective, he was occasionally absent on cases but much more often he would be just as absent as he sat only a few feet away from me across the fireside as the effect of his injections – often two or three straight after one another – took a hold. In a way a silent, stupefied fellow-lodger rather suited me as my nerves were still shattered from my battlefield ordeals, but looking across at him rendered incoherent by cocaine and with staring eyes, the pupils shrunk to the size of pinheads, was to see the ruination of a great mind.
There would be remissions and when, as I suppose I should say, the fit was not upon him, his behaviour was variable. Sometimes he would sit in his chair limp from the trial the cocaine had wrought upon his body. At other times he would become frenziedly active. He would seek to box with me although I would not take part or he would play the violin – almost invariably tunelessly – for hours and hours on end. Or he would hold forth on a variety of subjects – mostly crime but also chemistry and music. And he would lurch disconcertingly between the different three modes.
I had not seen him inject himself on the morning in 1884 that the matter that I now retell opened. Instead Holmes focussed on the newspapers – the crime pages, I assumed for that was normally his main interest. But no! He looked up and said, “Joachim plays Brahms at the Albert Hall this afternoon. Would you care to join me.”
“Who is Joachim” I asked as I was not then as well up on music as I was to become.
“There is Sarasate,” said my friend, “and there is Joachim. Between them they are the Paganini’s of the age. We are privileged to live in a time which has furnished us with two such masters of the bow.”
“And what can you tell me about Brahms?” I asked for while I knew the name I had heard little or none of his music at this time.
“Brahms has claims to be the world’s greatest living composer. He is a German who like Beethoven has made his life in Vienna.”
To my surprise Holmes set up a music stand, placed on it a beige-coloured score with the name Brahms on it, and played the opening of what he told me was Brahms’s violin sonata. The music, even from a few snatches, was, in contrast to the tuneless dirges Holmes was so wont to play, achingly tender, and I was so overcome as not to know what to say when he finally stopped playing.
