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- Herausgeber: Delos Digital
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
Giallo - short story (21 pagine) - Some conspiracies are invisible—until Holmes looks directly at them.
A routine inquiry draws Sherlock Holmes into a web with no obvious author and no visible edges. Power operates in whispers, decisions are made nowhere, and responsibility vanishes everywhere.
As Holmes follows the logic, he discovers a force that thrives beyond governments and laws. Even the greatest detective finds deduction strained by secrecy without a single mastermind.
Deep State is a chilling reflection on modern power, where truth exists—but is carefully concealed.
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
Deep State
221B
42
Edited by Luigi Pachì
Orlando Pearson
Deep State
short story
Delos Digital
This book
Some conspiracies are invisible—until Holmes looks directly at them.
A routine inquiry draws Sherlock Holmes into a web with no obvious author and no visible edges. Power operates in whispers, decisions are made nowhere, and responsibility vanishes everywhere.
As Holmes follows the logic, he discovers a force that thrives beyond governments and laws. Even the greatest detective finds deduction strained by secrecy without a single mastermind.
Deep State is a chilling reflection on modern power, where truth exists—but is carefully concealed.
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
Deep State
(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
Deep State
Contents
Deep State
“You reasoned it out beautifully,” I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration. “It is so long a chain of logic, and yet every link rings true.”
These were my words to Holmes at the conclusion of The Red-Headed League.
That work is one of the very few amongst those that I have published in my lifetime which starts with an inexplicable event and ends with the arrest of the criminal caught, as seems only appropriate from the work’s title, red-handed.
By contrast, and reflecting the rest of life, most of the works in the Canon have an inconclusive ending. Often the criminal escapes or dies before he can be apprehended, or no crime proves to have been committed. Sometimes Holmes identifies the felon and then, acting as a judge of the matter rather than merely as its investigator, decides to let the perpetrator go.
The matter that I narrate now shares a striking number of features with The Red-Headed League and yet has an ending even more inconclusive than the most inconclusive of the endings in the other canonical works. And there is another theme with which this work opens and which remarkably, and I hesitate to use the word which concludes this sentence for reasons my readers will come to understand, appears to have reached some sort of resolution.
When we met my friend had told me of his violin playing and throughout our time together he would play it. I had said at our first meeting that a violin well played was a treat for the gods and he had made clear he considered his playing as worthy of that description. But, as I have commented elsewhere, when left to himself, “he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm-chair of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee. Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine. I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a whole series of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience.”
On a sunny Saturday morning in August 1896 Holmes sat in his familiar seat at the unlit hearth. From the roadway below rose to our open window the familiar clopping of hooves and rumbling of carriage wheels but now there was something new. All week, standing a few doors down, had played a bearskin-wearing bagpiper, incongruous in London in his full Scottish regalia of kilt and sporran, and the wailing sound of the pipes underpinned by the drone from the bag, added to the hubbub. And today he had been joined by a drum-major, who chimed in with occasional but thunderous drum-rolls, although the rest of the time all I could hear was the wail of the pipes and the drone of the bag, the tunelessness chiming with what was emerging from under my friend’s fingers as he played his violin in the aimlessly desultory manner I refer to above.
Normally when Holmes played he would do so with his eyes three quarters closed as he saw his musicmaking as vying with his pipe as his companion of choice to his deepest contemplations. Now, by contrast, he seemed exceptionally alert and every so often he would lay down his bow and scribble down something in a notebook which lay on an occasional table beside him much as he did when conducting one of his chemical experiments. When I rose to refill my pipe, I observed that the right-hand page of his notebook had been filled in with leger lines to make the staves of a music manuscript.
It was approaching lunchtime before he addressed a word to me.
“Upon my word, good Watson, you are the perfect companion for my latest attempt at musical innovation.”
I would have described my attitude as being that of one who endured rather than listened, but I had no other occupation, so I gave my friend my full attention now.
“Musical innovation?” asked I.
“Music has three basic scales,” said he. “It has a major scale” – he broke off and played one – “and a minor scale” – he broke off and played another which started and ended on the same note, but which had two of its notes flattened, and this added to it a mood of gloomy exoticism. “Those were C major and C minor,” he added. C major has all the natural notes from A to G but starting and ending on C. C minor is the same but replaces E natural with E flat and A natural with A flat. Thus C major and C minor only have six notes in common of which two are the starting note and the ending note. The notes D flat, G flat, and B flat are missing from both altogether though they are important notes in other scales.”
