A movie about Harry Houdini and a series of movie clips showing his tricks. Very interesting.

Harry Houdini's Greatest Escape video

Redemption and Crime, Conan Doyle's Journey into Light versus Hyde's descent into Darkness

When I first set out to record the forgotten and unknown adventures of Sherlock Holmes and his fabulous, famous friends, my first thought was how could I possibly have enough years to put them all down on paper.

I have never known such a rich plethora of men and ideas in all my life. They range from incredibly bright scholars, to wild adventurers, famous magicians, exceedingly brave sea captains, and even a few monsters of hairy and invisible kinds.

Such a diversion of characters is bound to intimidate the lesser talented, or more abstracted writer, because most of us prefer to focus on one or two characters at the most.

But the rich history and parallel elements of the Bake Street Universe demand and command that I take all thrift of time and hurl it aside, allowing the mountainslide of adventure, mystery, fantasy and hope to tumble down where it may.

Last week I focused on Hyde, a very notorious character, first embodied in the personality of Doctor Jekyll on your world, but then later released to terrorize the parallel world of the Baker Street Universe.

But it seems that character demands further clarity and justice. For any being, even the least of them must have some motive for life, even as banal as just taking life might seem.

The horror of taking another man's life is only exceeded by the terror of it being your own. Perhaps that is why we cluster about accident scenes, slow down like long lines of cattle to watch the cars that are crashed along side the road, knowing that some day that could be us.

Fear of death is a mighty champion and takes no prisoners.

Hyde embodies all that is worst in man, and yet at the same time offers redemption, for that which is dark can be removed...we pray and hope...in time with the advent of Light.

What makes our Hyde so unique is that he doesn't just seek to take life to sustain his...or is it a he...life, but to also conquer those whom he slakes his thirst upon.

In many ways this horrible creature is also symbolic of power mad governments that slaughter innocents and enslave them to take their riches and wealth and gain domination. He also is a dark star in the sky of selfisness...showing all that man can fall prey to...lust, envy, greed, power, terror, murder. He embodies the seven sins.

What he does when placed in a story is to counterpoint that aspect of man which must strike out against the darkness in his own soul, fling off the possessions that strive to control his mind, heart and body, as well as soul, and move fully into the Light of pure determination and kindness.

Not kindness which is weak and easily slaughtered, but a kindness born of strength and determination to not give into the darkness, for any price!

One thing that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's father realized as he separated himself from his family of loved ones, was that sometimes we must sacrifice all that we hold dear and love to protect a higher cause.

And so it is that we honor the soldiers who go into battle...sometimes wrongly...but do so to clear the path of darkness for those who seek a Greater Comfort and Light in their lives.

Thus the Baker Street Adventurers are a New Age team, captained by Sherlock Holmes, to right injustice, fight against evil, and to  stop the perpetuation of darkness upon the world by those blind to the good that dwells in their very own hearts.

And one day Conan of the Baker Street Universe, will not only have helped the greatest mind of crime detection, but also have found a place for himself wherein he can find peace at last. For though dead to his old world, he has risen like the Phoenix to be born to a longer, fuller life in the new.

The Case of the White Phosphor "A Sherlock Holmes Mystery" John Pirillo

The Case of the White Phosphor

"A Sherlock Holmes Mystery"

John Pirillo

The Geldings Residence sat alone in a street of mainly shop keepers, a lone and ancient structure that had been inherited from generations of Geldings, starting from the days of King Cornish to the current Queen Mary of Scots. Not a lovely place. But a forbidding one, it sprung from the street like a malignant tumor against all the more brightly lit and clean businesses that hugged its right and left sides, and faced it from the Manly Park opposite it.

It had always been a queer neighborhood. Rumors of vampires, werewolves, changelings, black magic and dark sorcerers had abounded there from the times of King Cornish. Some even rumored it to be back from the times of King Arthur, when he and Merlin established their brief empire of Light and the round table of equality run by the most educated and noble Knights of the times.

Therefore it came as no surprise that one day the ancient structure should catch on fire and immediately burn to the ground, impacting business on both sides as firemen from the length and breadth of London strove to put out the scorching flames before all the good nearby businesses were leveled to the ground as well. The fire burned so hot that the firemen were forced to stand at least a hundred feet away to blast their water upon it.

McBride and McBride, fabled inventors of the Golden Ruby, a special hand watch that could accurately keep track of time no matter what time zone, were very bitter that Monday morning, as they rushed to their place of business to see it in flames as well as the dark and malignant mansion nearby.

"Serves them right!" Father McBride told his twenty year old partner and son, Fable McBride, a good lad with blonde hair and stark blue eyes that looked into your very soul. Or at least that's what people told him. Often. And repeatedly.

Fable shook his head, tossing his mane of shoulder length locks and curls about his broad shoulders. "We can rebuild."

His father sighed. "Yes. But will I still be alive to see the business thrive once more?"

His son was silent.

"Excuse me, kind sir." Watson asked from two gentlemen away. "Am I right to assume that you two are related to the fire here this morning?"

"Not related, but victimized." Father McBride corrected.

Watson stepped around the two gawkers of the crowd that had been building to watch the death and destruction of the old mansion, and took his hat off. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss. You are then Father McBride?"

"How would you know that, sir?"

Watson indicated the briefcase in Father McBride's hands, and the label upon it.

"Oh. Yes. Rather silly of me to question you on that, wasn't it? How can I help you then?"

"My friend and I..." He indicated Sherlock Holmes who stood closer to the fire, his eyes on 

something only he was aware of. "Mister Holmes..."

"Not the...Mister Holmes!" Fable exclaimed, reaching out his hand to take Watson's. "I read your articles in the London Blast every day. Fascinating. Brilliant. You are admired by every school child and young woman and man in the Greater Britains."

Watson flushed with embarrassment at the comment and looked away to hide his red face. "I've been told that you two knew the deceased."

Father McBride gave Watson another look of astonishment. "But how could you know..."

Fable nudged him. "No one could have survived that fire, Father."

"Right. Yes. So sorry. I'm just testy because of the damage to our reputation."

Watson turned to look at him again, his embarrassment under control once more. "Before we were summoned here by Inspector Bloodstone, he mentioned that you two had been having some...uh...difficulties with the Elder Gelding?"

"Yes. The man kept an inordinate number of bats in his basement, and they would fly out at night and attack our dear Nellie."

Fable jumped in. "A sheep dog. My father got him as a gift from me Mummy."

Father McBride corrected him. "Your mother!"

"Yes. That's right, Me...My Mother."

Watson almost laughed, but restrained himself at this minor infraction on the father's part against his son. It wasn't uncommon for the richer gentry to be very precise about their language as a way of showing off their wealth and considerations.

"I see." Watson spoke finally.

"Can you tell me how your dog fares now, Mister McBride?" Sherlock said as he stepped between the father and son to look into his face.

"Oh."

Sherlock waited, saying nothing.

"She is quite happy." Father McBride answered a bit too quickly.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. 

Inspector Bloodstone, his short red hair flaring a bit from rushing to the crime scene, or perhaps not a crime scene. That was yet to be determined. He came up and nodded to the father and son. "You remember our earlier conversation?"

"Yes." Father McBride responded. "You had two gentlemen looking into the bats issue to see if a mutually agreeable solution could be found."

"It would appear a solution has been found, though not beneficial to either your, the Geldings, or the other business scored by this unfortunate incident."

Sherlock spoke again, more slowly. "Did you have any relationship with the Goodfellows, who owned the other shop?"

"We spoke sometimes when passing." Father McBride answered politely.

Fable jumped in. "Merilee Goodfellow and I are dating."

His father glared at him. "A bad relationship it is too."

"You do not approve of the daughter?" Sherlock inquired.

"No, I think she is fine, but the father is a dark sort, and I'm afraid his nature rubs off on his daughter as well, though why my son can't see that, I don't know."

"I see. Then you won't mind us speaking to them about this incident?"

"Why should I mind? It's a free London."

Sherlock nodded, then as the last of the flames were smothered by water and began settling down; he proceeded with Inspector Bloodstone to the ruins to inspect them. On the way he stopped to look back at Father McBride, who was watching him closely, but quickly looked away when seen doing so.

Watson took out a small notebook, with hurried notes in it. "How long have you known the Geldings?"

"Never. Never saw them. Never spoke to them, except through a Legal Counsel who applied the letter of law upon them for the bats."

"And Nellie, your sheepdog. Have you made a claim for her death?"

Father McBride blanched the color of a ghost. "How in the devil did you know that, sir?"

Sherlock and Inspector Bloodstone stooped in the smoking rubble and dug something up with their hands, then slowly lifted it into view. They came waking back towards Watson and the McBride's.

They set the object down on the cobblestone street in front of the pair.

Sherlock eyed the father. "You said your sheep dog was fine, am I correct?"

"Yes. Indubitably."

Inspector Bloodstone dropped back to the left on Sherlock's slight eye movement and kept an intent stance as Sherlock continued.

"Please examine the tags on this dog's neck."

"My God! The poor creature. Caught in that horrible place!" Father McBride gasped, then dropped to a knee and examined the tags. His face drained of all color as he slowly rose.

"Inspector." Sherlock spoke.

Inspector Bloodstone pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and approached the father.

Fable tried to stop him.

"Son. Will you interfere with the arrest of a man for the murder of an entire family?"

Fable began to shake with fear and anxiety and dropped back, making short intakes of air, sounding like he might be ready to faint.

Sherlock nodded to Watson who attended to Fable, leading him towards a nearby constable wagon.

"Mister McBride, you are under arrest for the murder of Elmer, Aimee and Louis Gelding."

Father McBride put his hands out and they were handcuffed.

He looked back at Sherlock before he was led away.

"How could you know I set the fire?"

Sherlock raised a fingertip with a white substance on it. "Phosphor."

"Phosphor?"

"Your firm is well known for using phosphor in large quantities to apply the extreme heat needed for your construction of the most excellent time pieces you manufacture."

"Everyone knows that." Father McBride protested.

"This dog did not die of the fire." Sherlock noted.

"What!"

"No, it died from a severe beating. Its skull was split in three different places."

Sherlock walked closer to Father McBride.

"Mister Gelding caught you beating your beloved dog to death and threatened to expose you to the world as a man who hurts innocent creatures, thus tarnishing your reputation and that of your shop."

Fable, who had been struggling with the indictment of his father, spoke up, his voice weak and trembling. "Father. You told me that Mister Gelding killed the dog."

The Inspector gave the son a look of surprise.

Sherlock turned to the Inspector. "I think that you will find that it was the father, who ordered the burning of the mansion, but it was his son who delivered the deadly white phosphorous through the basement windows, knowing full well how deadly and highly inflammable it was."

The Inspector scowled at the son, who now hid his face in his hands and began to weep. 

The Inspector nodded to a nearby constable who took the son in tow. They marched the McBrides off to the constable wagon.

Watson sighed. "So many lives ruined over an animal."

Sherlock turned to Watson. "Which animal do you refer to, Watson? The dog or the father?" Without another word he stuck his hands behind his back and strode off, leaving a shocked Watson behind him.

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death starring Basil Rathbone and NIgel Bruce.

A little exciting classic Holmes for those who enjoy the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce versions.

John

From Wikipedia:

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death is the sixth film in the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce series of Sherlock Holmes films. Made in 1943, it is a loose adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes story "The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual." Its three immediate predecessors in the film series were World War II spy adventures with Holmes and Watson as characters, but this one marks a return to the pure mystery form. Though several characters are military men and there are frequent mentions of the war, it is not the focus of the story.

Contents

  [hide] 

• 1 Plot
• 2 Cast
• 3 References
• 4 External links

Plot[edit]

Dr. Watson is serving as resident doctor at Musgrave Hall in Northumberland, a stately home which is also used as a hospital for a number of servicemen suffering from shell shock.^[1]

When Sally Musgrave displays her feelings for one of the wounded American fighter pilots, Captain Pat Vickery, who is currently recovering at the family estate, her brothers Geoffrey and Phillip are quick to show their dismay.

Then one of the physicians working at the estate, Dr. Sexton, is assaulted by an unknown assailant when out on a walk. Dr. John Watson, who is in charge of the medical facility, goes to fetch his dear friend Sherlock Holmes to bring some clarity to the case of the attack.

Upon his arrival to the estate, Sherlock Holmes discovers a dead body belonging to one of the brothers, Geoffrey. Inspector Lestrade of theScotland Yard is put on the case to solve the murder, and immediately arrests the captain as a suspect.

Holmes is of another opinion about the flyer's guilt and continues to investigate on his own. Phillip is formally made the new head of the estate the next day with the aid of his sister. But only one day of ruling the estate, Phillip too is found murdered, lying in the trunk of the car.

Lestrade arrests the family butler, Alfred Brunton for the murder, while Holmes and Watson look into the special "Musgrave Ritual" that the family uses to appoint the new head of the family. They find the words used in the ritual hidden in Sally's room, and try to copy the ritual, which involves replaying a giant chess game on the checkered floor of the house main hall. As pieces in the game they use the household staff.

The game gives them clues to the family's secret burial crypt underneath the house, and there they find Brunton murdered. Holmes pretends to go down into the crypt to examine the body for clues, but the real reason for him going down there is to wait for the murderer to reappear. Before long, Dr. Sexton appears and is captured by Holmes.

Holmes suggests that Sexton had discovered an old document that said the estate was worth millions of pounds, and then killed both brothers, hoping to marry Sally who would inherit the estate. He also tried to frame the captain so that he could not marry Sally. The doctor manages to overpower Holmes and takes his revolver. Then he confesses that he indeed is the one responsible for the murders. When he tries to shoot Holmes he discovers that the bullets are blanks.

Lestrade and Watson come to the rescue and overpower and arrest Sexton. Holmes and Watson go back to London together. Sally destroys the document, claiming to not want to be rich on the cost of others' lives.^[2]

Cast[edit]

• Basil Rathbone – Sherlock Holmes
• Nigel Bruce – Dr. Watson
• Dennis Hoey – Inspector Lestrade
• Arthur Margetson – Dr. Bob Sexton
• Hillary Brooke – Sally Musgrave
• Halliwell Hobbes – Alfred Brunton
• Minna Phillips – Mrs. Howells
• Milburn Stone – Captain Vickary
• Gavin Muir – Phillip Musgrave
• Gerald Hamer – Major Langford
• Charles Coleman – Constable Kray

5 of the best (and worst) Sherlock jokes

Camping trips, word play and a joke about pavements… we round up some of the best Sherlock-themed jokes on the internet

Written By

Emma Daly

11:57 AM, 31 December 2013

What better way to get in the mood for a new series of Sherlock than a few jokes? Series three lands on our screens tomorrow night. But before Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman get back to the altogether more serious business of how Sherlock is actually still alive, here’s a bit of silliness. 
Add your own jokes in the comment section at the end… 

---

1. Camping
Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson went on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine they lay down for the night, and went to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.
"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see." 
Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars." 
"What does that tell you?" Watson pondered for a minute. 
"Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you?” 
Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke. "Watson, someone has stolen our tent!" 
Via jokes4us

---

2. Paintings
One day, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson were doing their usual investigative business, when they uncovered an unusual painting.
At first glance, it looked like a picture of normal oak tree, in the middle of a wilderness, but if one looked closer, one could see that it was a remarkable painting. The tree trunk was actually made of fire, and its branches were made of ice, clouds and earth.
"What is it, Holmes?" asked Watson in awe.
"It's an Element tree, my dear Watson," replied Holmes.
Via angelfire

---

3. Chasing pavements
Q: Did you hear that Sherlock made a song called “The Pavement”?
A: Yeah, it was a hit! 
Via wattpad

---

4. Looking for limestone
Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson are busy with yet another complicated case. Suddenly, Holmes seizes a chunk of blood-spattered limestone from the ground.
"What is it, Holmes?" asks Watson, eagerly.
Holmes turns and replies, gravely, "It's sedimentary, my dear Watson.”
via angelfire 

http://www.radiotimes.com/news/2013-12-31/5-of-the-best-and-worst-sherlock-jokes

Sherlock Holmes Movie: The Scarlett Claw

Starring Basil Rathbone, the villain of Robin Hood, another excellent film he starred in. And Nigel Green as the bumbling Watson. Classic film and story!

Sherlock Holmes is only one corner of my writing universe. Check out these other spots too!

If you like this blog, you're also going to like ImagineNation.

Chock full of images, videos, artwork, movies, animation and other cool things.

ImagineNation!

And for a double serving of pleasure, be sure to check out my author site. You don't think I post all my stories here, do you? I don't. Lots of new ones there as well and surprises you'll probably enjoy.

www.johnpirillo.com

Movie: Sherlock Holmes Returns with Spanish Subs

Sherlock Holmes Comic Book Covers and a few cartoons

The Case of the Missing Mole "A Sherlock Holmes Story." John Pirillo

The Case of the Missing Mole

"A Sherlock Holmes Story."

John Pirillo

The moment he went into the garden behind his rather modest home, he knew he was in for a devil of a time. There were holes everywhere about his petunias. He had spent a fortune on planting them and maintaining them in the brisk, cold airs of London. His neighborhood was in the posh area of Upper Northumberland, about six kilometers from downtown London and easily reached by the latest Tesla Cabs, or the newly emerging Tesla Fast Trains, that were extremely quick, but a bit frightening because they traveled at over fifty miles an hour. It always scared him to see the buildings and homes flashing by so quickly.

He put those thoughts aside as he twiddled with his mahogany walking cane, an eye cocked on Doctor John Watson, a friend and acquaintance of his for many years.

"What do you think, John??

Watson screwed his eyebrows together in thought as he kneeled upon the somewhat wet ground about the nearest of the holes. He placed a hand over its opening, then put an ear to his hand. His eyebrows rose a bit, then he stood up and went to the next hole and repeated the process. 

Lord Cambridge itched with anxiousness at the slowness of his friend. Surely, he could come to some kind of prognosis for what was going on. For surely he was part of one of the finest detective and investigatory teams on the planet. 

Finally, Watson went to another hole, then repeated the process yet again. He finally stood up, brushed off his hands, and took a hanky from his coat pocket to brush off his pant knees. "I don't think you've got moles at all."

"What !"

Watson gave Lord Cambridge, a short man with a short disposition and a fat mustache that made his face look like an ostrich face, a scowl. "These holes are manmade."

"How can you tell?" Lord Cambridge spoke in a conciliatory tone, noting how Watson's irritation was hovering just above normal. No need to anger his friend. Especially not when his precious petunias were at stake.

"Because, dear fellow." Came Sherlock's voice from the hedge gate to the garden, as he pressed it open and entered. "While you have been outside trying to figure out why your garden  has holes, a very clever young man has been gardening your library and absconding with precious books."

"WHAT!" Lord Cambridge shouted, then rushed for the gate.

Sherlock stopped him.

Inspector Bloodstone came into view, his fingers pinching the ear of a young Irish lad with flaming red hair, whose hands and arms were holding a bundle of books. "I believe young Charlie here has something to say to you, Lord Chamberlain."

Everyone's eyes turned to the young lad, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, and whose pants and shirt were checkered with patches and holed in places, barely clinging to his body.

"Lord Chamberlain. I am so sorry, I am, but me little sister is dying of consumption and I felt that if I could gain something of value maybe I could hire a doctor to spare her life, or at least make her more comfortable."

Lord Chamberlain squinted at the boy closely. He had forgotten his glasses inside the library. "I know you?"

"No sir. But my mother yes."

Sherlock stepped closer. "Mary O'Malley."

Lord Chamberlain's face flushed. He gave Sherlock a quick glance, then back at Charlie. "Mary O'Malley?"

"That would be her, your lordship."

Lord Chamberlain turned to Watson. "Can you help the child's sister?"

"I will certainly take a look at her."

Lord Chamberlain turned to the Inspector. "There will be no further need of your services."

"Shall I keep him at the constabulary for the night?"

Lord Chamberlain looked at the child, who seemed smaller even than before and on the verge of tears. "I think not. But before you go, please take those valuable books."

"I'll make sure they're put back in their proper places, Lord Chamberlain."

"No need." Lord Chamberlain said with a smile. 

Everyone gave him a surprised look. 

"Charlie, I want you to keep the books. But on one condition."

"Yes, sir. Anything, your lordship."

"Read them! And for God's sakes, come back tomorrow to help me clean up this mess."

Charlie was about to run off, when Lord Chamberlain grabbed him by the collar. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

He looked over at Watson and he nodded, then put an arm about Charlie's shoulders. "Come, let's see to your sister." Watson looked back at Holmes. "Please be a good chap and let Mrs. Hudson know I'll be a wee bit late for dinner."

Sherlock nodded.

Lord Chamberlain watched them go and then he seemed to grow more serious. He turned to the Inspector. "I'd like to speak with Mister Holmes in private, if you please."

The Inspector nodded, then exited the garden.

Holmes looked at the Lord. "I assume you want my discreteness as well?"

"Yes. But how did you guess I...well, you know?"

"Lord Chamberlain, the books he has kept were not gifts, but a way of removing evidence of your liaison with the chambermaid, whom I assume you once had working for you, but dismissed once you learned of her expectance?"

"Yes."

"And not wanting the good Queen Mary of Scots to learn of your peccadillo, you buried the relationship and the books in your library, making sure none would know of the breadth of it. The books, I noted, that Charlie carried were not valuable at all. They were your daily journal, a picture book with an unknown woman's face on it, with bright red hair. And a faded picture of a baby."

Lord Chamberlain sighed. "A folly of my youth. You will keep this to yourself then?"

Sherlock Holmes nodded. "And I expect you to pay him well for his services."

Sherlock went to the gate to exit, then looked back. "After all. He is  your son."

"Good day, Lord Chamberlain."

Lord Chamberlain watched Sherlock leave and shivered, even though the day was warmer than most. He looked at the holes, sighed, then headed back into his home to ponder the follies of his youth and pray there were no more that would rebound to him to his disfavor.