Jack The Ripper: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Holy Ghost Writer Page A

left earlobe had been cut off. There was no blood on the front of her clothes, but there were buttons scattered everywhere in the blood that surrounded her shoulders.
    Holmes bent down as he saw something glinting through the blood; the item was caught in the glare of the gaslights. He picked it up with a handkerchief.  Nobody was around except Dr. Watson as he looked at the item. By jove! It was his cigar cutter, engraved with SH!
    “But how?” Dr. Watson started.
    “Shhhh,” Holmes said as he discreetly slipped the handkerchief into his coat pocket. Nobody was the wiser. Holmes broke out in a cold sweat—he had lost his cool, collected manner.
    Someone came running up, saying they had found the woman’s apron on the street not far from the scene of the killing. It had something scrawled on it:
     
    “The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing.”
     
    Holmes asked the lead detective for that district to have a witness list sent over to him when they had it, and the detective assured him they would. Then Holmes told the officers he was going to the morgue.
    Once they were safely in the carriage, Holmes removed the cigar cutter from his pocket once more and held it in his hands, his mouth set in a straight line.
    “I do think leaving the business card was just to get my attention,” Holmes said grimly. “And perhaps even to connect me to the crimes in Inspector Grant’s mind. This cigar cutter, though—it means the fellow has been in my house, and has been watching both Mrs. Parker and I to ensure he won’t get caught. If one more thing is found like this at the crime scene, I may find myself behind bars.”
    Dr. Watson felt a flutter of panic, but kept his voice calm for his friend’s sake. “You have faced grave danger before, sir,” he said. “This time is no different—and no one could ever believe you to be a murderer! We will catch this monster before he strikes again, and you will be able to rest easy.”
    “We must catch him,” said Holmes. “Who knows what he will leave at the next scene—and more frightening, who knows who will find it first.”
     
     
    CHAPTER Nine
    Brutality Rising
     
    Upon arriving at the morgue, Holmes and Dr. Watson were met once again by Donald Hamilton.
    “I didn’t expect to see you here so early, Mr. Hamilton.”
    “Well, I haven’t been here long. John Brooks is the other assistant, and we work twelve-hour shifts and swing our hours sometimes. His daughter is getting married today, and I agreed to cover for him.”
    “Well, it looks like you got stuck with the worst of it from these two murders. You will have another body coming fairly soon. They are almost done at the crime scene,” Holmes warned him.
    “Yes, I’ve heard. I guess you will want to see Elizabeth Stride, the first victim. Sign the log and we will proceed. I have been collecting evidence and getting her ready for my boss to perform the autopsy. He may even have to hire additional help if this keeps on. We seem to have had a full house lately.”
    Holmes liked Donald. Anyone who could keep his chin up in a place like this and maintain a pleasant demeanor even in the face of gruesome death was a special sort of man.
    It did not take long to examine Elizabeth’s body. The deed had obviously not been finished, and there seemed to be no other clues. As for now, there was nothing else that could be done.
    As Holmes and Dr. Watson were preparing to leave, the police delivered the body of the latest victim. Holmes asked the coroner to send him a report as soon as he could, and they took their leave. He would get to work on the partial witness list that he had and familiarize himself with the women’s histories.
    Elizabeth, called Liz by her friends, was not known to be a full-time prostitute. She made money in a variety of other ways, including doing housework or sewing. She was also known to drink heavily and could get quite rowdy.
    When she left the boarding house on the evening of