Luke Steven Fullenkamp
The complete and utter destruction of London seems imminent. Holmes and Watson now face their greatest challenge ever. Never have they known an enemy with such a powerful and terrible technology at his disposal. The desperate quest is begun to stop the Oriental master of the three dragons before he can carry out his lethal threat upon the innocent inhabitants of Holmes and Watson's beloved home.
A beautiful and mysterious woman enters and soon captures Watson's heart. But what is her connection with the dragon master? And who is the strange Oriental known as Guardian, and why is he looking for Sherlock Holmes?
Ancient, wonderful and terrifying sciences are rediscovered by an enemy so evil that the great detective cannot bring himself to call him by his proper name.
Can Holmes and Watson discover enough of his secrets in time to save their city and Queen? Will those who become their allies be able to help them stop the dragon master before he does the unspeakable? Will London be destroyed, and will a new China then rise from the ashes?
All is revealed in Sherlock Holmes and The Adventure of the Three Dragons. It's Holmes and Watson at their best -- during the worst -- as you have never known them before.
Having lived in small towns all my life may seem dull to some, but I have found it a rich and rewarding existence. The middle child of thirteen children, I was fortunate enough to be raised in what I would call an, almost, Walton-like atmosphere of family joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies.
Remarkably, we are all still alive, except for my mother who lost her life to cancer at the early age of forty-nine. But my father continued with remarkable courage -- to say the least -- and brought us all to adulthood.
I am forty-seven now, and enjoy the memories of lazy nights in St. Henry; strumming my guitar on the front porch and singing songs with family and friends. I play guitar and piano and write songs and poems as well. I like telling stories, as I have been surrounded by family story tellers all my life. Always, my father, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and many family members, they tell the stories of the family's past whenever we come together.
I work with mentally and physically challenged adults, and have for eighteen years. I now live in the small town of Minster, Ohio with my wife and two teenage children. And as I do, the adventure of my life continues.
My story begins deep in the sewers of Paris. The small boat in which Holmes and I sat moved with relative ease down the narrow tunnel, lined with decaying, moss-covered walls that looked as though they had been there for a millennium. The air was cold and musty and seemed quite unfit for human consumption, although it did not appear to bother Holmes in the least. I squinted and blinked my eyes, trying as best I could to see but a few feet down the dark, forbidding passageway that lay before us. Looking over Holmes’s shoulder--he being in the front--I glanced briefly at the lantern attached to the bow of our little craft, wondering if it had gone out. The pitiful small beam seemed of no significance in all the blackness. My friend, sensing my uneasiness, turned and smiled in a comforting manner. But even his steady face revealed the apprehension we both felt.
On occasion, we would pass the openings to other narrow tunnels leading off in all directions, giving one a feeling of disorientation in the confusing maze. But Holmes seemed to know exactly where he was going and slowed our little boat with his oar at every opening to the right, as though he were looking for some marker he had predetermined to find.
The bleak cavern seemed to go on forever and my mind--not so disciplined as my companion’s--began to wander back to the events which brought us to this place and time.
The famed Ming treasures, on loan to France from the great nation of China, had been stolen from the Louvre museum in Paris. Having heard of my friend’s remarkable talents, the French authorities had summoned Holmes and me to help them on this most difficult case, fearing the adverse repercussions the theft would have on their relations with the ancient country. The thief had been traced to the sewers and the capture would seem routine to an untrained eye. But after the dreadful mutilation of no less than six of the city’s best policemen in the underground caverns, the case took on a new light.
