"With great disbelief Cornelius J. Watson, a descendent of Doctor John H. Watson and his wife, Mary, nee Marsden, held the yellowed, dog-eared manuscript in his hands."

Thus we are introduced to one of the greatest finds of the new millennium, the discovery of a manuscript of Doctor Watson’s; the finding of a previously lost adventure of the greatest detective ever to exist, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

All Holmes’ fans can rejoice in the discovery. The Adventure of the Dead Rabbits Society is Holmes at his best.

New life prodded her towards death.

Having climbed over the railing in the midst of the bridge’s startling span, she stood gazing down at the water below, paralyzed for the moment by the enormity of what she was about to do, staring at the river’s surface, only slightly brighter than the black of the night, with the look of one badly in need of solving a puzzle to which no solution can be seen. Her pretty face was battered, her left cheek was swollen grotesquely and was now plum coloured, evidence of the damage she’d suffered when beaten. Below her, the river glowed with its soft and strangely inviting movement. Behind her she could hear the hiss and growl of the bridge’s cable cars moving by, ladened with passengers who were unaware and unconcerned with the drama taking place within the darkness through which they passed--

--"Oh God--God--please forgive me!" she cried to the unmoving stars above and before her. Then, tears running down her damaged face, she took another step forward, stepped onto emptiness and silently allowed the darkness to embrace her. Moments later, there was a soft splash, unheard by the world, then the waters of the river closed over her and its currents flowed on as before.

Thus begins "The Adventure of The Dead Rabbits Society"

A second quote from Doctor John Watson’s previously lost manuscript:

"Years later, as Holmes related these facts to me, very matter-of-fact as is his manner when speaking of his own experiences, I envisioned the transformation occurring in him in Dunmore’s home that I had witnessed so often previously in his demeanor at such moments. As I have stated in previous writings , there was more than the thinker, the logician, involved at these moments. His eyes hardened, his lips compressed and there arose in him a purely instinctual and animal-like lust for the hunt. While Holmes himself stressed the scientific aspects of the skills of observation and deduction of which he was, and is, so rightly proud, he failed to realize that there was as much deep-seeded emotion involved in his activities as well. He hated the idea of this, did Holmes, and any time I suggested it to him, would angrily wave my comments away. Although then concealing himself under the alias of Simon Hawkes, he was still Sherlock Holmes and, as he related the facts to me, I could envision him in my mind’s eye striding purposely out of the house and crossing the street to the apartment house that was now his focus, his face set like stone, his keen eyes flashing like that of a tiger catching the scent of prey floating on the wind and seeking sight of it, that prey, so that it could be brought down by the claws of justice."

Sherlock Holmes returns! It is a pure joy to have him back!