{"id":2234,"date":"2020-03-31T21:01:56","date_gmt":"2020-04-01T04:01:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/?p=2234"},"modified":"2020-03-31T15:42:05","modified_gmt":"2020-03-31T22:42:05","slug":"adventure-of-the-murdered-midwife-liese-sherwood-fabre","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/2020\/03\/31\/adventure-of-the-murdered-midwife-liese-sherwood-fabre\/","title":{"rendered":"Pre-order your copy! The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife by Liese Sherwood-Fabre"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The<\/a>The Launch of a New Series! And pre-order starts today<\/strong> (April 1)!
\nNo foolin’!<\/p>\n

The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife<\/a><\/strong><\/em> is the first book in a new origin series on Sherlock Holmes (The Early Case Files of Sherlock Holmes<\/em>).<\/p>\n

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle provided few details on Holmes\u2019 boyhood beyond noting that his ancestors were country squires, his grandmother was the sister of the French artist Vernet, and he had a brother Mycroft seven years his senior. With almost a blank slate to work with, I\u2019ve had a great time inventing the young Sherlock and what his life would have been like as an adolescent in the mid-1800s. In particular, I invented a family almost eccentric as he that would influence his development: a mother with a brilliant mind restricted by Victorian conventions; an uncle who invents weapons and explosives; a loving, but remote, father; and genius and slightly bully of an older brother.<\/p>\n

Blurb:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife<\/strong><\/em> introduces Sherlock having endured a miserable few weeks of his first year at Eton. Sherlock\u2019s father calls him and his brother back to Underbyrne, the ancestral estate. The village midwife has been found with a pitchfork in her back in the estate\u2019s garden, and Mrs. Holmes has been accused of the murder. She must depend on the family\u2014but especially Sherlock\u2014to solve the murder and save her from the gallows.<\/p>\n

Excerpt:<\/strong><\/p>\n

They told me the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, and I knew I should have been honored to be at the institution; but at age thirteen, I hated it. The whole bloody place. I remained only because my parents\u2019 disappointment would have been too great a disgrace to bear.<\/p>\n

My aversion culminated about a month after my arrival when I was forced into a boxing match on the school\u2019s verdant side lawn. I had just landed a blow to Charles Fitzsimmons\u2019s nose, causing blood to pour from both nostrils, when the boys crowding around us parted. One of the six-form prefects joined us in the circle\u2019s center.<\/p>\n

After glancing first at Fitzsimmons, he said to me, \u201cSherlock Holmes, you\u2019re wanted in the Head Master\u2019s office. Come along.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even though I\u2019d been at the school only a few weeks, I knew no one was called to the director\u2019s office unless something was terribly wrong. I hesitated, blinking at the young man in his stiff collar and black suit. He flapped his arms to mark his impatience at my delay and spun about on his heel, marching toward the college\u2019s main building. I gulped, gathered my things, and followed him at a pace that left me puffing to keep up.<\/p>\n

I had no idea what caused such a summons. If it had been the fight, surely Charles would have accompanied me. I hadn\u2019t experienced any controversies in any of my classes, even with my mathematics instructor. True, earlier in the day I\u2019d corrected him, but surely it made sense to point out his mistake? For the most part, the masters seemed pleased with my answers when they called on me.<\/p>\n

I did have problems, however, with most of my classmates\u2014Charles Fitzsimmons was just one example. Except he was the one who\u2019d called me out. Surely, that<\/em> couldn\u2019t be the basis of this summons?<\/p>\n

Once inside, my sight adjusted slowly to the dark, cool interior, and I could distinguish the stern-faced portraits of past college administrators, masters, and students lining the hallway. As I passed them, I could feel their judgmental stares bearing down on me, and so I focused on the prefect\u2019s back, glancing neither right nor left at these long-dead critics. A cold sweat beaded on my upper lip as I felt certain something very grave had occurred, with me at the center of the catastrophe. Reaching the Head Master\u2019s office, I found myself unable to work the door\u2019s latch, and with an exasperated sigh, the prefect opened it for me and left me to enter on a pair of rather shaky knees.<\/p>\n

My agitation deepened when I entered and found the director examining a letter with my father\u2019s seal clearly visible. He glanced up from the paper with the same severe expression I\u2019d observed in his predecessors\u2019 portraits. Dismissing his appraisal, I concentrated on the details I gathered from the missive in his hand.<\/p>\n

Taking a position on an expansive oriental carpet in front of his massive wooden desk, I drew in my breath and asked, \u201cWhat happened to my mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you know this involves your mother?\u201d he asked, pulling back his chin.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe letter. That\u2019s my father\u2019s seal.\u201d My words gathered speed as I continued. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t bear a black border, which means at least at this point no death is involved. My father\u2019s hand is steady enough to write, so he must be well, that leaves only some problem with my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man raised his eyebrows at my response, then glanced at the letter in his hand before tossing it onto the desk\u2019s polished surface. \u201cAs you have surmised, a problem at home requires your return. Your father has requested that we arrange for you and your things to be sent to the rail station. Your brother will be arriving from Oxford to accompany you the rest of the way.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart squeezed in my chest, dread rushing through my body. Home. Underbyrne, the family estate. And not just for a short visit. Packing all my things meant I was leaving for the remainder of the term. Something terribly wrong had happened. Grievous enough to pull Mycroft out of his third year of studies at Oxford. Blood whooshed<\/em> in my ears, and I barely heard what followed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve already requested Mrs. Whittlespoon to assist you in your packing.\u201d Head Master turned his attention to the rest of the mail on his desk. He glanced up to add, \u201cShe\u2019ll be in your room already.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, sir. Good day, sir.\u201d I recovered enough to respond to his statement, but not to ask the reason behind Father\u2019s directive.<\/p>\n

With a wave of his hand, I was dismissed before I could inquire. As I closed the door behind me, I heard him mutter, \u201cAs much a prig as his brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, I considered opening the door and requesting more information about his assessment as well as what else my father had provided in his letter, but social convention restrained me from questioning an elder\u2014and the Head Master at that. I was left to ponder my unspoken concerns as I returned to my chamber.<\/p>\n

By the time I arrived at my room, my trunk had already been brought down from storage, and Mrs. Whittlespoon, the house dame, was placing my belongings in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are, dearie.\u201d She pointed to a set of clothing on my bed. \u201cYou go change into your traveling clothes while I finish this up.\u201d<\/p>\n

I paused, considering for a moment to ask her what she knew of the events surrounding my departure, but she had turned her attention to the drawer with my undergarments. Having lost the opportunity for the moment, I retrieved the clothes and carried them to the bathing facilities.<\/p>\n

Since the Head Master was not forthcoming, and Mrs. Whittlespoon might have only limited knowledge, my best hope for additional information as to what had occurred with Mother would be Mycroft\u2014if he was in the mood to share. Knowing my brother, he might not be inclined to discuss this or any other matter on the journey home. He\u2019d been overjoyed to return to university after the summer\u2019s break and pulling him out would definitely sour his mood.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Whittlespoon turned to me when I re-entered the room and placed both her hands on my shoulders for a moment to scrutinize my appearance.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look a right proper young gentleman.\u201d She smoothed out the sleeves of my coat. \u201cYou go on down to the carriage, now. I\u2019ll finish up here and have Jarvis take the trunk down to the carriage. I assume you\u2019ll want to carry that<\/em> yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

She waved her hand at my violin case lying on the bed. A wave of guilt swept over me. At my mother\u2019s insistence, I\u2019d begun lessons two years before and developed some skill on the instrument. Since entering Eton I hadn\u2019t found the time to practice as promised. How could I report such a failure to her? I swallowed as my next thought rose, unbidden. Assuming, of course, she was in a position to ask\u2014or understand\u2014my answer.<\/p>\n

Buy Links:
\n<\/strong>Amazon<\/a>
\nBarnes and Noble<\/a>
\nKobo<\/a>
\nApple<\/a><\/p>\n

About the Author:
\n<\/strong>\"LieseLiese Sherwood-Fabre knew she was destined to write when she got an A+ in the second grade for her story about Dick, Jane, and Sally\u2019s ruined picnic. After obtaining her PhD from Indiana University, she joined the federal government and had the opportunity to work and live internationally for more than fifteen years. After returning to the states, she seriously pursued her writing career.<\/p>\n

Her writing has been recognized with a series of awards, including a Pushcart Prize nomination, a Golden Heart finalist, and a blue ribbon from Chanticleer Book Reviews. Steve Berry has called her work \u201cGood old-fashioned, gimmick-free storytelling\u201d and Gemma Halliday enthused her current novel is \u201ca classic in the making.\u201d A recognized Sherlockian scholar, her essays on Sherlock and Victorian England are published across the globe and have appeared in the Baker Street Journal<\/em>, the premiere publication of the Baker Street Irregulars.<\/p>\n

Social Media Links:
\n<\/strong>Website<\/a>
\nFacebook<\/a>
\nTwitter<\/a>
\nAmazon Author Page<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Launch of a New Series! And pre-order starts today (April 1)! No foolin’! The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife is the first book in a new origin series on Sherlock Holmes (The Early Case Files of Sherlock Holmes). Sir Arthur Conan Doyle provided few details on Holmes\u2019 boyhood beyond noting that his ancestors were … Continue reading “Pre-order your copy! The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife by Liese Sherwood-Fabre”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4,3,1],"tags":[1230,1229,1225,13,1231,1227,1226,1228],"class_list":["post-2234","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-book-topics","category-general","category-uncategorized","tag-british-mystery","tag-conan-doyle","tag-liese-sherwood-fabre","tag-mystery","tag-new-series","tag-sherlock-holmes","tag-the-adventure-of-the-murdered-midwife","tag-victorian"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9wA33-A2","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2234","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2234"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2234\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2245,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2234\/revisions\/2245"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2234"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2234"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2234"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}