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Holmes and I had received a special invitation to Challenger’s long-planned, and highly anticipated, lecture at the prestigious Zoological Institute — the very place that a few years before had decreed his experiences within the Lost World a fraud. Unfortunately, the weight limitations of the balloon, and our frenzied speed of departure from the Plateau did not allow for the collection of specimens to submit as evidence. However, Challenger and his daughter had written prodigiously since their return to civilization and were prepared to publish their proclamations following the lecture.

Both seemed unaffected by the probability that, once again, the scientific community would ridicule their discoveries.

We found them waiting for us just outside the Hall. Challenger struck quite a different figure in his immaculate white tie and tails, with his great black beard re-sculpted to spade-shaped perfection. Jessica Cuvier Challenger was radiant, reveling in the company of her father, and bravely ready to face the stormy trial of mockery that, doubtlessly, awaited them.

“Listen,” Challenger scoffed, beard bristling. “You can already hear the bloody vultures deviously calculating how best to pick us apart. No matter to them that all of my courageous exploration team — and their own hand-picked associates — perished by beast and disease in the very place whose existence they all continue to deny.”

His daughter affectionately touched his muscle-thick shoulder.

“No matter, sir,” she laughed. “Last time even a live pterodactyl didn’t convince them. After it escaped though the window, flying out to sea, all were convinced they’d witnessed nothing more than an elaborate conjurer’s trick. We know what we saw, and studied. No one can ever take that away. And, believe us or burn us, they will damn well hear us out.”

Challenger laughed uproariously, embracing Jessica and lifting her high above his head, as if she was still a toddler.

“Ah, one thing before you start,” Holmes remarked, “Dr. Watson and I have a small presentation. For the both of you.”

This was news to me. I was as curious as the Challengers when Holmes drew a cigar box from his inner coat pocket.

“Ah—!” Challenger’s eyes gleamed and, again, he laughed uproariously. “My only weakness! I’ve become even more addicted to the damned things since returning to London. I’d saved a single cigar while on the Plateau, wearing it in a pouch around my neck, resisting the temptation to put a match to it for over a year. It was a very sad day when I lost it in the river.”

Jessica laughed heartily, as well.

“A presentation for both of us? You’re suggesting, perhaps, that I take up the odious habit, Mr. Holmes?” she genuinely sparkled, ever so lovely in the glow of the street lamps.

Holmes nodded to her with hooded eyes.

“Open and see,” he calmly directed.

She laughed again and opened the box, then became solemnly silent. Challenger also looked at the contents. He glanced up at Holmes, back to his daughter, then down again into the box. He was, finally, at a loss for words.

“Lord Roxton delivered it to me. It had managed to conceal itself in his boot,” Sherlock Holmes explained. “Fascinating little creature — and extremely tenacious, I might add. As you’ll observe, somewhat miraculously, it has remained very much alive.”

Jessica reached inside and extended her palm as the trilobite energetically scuttled across the fabric of her glove.

The Grantchester Grimoire

The Grantchester Grimoire

by Chico Kidd & Rick Kennett

Between the years of 1894 and 1901 Sherlock Holmes was an extremely busy man; although by 1902, however, the number of cases that stirred his interest had diminished, and he began to speak of retiring. In that same year my interests also lay largely elsewhere, as I had met the charming lady who would eventually fill the great void left by the death, some years previously, of my wife Mary. Naturally I was spending as much time as I could on the serious business of wooing and during that time, Holmes,