Deathly Relics is the latest Sherlock Holmes pastiche novel written by Sam Siciliano and is really one of his better entries on to the range from Titan Books.
Once again, Siciliano sidelines Dr. Watson in favor of his own narrator, Dr. Henry Vernier, who is some distant cousin of Holmes’s. Once again, Siciliano does not pass up the chance to disparage Watson’s accounts of the adventures he shared with London’s most celebrated detective. Fortunately, this tendency doesn’t take over the plot, but it is a little puzzling and annoying when it does come up.
Holmes and Vernier are visiting Rome on some diplomatic task for the British government when the Pope sends them a summons. A relic is stolen from the Vatican, and Holmes is asked to use his considerable gifts of detection to locate it. It is said to be the skeletal remains of the forefinger of Saint Thomas. The item in question is mysteriously returned, and the matter seems to have resolved itself. Then, many other relics are purloined, and a security guard is murdered. The trail leads to the doorstep of an Italian crime family, and one of the most ruthless killers Holmes as ever faced is not quite done wielding his stiletto.
I actually don’t mind Siciliano presenting readers with a different narrator. I do find Vernier sort of charming at times. He is a happily married physician, and his wife often gets swept up in the case as well. I just question Siciliano’s insistence on denigrating Arthur Conan Doyle’s original chronicler periodically.
Holmes and Vernier are somewhat compelled to define their own history with the church, which was rather interesting. Siciliano seems critical of some aspects of Catholic practices at times, but he manages to refrain from being too cruel and unfair. There are actually priestly characters who are rather likeable and honorable. Even if Holmes and Vernier question the level of reverence placed on objects, they still maintain some civility and respect for their surroundings.
I am not Catholic by any means, yet I still have a certain curiosity if I ever have the opportunity to visit the Vatican.
The problem with this novel is that it still feels kind of bland. The killer ended up not being all that interesting. He liked to taunt Holmes a bit. The other characters were fine and served the story adequately, but that was about it. The Vatican would be a fascinating place to visit, but it doesn’t feel all that original in a crime novel.
It’s not a terrible addition to the vast catalogue of Sherlock Holmes tales that have been published by so many others since the demise of his creator, but it fails to consistently keep a tight hold on one’s interest.
I have been putting this off long enough, but it’s time to take a trip to the American West; more specifically, to a small Texas town known as Lonesome Dove with the celebrated Larry McMurtry as my guide.
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