A Delicate Matter

The sun rose early on 221B Baker Street, dispensing with an early fog so common to our great metropolis of London. I had been out early caring for one of my patients, no longer capable of making the trek to Baker Street without a Herculean effort. Entering our digs I found that Holmes was up early, full of vim and vigor which invariably implied that he had received a case to stimulate his overactive mind and thereby calm his restless spirit.

“Good morning Holmes. I see that you are up early today,” I initiated.

“Good morning Watson. You have had an early appointment I see having worked up a ruddy complexion. Did the squirrels enjoy the peanuts and how is Mrs. Crutters feeling today?” he continued.

Holmes enjoyed engaging in these exercises wherein he would, through his impeccable ability to pick up the most infinitesimal of details conjure a person’s past actions and relevant details.

“Yes Holmes, I walked to and from Mrs. Crutter’s home. She is feeling better today, and the squirrels at the park did enjoy the peanuts, although I do not know how you divined that, my good man.”

“Simplicity itself Watson. I’m glad to hear that Mrs. Crutters is feeling better, and if you had removed the peanut shards from the cuff of your tweed overcoat and the clay on your right instep, which is particular to Stevens Park, I would have been completely in the dark,” said Holmes. “Did the little beasts wish for a piece of your sugar cookies in addition to the peanuts?” he asked.

I looked up at him with a surprised questioning glance.

“I appreciate the crumpets that you have no doubt brought home from the bakery for tea, but I should hope you will leave them in the medical bag and push the receipt below your handkerchief in your breast pocket as Mrs.Hudson will be up  momentarily with breakfast and she would see them as an insult to her domestic skills. I took the liberty of ordering your usual Bangers and Mash as we are in a bit of a hurry assuming you are available today?” Sherlock inquired.        

“I have no appointments. What is afoot Holmes?” I asked.

“Well I have received a telegram this morning from the Prime Minister. He is sending a hansom around for us and we have an appointment in two hours at 10 Downing Street.”

“Indeed, Holmes. I am at your service,” I said.

“I am rarely called in by 10 Downing. This must be of national importance with Scotland Yard at an impasse and looking to save face.”

Thus, began a case with international implications and it is only now years later that this matter can be put to print with the utmost delicacy. It would not surprise you if I mentioned that Moriarty was involved in this evil crime that shook the Empire to its very foundations. Sherlock was at his finest during this struggle but even he required the assistance of his corpulent brother Mycroft with his superior cerebral powers. Suffice it to say that the future of the Empire was held in the balance and teetered on the pinnacle of disaster without the precise and persistent endurance of Mr. Holmes. My worthy companion with his attention to the smallest of details which can be of the greatest importance succeeded in saving the Empire and received the Victoria Cross for his efforts.

Jim

May 2020