The Sherlock Revival - An Adventure of St Pauls

Here is another installment in my Holmes Revival project.

Thank you for reading I hope you find it acceptable.

Myself and Holmes had spent yet another morning together but not in his apartments as usual.
We were instead following the path of millions who had come before us into the hallowed quiet of St Paul's Cathedral. It was chilly inside and we kept on our coats as we strode through the immense marbled space.
Holmes would tut every now and again but he waited patiently whilst I said a quick prayer at the altar and soon we began our ascent.

The view that St Paul's afforded was not the finest of London's many views but it was one of the closest and most ancient. After climbing a great gradual spiral you were at first afforded a view of the Whispering Gallery, over one hundred feet up inside the great building. Holmes cited this lofty seat as his favourite place inside of London for it's peculiar hush and the vigour it seemed to awake within his mind. I much prefer the highest point, the poetically named Golden Gallery.
After a rest at the Whispering Gallery we made our way further up, following the thing, tight cast iron spirals stairs that lead around the inside of the mighty dome.

"The spiral staircases make you feel a little unsteady I think" I remarked between breaths for the stairs were relentless.

"I think you will find that these are in fact helical staircases but I agree with your point" Holmes replied with his usual lack of energy. I laughed and told him he was almost certainly correct and held off conversing until we had reached the Stone Gallery.

From here the view was wide and impressive but us experienced visitors quickly circumnavigated the outside ring and entered the structure once more. From here the stairs were smaller and closer and we kept on our pace, me trailing a little behind Holmes's extraordinary standard. We ignored the many benches along the way, both preferring to rest in the fresh air. And at last we arrived at the  and the Golden Gallery.

From here the Cathedral rises eighty-six feet above our already lofty position and is suitably crowned by a great gilt-laden decoration.
After the punishing climb of five hundred and twenty eight steps most visitors simply gather their breath whilst admiring the view but for Holmes and myself we instead found a distant inwards-curved section and sat down. I noticed that Holmes was breathing as one might after a long and lazy meal whilst my own lungs were still labouring after the ascent.

"It's all so pathetic in comparison" Holmes said abruptly.
"What is?" I asked with some confusion.
He waved a hand at the air around him.
"Oh everything. My Cases. People's problems. When you're up here it all seems just so pointless".

I detected a dangerous edge of depression - the same vein in fact that had ran throughout his career and prevented him from being unstoppable.
"But Holmes, you know all of the good that your great mind has done!" I exclaimed quickly, attempting to stop his descent of spirit.
"I suppose you are right Watson. But -"
"But nothing Holmes! The city needs you to do your job and I think you need it." I looked out at the view.
"Regardless of how pathetic it may be".

Holmes looked slightly embarrassed when I looked to his face and I felt a small flush of pride that I had got through to him.
"Shall we go to the edge now?" I asked, impatient to be admiring the view.
"You go - I will stay here" Holmes replied so I got up and left Holmes.
The sun was shining in patches over London and I stood for some minutes enjoying the feeling of fierce wind on my hair and the weak warmth of the sun on my face.
I watched cars far below and saw tourists scurry about. "It is all quite pathetic" I whispered to the wind as I gazed all about myself.

Then suddenly I heard Holmes's voice rise above the wind and I turned quickly.
"Watson! Over here!"
The few other tourists enjoying the view turned to see what was going on but they slowly turned back as I made my way over the Holmes who was motioning with a hand for me to move faster.

"We need to help someone and I don't want you to ask any questions but I will need your help so if you will follow me post haste".
His face looked terribly alert and I knew that the matter had to be most serious so I hurried after his already retreating figure without a further question. We rushed down the stairs, rushing past other visitors on our endless descent.

Soon we arrived at the Stone Gallery once more and Holmes guided me towards the opposite side of the Cathedral's outer level. Here a man was standing upon the outer wall, looking outwards and appearing ready to fall.
"Ho!" Holmes shouted and threw his walking stick straight at the man.
Two things happened at that moment and I can recall them with exacting memory for the scene was quite incredible.
Firstly the man turned - a bearded, haggard face with listless eyes that suddenly livened with fear when he saw us.
Then he actually swept out an arm to catch the flying walking stick.

As he caught it he lost his balance and jumped down, onto the solid balcony fortunately and not out into the London air.

And then Holmes was upon him and I by his side and there was a lot of clapping from other tourists but all I recall was the man's lack of energy in Holmes's grasp.

"Holmes!" I said once we had helped the man down to the bottom of the cathedral and into the safety of the security office."That was remarkable".
"Not remarkable but purely common sense."
"How so?" I asked Holmes as we left the Cathedral's lofty chambers via the crypt.
"Well I heard the sounds of a confrontation from out higher position and I assumed correctly that someone was attempting to take their own life.

"And how did you know he would catch that stick of yours? Not only catch it but fall after catching it - onto the balcony?"
My mind still boggled at the chance of the even.
"Well I thought that the only thing to stop him jumping would be something through surprise for he seemed like his mind had been made up. I threw the stick just close enough to the balcony side that he would have to slightly extend to catch it. I thought if he would have to lean too much then he mightn't bother. Happily my guesses were good and my throwing arm strong and so that man is still alive."
"Well I never Holmes" I said with awe. "That is truly remarkable. Let's hope the daft chap finds his feet shall we?" I asked to which Holmes nodded.

The rest of our journey was made with light conversation and soon we were both back in Holmes's apartments.
Our evening meal was a shared feast and we both slept well that night thinking of the good deed that had been done

                                                                      *   *   *

The following day dawned grey and miserable and I felt immediately worried. It came from the pit of my stomach and was so strong that I only just managed to complete my morning preparations without pause.  
When I entered the morning room I saw immediately that my concern had been with reason for Holmes looked even more downcast than usual as he greeted me. He held out a paper in a limp hand and I took it from him in silence.
"Read" he said unnecessarily and I felt almost sick as my eyes skimmed the front page.

'Man killed from fatal fall"

The details were morbid and proved that the man who died was indeed the should that Holmes had rescued the very day before.As I placed the newspaper onto the coffee table I breathed heavily out and felt the numbness of shock enrobe my body. Holmes sat back in his chair with rheumy eyes and said quietly "It is all pathetic. Quite pathetic".

This was one of the hardest cases to chronicle for it showed Holmes at his worst and marked the start of something that had been long in coming.

The Sherlock Revival - Four Adventures of Creative Writing

I have now written four 'adventures' in this project.
The original aim was to recreate or at least pay homage to the great A. Conan Doyle and I would be gladdened if my stories are even slightly similar to his.
Below are the four I have written so far:

1. The Adventure of the Church Street Bookshop
Being the mystery of a book shop plagued by problems of which only Holmes can solve
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of.html

2. The Adventure of the Queens
Tarot, superstition and mistaken identity make this case unique
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of-queens.html

3. The Adventures down Green Lane
From strange beginnings to a surprising outcome, Holmes solves yet another mystery
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventures-down.html

4. The Adventure of the Diadem Heart
Holmes embarks upon his most elaborate case yet and proves he is still at his best
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of_21.html

Any shares, comments or +1 are always appreciated.

Feel free to contact me at vaugc002@gmail.com

Thanks as ever for reading!

The Sherlock Revival - 'The Adventures' Round-Up

I have now written four 'adventures' in this project.
The original aim was to recreate or at least pay homage to the great A. Conan Doyle and I would be gladdened if my stories are even slightly similar to his.
Below are the four I have written so far.

1. The Adventure of the Church Street Bookshop
Being the mystery of a book shop plagued by problems of which only Holmes can solve
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of.html

2. The Adventure of the Queens
Tarot, superstition and identity make this case unique
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of-queens.html

3. The Adventures down Green Lane
From strange beginnings to a surprising outcome, Holmes solves yet another mystery
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventures-down.html

4. The Adventure of the Diadem Heart
Holmes embarks upon a great treasure hunt and proves that he is still at his best
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of_21.html

Any shares, comments or +1 are always appreciated.

Feel free to contact me at vaugc002@gmail.com

Thanks as ever for reading!

The Sherlock Revival - The Adventure of the Diadem Heart

Here is the fourth 'adventure' in The Sherlock Revival project.
I feel that this is my most elaborate so far and I put a lot of effort into this longer adventure.
I hope that it is adequate...

In chronicling Holmes's adventures I had some lapses in his profession where he wouldn't work for weeks due to lack of interest in cases. This case is one of Holmes's finest and marks a bright time in an otherwise bleak few months.

For quite some while Holmes hadn't called and I was beginning to fear that his profession was dead in the water. Of late Holmes had began consider his own future and had stated that detective work was becoming less invigorating and more homogenized with other career pursuits.
I of course knew little of such matters and found myself more and more drawn into the world of the practitioner. I had regulars and irregulars and found nearly all of my time consumed by my duties to the public.
After I retired to my home following a long day at the practice my wife asked me if everything was okay.
"I am fine my dear, just tired. I do adore my practice but i'm quite certain that these hours are slowly draining me of life!"

My wife is a kind, loving woman and came to my side to comfort me.
"You look tired John. Maybe you should cut your hours a little. I'm sure the people can stand a few hours less contact with you each day."
She looked me in the eyes and caressed my face.
"I could do with a little more you as it is."

And then a knock came at the door.
I left her embrace and slipped down the darkened stair to the front door for we didn't have a houseboy to assist in such matters.
"Watson" came the greeting from our visitor and I stepped back in surprise to see Holmes already coming into the house. I followed him as he strode through the doorway and through into out living room.
"Holmes! Whatever has gotten into you?" I asked with strength for his behaviour was most out of the ordinary.
He turned to me and looked as alive and healthy as I had ever sen him.
"I've quite the case Watson, quite the case."

He sat down upon one of our armchairs and began the slow process of preparing his pipe whilst I sat down opposite and waited. When he was finally smoking I asked the questions that had been burning my mind.
"Where have you been these last weeks? I've not bee able to contact you for quite some time now."
Holmes waved aside my question and replied quickly "Oh I've been busy out and about. But this case. It really is quite magnificent."

I could see that I wouldn't be getting anywhere unless I asked him more about the case so I invited him to tell me more and so he began to tell the story of the winding stair.

"A little man came to me not two weeks back and seemed in the most agitated state. He was a wealthy bachelor I could see immediately but was running low on funds and had probably been brought up in one of the country's top boy's schools. I supposed Eton."
I had to interrupt Holmes, for his assertions were surely impossible to deduce.
"Ah my dear Watson. You forget how I just use my eyes and analysis a little better than most.
This man wore no ring upon his finger and thus could not be married. His clothing was labelled by a wealthy Taylor named 'P. Woodcock.' but had signs of wear at the elbows and one small patch upon the left inside arm.. And from the slant of his bowler hat I could tell that he had been used to wearing the wide, shallow hats of Eton or perhaps Harrow at some point in his life."

I nodded with awe at his peculiarly astute skills of deduction and asked him to continue.
"After I had managed to get him seated he told me that his name was Mr Harry Spinner and then began to tell me a tale that is quite so far fetched it can only be true. It went something like this.
'My mother was never warm to me, you must understand that first of all. In fact she seemed to despise me and, as her only son, I could only assume she didn't like children.
My father was always kinder and helped me through my childhood but he sadly passed away five years back from a heavy flu and so I have been left to battle with my mother alone.

I live on my own in a large property near Guildford but I tried to visit my mother often even though she appeared to no want me visiting.
She was a wealthy woman I knew for my father had left her the large estate in which she lived as well as his own personal fortune. It was left, I believe, in order than she might share it with me when I needed financial assistance.
Within a year of his death she had turned even colder to me and was bordering upon rude with every day.
The main realization that she no longer had any feeling of kindness towards me was when I ran out of my own small modest funds and asked for help from her.

As you may have guessed she told me that she would not give me a penny as, according to her, I didn't deserve it. Ever since that last visit our relationship has become steadily worse.
It was only last week that I was told of her passing.
It came as a most terrible shock to me for she was the last true member of family I had.

I was more shocked still to discover that she had left me something in her will.
I was told to meet a man named Findleroy at King's Cross station by 12 O'clock that same day that I received the news of her passing.
You can imagine that I was quite perplexed at this strange instruction but needless to say I couldn't ignore the request for it was the last contact I had with my mother..

I found myself at the station at the allotted time and sure enough a man who introduced himself as Findleroy came forwards to introduce himself to me.
He was peculiarly thin and tall, bespectacled and quite well spoken. Nothing else was remarkable about him.
He begged me to follow him and so I did.
Soon he had lead me into the station proper and then though a maze of corridors until we came to a quite plain meeting room.

Then he proceeded to take off his jacket and shirt until he was standing bare chested in front of me.
I was greatly take aback by this further strange turn of events and I asked what was going on.
He replied by telling me that he had a tattoo impressed upon his back that carried the message of the will.
And as he turned his place, skinny frame until he faced away I saw that he was telling the truth.

Written across his back were the numbers 51 13'28.69" N / 0 31'44.28" W. I made certain that I wrote them down correctly. After a minute or so the thin man turned back to face me.
"That is all I can give you."
I felt shocked at first but then the dull sense of disappointment seeped into my being for I was used to such when visiting my mother.
"So this was all an elaborate trick of some sort I presume" I said.
The man seemed quite surprised at my negativity however.
"Oh no. I understand that these numbers and letters are quite important but they are a riddle and I have not bee given the answer."
As I nodded in realization that perhaps after all something had been left for me by my mother I also smiled for this was exactly like her to try to test my intelligence against hers.

The next thing that happened was quite the most strong event of the day. The tall man had finished re-dressing and without notice her suddenly sprinted with great speed from the room and away down the corridors of the station. I tried to follow but he was soon gone and I made my way out of the station and home with mixed feelings about this extremely odd day.

And ever since that day I have been feeling uneasy. I feel that I have to know what the riddle is and what my mother has left me. It is really quite eating away at me and, whilst I have moderate funds, if she has left me money then it would be of utmost use right now.
And that concludes Mr Spinner's tale for he left soon after with the assurance that his case would be solved.. What do you reckon of it Watson?"
I was left feeling almost breathless by the extraordinary tale that Holmes had come at such a late hour to tell me. "It's quite the case Holmes but how can you possibly solve it? I said, for I saw no way to decipher the strange numbers and letters that the man had noted down.

"Oh the case is rather obvious on the face of it but I feel this could be quite the adventure. A treasure hunt perhaps."
"How could you possibly hazard a guess like that?" I asked, taken aback once more by my friend's certain assertions.
"Well the code is a map reference and quite simple to solve. I've done that part already and have arranged to meet Mr Spinner tomorrow at ten at Waterloo station. The question I want to put to you is will you accompany me on this last great case?"

"Well of course I will!" I ejaculated, for I was so gladdened by Holmes's return to the craft that I could barely wait.
It was only when Holmes had gone and left me to an anxious night's sleep that I considered my wife.
"Don't worry about me, John. I know how much you adore those cases. And it might do you good taking a break for a day from work."
I saw the sense in what she said and thanked her for being such a good wife.
Then I was in bed and soon asleep.

The following day dawned bright and fresh and I joined Holmes at his apartments and we both headed by Taxi to Waterloo station.
We soon met Mr Spinner who proved to be a handsome if short man with a friendly demanour.
It was clear that he was confused also by Holmes's lack of answers and soon Holmes addressed both of us to answer our concerns.
"Today gentlemen, we are heading to Guildford. Mr Spinner, that code you noted down from the thin man's back was a reference to geographic location and I have located where that code points to.
It is a church named St Martha's and sits upon a high hill not far outside of Guildford. I warrant that we may find another clue there."
Mr Spinner looked downhearted.
"What do you mean another clue? Is this not our clue?"
"Oh no" Holmes replied "This looks to me like the beginning of a fine treasure hunt and I deduce so far that your mother was a more than usually astute woman."

The man nodded enthusiastically then and said "She was indeed. A virtue that she turned against me and many others." After a little more discussion we set off on a country train for Guildford, enjoying the increased greenery as we headed further from London.
In under an hour we stepped out of Guildford station and followed Holmes on a beautiful country walk.
The first quarter of an hour meant walking through streets not unlike London's richer boroughs but soon we began to climb a steep hill and found ourselves upon a large grassy common with fine views stretching for miles.

Holmes seemed always to know the way and pace quicker than I might normally, resulting in Mr Spinner and I having to stride rapidly after him.
The walk was nice however and we all enjoyed the peace of the countryside that we traveled through.
After half an hour we had made our way over several more hills, past the outskirts of a dark forest and then up a long rough hill before we finally arrived at a modest, ancient looking church.

"Here we are" Holmes stated to us both. "This is St Matha's Upon the Hill and this is where I believe we will find the next clue in Mrs Spinner's puzzle.
"Follow me" He told us once more and we headed to the small entrance of the church, all the while enjoying the great, sweeping views over many miles of rural landscape.

Soon we were in the dimly lit interior of the church.
Holmes told us to look for anything out of the ordinary and so we all set about searching the church.
The large space appeared empty fortunately for I felt slightly bad for rummaging through the church's furniture and interior. Suddenly I saw a small scrap of paper poking out underneath the cross on the great altar and I quickly stepped across and removed it before stepping back across the roped cordon.
"Holmes!" I exclaimed excitedly.
"I think I've got it!" I said as I hurriedly unfolded the piece of paper.

As I laid it flat upon the low pulpit nearby we all read the words written in a neat hand upon the paper.
It looked like this:

'Dear Harry,

If you are reading this then I have now left this mortal coil and my plans have been set in place.
Congratulations so far if this was indeed your own work in finding this place.
I do not like you. You know that of course.
Yet I cannot see all of my worldly possession go t the state so I have left you something of great importance. Far more that you are worth in fact.
But it is upon your head to be able to find it.

I won't hope for your good luck because I care not at all. If you do not decipher the following words then all left to you will be shipped to an incinerator within three days.

Good bye and I daresay you are happy to see no more of me.

Lady Spinner.

Below this cold and wretched letter were three short rhymes which after reading twice I realized were riddles:

1. Nonces may consider this fate
The euphemistic bucket and a separate state
Rhyming with that which allows us sight
This term represents the given-up fight.

2. The first is in mind and the second in rage
On one count marbles lost and the other steel cage
A condition internal of letters just three
Meaning mental and hard mentality

3. The repetitive drumming in a cage of bone
The constant pulsing keeps the lights shining at home
We're not talking something bought from a shop
When it's the end days our thing will stop

Regards, Yours
And then followed her signature.'

And that was all.
All three of us stood in silence after reading that sheet, thinking about what could possibly be meant by it all.
Harry Spinner broke the silence by stating "Not very warm, was she? I'm sorry to have involved you in such personal matters but it is worse than I feared. It seems that out of bitterness she has set a timer on the items of her will."

Holmes nodded slowly and his eyes appeared so droopy that he might be asleep.
He seemed lost in thought and I made my own small assumptions whilst I waited.
Sure enough after a few minutes Holmes was as alive as he had ever been and theorized this thoughts to us.
"The first is obvious and I think that was done on purpose. She described someone passing away but rhyming with 'eye' this can only be 'Die'.
For the second riddle she mentions three letters ans writes of rage and mental illness so I can guess quite certainly at 'Mad'."

He paused after this extraordinary assessment and looked at me and then Mr Spinner,
"Any suggestions for the last riddle?"
I had been thinking the last one over and over but I hadn't a strong idea.
I hesitate and replied "Music made by a travelling band perhaps. The bone age could be a sort of snare drum. The music pays their way and keeps their electricity on and if the music that they make stops then they can't afford to live as they might."

I thought at first that I had guessed correctly but Holmes soon dismissed my idea.
"Good thought Watson but you neglected to consider the last line describing the subject as  a 'thing'."
I nodded but didn't fully understand what his answer meant in terms of the riddle's hidden answer.
Harry piped up then.
"I would guess at Heart if I may. I think that she is using euphemism and the theme of life and death seems familiar with the other two parts."

As I re-read the riddle I realized that he was of course correct.
"We ll done!" I exclaimed and Holmes looked mildly impressed also.
I felt a little ashamed that I hadn't managed to help Holmes but glad too that the answer had been discovered.

Holmes looked at the paper again and considered the riddle.
"We have the three answers being 'Die', 'Mad' and 'Heart' but they make little sense in terms of an answer.
What is irritating me is the last line before her signature. The 'Regards, Yours' doesn't work as she is using two words that might normally sufficiently finish a letter."

He paused again and I tried to consider what it might all mean.
"Maybe it could be that we need to rearrange the letters of the three words?"
I felt a sudden thrill when I saw the glint in Holmes's eye and realized that I had actually impressed him.
"Of course! Quite excellent Watson. I think we have all we need except time so perhaps we might leave and head back to our apartments to figure this one through."

And so we left that high, austere place and made our way slowly home.
We left Harry Spinner at Waterloo with the promise of a meeting tomorrow at twelve and headed back to Holmes's apartments.
The mood was high but also quite subdued for we were both still trying to work out the answer to Mrs Spinner's riddles. A we entered we both made ready our pipes and sat in thought once again.

I had all of the relevant letters of 'Die', 'Mad' and 'Heart' written down and was trying to make some sensible words from it whilst Homes was re-reading the sheet.
Suddenly, after a good while thinking he stood up and said aloud "A-Ha! I have it Watson. At last I have it!"
I was greatly excited by this statement and followed Homes to the table to look over the piece of paper containing the riddles.
He withdrew a pen and began to circle letters down the sheet, narrating his reasoning whilst doing so.

"It had to spell out something. I knew there was more to the riddles than just their face value but it took a lot longer than I anticipated.
Each line has a valuable letter, marked by the beginning of a word and they together spell out a continuous word. Or two words in fact" he said as he finished circling the sheet with a flourish.

He presented the paper and it looked as below:

I peered at it and tried to make out the underlined letters.
As I read downwards, sure enough they slept out two words and as I spoke them aloud Holmes did too.
"Natural History."

I clapped my friend on the back.
"Quite brilliant Holmes. But what does it mean?"
"Well it obviously refers to the museum nearby - the Natural History museum. Perhaps there is hidden what Mr Spinner is entitled to."
Then he turned back to the paper. "But what about the three riddle's answers? Any progress?"
I looked back at my notes and nodded for I had a few words. "Could it be 'Hide made art"? I asked but felt instantly foolish for I saw that this made little sense either. "Watson this is not an art gallery. Good thinking though." He peered at my notes and then looked at me. "I do believe I finally have it! The complete answer indeed."
"Well, what is it Holmes?" I inquired excitedly.

He took out his pen once more and wrote two simple words on the original piece of paper.
"Diadem Heart" he breathed out and retired suddenly to his chair.
"Wonderful!" I cried out for Holmes had really outdone himself in this case.
"We have to search the place tomorrow then" I said aloud and Holmes nodded.
"That woman must have been a sharp wit to meet" Holmes said as I too sat down wit a sigh.
"A sharp wit indeed."
I only nodded and wondered at the next stage of this great treasure hunt.

The following day we met again with Harry Spinner and this time headed towards the Natural History Museum in a cab as we told him of our findings.
He listened on with amazement and by the end of our update he was laughing with joy.
"I knew I had contacted the right men!" he told us kindly and it was with high spirits that we entered the great front door of the Natural History Museum.

At the help desk Holmes inquired about the Diadem Heart and immediately we were lead away from the bustling, tourist-filled halls to clinical white corridors that smelt of soap and chlorine.
The woman leading us was brisk and looked back once only to make sure we were following before streaming away down the many corridors of the museum.
After a few minutes of this we finally came to a stop outside of a polished metal door.
Our guide began to enter a code into the door's elaborate entry system and soon we were inside a cold, pristine room with metal walls and no furniture except for a strong looking safe in the centre of the room.

She turned and said to Holmes "Here we are - you need to figure it out from here i'm afraid".
With a small smile she was gone and the door shut behind us.
The silence after her departure seemed extraordinarily heavy and we all appeared perplexed .
"Let's look about then" Holmes prompted and we all began searching once more. I examined the safe but didn't try anything more than pulling the door in case I set an alarm off. It wouldn't open so I moved on.
Soon Holmes gave a shout and we discovered that he had found a small rectangle of car with a few words upon it.
It read:

'The last hurdle is to find a four digit code
The calculation for which is a dangerous road
Involving a sum with a date (4) plus a year
Multiplied after being divided by numerical fear
The number of hell to give you a clue
Then multiply this by the year used before
And you should be able to open the door.
Guess the code wrong and the door will be locked
If you get past this I shall be shocked.'

I groaned inwardly at the sight of the riddle and after reading it I felt even more upset. To have come so far it seemed that this last stage was too hard for any of us to crack.
Holmes as ever was alert, like a dog on a trail.
"Mr Spinner. Pray tell me what you make of this".
The man looked confused however and shrugged before saying "I can only guess that she wants an answer to a sum. I think one part of the sum could be her age."
Holmes nodded.
"Quite simple really. But what to multiply this with?"
He began to pace across the room and I knew this was a good sign, He narrated his thoughts as he walked.

"The number of hell can only be six hundred and sixty six. But what is the sum involving a date and a year?
If the year is her age, which was?"
"Sixty three" Harry replied when prompted.
"Sixty three and the date was that of her death so they total to..."

I felt an urge to speak then for I felt Holmes could be wrong.
"Holmes. Please, I think you may have neglected one small consideration."
His eyes sparkled and he nodded for me to continue, which I did with more certainty.
"I'm not sure she could have known the exact date of her death. It was quite sudden, wasn't it?" I asked Harry and he nodded emphatically.
"Could it be the date of her birth instead?" I stated.

Sherlock Holmes stood still and seemed to be considering my suggestion before he began pacing again.
"Watson my dear boy! I think you could well be right. But then how could she know her age at death if the couldn't know the year? Ah of course. The age is something that she could update on an annual basis I imagine whereas a date of death is far too precise.  Let me begin again with my calculations."

"Harry, what is the date of your other's birth please?" Holmes asked Mr Spinner.
"It was the ninth day in April, 1950" he said with strength.
"And I imagine the four after date means that the format of this number will be the day, the month and the last two digits of the year."
He paused briefly and removed his pocket book and a pen.
"Nine thousand six hundred and fifty divided by six hundred and sixty six is..." he started writing for a few moments, before looking up an answering his own question "Fourteen point four eight. And this is multiplied by sixty three which makes..."

He paused again and started writing in his notebook, continuing the sum.
After a few minutes he spoke again.
"Nine hundred and twelve point two four. So our number I am almost certain must be nine thousand one hundred and twenty two. To the safe!"
All three of us rushed over to the squat, black safe and stood nervously by as Holmes entered the code into the safe's digital panel. After four electronic beeps the door popped open and we all cheered aloud. "At last!" I exclaimed.

Holmes stepped back and let Harry remove what lay inside.
He put an arm in eagerly and withdrew and great glittering crown with a vast heart-shaped ruby placed close to the front.
"By Jove!" he uttered with feeling as we all admired the crown.
"The Diadem Heart after all these years" Holmes muttered and I turned to him, leaving Harry to revel n his gift.

"What do you mean?"
He replied "This crown has vanished from public knowledge for at least ten years. It contains the most valuable ruby ever discovered and makes a nearly priceless article our of the diadem."
Harry turned at that and looked concerned, saying "But does that mean it's mine or is it stolen?"
Holmes laughed and replied "Oh no. I'll warrant that she spent all of your father's fortune on this single article. You are a wealthy young man now!"

And that closed the extraordinary case of the Diadem Heart.
Holmes and I never did see Mr Harry Spinner again but we have received a very bountiful hamper each Christmas after that event which continues now five years later.

Thanks for reading and please share, comment or +1 if you enjoyed reading it.
I put a lot of work and effort into this story and I hope that it was a worthy read.

The Sherlock Revival - The Adventure of the Diadem Heart

Here is the fourth 'adventure' in The Sherlock Revival project.
I feel that this is my most elaborate so far and I put a lot of effort into this longer adventure.
I hope that it is adequate...

In chronicling Holmes's adventures I had some lapses in his profession where he wouldn't work for weeks due to lack of interest in cases. This case is one of Holmes's finest and marks a bright time in an otherwise bleak few months.

For quite some while Holmes hadn't called and I was beginning to fear that his profession was dead in the water. Of late Holmes had began consider his own future and had stated that detective work was becoming less invigorating and more homogenized with other career pursuits.
I of course knew little of such matters and found myself more and more drawn into the world of the practitioner. I had regulars and irregulars and found nearly all of my time consumed by my duties to the public.
After I retired to my home following a long day at the practice my wife asked me if everything was okay.
"I am fine my dear, just tired. I do adore my practice but i'm quite certain that these hours are slowly draining me of life!"

My wife is a kind, loving woman and came to my side to comfort me.
"You look tired John. Maybe you should cut your hours a little. I'm sure the people can stand a few hours less contact with you each day."
She looked me in the eyes and caressed my face.
"I could do with a little more you as it is."

And then a knock came at the door.
I left her embrace and slipped down the darkened stair to the front door for we didn't have a houseboy to assist in such matters.
"Watson" came the greeting from our visitor and I stepped back in surprise to see Holmes already coming into the house. I followed him as he strode through the doorway and through into out living room.
"Holmes! Whatever has gotten into you?" I asked with strength for his behaviour was most out of the ordinary.
He turned to me and looked as alive and healthy as I had ever sen him.
"I've quite the case Watson, quite the case."

He sat down upon one of our armchairs and began the slow process of preparing his pipe whilst I sat down opposite and waited. When he was finally smoking I asked the questions that had been burning my mind.
"Where have you been these last weeks? I've not bee able to contact you for quite some time now."
Holmes waved aside my question and replied quickly "Oh I've been busy out and about. But this case. It really is quite magnificent."

I could see that I wouldn't be getting anywhere unless I asked him more about the case so I invited him to tell me more and so he began to tell the story of the winding stair.

"A little man came to me not two weeks back and seemed in the most agitated state. He was a wealthy bachelor I could see immediately but was running low on funds and had probably been brought up in one of the country's top boy's schools. I supposed Eton."
I had to interrupt Holmes, for his assertions were surely impossible to deduce.
"Ah my dear Watson. You forget how I just use my eyes and analysis a little better than most.
This man wore no ring upon his finger and thus could not be married. His clothing was labelled by a wealthy Taylor named 'P. Woodcock.' but had signs of wear at the elbows and one small patch upon the left inside arm.. And from the slant of his bowler hat I could tell that he had been used to wearing the wide, shallow hats of Eton or perhaps Harrow at some point in his life."

I nodded with awe at his peculiarly astute skills of deduction and asked him to continue.
"After I had managed to get him seated he told me that his name was Mr Harry Spinner and then began to tell me a tale that is quite so far fetched it can only be true. It went something like this.
'My mother was never warm to me, you must understand that first of all. In fact she seemed to despise me and, as her only son, I could only assume she didn't like children.
My father was always kinder and helped me through my childhood but he sadly passed away five years back from a heavy flu and so I have been left to battle with my mother alone.

I live on my own in a large property near Guildford but I tried to visit my mother often even though she appeared to no want me visiting.
She was a wealthy woman I knew for my father had left her the large estate in which she lived as well as his own personal fortune. It was left, I believe, in order than she might share it with me when I needed financial assistance.
Within a year of his death she had turned even colder to me and was bordering upon rude with every day.
The main realization that she no longer had any feeling of kindness towards me was when I ran out of my own small modest funds and asked for help from her.

As you may have guessed she told me that she would not give me a penny as, according to her, I didn't deserve it. Ever since that last visit our relationship has become steadily worse.
It was only last week that I was told of her passing.
It came as a most terrible shock to me for she was the last true member of family I had.

I was more shocked still to discover that she had left me something in her will.
I was told to meet a man named Findleroy at King's Cross station by 12 O'clock that same day that I received the news of her passing.
You can imagine that I was quite perplexed at this strange instruction but needless to say I couldn't ignore the request for it was the last contact I had with my mother..

I found myself at the station at the allotted time and sure enough a man who introduced himself as Findleroy came forwards to introduce himself to me.
He was peculiarly thin and tall, bespectacled and quite well spoken. Nothing else was remarkable about him.
He begged me to follow him and so I did.
Soon he had lead me into the station proper and then though a maze of corridors until we came to a quite plain meeting room.

Then he proceeded to take off his jacket and shirt until he was standing bare chested in front of me.
I was greatly take aback by this further strange turn of events and I asked what was going on.
He replied by telling me that he had a tattoo impressed upon his back that carried the message of the will.
And as he turned his place, skinny frame until he faced away I saw that he was telling the truth.

Written across his back were the numbers 51 13'28.69" N / 0 31'44.28" W. I made certain that I wrote them down correctly. After a minute or so the thin man turned back to face me.
"That is all I can give you."
I felt shocked at first but then the dull sense of disappointment seeped into my being for I was used to such when visiting my mother.
"So this was all an elaborate trick of some sort I presume" I said.
The man seemed quite surprised at my negativity however.
"Oh no. I understand that these numbers and letters are quite important but they are a riddle and I have not bee given the answer."
As I nodded in realization that perhaps after all something had been left for me by my mother I also smiled for this was exactly like her to try to test my intelligence against hers.

The next thing that happened was quite the most strong event of the day. The tall man had finished re-dressing and without notice her suddenly sprinted with great speed from the room and away down the corridors of the station. I tried to follow but he was soon gone and I made my way out of the station and home with mixed feelings about this extremely odd day.

And ever since that day I have been feeling uneasy. I feel that I have to know what the riddle is and what my mother has left me. It is really quite eating away at me and, whilst I have moderate funds, if she has left me money then it would be of utmost use right now.
And that concludes Mr Spinner's tale for he left soon after with the assurance that his case would be solved.. What do you reckon of it Watson?"
I was left feeling almost breathless by the extraordinary tale that Holmes had come at such a late hour to tell me. "It's quite the case Holmes but how can you possibly solve it? I said, for I saw no way to decipher the strange numbers and letters that the man had noted down.

"Oh the case is rather obvious on the face of it but I feel this could be quite the adventure. A treasure hunt perhaps."
"How could you possibly hazard a guess like that?" I asked, taken aback once more by my friend's certain assertions.
"Well the code is a map reference and quite simple to solve. I've done that part already and have arranged to meet Mr Spinner tomorrow at ten at Waterloo station. The question I want to put to you is will you accompany me on this last great case?"

"Well of course I will!" I ejaculated, for I was so gladdened by Holmes's return to the craft that I could barely wait.
It was only when Holmes had gone and left me to an anxious night's sleep that I considered my wife.
"Don't worry about me, John. I know how much you adore those cases. And it might do you good taking a break for a day from work."
I saw the sense in what she said and thanked her for being such a good wife.
Then I was in bed and soon asleep.

The following day dawned bright and fresh and I joined Holmes at his apartments and we both headed by Taxi to Waterloo station.
We soon met Mr Spinner who proved to be a handsome if short man with a friendly demanour.
It was clear that he was confused also by Holmes's lack of answers and soon Holmes addressed both of us to answer our concerns.
"Today gentlemen, we are heading to Guildford. Mr Spinner, that code you noted down from the thin man's back was a reference to geographic location and I have located where that code points to.
It is a church named St Martha's and sits upon a high hill not far outside of Guildford. I warrant that we may find another clue there."
Mr Spinner looked downhearted.
"What do you mean another clue? Is this not our clue?"
"Oh no" Holmes replied "This looks to me like the beginning of a fine treasure hunt and I deduce so far that your mother was a more than usually astute woman."

The man nodded enthusiastically then and said "She was indeed. A virtue that she turned against me and many others." After a little more discussion we set off on a country train for Guildford, enjoying the increased greenery as we headed further from London.
In under an hour we stepped out of Guildford station and followed Holmes on a beautiful country walk.
The first quarter of an hour meant walking through streets not unlike London's richer boroughs but soon we began to climb a steep hill and found ourselves upon a large grassy common with fine views stretching for miles.

Holmes seemed always to know the way and pace quicker than I might normally, resulting in Mr Spinner and I having to stride rapidly after him.
The walk was nice however and we all enjoyed the peace of the countryside that we traveled through.
After half an hour we had made our way over several more hills, past the outskirts of a dark forest and then up a long rough hill before we finally arrived at a modest, ancient looking church.

"Here we are" Holmes stated to us both. "This is St Matha's Upon the Hill and this is where I believe we will find the next clue in Mrs Spinner's puzzle.
"Follow me" He told us once more and we headed to the small entrance of the church, all the while enjoying the great, sweeping views over many miles of rural landscape.

Soon we were in the dimly lit interior of the church.
Holmes told us to look for anything out of the ordinary and so we all set about searching the church.
The large space appeared empty fortunately for I felt slightly bad for rummaging through the church's furniture and interior. Suddenly I saw a small scrap of paper poking out underneath the cross on the great altar and I quickly stepped across and removed it before stepping back across the roped cordon.
"Holmes!" I exclaimed excitedly.
"I think I've got it!" I said as I hurriedly unfolded the piece of paper.

As I laid it flat upon the low pulpit nearby we all read the words written in a neat hand upon the paper.
It looked like this:

'Dear Harry,

If you are reading this then I have now left this mortal coil and my plans have been set in place.
Congratulations so far if this was indeed your own work in finding this place.
I do not like you. You know that of course.
Yet I cannot see all of my worldly possession go t the state so I have left you something of great importance. Far more that you are worth in fact.
But it is upon your head to be able to find it.

I won't hope for your good luck because I care not at all. If you do not decipher the following words then all left to you will be shipped to an incinerator within three days.

Good bye and I daresay you are happy to see no more of me.

Lady Spinner.

Below this cold and wretched letter were three short rhymes which after reading twice I realized were riddles:

1. Nonces may consider this fate
The euphemistic bucket and a separate state
Rhyming with that which allows us sight
This term represents the given-up fight.

2. The first is in mind and the second in rage
On one count marbles lost and the other steel cage
A condition internal of letters just three
Meaning mental and hard mentality

3. The repetitive drumming in a cage of bone
The constant pulsing keeps the lights shining at home
We're not talking something bought from a shop
When it's the end days our thing will stop

Regards, Yours
And then followed her signature.'

And that was all.
All three of us stood in silence after reading that sheet, thinking about what could possibly be meant by it all.
Harry Spinner broke the silence by stating "Not very warm, was she? I'm sorry to have involved you in such personal matters but it is worse than I feared. It seems that out of bitterness she has set a timer on the items of her will."

Holmes nodded slowly and his eyes appeared so droopy that he might be asleep.
He seemed lost in thought and I made my own small assumptions whilst I waited.
Sure enough after a few minutes Holmes was as alive as he had ever been and theorized this thoughts to us.
"The first is obvious and I think that was done on purpose. She described someone passing away but rhyming with 'eye' this can only be 'Die'.
For the second riddle she mentions three letters ans writes of rage and mental illness so I can guess quite certainly at 'Mad'."

He paused after this extraordinary assessment and looked at me and then Mr Spinner,
"Any suggestions for the last riddle?"
I had been thinking the last one over and over but I hadn't a strong idea.
I hesitate and replied "Music made by a travelling band perhaps. The bone age could be a sort of snare drum. The music pays their way and keeps their electricity on and if the music that they make stops then they can't afford to live as they might."

I thought at first that I had guessed correctly but Holmes soon dismissed my idea.
"Good thought Watson but you neglected to consider the last line describing the subject as  a 'thing'."
I nodded but didn't fully understand what his answer meant in terms of the riddle's hidden answer.
Harry piped up then.
"I would guess at Heart if I may. I think that she is using euphemism and the theme of life and death seems familiar with the other two parts."

As I re-read the riddle I realized that he was of course correct.
"We ll done!" I exclaimed and Holmes looked mildly impressed also.
I felt a little ashamed that I hadn't managed to help Holmes but glad too that the answer had been discovered.

Holmes looked at the paper again and considered the riddle.
"We have the three answers being 'Die', 'Mad' and 'Heart' but they make little sense in terms of an answer.
What is irritating me is the last line before her signature. The 'Regards, Yours' doesn't work as she is using two words that might normally sufficiently finish a letter."

He paused again and I tried to consider what it might all mean.
"Maybe it could be that we need to rearrange the letters of the three words?"
I felt a sudden thrill when I saw the glint in Holmes's eye and realized that I had actually impressed him.
"Of course! Quite excellent Watson. I think we have all we need except time so perhaps we might leave and head back to our apartments to figure this one through."

And so we left that high, austere place and made our way slowly home.
We left Harry Spinner at Waterloo with the promise of a meeting tomorrow at twelve and headed back to Holmes's apartments.
The mood was high but also quite subdued for we were both still trying to work out the answer to Mrs Spinner's riddles. A we entered we both made ready our pipes and sat in thought once again.

I had all of the relevant letters of 'Die', 'Mad' and 'Heart' written down and was trying to make some sensible words from it whilst Homes was re-reading the sheet.
Suddenly, after a good while thinking he stood up and said aloud "A-Ha! I have it Watson. At last I have it!"
I was greatly excited by this statement and followed Homes to the table to look over the piece of paper containing the riddles.
He withdrew a pen and began to circle letters down the sheet, narrating his reasoning whilst doing so.

"It had to spell out something. I knew there was more to the riddles than just their face value but it took a lot longer than I anticipated.
Each line has a valuable letter, marked by the beginning of a word and they together spell out a continuous word. Or two words in fact" he said as he finished circling the sheet with a flourish.

He presented the paper and it looked as below:

I peered at it and tried to make out the underlined letters.
As I read downwards, sure enough they slept out two words and as I spoke them aloud Holmes did too.
"Natural History."

I clapped my friend on the back.
"Quite brilliant Holmes. But what does it mean?"
"Well it obviously refers to the museum nearby - the Natural History museum. Perhaps there is hidden what Mr Spinner is entitled to."
Then he turned back to the paper. "But what about the three riddle's answers? Any progress?"
I looked back at my notes and nodded for I had a few words. "Could it be 'Hide made art"? I asked but felt instantly foolish for I saw that this made little sense either. "Watson this is not an art gallery. Good thinking though." He peered at my notes and then looked at me. "I do believe I finally have it! The complete answer indeed."
"Well, what is it Holmes?" I inquired excitedly.

He took out his pen once more and wrote two simple words on the original piece of paper.
"Diadem Heart" he breathed out and retired suddenly to his chair.
"Wonderful!" I cried out for Holmes had really outdone himself in this case.
"We have to search the place tomorrow then" I said aloud and Holmes nodded.
"That woman must have been a sharp wit to meet" Holmes said as I too sat down wit a sigh.
"A sharp wit indeed."
I only nodded and wondered at the next stage of this great treasure hunt.

The following day we met again with Harry Spinner and this time headed towards the Natural History Museum in a cab as we told him of our findings.
He listened on with amazement and by the end of our update he was laughing with joy.
"I knew I had contacted the right men!" he told us kindly and it was with high spirits that we entered the great front door of the Natural History Museum.

At the help desk Holmes inquired about the Diadem Heart and immediately we were lead away from the bustling, tourist-filled halls to clinical white corridors that smelt of soap and chlorine.
The woman leading us was brisk and looked back once only to make sure we were following before streaming away down the many corridors of the museum.
After a few minutes of this we finally came to a stop outside of a polished metal door.
Our guide began to enter a code into the door's elaborate entry system and soon we were inside a cold, pristine room with metal walls and no furniture except for a strong looking safe in the centre of the room.

She turned and said to Holmes "Here we are - you need to figure it out from here i'm afraid".
With a small smile she was gone and the door shut behind us.
The silence after her departure seemed extraordinarily heavy and we all appeared perplexed .
"Let's look about then" Holmes prompted and we all began searching once more. I examined the safe but didn't try anything more than pulling the door in case I set an alarm off. It wouldn't open so I moved on.
Soon Holmes gave a shout and we discovered that he had found a small rectangle of car with a few words upon it.
It read:

'The last hurdle is to find a four digit code
The calculation for which is a dangerous road
Involving a sum with a date (4) plus a year
Multiplied after being divided by numerical fear
The number of hell to give you a clue
Then multiply this by the year used before
And you should be able to open the door.
Guess the code wrong and the door will be locked
If you get past this I shall be shocked.'

I groaned inwardly at the sight of the riddle and after reading it I felt even more upset. To have come so far it seemed that this last stage was too hard for any of us to crack.
Holmes as ever was alert, like a dog on a trail.
"Mr Spinner. Pray tell me what you make of this".
The man looked confused however and shrugged before saying "I can only guess that she wants an answer to a sum. I think one part of the sum could be her age."
Holmes nodded.
"Quite simple really. But what to multiply this with?"
He began to pace across the room and I knew this was a good sign, He narrated his thoughts as he walked.

"The number of hell can only be six hundred and sixty six. But what is the sum involving a date and a year?
If the year is her age, which was?"
"Sixty three" Harry replied when prompted.
"Sixty three and the date was that of her death so they total to..."

I felt an urge to speak then for I felt Holmes could be wrong.
"Holmes. Please, I think you may have neglected one small consideration."
His eyes sparkled and he nodded for me to continue, which I did with more certainty.
"I'm not sure she could have known the exact date of her death. It was quite sudden, wasn't it?" I asked Harry and he nodded emphatically.
"Could it be the date of her birth instead?" I stated.

Sherlock Holmes stood still and seemed to be considering my suggestion before he began pacing again.
"Watson my dear boy! I think you could well be right. But then how could she know her age at death if the couldn't know the year? Ah of course. The age is something that she could update on an annual basis I imagine whereas a date of death is far too precise.  Let me begin again with my calculations."

"Harry, what is the date of your other's birth please?" Holmes asked Mr Spinner.
"It was the ninth day in April, 1950" he said with strength.
"And I imagine the four after date means that the format of this number will be the day, the month and the last two digits of the year."
He paused briefly and removed his pocket book and a pen.
"Nine thousand six hundred and fifty divided by six hundred and sixty six is..." he started writing for a few moments, before looking up an answering his own question "Fourteen point four eight. And this is multiplied by sixty three which makes..."

He paused again and started writing in his notebook, continuing the sum.
After a few minutes he spoke again.
"Nine hundred and twelve point two four. So our number I am almost certain must be nine thousand one hundred and twenty two. To the safe!"
All three of us rushed over to the squat, black safe and stood nervously by as Holmes entered the code into the safe's digital panel. After four electronic beeps the door popped open and we all cheered aloud. "At last!" I exclaimed.

Holmes stepped back and let Harry remove what lay inside.
He put an arm in eagerly and withdrew and great glittering crown with a vast heart-shaped ruby placed close to the front.
"By Jove!" he uttered with feeling as we all admired the crown.
"The Diadem Heart after all these years" Holmes muttered and I turned to him, leaving Harry to revel n his gift.

"What do you mean?"
He replied "This crown has vanished from public knowledge for at least ten years. It contains the most valuable ruby ever discovered and makes a nearly priceless article our of the diadem."
Harry turned at that and looked concerned, saying "But does that mean it's mine or is it stolen?"
Holmes laughed and replied "Oh no. I'll warrant that she spent all of your father's fortune on this single article. You are a wealthy young man now!"

And that closed the extraordinary case of the Diadem Heart.
Holmes and I never did see Mr Harry Spinner again but we have received a very bountiful hamper each Christmas after that event which continues now five years later.

Thanks for reading and please share, comment or +1 if you enjoyed reading it.
I put a lot of work and effort into this story and I hope that it was a worthy read.

The Sherlock Revival - Round-Up

I have now written four 'adventures' in this project.
I have tried to update them and I hope they are acceptable to read!

1. The Adventure of the Church Street Bookshop
Being the mystery of a book shop plagued by problems of which only Holmes can solve
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of.html

2. The Adventure of the Queens
Tarot, superstition and identity make this case unique
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of-queens.html

3. The Adventures down Green Lane
From strange beginnings to a surprising outcome, Holmes solves yet another mystery
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventures-down.html

4. The Adventure of the Diadem Heart
Holmes embarks upon a great treasure hunt and proves that he is still at his best
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of_21.html

Any shares, comments or +1 are always appreciated.

Feel free to contact me at vaugc002@gmail.com

Thanks as ever for reading!

The Sherlock Revival - The Adventures Down Green Lane

Here is the third installment in my project The Sherlock Revival.
I hope it's acceptable.

Green Lane.
That name still remains with me brandishing a sting of fear with every remembrance.
It also marks one of Holmes's most convoluted cases and one that I tagged along with him on once more.

The case started with a cream envelope that arrived with the rest of the post early on a dreary October morning. As usual I opened the post for back then I was still living with Holmes in his Kensington apartments. This particular envelope seemed to stand out to me for it was cream and of obvious quality.
The address was handwritten and in a calligraphic pen.

I opened it hurriedly for I knew that this had the possibility of being one of Holmes's cases.
Inside were two small slips of paper which, upon removal, turned out to be a set of train tickets dated for that very day.
There was nothing else accompanying the tickets.
I discarded the envelope and then turned the tickets over to discover '21 Green Lane' written upon the back of each. I turned with interest to find Holmes once more seated in his chair.
"Holmes! You wouldn't believe what has been delivered this morning" I remarked only to find him staring intently at me in that unnerving way of his.

"I would guess a pair of train tickets perhaps" Holmes stated.
"What? How could you-" he cut short my surprised outburst with a wave of a hand.
"Relax Watson - I saw them in your hand".
I realized then that in my excitement I had been waving the tickets like a banner for Holmes to see.
"Ah. Yes. Of course" I replied.

Holmes stood from his seat with a groan.
"Let me see those Watson" he said whilst motioning to the tickets still in my left hand.
I gave them over and he soon had them on a table with his magnifying lens out.
"Westhumble" he murmured, for the tickets were to take us from Kensington to that place.
"It is as I expected." he said rather ominously.
"What is?" I replied for my curiosity had been piqued.
He looked up at me. "Well these train tickets were not ordered by me, or by you I presume from your reaction to them. And that is all that can be discovered."
As he turned away from his examination he raised a finger to the air and looked to me with a queer look in his eyes.
"Watson, my mother used to say never go down Green Lane'. It's something that I always remember and I never quite understood. Let us pray that this Green Lane is not the one she was referring to."
He put the lens down and sat back in his chair as if the matter was forgotten.
"But Holmes" I protested "surely we cannot ignore the tickets? Someone might be in desperate need of your services!"

Holmes sat in his chair and nodded slightly, more to himself than me I felt.
"Of course we are going Watson. Whatever made you think the opposite?" he said after a pause.
I felt relief sweep over me, partly that we could perhaps help someone but more that I would be accompanying Holmes on yet another adventure.
I had a peculiar feeling that the case would be more severe than normal and so I prepared my firearm for use later that day. 'Never go down Green Lane' seemed tor evolve around my head like a haunting carousel and I pondered upon what may lay ahead as I worked.

Holmes watched me with a slight smile as I oiled and armed the device before doing the same.
That simple act made me more nervous than any action could have for Holmes must have felt the ominous feeling too.
Needless to say lunch was a quiet affair of small sandwiches which neither of use enjoyed as we should perhaps have. I was quite relieved when the time came to leave the apartments and find our way to Westhumble.

From a quick look at a map it appeared that the place was a small village not overly arm from the outskirts of London but quite settled in the country. And I supposed that we would need to find our own way to 21 Green Lane wherever that might be.
Th train journey was quick and easy for our tickets allowed us to run the underground and then the overground by the very most efficient means.
After less than ten stops on the national rail service we were at Westhumble and on the precipice of adventure.

The station was the quaint type usually associated with the countryside, being two platforms and a small bridge to cross the rails. There was an insignificant ticket booth and then Holmes and I were outside in the grey October air.
The first thing that appealed to me was the peace of the place. From our outlook slightly upon a hill we could see over a large area of trees dotted with houses of various designs, all nestled among nature it seemed. The road in front of us had no traffic at the current time and the whole village carried an air of serenity.

It was impossible to imagine what purpose Holmes and I had been drawn to that place for. From our gentle walk through the lanes of Westhumble we were immersed into a country idyll. At one point we stopped at a neat cottage to ask for directions and soon we found ourselves at the start of Green Lane.
It is worthwhile to bear in mind that all throughout this journey the warning regarding Green Lane had been running through my mind. I was quite transfixed by it.

The lane itself was barely wider than an armspan and much too rough for traffic.
It was formed by two ancient brick walls running parallel with much bucking and unevenness apparent.
All was overhung by dark Yew trees which cast their twisted and bent limbs into the pathway.
It was truly a place that could inspire fear in one's heart.

Holmes, as ever, took the lead.
"Quite the mysterious place, this Green Lane" Holmes remarked as we set off once again.
"Indeed. Rather unnerving " I replied with belief.
"Nonsense Watson. One might only be unnerved if one was susceptible to flights of fancy." He stated, turning to look at me for a second before continuing.
"I daresay we are both not of that disposition."

I smothered my thoughts and followed behind as we traversed the dark and very quiet pathway as it twisted and turned through Westhumble without break except for high wooden doors built into the walls for the use of houses along the route of Green Lane.
When we arrived at number twenty one it was obvious that something was amiss.

As we entered through the numbered gate, conveniently left unlocked, a shocking sight met both of our eyes.
A large plain garden stretched ahead for fifty feet or so without interruption until it reached a newly tarmacked area. Where to either side of the garden large houses rose from the ground, at number twenty one all was flat.

It seemed as if there had never been a house there.
I turned to Holmes with shock as he surveyed the land and said "Oh my! What is this all about I wonder?"
Holmes looked ahead still and said simply "Look!".
I too looked ahead and indeed it appeared that something even stranger than the tarmacked land was ahead of us.
For, sitting on a still rocking chair was an old grey haired lady.
I took off after Holmes who was quickly striding along the concrete path that cut through the grass and onto the tarmac.

Soon we reached the lady who seemed to be watching us with merry eyes.
Hokmes put forward a hand which she took.
"Sherlock Holmes at your service ma'am. How can I be of help?"
She shook the hand and let go before letting out a soft sigh.
"I am so glad you made it Mr Holmes." she said in a quiet yet friendly voice.

"You see, I'm in quite the predicament here. I would offer you a seat but alas! They've all gone."
I watched the old lady with great surprise for the recent circumstances felt too surreal to be true.
Holmes continued the conversation in my stead.
"What do you mean 'gone'? Are you saying that they were removed? And I take it that you owned a house here Ms-"
"Violet Buchanan, please. And indeed you are correct in your assumptions. I feel certain that I contacted the best person. You seem very astute Mr Holmes."
Holmes nodded acceptance to the compliment.
"I do not really know what has happened" she started and looked for a moment weary.
It was almost heartbreaking to see the old lady, who must be at least eighty, sitting in a chair outside with no house around her.
"I was in hospital you see. A hip operation, nothing special. I went in on my own as I have done for the last fifty years or more and all went fine. A bit of n ache and a rather boring week but now I am out.
I left the hospital and returned here by taxi but when the car stopped outside my house I saw that I had a house no longer."

Se sighed again and turned to look at me quite intensely.
"The driver must have thought me quite mad!" she remarked with a laugh before looking to Holmes once more.
I began to warm to this enigmatic lady then.

"It was gone. I had left my family home, inherited from my father and in the family for two hundred years, and returned to nothing.
No furniture, no jewelry. Nothing. It was enough to make me nearly believe that I had lost my mind."
She looked around her at the tarmacked plot.
"But I have lived here all my life and I know one or two things.
I saw the muddied curbs and the dusty road and I knew that it had been done by someone."
Holmes nodded several times during the story but suddenly interrupted her.
"Please Violet, be quite frank with your assertion. What do you think happened?"
She herself nodded.
"I think, with strong certainty, that my house was destroyed Mr Holmes."

Her steely blue eyes embodied her righteous anger and I almost stepped back then with fear at her emotion.
"I had imagined the very same thing Ms Buchanan. But please, who and what reason?"
She shook her head then and seemed suddenly less certain than several seconds back.
"I have no idea really. An inkling perhaps that the neighbours wanted me gone but that is all.
I was the town mayor once and now I hold the position of Neighbourhood Watch Chief so I have a few people who may want to dirty my name.
Anyhow I'm out of my home and I'm planning to move into residential housing. I know it's what they want but I can't face starting again at my age."

Holmes started around us as I shivered for it was a chilly day.
"I think that the neighbours might have done this but it is much more likely to be someone else with real reason. If you could give me until tomorrow afternoon I think I can give you some answers."
I looked quickly at Holmes but saw that he wasn't lying. He had his serious face upon him and I felt proud that he saw an answer to this impossible case.
"Of course Mr Holmes. That is quite excellent.
I shall be staying at the Kingdom Arms here in Westhumble. Room one. Please feel free to join me at any time in the afternoon."

"Very well." replied Holmes and we said goodbye and left the old lady sitting in her chair on the hard tarmac.
The journey back was rather solemn and full of thought and by the time we reached Holmes' apartment I felt quite wretched.
"Whatever can we do for the lady?" I blurted out once we had settled down. It seemed impossible that we could help her.
"Calm yourself Watson. It's all quite in control. Don't worry too much about Ms Buchanan. She isn't worrying too much herself. It is saddening but we will find out the culprit don't you worry."
"You have an idea then?" I prompted Holmes.
"Perhaps" he replied and would say no more.

That evening Holes phoned several different people, looked over several documents and printed papers and harrumphed a lot too. By the time I went to bed I was no closer to working out what had happened and I just hoped that Holmes was.

                                                                     *   *   *

The morning dawned bright and fresh and Holmes seemed in a good mood.
"Today Watson we are to visit the town hall of Westhumble for some records that will prove rather vital."
I said nothing but nodded and so by lunch time we had arrived at a rather grand building in the centre of quiet Westhumble.
The case was weighing heavily upon me and I felt somewhat relieved that we were back at the crime centre so to speak.
After speaking with the reception staff we were lead to a library like room and to a table with a great plan laid out upon it. I tried to make sense of it but could only identify that it was some sort of map of the village.
"It's the fracking map!" Holmes exclaimed after several minutes of me asking and him not replying so deep was he in concentration.
I stepped back and opened my mouth in shock.

"Holmes! There's no need for that!"
"There is Watson. It's quite the most important thing we could use."
His tone was cheerful and I felt greatly annoyed by his rudeness.
We left after a short while and Homes informed me that he needed to make some calls.

We agreed to meet at the inn that Ms Buchanan was staying at and so, after ambling down quiet lanes, I found myself at the Kingdom Arms and face to face with Holmes once again.
"We need to speak to Violet now. She's behind all of this Watson. It's quite obvious."
I couldn't believe that the old lady was anything but innocent but I followed Holmes to her room and took a back seat.

"Hello Violet" Holmes said as she ushered us in. "Had a nice day?"
"Well, quite so far. Do you have an idea then about this business?" We took seats opposite her in the corner of her suite. The opulent surroundings felt incongruous with the discussion that was about to go ahead.
"We have discovered something but I would like to ask you first of all something if that's okay?"
Holmes' voice was quiet and dangerous.
"Of course" she replied rather briskly.

"What do you know of fracking?" he asked.
"Holmes!" I exclaimed but he hushed me with a waved hand and went on.
"Ring any bells Ms Buchanan?"
"I don't have the foggiest what-" she began but was cut off by Holmes who stood quickly and began to pace.
"Don't lie Violet. I know you are trying to deceive us but I'm not sure why.
You discovered through an internet search that your home was sitting upon an ideal site for fracking on a small scale.
The neighbours weren't happy when you approached them with the idea of selling up so you decided that your house would be removed first and then progress could being. Soon, you hoped, they would need to move out and away from the fracking site.
You had the council's backing however and so they couldn't do anything to stop you.
It must have paid well for you to sell your home or perhaps you fell out with your family and so didn't want to own the house anyway?"

Violet's expression changed hugely during Holmes' speech, going from confidence to fear and then anger.

He pushed on over her denials and she sat back unhappily.
"Regardless, you had a nice little deal. The only thing left was to maintain your crystal clean image."
He stopped and look closely at her face.
"You wanted no-one to know that you sold out. You wanted to be blameless."
He stood again and continued pacing.
"And by calling me out you hoped for the official stamp of innocence. Well you won't be getting it! In fact you will be lucky to escape jail."

Then he turned to me with his powerful eyes and said "Watson. We are going."
I followed him out and took one last look back to see the old lady crying softly in her chair.

                                                                *   *   *

Once we were back at Holmes' apartments I sat down and still felt somewhat unsettled.
Even though the case was closed, I didn't feel happy with the result. Looking across at Holmes however told me he was content for he had his pipe in mouth and eyes focused upon a newspaper.
I tried to get into the tatty yellow-covered novel that I was reading but my mind was elsewhere and so I sat in silence and wondered about the day's events.

"I say Holmes. Today's case was quite a shocker, wasn't it?"
When he looked up at me it was with vague annoyance.
"Well, only if you expect some people to commit crimes more than others."
I nodded for it made sense.
"I suppose I was fooled by appearance but I don't think that's something I can ever change."
Holmes shook his head. "Of course you can change that Watson. If you're to be of help to me in my cases I will need sounds judgement." Then he went back to his paper.

I did want to help him with his cases for they were far more exciting than anything I would normally have done.
But still I felt the niggle of doubt that I could change or be of help to the great Sherlock Holmes.
"I will try my best Holmes" I replied and by recording this most shocking of cases I hope that I have helped in someway.

The Sherlock Revival - Round-Up

I have now written three short stories in this project.
I have tried to update them and I hope they are acceptable to read!

1. The Adventure of the Church Street Bookshop
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of.html

2. The Adventure of the Queens
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventure-of-queens.html

3. The Adventures Down Green Lane
http://thesherlockrevival.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-sherlock-revival-adventures-down.html

Any shares, comments or +1 are always appreciated.

Feel free to contact me at vaugc002@gmail.com

Thanks as ever for reading!

The Sherlock Revival - The Adventure of the Church Street Bookshop

This is my first of a series of short stories inspired by The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
I hope you enjoy it!:

It was a pale winter's day when my friend Holmes introduced to me a new case, of which I found much interest in. I had been spending a great amount of time in his Kensington apartment for my wife was away for a month travelling with a good friend and so I had time on my hands.
Like most of his cases it appeared to be a mixture of mystery and criminal act and I found my heart quickening as he began to divulge the details to me.

"Watson, I would like to ask your consideration of a new case that has been given to me. It is at first mundane but upon loser inspection proves more than puzzling".
His piercing eyes focused upon me with the same peculiar intensity with which he considers clues for a case. As the violent thunder of a high powered car interrupted the quiet of the room, I nodded my head and so he began with his eyelids lowered, reclined in his armchair.

"A Mr Davenport of the Church Street Bookshop in Marleybone has come upon me asking for assistance regarding a matter of theft and more. He writes that not only have a number of thefts occurred within the last fortnight but also a strange assortment of incidents, the first being a number of books found to have been dislodged and sadly damaged. Upon inspection Mt Davenport found the aisles of his shop to be quite empty. He at once assumed the act to have been a freak event in which the books tumbled to the ground under their own weight.
A day later he had a customer come quite frightened to his counter near the front of the book shop and complain quite vigorously of a shadow that she felt adhered to the recessed back of the book shop. He apologized and before he could offer assistance she had left without a further word. After an inspection he found his electricity to be quite fine and all bulbs in full working order.

Then, not three days later he smelled a quite strong scent of burning. It was one that he was not familiar with but reminded him of the herb garden in a country manor garden.
He called in a building surveyor with immediacy but the professional had not a clue or concern as to the scent, simply suggesting that the shop door had been left open and a street smell had wafted in.
Yet here Mr Daveport was quite firm in his letter here, writing that he never left the shop door open for his air-condition and heating units maintained the appropriate temperature and humidity for his collection of antique books

The fourth incident was five days back and involved a strange banging that seemed to emanate from within the very bookshelves. Mr Daveport left his counter and made his way around the shop but didn't manage to locate the source of the banging. His words in the letter were that it was quite omniscient.

Lastly, this most recent occurrence and most shocking was the theft of several books.
Whilst the book seller stocks a great number of valuable books, costing hundreds of pounds or even more in some cases, the books that were stolen were all of the same theme. They were relating to gardening and were quite modern. The theft cost him close to seventy pounds but the thief evades the Metropolitan Police and Mr Davenport has come to me to ask for help regarding these strange goings-on."

Holmes sat forward then and picked up his pipe, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.
I considered the details of this latest mystery and felt with certainty that it was beyond even Holme's skills. I couldn't possibly see how so many odd incidents could ever assist in locating a criminal who had stolen merely a few books.
Yet Holmes was looking alert once more and his eyes promised confidence.
"Now that I have imparted the strange details of this case to you I would be quite interested in hearing your opinion as to whether the criminal can be found and if so, how."

"I can't possibly say" I replied with feeling. "It seems absurd to consider such a range of incidences and to then locate a common theme."
"Ah but my dear Watson" Holmes exclaimed. "If it wasn't for the range of incidences I wouldn't have a hope in finding the criminal. As it is I think I may have got it."
How can you have, if I cannot see beyond the individual occurrences?" I remarked. Holmes chuckled quietly. "It is quite obvious really Watson. Do pay attention."
He stood up suddenly and began to pace the dimly lit room. If it wasn't for the fire crackling merrily in the hearth I wouldn't have been able to see his face at all.

"The banging sound for example. He thought it to be emanating from the actual bookshelves. Pray what do you say to that?"
"Well, he was obviously mistaken" I replied confidently.
"Indeed. So what would you suggest?" he asked, still striding back and froth across the room with pipe in his clasped hands held behind his back.
"It could have been from nearby. Say the level above perhaps."
Holmes stopped and looked frankly at my, his visage appearing far older in the  flickering light.
"You are hot on the trail Watson. I might however challenge your assumption that the upper level is where the sound was coming from but to confirm my theory I must visit."
He strode to the table and flicked through his calendar before stabbing a finger upon a date.

"I am going to visit tomorrow and I would greatly appreciate a companion and level headed viewpoint if you would be so kind as to accompany me?"
I nodded and replied "Of course Holmes. I would never miss one of your cases for the world."
Outside the light was weaker than ever and so I laid out a meagre supper whilst Holmes played his ebony violin.

The following morning, having telephoned ahead, Holmes and I found ourselves heading through London's busy centre towards Church Street Bookshop. The traffic was constant but the taxi-car's interior remained quiet.
Holmes lay slumped back with his eyes closed and so I peered from the window and tried to make sense of what could have befallen Mr Davenport's bookshop.
Soon the familiar sight of Marleybone's white church could be seen and a minute later Holmes roused and stopped the taxi.
After giving a generous donation, we both left the car and stepped onto the pavement, pulling our coats tight around us for the wind was fierce and bitter that day.
"Feel free to enter the bookshop whilst I have a brief look about outside" Holmes said.
I looked up and noticed an aged fabric shade leaning from a Victorian brick terraced building emblazoned with the words 'Church Street Book Shop'. Without further prompting I stole inside and breathed out as warmth washed over me. A small bell tinkled above me and I noticed a small bespectacled many peer up at me from a sales desk to my right.

"Good afternoon. How can I be of help?" he asked.
"Are you Mr Davenport of the Church Street Book Shop good sir?" I asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to give Holmes an introduction without his consent.
The old man replied "I am indeed. Is there something particular I can help you with?" and I noticed a slight squint from behind his round glasses.

A tinkle prevented my reply for Holmes was by my side.
"I am Mr Holmes" he announced to the book seller. "I take it you are Mr Davenport?".
His repeat of my question was taken well by Mr Davenport who merely nodded and said with releif "Well met Mr Holmes. I am most glad you could come. Is there anything I can do that can help your investigation?"
He wrung his hands a little as he spoke and, along with the twitching, I could see that he was quite in anguish over the last week's occurrences.
"A few answers would be most useful if you were not too busy?" Holmes inquired.
The bookseller shook his head "I'm rarely busy these days what with all f the goings on. Word travels, you see. I will try to answer your questions to the best of my knowledge."
Holmes nodded and began his typically sporadic interrogation.

"Let me begin with some questions about your neighbours. Are you on good terms with them?"
Mr Daveport's face twisted as he replied. "Not at all! I barely see them truth be told and when I do I don't want to see them any longer. They are clearly vagabonds of the worst kind" Mr Daveport ejaculated.
"Interesting" Holmes put in.
"Do you have any reasoning behind this judgement of character?"
"Well they are shady types, preferring night to day. I hear them moving around and banging about sometimes next door but recently they've been rather more quiet."
Holmes paused and he seemed to confirm something within his own mind.

"And may I ask whether you have felt overly warm in your shop?"
The bookseller appeared taken aback at this most recent question and nodded vehemently.
"Yes. Yes I have! By golly, how did you know?" he ejaculated.
"I have my ways" Holmes replied before turning to myself.
"Watson, I think we are done here today" He turned back to Mr Daveport.
"Mr Davenport. Expect us to visit tonight at midnight. We shall be bringing pistols and dressing darkly and so you should too."
Then he turned after nodding to the perplexed bookseller and left the shop, leaving the door bell tinkling.
I too bid farewell to the bespectacled man and followed Holmes, wondering what solution Holmes had managed to read from the strange occurrences within the Church Street Book shop.

It was much later that evening that Holmes even spoke to me for he was in a pensive mood and seemed trapped within his own mind. As we were seated in front of a roaring fire back in his apartments, Holmes turned to me and said "You know Watson. I do believe this case is quite obvious now. I would like to know your own opinion on the case however." He turned with a glint in his eye and asked "Pray, Watson, what do you say is the reason behind these mysteries going on in Mr Davenport's shop?"

His pipe whistled slightly as he breathed in.
"Well" I replied, trying to form an answer of some strength.
"I feel that the noise must be from nefarious acts underground, the smell must be from an outdoorsy type and the power cuts from someone meddling with nearby power lines. Combined I would suggest some sort of underground garden."
I laughed as I realized how ridiculous the hypothesis sounded, to my own ears let alone to Holmes's.
To my surprise Holmes actually nodded and said "Quite right Watson. I do believe you are getting better even if you yourself do not!"
He stood up and went to the bookshelf, taking a folder of police reports with him back to his armchair.
Every few minutes he would exclaim but otherwise no more of the evening was taken up with such discussion. Shortly after Holmes's favourite radio transmission began and afterwards we ended the evening with a short nap.

All too soon my alarm was waking me up however and Holmes and I found ourselves inside a taxi cab once more headed to Marleybone.
After the cab stopped we stepped out into the cold winter's air. I enjoyed the sight of mist coming from my own mouth in the light of the street lamp nearby but Holmes strode ahead and bent low to the corner of the bookshop facade. Chained to the lamp were three bicycles, locked together in a mess of metal.
I followed hurriedly after Holmes, not wanting to miss his examination.

Holmes was crouched in front of a white washed vent in the bottom left hand corner of the bookshop. He appeared to be inhaling.
"Holmes" I exclaimed "What are you doing?"
After a few more sniffs he turned to me and asked me to sniff.
"It smells quite of herbs! And what lovely warmth too!" I couldn't believe that such a strange scent was coming from the unassuming vent.
Holmes stood then and motioned for me to follow. From his stride, a swift for miles per hour I would imagine,  could tell that he had solved the case.

I followed, yearning to discover his theory.
We entered to the familiar tinkle of the bell above the door and there was Mr Davenport blinking nervously in the bright lights of his shop. He was wearing the same clothing as he had earlier and I supposed that he had stayed in the shop the whole evening.
Holmes stepped forward and gripped the small man's hand.
"I have an answer for you my dear bookseller but I fear that it is not one you would want to hear."
The bookseller looked a little shaken but nodded "Oh that is good news - I just want an answer. My mind has been pushed to the brink worrying about these recent occurrences."
"What we have here Mr Davenport is a case of bad neighbours I'm afraid!" Holmes said to the bookseller.
He then proceeded to describe how he saw the events of the last few weeks.

"The nefarious inhabitants of the house next door have police records I must inform you. Worse however is their recent activity. The vibrations you felt were the excavation process by which they dug underneath your own shop, threatening the very foundations upon which your customers walked. Next they tapped into your electricity, siphoning it off to illuminate and in fact heat their new underground room.
The herbal smell you detected was from the drub Cannabis."

He paused theatrically and then stated to the room "Your three neighbours are drug growers i'm sorry to say and really quite good at it!"
"Of course!" I exclaimed before seeing Mr Davenport's wretched countenance. I felt immediately guilty and attempted to comfort the poor man.
"At least you don't have a pest invasion my good man. Also it's lucky that-" Holmes cut me off with a shrill whistle and I turned to see him standing quite erect with a strong lively look that seemed to animate him quite thoroughly.

"No worries Mr Davenport please. Your neighbours are yours no longer"
I was as entranced as Mr Davenport, who began to ask with fervour what Holmes meant when a sudden flashing light filled the front window and a siren screamed into the night.
"The police are here to claim their latest criminals" Holmes told us and we peered out of the window all together to see men in uniform dragging three handcuffed figures towards the police car.
I marvel even now as I write of this most satisfactory case mainly for Holme's ability to create theatre wherever he wishes.
That night was quite remarkable, filled with a brimming elation from having helped solve a case and also having borne witness to the final unfolding scene.

Mr Davenport was quite overjoyed and his shop does as well now as it ever has done.
I was gladdened that I had actually come quite close to solving the case but when we left Mr Davenport to his shop, after refusing many gifts of books and accepting many more I had a question still upon my mind.
The cab ride proved the ideal opportunity to pose it to Holmes who seemed out of character that night and actively looked about as we we driven through London.
"Holmes. I understand much of the case now and I see that I was in fact quite close. But how, may I ask, did you know that the neighbours were all involved? Could not one or two of them be innocent?"
Holmes paused and appeared to scrutinize the seat in front of him before replying.
"A good question Watson but easily answered. You recall that I examined the property without you on the first visit to the shop?"
I nodded
"Well I discovered three bicycles out the back - the ones that were out the front just earlier and they appeared to be locked together by the same lock. Now tell me how three people who are so close as to lock their bicycles together and thus ride them most likely at the same time cannot be part of such a scheme as drug growing? At the very least they are each either an accessory to the main crime or at worst they are responsible for growing the drugs. And that is why the police arrested all three."

"Good work Holmes. Once more you saw what I couldn't. It was really quite an exciting end to the day."
Holmes nodded appreciatively "It was, wasn't it?"
We both laughed then before Holmes said "You do know Watson that I only see what you see. It's how much understanding you gain from what you see that is important."
I knew that he was right and so I simply replied with a yes and enjoyed the rest of the cab ride home in silence before heading to bed directly.