My Attempt at a Sherlock Holmes Short Story
'Yes Watson', remarked my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes on one particularly warm Saturday afternoon, 'I would very much like to go to the public house for a drink with you.
I started up, astonished. 'Holmes' I gasped, 'how on Earth did you know that was my desire?'
'I beg pardon?' replied Holmes, 'did you not just ask?'
'I certainly did not. I haven't spoken a word these last ten minutes!'
'Forgive me Watson' said Holmes. 'I must have just read the question and imagined myself hearing it. That is certainly feasible at times when my mind is so idly starved of work. I perceived that you have glanced longingly at that empty brandy decanter no fewer than three times in the last half-hour. Add to that your rather restless sitting posture, the long stare at the blue sky through the window and that quiet sigh you uttered just now that I was not meant to hear but heard all the same, then I can safely deduce that you desire to leave our dwellings for an afternoon. Am I not correct?'
'In every detail' I replied, somewhat begrudgingly.
'Well fortunately for you I would like nothing more than a pleasant walk to somewhere with more human activity than our little home is presently offering. I know just the place, collect your hat and we shall leave immediately.'
Before long we were taking a pleasant stroll away from Baker Street and into Regent's Park, which was alive with Holmes' much-desired human activity. Through the park we carried on northwards toward the Charing Cross Road. On the way Holmes described to me the public house which we were headed to.
'It is a terrific place, Watson' he exclaimed, 'newly built this past year on an excellent spot on Cambridge Circus. Unfortunately business has slipped in these last few days, they will be grateful of our custom I do not doubt.'
Considering the wonderful weather, I asked how business could possibly have been poor at a time like this.
'The discovery of a murdered corpse not ten feet from the entrance has rather put the fear into a lot of its regulars. It is completely absurd that one incident could have such a profound effect on so many not connected to it.'
I winced at Holmes' coldness and statistical manner toward the deceased. 'How was the murder committed?' I asked. 'Strange that I have not heard of so local a crime from the press.'
'Such a crime affords little publicity' Holmes replied. 'A drunken disagreement gone too far, no doubt. A little column on an insignificant page that no doubt you would have overlooked, or even read and forgotten about. Either way, I make it my endeavor not to miss these things.'
We arrived at the public house, which was indeed as pleasant as my friend had promised. Unfortunately its sparseness of custom also lived up to Holmes' descriptions. There was but one drinker in the building, and even he was leaving as we arrived.
As we approached the bar Holmes took me by the arm and hissed an excited whisper in my ear; 'That was the murderer' he said, glancing toward the table of the man who had just left.
I raised an eyebrow. 'How could you have deduced that?' I asked in reply.
Holmes did not reply. Instead he darted over to the man's former table, which held an empty ale glass and a copy of the Times, and stared at it intently for a number of seconds. He then strode over to the bartender.
'Who was that?' Holmes asked. 'The gentleman who left just now?'
'Simons' the barkeep replied. 'He's always here.'
Holmes returned to my side. 'I am correct' he said with some affirmation.
'Explain' said I.
Grabbing me firmly by the arm, Holmes escorted me to the departed gentleman's table with the intention of showing me exactly how he reached this seemingly unattainable conclusion.
'Notice the marks on the table' he said, gesturing.
I squinted at the marks. There were two circular glass marks, close to each other. 'What do you find remarkable about these?' I asked, defeated by the baffling scenario.
Holmes sighed. 'Watson' he groaned, 'I am continually astonished by your inability to see something so clearly embedded in your eyeline. What do you find interesting about the stains on the table that you have no less than admitted to seeing?'
I shrugged. Holmes continued. 'There are two marks' he said. 'Only two. You and I both know that ale is not a drink easily finished in two gulps. The man only placed his glass on the table twice since purchasing it, which means he must have finished it in two attempts.'
'Okay' said I, 'but how could you possibly know that it wasn't his original intention to drink hurriedly?'
'I don't know for certain' replied my friend, 'but do you believe he would have chosen a table so far from the bar, assuming he would bother choosing a table at all, if he intended to leave straight away? Add to that the mere presence of a newspaper and we can safely assume that he planned on staying a while, that is until he saw me coming through the window.'
Though admittedly impressed by Holmes' deductions thus far, one rather significant element still left me in doubt. 'What makes you so sure that it was your arrival that prompted him to leave?' I asked.
'The newspaper' Holmes replied with confidence. 'It is The Times, the daily which commonly, often against my better desires, reports my successes in the field of criminal detection. A man who regularly reads this paper would not fail to recognise me, and I am sure that our fellow is a regular reader of The Times because of these thumb markings.'
Holmes lifted the paper and, showing it to me, flicked briefly through it. 'Notice how these thumbprints (still damp in case you were doubting this man's ownership of the paper) only appear on every few pages, rather than every page. A regular reader eventually knows where his particular articles of interest lie, and is able to skip past the pages he does not wish to read. So we can faithfully conclude that the departed gentleman is indeed a regular reader of the times.'
'Remarkable!' I exclaimed. 'From little more than an empty glass and a discarded newspaper you have deduced that, upon seeing you, who he could not fail to recognise from the pages of The Times, our man quickly finished his drink and rushed off against his original intentions, having mistaken your visit for one of detection into his crime. My friend, you continue to astound me.'
'It is all there' Holmes replied, dismissing my compliments with a wave, 'I just endeavour to ensure that I see it. I have often told you, Watson, that you also possess my powers. You just need to make the extra effort to actually access them.'
'One thing remains though' I said, 'why on Earth would a murderer return to the place where the crime was comitted, knowing full well that it would be under investigation?'
'A commendable question Watson' replied Holmes with a smile. 'Though you have answered it yourself.'
'I'm sorry?'
'The man finished his drink in two gulps. He could have more easily left it unfinished. What does the fact that he drank to the last drop before fleeing tell you?'
'That he is addicted to the drink' said I.
'Precisely. He is a regular here, and an alcoholic. So much so that he would jeapordise his safety and freedom for another drink. One other thing, the murder was comitted outside of a public house opening hours, so only a regular, who would be invited to remain in the pub after closing, could have comitted the crime. The bruises on the body were all over the place, so the crime was clearly perpetrated by a drunken man. I have not been entirely honest with you Watson, I came here not simply to have a drink with you, but to investigate this murder, and it seems I have solved the case remarkably quicker than I anticipated. An intoxicated man is not difficult to follow, I shall apprehend him and you shall get us two pints of their finest ale, which we shall not finish in a hurry!'
