Joelle Esquejo Within the time that I’ ve spent with Sherlock, I have experienced some crazy, carefully calculated and questionable things. For example, there was the mystery of the blind eye, where Sherlock discovered a penknife hidden in a tortoise’ s cage, leading him to uncover young Mia Cout as the culprit. Or the time where Miss Labyr’ s ruby was found stuffed down the throat of a foul. On days like those, I seriously question whether it is Sherlock that goes to the insane or the other way around.
A particularly peculiar case I can recall started one day as I was reading the fifth book in a series that I had been reading for about half a year. My elbow was perched on the back of our comfortable leather couch with the book on my lap, a low hum sounding from the ventilator as the lazy morning droned on. Hushed sounds of children playing outside drifted through the open window; this was to be expected on a Sunday morning as they were not confined to their schools. Sunlight glinted off the window pane, bits of dust and dirt being the only obstruction to the welcome light.
It was a peaceful day.
The story was slowly building suspense when the sound of the doorbell rang out through the apartment of 221B. Putting the book down, almost bitterly, I went to greet our visitor as Sherlock appeared in the room, still in a dressing gown.
“ Who is it, John?” he asked rather half-heartedly, peering at the dull wooden door as I opened it. A lady, no older than twenty four, stood with a slight tremble in her legs, a brown envelope clutched shakily in her slim fingers. In the corner of my eye I saw Sherlock’ s expression shift, presumably from the sight of the envelope. He was standing taller now, genuine interest in his eyes as he took a step forward.
“ I am sorry to intrude in your day,” the lady started, a stutter in her words as she stared at the floor with a bashful expression.“ You do not happen to be the widely spoken of Sherlock Holmes, do you? And Doctor Watson, too.”
At these words I blinked- for once, a client had acknowledged my existence! All of a sudden, the sun of summer seemed to shine a lot brighter.
“ We are indeed, m’ lady,” Sherlock assured, smirking as he witnessed my newfound excitement that he must have noticed in my posture. Upon hearing his, the lady seemed to become slightly relieved.
“ I am Alice Downs, and I require your intelligence.” She held out the cardboard brown envelope that had captured my friend’ s interest.“ My boyfriend has not